#blue paint for swimming pool | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heehoonies · 6 months ago

Text

lemonade

description: sunghoon is absolutely infatuated by his step sister, and he knows his best friends, jay and jake, both want a taste. sunghoon shows them they can touch, but only with his permission.

word count: 8k

contents: step bro sunghoon & (step) brother's best friends jayke x reader, porn with (little) plot, STEPCEST!! dni if uncomfy, hoonie is possessive and mean at times >.<

smut warnings under the cut

now playing: lemonade by nct 127

smut warnings: reader is kinda dumb and innocent (but she knows what she wants), sunghoon has a monster cock, a couple mlm moments (bisexual king jay rise!!!!), hard and soft dom!sunghoon, service dom!jay, dom!jake (a few sub!jake moments bc.. yeah), sub!reader, daddy and sir kinks, foursome, unprotected sex (do not. do this!), pussy drunk jake, breeding kink, praise, degradation, pet names, slight voyeurism, cum eating, multiple orgasms, cumming inside, creampie, anal, y/n gets fucked in all three holes at once, oral (m. and f. rec), face fucking, spit as lube, choking, bulge kink, possessive and kinda mean sunghoon... erm i think that's it!

“dude, there’s no way you don’t think she’s hot!”

sunghoon shakes his head at jay’s admission, groaning as he waves a hand at his best friend, trying to shoo him away with pure willpower. “shut up, will you? that’s my step sister you’re talking about dude.”

sunghoon watches his best friends with disinterest, anger bubbling as he scoffs at the way they grill him. the way you and him behave behind closed doors is truly none of their damn business.

“your step sister is hot as fuck, hoon, “if she comes out here in that tiny ass yellow bikini she wore yesterday…” jake nearly moans at the thought, staring up at the underside of the beach umbrella he sits beneath, snuggling further into the lounge chair he lies on. “i’m gonna take her in the damn pool, i don’t care if either of you fuckers see us.”

“not if i fuck her first,” jay shoves jake, forcing the younger man to spring to life, chasing jay before they both jump into the pool. the two continue fighting once they land inside, jay dunking jake’s head underwater for a moment as sunghoon shakes his head, watching his best friends wrestle. he scowls at the two of them, knowing neither of them deserve to be around let alone fuck you. but he tolerates it, for now, knowing you somewhat enjoy their presence, often giggling at their dumb antics. a giggle that sunghoon often thinks about when he’s jerking it in the shower, not that he’d ever admit it.

sunghoon watches the pair as they jostle around in the warm water, time passing quickly as they fight for dominance. “you two are so annoying,” jay and jake both wave him off, “whatever man, you love us!” jay blows sunghoon a kiss before jake wrestles him under the water’s surface once more.

“hi, hoonie,” you smile as you step outside, the sight of a brand new bikini sunghoon has never seen adorning your gorgeous figure. it takes everything in him to not pop a boner in his swim trunks, watching as the deep pink material compliments your skin beautifully. a bikini that he wants to see on the floor. “what are they doing?” you watch jay and jake with a small pout.

“hell if i know,” sunghoon trails his gaze up from your feet, with cute pink painted toenails to match your swimsuit. he sees strong, sleek calves followed by plush thighs, ones that he’d love to feel clamped around his head as he makes you see stars. the waist he’d love to grab and bruise in his tight grip, to the toned stomach that he wants to see bulge from the press of his cock deep in your cervix.

his eyes go further, to the cleavage visible in your poor excuse for a bikini top, plump tits nearly spilling out, begging to be sucked and marked. sunghoon can see your nipples poking through the thin fabric and the sight makes his mouth quirk up, fangs urging to nip and bite at them until they stand at attention, begging for more. your shoulders, which would be prettier covered in purple and blue and sprawled out against his white sheets. your neck, begging to be bitten to the point of nearly bleeding, his fangs digging into your delicate skin.

“sunghoon?” you tear him from his thoughts, eyes darting up to meet your gaze. well, fuck, now he’s hard, right when you’re looking at him with your big eyes and pink, pouty lips. pouty lips that never fail to tease him into oblivion, giggling lightly as you manage to press your ass against his bulge at every possible moment. “hoon, can you put this on my back? i can’t reach…”

you lie on your stomach on the lounge chair next to him, turning your head to the side to watch your step brother. he doesn’t move, and you whine, “hoonie, please.”

the tone in your voice makes sunghoon groan, throwing his head back to hide the noise that slips out, not wanting you to see how easily he’s crumbling when he hears you practically beg for him to touch your back. sunghoon knows you’d sound even prettier begging for his cock, squirming in his hold and nearly crying from how good he’s making you feel.

“sure,” sunghoon obliges, rising to his feet before straddling you, sitting on your ass as he squirts a glob of sunscreen into his hand. you reach back and untie the back of your bikini, the sides falling down to allow him to further cover your back. sunghoon feels his dick stir and press against your ass, catching a glimpse of your sideboob as it spills out of your top and lies against the fabric of the chair. you press back against him discreetly, biting on your hand to prevent a moan from tumbling out of your glossy lips. you love the little game you and sunghoon play, pushing further and further until one of you breaks. he’s yet to fuck you, often times stumbling away from you to hide in the bathroom, fucking his fist at the thought of your tight heat wrapped around his achingly hard dick. you continue to hold back, waiting for him to make the first move, trying to protect your heart from him. you don’t want to just be a quick fuck for him.

sunghoon begins at the top of your shoulder blades, rubbing diligently with gentle pressure as he spreads the cream along your upper body. “mmm, feels good, hoonie,” you smile against your hand, eyes flicking back to look at him. you find his gaze trained on your body, taking in the relaxed look of your shoulders. “keep going,” you stir him on, keeping your voice low, feeling his hard on press further into the fat of your ass.

“fuck,” sunghoon mumbles under his breath as he takes another dollop of sunscreen and begins making his way further down your back. it feels so good, your eyes fluttering shut as you take in all the sensations of sunghoon pressed against you, hands wandering and cock stirring against your bikini bottoms. you take in the feeling of sunghoon, his presence overwhelming you deeply and clouding your thoughts with images of your pussy stuffed with his big cock. what you wouldn’t do to have him slide your bottoms to the side and slip right in, wet enough to not need any prep. the thought of his cock filling your hole in the middle of your backyard, right in front of his friends, as he continues to massage your back makes your wetness seep deeper into the flimsy fabric. you wish he’d claim you right here in front of them, not completely oblivious to the feelings both of his friends share for you.

it doesn’t matter how jake and jay feel, though, because you know they could never satisfy you the way sunghoon could. you wouldn’t mind a little fun with them while you wait for sunghoon to finally pounce on you though, like a little warm up before the main event of your step brother bottoming out in your aching hole.

“there you go, princess,” sunghoon ties your bikini top again before rising to his feet, adjusting his swim shorts to conceal his raging boner.

“thank you, hoonie,” you rise to your feet, placing a delicate kiss on his cheek and not waiting for his reaction before approaching the pool, walking down slowly, finally catching the attention of jay and jake. sunghoon blushes lightly at your affection, his heart stirring now alongside the hard on in his trunks.

jay lets go of jake’s head, who bobs back up from underwater. he gasps, pushing his water soaked bangs out of his face as he blinks, adjusting to the bright sun beaming in his eyes once more. “hi, y/n,” jay’s sultry tone makes your knees buckle, but luckily you’re only a few steps into the warm water, able to reach the bottom of the pool with your feet.

“y/n!” jake’s alluring accent makes you smile, his excitement to see you filling your heart with joy. “glad you could join us, it’s always more fun with you here, beautiful.”

you quirk an eyebrow, training your gaze on jake, “is that so?” he nods, approaching you. “if we can convince hoon to come in the pool, we can play chicken,” jake exclaims, “and i’m the strongest base out of all three of us. i’d never let you fall into the pool, angel.” he winks at you, the sight stirring a flutter against your ribcage.

“okay, jakey,” you spare a glance towards sunghoon, who is watching the three of you with a guarded look on his sharp features, his eyes now adorned with sunglasses to shield his true emotions as he waits for his cock to calm down. “hoonie! come join us!”

“he’s refused to get in the pool all day,” jay joins jake at your side, your head feeling a little lighter at the realization of having all three men’s attention on you, with jay and jake both crowding your space intentionally. “even tried to bribe him but he didn’t move.”

“i can think of a way to get him in here,” jake mumble absentmindedly, jay snickering at the off handed comment.

sunghoon sets his sunglasses down, finally feeling like his dick has calmed enough to be in your vicinity once more. he dives into the pool gracefully, head peeking back above the water and pushing the hair from his eyes in one swift, elegant movement. you watch as his shoulders glisten in the sunlight, urging the water to part so you could trail your eyes further down his torso, want to take a peek at his bare skin as you know how hard he’s been hitting the gym recently. the sight of him sweating in the makeshift gym he’s made with jay in your garage always brings you to your knees before you retreat up the stairs and whip out a toy you picked out specifically after hypothesizing how big sunghoon’s cock is.

it’ll never be as good as the real thing, though, and you ache for him to finally give up this back and forth game you’re playing. your resolve is too strong to cave first, afraid that his feelings won’t mirror your own.

“jake wants to play chicken, let me on your shoulders.”

sunghoon obliges with a huff, ducking down to allow jay to hop on his shoulders as jake hoists you up onto his, gripping your plush thighs tightly, glancing up at you with a sly grin on his face. one turn and jake would have his nose pressed into your heat, he imagines how good you’d taste, how warm you’d be as he dove in with his tongue, fingers reaching where he can’t as he eats you like you’re his last meal.

the game begins, jay reaching over and grabbing your arms and shoulders, leaning in to try and throw you off balance. your perky boobs press against his chest and he feels his strength begin to crumble, “stop being so strong!” you whine, pushing against jay as you try to shove him off sunghoon’s broad shoulders. the words hit his ears with a rush, his resolve tumbling down along with his body as both him and sunghoon fall into the water. the realization of you thinking he’s strong rings in jay’s mind as he watches you celebrate above him. “get down from there,” the corner of his mouth tugs up into a smile as he watches you.

“but i like being tall!” you complain, hands reaching down to hold jake’s to keep your balance.

jake squeezes your hands as he tries to lead you off his shoulders, “come on, y/n.”

you shake your head, watching as sunghoon trails his way up your figure to meet your gaze. “y/n,” is all he says before you’re allowing jake to help you down, your stubborn, flirty resolve crumbling instantly under sunghoon’s hard stare.

jay wraps you in his arms as you breach the water again, leading you to squirm in his hold, “jay, let go of meeeee,” you whine, slapping at his shoulders lightly.

“let me hold you, pretty,” jay replies lowly, the timbre in his voice sending heat to your core, “mmf– don’t call me that, jay.”

“yeah?” jay laughs, low and sensual as he holds you, “why, baby?”

you shake you head, shoving to get away from him, unable to hide your whiny tone, “let go!”

his steely voice draws your gaze to meet his, eyes going wide. “you can’t even give me a reason why i should let you go, can you?”

you shake your head meekly, watching his eyes darken as he watches you, eyes darting around your face. “that’s what i thought.” he snakes a hand down your body, relishing in the smooth curve of your hips before resting a hand on your thigh. your breath hitches, glancing over at sunghoon, who is playing basketball with jake merely a few feet away. you miss the way he watches you and jay out of the corner of his eye, jealousy brewing beneath his gorgeous skin.

jay dips down to kitten lick once at the junction that joins your neck to your shoulder, chasing the action with a shallow bite in the same spot as he snakes a hand inside your swim bottoms. you yelp in response to his hand as it swipes through your folds, pinching your clit lightly before retracting his hand and giving your ass a light squeeze.

“i’m hungry!” jake whines.

“come on, i’ll make sandwiches,” jay jumps out of the pool and you watch as the water drips off of his body, highlighting the taut muscles of his back. he grabs his towel, turning back to see you staring, winking at you as you float below him. “you coming, sweetheart?”

you blush at his double entendre, whether intentional or not, and nod lightly, making your way to the stairs. jake steps out, grabbing two towels and waits at the last step. you join jake and he wraps your body in the towel, relishing in the expanses of skin he feels in this fleeting moment.

“can i have a peanut butter and jelly?” you stand next to jay, drying yourself off before tossing the towel into the laundry bin next to the back door, skin now mostly dry with a grumbling stomach.

“whatever you want,” jay smiles, leading the way into the kitchen where he begins grabbing items skillfully, knowing the layout of sunghoon’s kitchen better than sunghoon himself.

sunghoon lags behind, cleaning up the area around the pool outside like a good step brother would. you hoist yourself onto the kitchen island, eyes trained down on jay as he settles the items next to you. he gives your thigh a small squeeze before he begins preparing your sandwich.

jake makes space for himself between your legs, pressing himself into you with a smile. “i’m hungry, angel,” he watches you with a look swimming in his eyes that you’ve seen often on jay, but infrequently on jake. jake is staring at you with want devouring his gaze, his hands resting on the outside of your thighs. “you gonna help me, baby?”

you blush at the implication, “what’re you hungry for?”

jake’s hand reach your waist, gently toying with the ties of your bikini bottoms, his touches burn against your skin, lighting everything aflame with his fingertips. jake leans in close, his lips ghosting over yours, his slightly labored breaths fanning across your skin. “take a guess.”

you shake your head lightly and jake quirks an eyebrow at your disagreement. jay glances over, chuckling deeply, the sound missing your ears as all of your sense are dialed in to jake’s body hovering over you.

jake moves his hands from the strings of your bikini, instead resting them on the inside of your thighs, “don’t even need to take these off, do i, baby?” jake hooks a single finger in the fabric, tugging it to the side, revealing your wet pussy. “mm, jay, look at that,” jake groans, head falling back as he glances at his best friend. jay feels his dick stir at the sight of you exposed for the two of them. “look at you, dirty girl,” jay quips, cutting your sandwich into two triangles before handing you one of them in the middle of the kitchen, where anyone could walk in. “eat,” jay commands and you nod, not knowing the word was for both you and the man between your legs.

jake dives in, testing the waters with a kitten lick at your clit. your hand stills, unable to bring the sandwich to your mouth. jake notices your reaction, flattening his tongue and licking a long stripe this time, dipping through your folds. he moans against your heat, a rumble you feel all the way up in the crown of your head.

“what did i say?” jay asks you and you hesitantly meet his gaze, seeing blown out pupils meet your own. he guides your hand to your mouth, forcing you to take a bite. jay uses his other hand to push jake’s head further into your core. you groan, barely able to swallow your food as you clamp your thighs around jake’s head.

you groan, eyes watching jay and his gaze that’s trained on you. “mmf–” he shoves the sandwich back into your mouth as jake takes a devastatingly long lick before dipping his tongue into your hole. you choke down the bite of food, glancing down at jake, his need to eat you out pouring out in droves that wash over all three of you. jay’s hand never leaves the back of his head, encouraging jake to go deeper.

you hear the backdoor slam gently as sunghoon enters, drying his hair off with a towel. he glances over at the three of you, fire stirring in his stomach as his body goes completely still. sunghoon feels stupidly angry at the display in front of him. his two stupidly horny best friends truly couldn’t keep their hands to themselves, could they? even after he’d endlessly warned them?

sunghoon is determined to show them who you belong to.

“all three of you,” he booms, tossing the towel on the floor, “upstairs. now.”

jake continues lapping at your heat, adding a finger along with his mouth as it dips further into your warm walls. jay yanks him off by his hair, shoving him towards the staircase, knowing how absolutely pussy drunk his best friend gets, a feeling that makes every sound fall on deaf ears when speaking to the blonde man. jake looks dazed before seeing sunghoon standing there, not realizing the man had come inside, considering he was neck deep in your pussy. jay takes the sandwich from your hand and sets it to the side, helping you off the island, no urgency in his actions. jake nearly dashes upstairs, the slightest bit afraid of sunghoon and what he’s going to do, not that he’d ever admit it outloud.

you adjust your bottoms so that they’re covering you fully once more, shame covering your features, cascading over your cheeks and reaching the tips of your ears.

jay steps upstairs slowly, not sparing a glance back at you and sunghoon, who stand alone near the backdoor. sunghoon raises an eyebrow at you, “oh, now you’re shy?” his tone drips venom.

you shake your head lightly before turning to the stairs and trudging up, belly burning at the thought of what sunghoon has planned. you find sunghoon’s room, stepping inside and you’re greeted with the familiarity of his space, one you often spent a lot of time in. mostly teasing sunghoon, pushing him to his breaking point, lingering as long as possible before he’d shove you out with a frenzied lock of the door.

jay is sprawled out on sunghoon’s desk chair, swaying back and forth lazily. jake is sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes trained on the door. you join jake on the bed, meeting his eye for a moment, the fear and need in your eyes overflowing with blink of your long lashes.

“hoon, please don’t be mad–” you beg him, eyes wide as you watch him enter, the familiar sound of the lock twisting behind him.

the anger ruminating off of sunghoon’s body crowds the small space, soaking the air. “i told you two idiots to stay away from her, didn’t i?!” jay rolls his eyes.

“hoon, be for real man. you really thought that would keep us away?” jake watches his younger best friend with a confused look.

“jake hasn’t got his dick wet in so long, hoon, let him have this,” jake throws a pillow towards jay, one which hits him square in the face. “i’m trying to help you, asshole!”

“hoonie, i’m sorry,” you plead, “it just happened.”

“it’s not hoonie anymore, you lost that privilege.”

your face runs cold at his words, sniffling lightly under his intense gaze, “h–hoon, i’m really sorry–”

“yeah? you’re sorry? you’re fucking sorry?” he mocks, squishing your face with one of his veiny hands, “you’re not fucking sorry, you’re just sorry you got caught. but i’ll make you sorry. show you who you really belong to.”

you whimper, heat rushing to your core, nearly dripping out of your bottoms. “lucky for you, i’m a good step brother, so i’ll let you have your fun with jay and jake, princess. just not behind my damn back, and certainly not without me,” he releases his grip on your face. jay glances at hoon, confusion lacing his features. “what are you waiting for, jongseong? i’m giving you permission, just this once.”

“yeah? and what if she doesn’t want it just once, hoonie?”

sunghoon cracks one of his knuckles absentmindedly, his eyes narrowing in annoyance as he hovers above you. “well too fucking bad, that’s not her decision to make.”

jay chuckles darkly as he rises and approaches you, his figure towering over you as he stands next to hoon. “you want us to make you feel good, baby?” he holds your cheek with one of his large hands and you unconsciously lean into his touch, nodding as you look up at him. “daddy will give you whatever you want, angel.”

you moan at the name and glance at sunghoon for guidance, finding him already watching you with a trained gaze. he gives you the smallest nod of permission, the sight of his possessiveness sending wetness dripping into the fabric covering your core. your brain is torn between focusing on the two men in front of you, their presence completely overwhelming you with how close their bodies are pressed to you, not knowing whether to watch jay or sunghoon.

“you want jake to finish eating you out, pretty?” jay strokes his thumb over your chin as he watches your face change, heating up a bit.

“yes.”

“yes what?”

“yes, daddy,” jay groans, “that’s right, good girl.” he lets go of your face as he comes to sit behind you, spreading his legs out so you can sit flush to his back. the hardness of his dick presses into your back and you groan, glancing back at him with lust clouding your gaze.

jake settles himself between your legs, his touch gentle as he finally unties the flimsy material clothing your pussy, tugging on the ties until you reveal yourself to him. jake bites on the plush of your inside thigh, “fuuuuck, look at this pussy.” jake interrupts his own groan by diving in, resuming his movements from merely moments earlier. he grips your thigh tightly with one hand, the other joining his tongue inside your wet heat with two fingers now. he scissors inside, searching for the spot inside you that no doubt makes your eyes roll back.

sunghoon watches your face, gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing your eyes to focus on him. “only look at me, slut.” you feel your eyes tearing up a little at his harsh words. “aw, my baby’s gonna cry because i called her a slut? couldn’t even be patient for your brother, had to go fuck my friends because you couldn’t get me to fuck you quick enough, could you? dumb whore.”

you can feel the thoughts slipping from your mind as sunghoon stares deep into your eyes, your own bubbling with tears as he degrades you, the words filling your mind with a mix of shame and desperation. desperation to feel his hands on you, hurting you in the most delicious way then soothing the emotional welts with kisses and a cock kissing your cervix.

jay reaches around your body, palming your tits in his hands, fondling them gently outside of your top. “i’ll fuck you nice and deep, princess, don’t worry.” jay whispers as he trails kisses down your jaw, interspersing harsh sucks in with his actions, hoping to leave a mark.

you feel almost brainless as he touches you, and jake continues working your pussy with his mouth, “mmh– daddy,” you groan as jay pinches one of your nipples through the fabric. you reach behind you, swiftly untying your bikini top and yanking it off your body. “needy girl,” jay presses a kiss behind your ear as he continues his movements, his need growing after feeling you bare beneath his hands. sunghoon takes your top from your hands, throwing it somewhere in the room before catching your lips in a searing, passionate, possessive kiss.

sunghoon, sunghoon, sunghoon is all you can think as he presses against you, hands holding your face tightly, like if he doesn’t you’ll slip from his grasp.

jake’s nose brushes against your clit as he dips back into your heat with a particularly strong lick, fingers reaching deep and finally prodding against your sweet spot. “eugh!–” you moan against sunghoon’s mouth, gasping lightly as jake repeats the same motion. jake grins against your pussy at your reaction, noticing the way your legs are beginning to tremble as the thigh he’s not holding tries to close in on his head. sunghoon pulls away, keeping his face close to yours, his shallow breaths ghosting over your lips. “my naughty little sister, look at you.”

“sweet girl is close, jakey,” jay bites at your neck, “come on, pup, work your magic.” jake’s ears burn at the nickname tumbling from jay’s lips, his cock stirring as he continues his ministrations on your sopping wet core. “you gonna cum for me?” jake speaks into your pussy, the vibrations enhancing your pleasure and you nod fervently, “yes, jake!”

sunghoon’s hand digs into jake’s hair and yanks him off of your clit, causing you to nearly scram from the loss of contact, “h-hoonie please!”

“naughty girls don’t get to cum, do they jay?” sunghoon watches jay with a small smirk adorning his plump lips, watching jay’s nose twitch slightly. “i think she deserves it, making jakey feel so good down there.”

sunghoon glances down at jake, who he now notices is panting loudly, fighting to dive back in to lick further at your core. “he’s close, too, hoon, don’t blue ball our friend.” jake whimpers the longer sunghoon holds him by his hair, far away from any skin that he can suck and bite.

“fine,” sunghoon relents, glancing up at jay, “but no more requests from you, daddy,” he says the nickname with a mocking tone, watching his best friend continue to fondle your breasts lightly. you gasp at jake’s return to your core, the man between your legs quickly slides two fingers in beside his tongue. “and you keep your eyes on me when you cum.” you nod quickly, babbling a small, “yes, hoonie,” breathlessly.

jake prods against that special spot in your gummy walls repeatedly, licking deep inside next to his two fingers. his nose rubbing incessantly against your clit paired with jay biting your skin and gripping your breasts has you tumbling to the edge. jay aids you, pinching harshly against one of your nipples as he whispers, “go ahead, babygirl, let go.”

your eyes dart to sunghoon, who’s already staring at you with need swimming in his irises. you hold his gaze as you cum with a loud moan, body going limp as the pair continue their motions, working you through your orgasm. your vision is blurry and limbs fuzzy as you come down from your high, body bathed in heat as you still feel three pairs of hands all over you. you whine as you come back into your mind, trying to push jake away.

sunghoon groans lowly at the sight of you cumming under his best friends, trying to keep his composure, vowing to himself to make you cum harder.

jake sits up, a cocky grin on his lips as he collects the cum from his face with his fingers and shoves them into jay’s mouth. you lean back, watching as jay sucks it all off of jake’s fingers. you blush, body feeling hot knowing he’s eagerly sucking your essence off the other man’s gorgeous fingers. jay pulls off with a pop, his attention turning back to you.

“you gonna let us fuck you, baby?” you glance up at your stepbrother for permission. sunghoon brings his hands to grip onto your hips, rubbing his thumbs on your skin, each movement spreading fire across your body as he burns you with his gentle yet possessive touch. “is that what you want?” you nod, looking up at sunghoon with wide eyes, “want all three of you,” you tell him with a pout. sunghoon groans lowly, masking it by kissing your lips chastely.

“my baby,” he whispers with a smile, one that hides his need to take you right here in front of both of his friends. sunghoon decides to let you have your fun, knowing this will be the last time you fuck anyone besides him for the rest of your life. “just this once, okay?” you nod with a smile that matches his own, hiding your need to be claimed by your step brother deep within your expression, “yes, sir.”

a moan escapes his throat, “fuck, don’t call me that right now or i’ll kick these two idiots out and take you all for myself.”

“later?” he nods in response before stepping back, watching with a trained gaze as you interact with his best friends. you reach out to play with the hem of jake’s swim shorts, “go ahead,” jay smiles, always wanting to please you. you see hoon nod at you from the corner of your eye, so you take it as permission to continue.

you pull jake’s shorts down slowly, gasping as his cock springs up, hard and veiny, his mushroom tip blushing as you take in the sight of him, so so long with a decent girth.

“you too, jay,” you pull yourself from his lap, crawling to the center of the bed. you watch jay tug his own shorts down, tossing them somewhere across the room. jay’s thickness alone makes your eyes go wide, knowing he’s going to absolutely stretch you out with how wide he is. his length is nothing to scoff at either, especially not knowing he’ll be rearranging your guts shortly enough.

jake glances over at sunghoon for a moment, “can i fuck her in the ass, hoon?”

sunghoon doesn’t reply, glancing at jay for a moment with a quirked eyebrow. jay pushes jake onto the bed, forcing his best friend to settle against the pillows. “no, i’m fucking her ass.” jay tells him, lifting you like you weigh nothing, groaning as you take in the sight of his bulging biceps. “mmh– you’re so strong…” you drool as you watch jake stroke himself a few times to ensure he’s fully hard for you.

jay lifts you and jake holds his dick, the two working in tandem to slide you onto jake’s length, the action making you wonder just for a moment if they’ve done this before. his tip sits against your hole for a moment, pulling a whimper from your lips and returning your mind to the present moment, before he’s breaching your wet heat, the stretch delicious as you sink lower and lower until you feel his pelvis pressed against your own.

sunghoon takes his shorts off before kneeling next to the three of you, the sight of him being even bigger than both of his friends has you drooling and leaking around jake’s cock.

“fuck–” you moan, body feeling limp, his strong hands on your hips being the only thing to hold you upright. jake loses all restraint after feeling himself bottoming out inside of you, his insistent thrusts making you fall into his chest. “fuck, baby,” jake groans, eyes rolling back at the feeling of your tight hole wrapped around his aching dick. “pussy’s heaven.”

jay moves while you’re still distracted, tip poking against your tightened rim. your eyes go wide, glancing back at him. “it’s okay, baby, it’ll feel good, don’t worry, princess,” he presses a kiss to your lower back to soothe you. jay holds your ass cheeks apart so he can watch the slide. he spits down on your fluttering hole so he can slip in easier, pressing just the tip inside as you’re rocked against jake’s length. “ah!–” you scream at the intrusion, his cock nearly splitting you open as jay stills for just a moment. he rubs your cheeks with his thumb, nearly cumming right there from feeling how tight you’re wrapped around his cock. “jay, ‘s too big,” you mumble.

“you can take it, angel girl,” he tells you, his weeping dick being further enveloped in your impossibly tight hole as you whimper and squirm beneath him.

sunghoon interrupts any further ramblings about any of them being too big by bringing your face down to his length and tapping your cheek with his cock. he smacks your cheek again before resting it against your lips for a moment. you eagerly open up, taking him in. sunghoon groans at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth sucking him in so easily. he fists your hair in his hand, beginning to manipulate your mouth up and down his cock, knowing you’re probably already too fucked out to be able to bob up and down on your own accord.

“there you go,” jay whispers once he’s fully inside. you feel double stuffed, no, triple stuffed. the sensation is completely new to you as you cry out with nonsensical pants and moans, gripping onto sunghoon’s thick thighs.

you feel their cocks inside you moving in tandem, jay more controlled and pointed as jake nearly crumbles inside of you, all control slipping out of him the moment he breached your warm heat. sunghoon is controlled with his thrusts in and out of your mouth, holding strong in his resolve despite how fucking warm and tight your mouth feels wrapped around him. the push and pull is delicious, your body being tugged this way and that, sandwiched between the three men deliciously.

jake can feel jay’s thick cock through the thin wall that separates them, “fuck, you should feel this pussy, jay,” jake moans, “bet she could fit us both.”

“mm, our good princess could fit both of us in her tiny hole, couldn’t she?” jay teases, the words nearly making you drip down jake’s length. you can feel jake’s thrusts becoming even sloppier, and jay is speeding up behind you. sunghoon has switched from using your hair to move you against his length to thrusting up into your mouth instead, reaching deeper than before, his cockhead fucking against the back of your throat deliciously. jay reaches around, thumbing at your hardened nub with practiced expertise, biting into your shoulder.

you hear sunghoon’s voice from above you, dark and biting with his words, “don’t you dare fucking cum inside, jake.”

“fuck, i–i’m close,” jake groans, his thrusts never ceasing. you can sense it in the air, both men that are pressed so deep inside of you are nearing their ends, with sunghoon not far behind. jake becomes sloppier, panting loudly in need as jay keeps pressing himself deeper, forcing his cock to stretch your hole further with his girth in every move.

“jay,” jake groans and jay tugs you off jake’s dick before you feel liquid hitting your stomach. jake paints your abdomen with cum, watching in awe as it slides down your soft skin slowly. jay plants kisses all over your shoulderblade, “fuck, you fit so tight around me, baby, gonna cum inside this tight little asshole of yours.”

jay’s thrusts pull you away from sunghoon’s cock. your step brother moves instead to begin fondling your tits with practiced intention, his grip sending shockwaves through your system, “fuck, daddy–” jay cums deep inside, pressing his hips flush against your as you milk his cock.

jay pants, glancing up at sunghoon, who is watching him expectantly. jay pulls out slowly, watching the cum drip from your hole with a deep groan. “fuck, look at that.”

“alright, move out of the way.” sunghoon commands to the duo after only a beat, still massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples, “i don’t care where you go, you can watch for all i care, just get the fuck off my bed.”

jake, tumbles off the bed onto the floor, utterly spent and too tired to even stand. jay takes a seat at the desk, watching with a lust filled gaze.

“gonna fuck you the way you deserve, baby. you’ll never want another man to even look at you once i slip inside…” you open your eyes again to see sunghoon sitting before you. his dick sits hard right in front of your eyes. now, no longer distracted by the two other men that were once surrounding you, the sight stirs heat inside your stomach, his girth and length surpassing both of his friends that just destroyed you from the inside out.

“fuck, hoonie–” you stare up at him, tongue nearly lolling out of your mouth at the sight of his length.

“my sweet angel girl,” sunghoon coos at you, a different, new emotion taking over his previous jealousy and possessiveness, “waited so long for this pussy, can’t believe you made your brother wait for you.” he wraps your legs around his waist, holding them there as he presses his tip against your fluttering hole. you groan at the sensation, trying to wiggle your hips to entice him to slip inside. he tightens his grip on the underside of your knees, a warning for your disobedience.

your eyes roll back as he pulls away before yelping as he smacks your clit with his bulbous tip. you glance down at his cock sitting near where you oh so desperately need him, the veins matching the ones on his hands that make you groan.

you’d gotten that part right with your attempted sunghoon replica dildo.

“hoonie,” you whimper, “‘m sorry…”

“i know, baby,” sunghoon captures your lips in a gentle kiss, “but now that i have you, you better not even think about leaving.” he punctuates his words by pressing his tip inside, almost cumming on the spot at the feeling of finally having you enveloping his dick in your perfect little hole. “fuck, pussy’s so perfect and i only have the tip in.” you’re nearly able to cum again just from the feeling of his mushroom head fitting snugly inside your abused hole.

“fuck, hoonie,” you whimper, grasping at his large biceps for stability as he slides in achingly slow, wanting to savor the feeling of every part of your walls sucking him in. “need you.”

“need you too baby.” sunghoon presses kisses on your cheeks, moving one of his hands from the underside of your knee to your lower back, angling you closer. you feel him even deeper inside you with this action and you glance down, seeing even more length left. “you have all of me now, don’t even worry angel. hoonie will take care of you.”

“mmh– sir you’re so big,” you whimper as sunghoon finally bottoms out inside of you.

“yeah? my baby’s dildos she got as a stand in for me aren’t as big as the real thing, are they?” sunghoon taunts, a wave of embarrassment flooding over you. you shake your head, “they aren’t–”

your sentence is halted by sunghoon pulling all the way out, just the tip still sitting inside your warm walls, before shoving back in, his tip bruising your cervix with a single thrust.

“i know my baby, you just wanted your big brother so bad that you had to get one you thought was the same size, didn’t you?”

you shake your head, “n-no!”

“don’t lie, princess,” sunghoon continues pulling all the way out to the tip before sliding back inside with a quick movement, the action yanking gasps and moans from your throat. “it’s okay, angel. but i need you to throw all of those away now, okay?”

you nod fervently, wanting so deeply to please sunghoon, wanting his big cock to stretch you open like you’ve fantasized about for months now, never before having the courage to do more than a little light teasing with him.

“h-hoonie,” you whine, staring up at him with wide eyes and blown out pupils, the sight of you staring up at him with want and need and lust swimming in your gaze making him nearly bust on the spot. “i know, pretty, hoonie’s got you,” sunghoon shoves himself back in your heat, stilling for a moment before moving his hand that’s holding your leg to your abdomen, pressing against your lower stomach. “look at that, angel.” you feel a bit of drool dribble out of your mouth at the sight of him pressed so deep inside, a bulge easily visible. “pretty little girl was made for her step brother’s cock, wasn’t she?”

you groan as he somehow pushes even deeper into you, “h-hoon!” you scream, panting as he takes one of your hands and slides it to meet the delicate skin of your tummy, feeling him prodding inside your hole so deep that you feel him on the outside, too. “mm, that’s my good girl, taking everything i give you.” sunghoon begins thrusting again, the harsh movements shoving you up and down along the bed as the headboard slams against the wall with each yank of his cock in your tight hole.

sunghoon slides his hand down from his tip protruding through down to your clit, rubbing in a skilled pattern along your hardened nub. “mmf– fuck!”

“that’s it baby, gonna milk this cock, aren’t you?” you’re unable to answer, clamping tightly around him, making sunghoon’s balls feel ready to burst. “hoonie! i-i’m cumming–” you cry, staring up at him with teary eyes. the sensations overwhelm you as he pounds deep into you, rubbing your clit with rough fingers, hoping to chase your impending orgasm. the rubber band in your tummy snaps and you cum with a loud moan and a choked sob, clutching onto sunghoon’s biceps to keep yourself stable.

“fuck, baby, so fucking tight,” sunghoon’s eyes are clamped shut, head leaned back as he chases his own release as you encase his cock in a vice grip. “gonna cum so deep inside you, baby, and you’re gonna take it all, my good girl.” one particularly sharp thrust pulls a loud moan from his throat as he stills, pressing his pelvis flush with yours. cum paints your fluttering walls with long spurts, seemingly never ending.

sunghoon doesn’t move, keeping himself pressed as deep inside as possible. your head returns from the clouds slowly, smiling at the feeling of being absolutely stuffed.

“mm, hoonie–” you smile softly, leaning to hide your face against his arm.

“my good girl,” he cups your face with one hand, tracing your cheek with his thumb gently. “alright tweedledee and tweedledum, get the fuck out.” sunghoon glances at jay and jake, who both have fresh spurts of cum painted across their abdomens.

you look at them both, giggling lightly, “first and last time someone’s looking at you like that,” he tells you with conviction, his voice low, before capturing your lips in a gentle, slow kiss.

“you’ve always been a weird one, hoon,” jay teases, cleaning himself with tissues before throwing the box to jake. “and that’s saying a lot, because we know jakey boy here.”

“fuck off, jay,” jake snides, “you like it when i put my fingers in your mouth.”

sunghoon raises an eyebrow at his best friends, “you two are strange…” he chuckles, still nestled deep in your warm pussy. “can’t believe i actually allowed you to fuck my girl.” he makes a disgusted face before glancing between the pair with a steely gaze. the phrase ‘my girl’ makes your pulse quicken and your face feel hot. “this was one time, you understand me? had to show you fuckers how it’s done, you didn’t even make her cum again after you both got your dicks wet. if you even so much as breathe in her direction after this, i’ll chop your fucking dicks off.”

sunghoon smirks lowly as he feels you grow wet again at his possessiveness, still fucked out beneath him but almost fully coherent. the way he clings tightly to you even after cumming inside you makes your heart flutter against your ribcage.

“jesus christ, okay!” jay raises his hand in a surrendering motion, rising to his feet. he leads jake to the door, shoving him out in front of him. “i don’t like when he puts his fingers in my mouth, by the way.” jay says, watching hoon.

“sure you don’t, jay.” sunghoon winks at him, cock beginning to grow once more from the warm heat he’s still wrapped in, “close the door.” jay shuffles out, shutting the door behind him.

sunghoon returns his attention to you, a gentle smile gracing his plump lips, showing you a glance of his pretty fangs. “hi, pretty girl.”

“hi, hoonie,” you giggle, watching him with adoration in your gaze.

“you kept me waiting all that time, what a tease you are, baby.” sunghoon shakes his head lightly, beginning to thrust again, fucking the cum mixture back into your hole.

“i–i was scared,” you admit through gentle thrusts, little ah ah ah’s and grunts and whimpers dotted between your words, “didn’t know if you liked me back, hoonie…”

sunghoon groans lowly at your admission, his heart hurting a bit at your words as he stuffs himself deep inside with slower, harsher thrusts, “why wouldn’t i like you back, baby? you’re absolutely perfect.”

“i didn’t know if it was in the same way as me,” you tell him, wide eyes watching his face.

“it is, baby,” sunghoon kisses you, slow and gentle. you feel every single vein adorning his length as he rocks in and out of you pointedly, “i like you so so much, need you to be my girl.”

“are you really gonna cut their dicks off?”

you moan as his thrusts increase in speed and become rougher, “had to show them who you belong to, since they had no fucking problem touching what’s mine behind my back.”

“mm– i’m all yours, hoonie,” you cry out as he tweaks one of your nipples, the other hand running up and down the length of your body as if he’s trying to memorize every curve.

“yeah?” the words make his cock twitch, “gonna cum inside you again, baby, so deep that i knock you up, my beautiful little sister.”

you moan loudly, so close to the edge already from his pointed thrusts and calculated finger on your nub, “yesyesyes! please hoonie fill me up again, need to feel your cum inside me again! need it so bad–” you beg with your wide eyes, babbling endlessly because you’re oh so close, and he’s already fucked you out of your brain, “please fill me up, sir, please please please!” your hands splay over his back, a particularly harsh thrust making you dig your nails into his perfect skin instinctively, not wanting him to pull away.

“fuck, baby,” he groans, “give me another one, you can do it,” his voice is commanding this time, pulling you the edge and propelling you over, cum rushing out of you. the tightness of your heat around his dick and the pain of the nails raking along his back has sunghoon shoving in deep and cumming once more, pushing it as deep as it can possibly go in your wet pussy.

sunghoon crumbles, falling gently atop your still shaking body. you relish at the feeling of his sticky, sweaty chest laying atop your own. peace washes over you, knowing the push and pull you and your step brother have been engaging in for months is finally over.

“fuck, i love you,” sunghoon presses kisses across the expanse of your face. “i’ve waited so long and you’re finally mine.”

“yours?” your gentle voice is music to sunghoon’s ears.

sunghoon presses a kiss into the junction of your neck and shoulder, sucking a bruise, “yes, mine.” he says with finality, and the way your eyes go wide at his words makes him think you must love him, too.

“mine forever, baby.”

#jay #jake #sunghoon #02z #smut #jaykehoon #x reader #enha #enhypen #**mine #**lemonade

1K notes · View notes

leaderwonim · 8 months ago

Text

𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐘 — four: not an ounce of comfort

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. lee heeseung x fem!reader, park sunghoon x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. Y/N always knew that her high school was dominated by wealth and privilege. Upon having a one night stand with popular athlete Lee Heeseung, she uncovers that Heeseung's friend group controls not only social dynamics but also school policies and local affairs, revealing a hidden world of power and manipulation behind their so called perfectly polished exteriors

masterlist | previous | next

You ended up rushing over to the football field, a blue painted 85 on the side of your cheek.

85 was Heeseung’s number, Giselle had told you because she saw his jersey a couple times while passing the football field.

“Are you wearing a push-up bra?” Giselle asks as she examines your chest area with a quirked brow. “Trying to impress the Mr, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes, shoving her back jokingly. “Gigi!”

Yujin shows up not a minute later, her honors chemistry textbook in her hand. “Are you wearing a push-up bra, Y/N?”

“Is it so obvious that everybody knows?!” You exclaim, huffing as you crossed your arms.

“Girl, it’s fine.” Giselle pats your back. “Heeseung will definitely like it.”

The coach blows his whistle and the game starts to become upbeat again, the stadium filled with students cheering.

You could see Hanni and Danielle do warm up stretches on the track, and you can’t help but feel a bit of envy towards the two.

They practically had a perfect life.

“Go go go!” You heard the crowd roar, watching as Heeseung runs through his opponents in a flash. “TOUCHDOWN!”

Giselle shrieks, grabbing both you and Yujin—who crinkled her eyes in disgust—in a tight hug.

“Well what are you waiting for?” Giselle screams over the cheering crowd. “Go with him for your project girl!”

You run down the stadium stairs, bumping into Seojun with a pck!

“You’re Heeseung’s partner,” he smirks. “Heeseung’s over there celebrating with the team. I’ll take you to them.”

Although Seojun intimidated you to the max, you knew you were going to do yourself worst if you said no to his offer.

“Heeseung.” Seojun taps on the boy’s shoulder, and when he turns around, you’re almost stunned by his beauty.

Who knew Lee Heeseung in his football jersey would be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Seungie!” Before you could say your greetings, Hanni runs over in her cheer uniform and pompoms, jumping on Heeseung and wrapping her legs around his waist.

He wraps his arm around her frame within seconds, securing her. He gives you an awkward smile, one which you return back.

“I’m so proud of you!” She says after setting herself on the ground again. “You just needed harsh motivation Heeseung!”

He nods, then looks back to you. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

Yeah. Yeah?! Heeseung just asked you a question and all you can say is yeah?

You could already feel his friend group burning holes into your head.

“My friends are coming too if you don’t mind. You know Hanni and Seojun. Danielle and Sunghoon are coming too.”

You grimace slightly, but try not to show it in front of Heeseung.

You were going to be surrounded with them.

When you arrive at his house, your jaw practically drops to the ground. It’s gigantic, almost seems endless with a giant front pool that looked like an Olympic swimming pool.

“Why the long face?” Hanni asks from behind you. “Never seen such a place so nice? Are you one of the scholarship kids?”

You gulp, not wanting to turn around to face her.

“Alright Han, drop it.”

Hanni rolls her eyes at Heeseung defending you. “What? It’s just a joke Heeseung, loosen up.”

All of them drop their bags near the maid, not bothering to look behind them as they settled into Heeseung’s kitchen.

“Do you need help?” You ask the maid. Curse you for being an empath, but you could sense her tiredness.

“It’s alright dear, it’s my job.” She gives you a small smile. “Thank you though. You really aren’t like the others.”

You smile sadly at that, hanging your backpack on one of Heeseung’s hangers instead of letting the maid do it like the rest of them.

“Heeseung! What did your chef make for us today?” Sunghoon leans back against the kitchen island. “Tell me you got oysters, I’ve been craving them.”

Heeseung opens up his fridge, sliding a bowl of raw oysters towards the boy. “Have at it.”

He turns around to you, his eyes holding a warm welcome. “Do you want anything Y/N? Sea moss? Truffle pizza? Wagyu with rice?”

You shake your head. “Water would be nice.”

Hanni can’t help but giggle at your words, leaning against Sunghoon.

You’re sure she’s making fun of you in her head. You’re just sure of it.

“Alright let’s talk about our project.” Heeseung takes a seat next to you. “I was thinking we talk about skin layers, including skin diseases that affect people everyday.”

You nod, listening attentively to his words. “I think that’s a great idea Heeseung.”

Within minutes, you could feel yourself needing to pee, thanks to Heeseung’s fancy water his parents had imported from Erehwon in Los Angeles.

“I’m gonna use the restroom if you don’t mind,” you say to him.

“That’s fine, it’s down the hall. Make a turn to the right when you reach it.”

You quickly walk over to the bathroom, giving a maid a small smile as you passed by her in the hall.

Meanwhile, Hanni pokes at the wagyu on her plate, clearly upset with something.

“What’s wrong pretty?” Sunghoon asks. “I thought you were really happy about the win.”

“I am,” she huffs. “It’s about Heeseung.”

“What did I do?” Heeseung asks, taken aback.

“What didn’t you do?” Seojun laughs loudly at his own joke. “What? It was funny!”

“I mean you’re defending that Y/N girl so hard! You didn’t even laugh at any of my jokes.” Hanni grumbles. “Like what the fuck is your problem? This whole new personality is seriously unlikable.”

The room grows silent, and Heeseung can’t help but let out a loud sigh.

“Look—I’m sorry Hanni, okay? I just don’t want to make her uncomfortable. This project is a huge part of my grade and I don’t want to work with someone that hates me.”

“Whatever.”

You swore the tension in the room could be cut with a knife when you entered, but you didn’t want to mention it.

“Now where were we?” Heeseung says, breaking the silence with a smile towards you.

Oh it was going to be a long night.

AUTHOR’s NOTE: think we can all agree mitski is heeseung’s favorite artist 😭

TAGLIST (closed) @cupidhoons @lilyuwon @soobeboobe @immelissaaa @coqhee @shuichi-sama @ssukiyakii @deobitifull @sunpov @anittamaxwynnn @minjaexvz @katarinamae @capri-cuntz @jooniesbears-blog @sakanelli-afc @lvlyjisung @cherlv @mnxnii @llvrhee @b0bbl3s @lwavander @glxzillx @txtlyn @heartheejake @realrintaro @wonyoungvirus @hyuckies18 @iriroha @jakeyloveer @thinkinboutbin @yoonjise @rikizm @cinnamon-won @samouryed @moon4moony @jakesfurry @yunjinhuhjennifer @viagumi @rikisly @rikisnotforsale @heart4hees @jjklvr9 @loviwon @rik1zzluv @skzenhalove @jaehoonii @j5yy @tnazips @taeyoonga @ezekiel-bublz @jakeyverse @wave2beom @maepjetl @urfavouriteanon

485 notes · View notes

1800titz · 11 months ago

Text

The vacay piece I teased ages ago. One night stand :D

CONTENT/WARNINGS: p-in-v, oral, brief size kink (if you squint), praise kink, this one’s p vanilla.

WC: 2.5K

It starts like this:

A bohemian beach with a high riding tide, where ripples surge and flood the shore. Sand tears from its home, coasting the verge in the breeze like a fog under the overcast, and when the clouds split open, the rays hug her skin.

She’s sprawled over a chaise lounge in a little red thing that’s all skimp and no cover besides the intimates. When she rolls onto her side and tips to her tummy, he eyes the flash of skin behind dark tint. His arms brace over the porcelain border of the pool that overlooks the beach up ahead — he’s watchful from a distance. Someone swims up to the bar behind him. Chlorine laps at his back, teeming over the grout between the tiles as he wraps his lips over a straw and nurses something cobalt and strong.

By the time he culls a second one, she’s up, all glistening skin in the sunshine, hips swaying as her toes make doughy prints in the sand. She trails to the sea, and the ocean eats her until she’s just a little silhouette in front of his sunglasses with water-slicked hair and lines that cinch and swell in all the right places.

He sees her like that, outlying his bubble, in brief pieces like the flashes of skin. Fragments in the horizon, like the border of a stranger’s leg in the background of a photograph. He sees her in slivers where eyes interlock from across the room and linger. This bohemian summer is painted in teal, and it’s waves swathing the coast, warm skin coated in cocoa butter.

It ends on a night where the teal metamorphose indigo, and then nearly denim, with orange on cords, glinting like miniaturized, splintered orbs of the sun have been caught to glare forever on strings in the night. Harry sees her through that indigo, this stranger’s bare leg waltzing in the depths of his touristy snapshot, mingling in the dancing horde. He trails closer, shouldering through the throng and squeezing through in polite gaps, and she twists like it’s fate — just enough to smuggle a glimpse in her peripherals.

Eventually, Harry leans in to murmur, “What are you drinking?”

The plush of his mouth ghosts over the cartilage there, and his cadence smooths over like honey, low and deep over the pounding bass of the music. Waned tobacco and spice; a warm, pleasant musk in the flurry of scents.

She doesn’t immediately respond, observant like she’s weighing whether the invitation is worth entertaining. It only takes a second. Then, there’s a hand over his pec, like she’s already made friends with the filth of his intentions. His red-lycra-skimp mystique rolls up on her toes.

Harry twists his head just enough for her to respond, “It’s a Blue Lagoon.”

Saccharine — rich and lux and smooth, something that has her skin glowy and sweeps up her throat, tucks behind her ear, enough so that the scent billows off with the motion of her hair as she flips it over her shoulder.

Harry casts his gaze to the drink. A red straw is tucked into the ice, and the only remnants of the beverage mingle at the bottom. The ice shimmers in faded teal, much like water sloshing over the flat tides. Her fingers cradle over the cup, and that’s where soft, thin lines of gold coil. Despite the broad array, there’s no wedding band.

“Can I grab you another?”

That’s when she does the thing; this patently flirtatious, brazenly get-under-my-crocheted-midi-skirt sort of thing, lashes coy in their sweep and eyes innocuous as the tips of her manicured fingers pinch at the straw and siphon it to her mouth. There’s an elegant presentation to the polish — neat, short lines with a nude base and a white tip.

The remnants of the beverage vanish until all that’s left is crushed ice painted with blue curaçao. Harry watches the straw. He watches her lips, the way they unlatch and the way the pink tip of her tongue offers a glimpse before it hides away behind her front teeth.

When she pulls the drink away, she tips her head — an inclination for his ear again — and when he ducks his chin for her answer, she tells him, “Can you make it worth my time?”

A tongue swipes — his — like it’s already hungry and yearning. Dimples form beside the curling edges of a mouth after the pink muscle retreats. Home in its hungry cavern; limitlessly craving. He doesn’t bother going for her ear again, instead opting to fix eyes that have wandered, all week, onto her face. Definitive, close. Mesh of saccharine and spice.

“I’ll make it worth your time,” Harry assures.

His eyes are virid, even in the indigo, under all the miniature suns as the lanterns throw them back into a roll of blue — it climbs over the crowd and seeps with the music. They’re virid and intent. They’re virid, and there’s something lewd that dances in the mottled talc.

She watches him. A set of eyes flits to his mouth and stays, brief like a fragment. She nudges the cup — the fragment splinters and fades — extending it against his chest until he raises his hand and his ring clad digits curl over it slowly, wet with condensation.

“Blue Lagoon,” sweet mystique reminds him, a little curl to her mouth.

Harry heads to the bar. He orders a Blue Lagoon and refreshes his tequila. Double. He winds through the half-clad crowd, prodding and slipping through sweat-slicked bodies until he finds her again.

He makes it worth her while when they’re dancing, when her arms are slung over his shoulders and the tips of her fingers graze at the little curls at his nape, like an intimacy beyond a summer fling, or maybe like a restless hunger — its touches only test the waters with dips of toes under lapping ripples. He makes it worth her while when his hand cups the meat of her hip, and she tips her head up for their mouths to meet, when their dancing slows and the kiss turns feverish, cushiony mouths teasing at the seams until they split.

He makes it worth her time when they make the stroll back to his room, heels clicking over tile and bouncing off from lofty wall to lofty wall, a good bit of distance between them strictly for the sake of avoiding shagging in the middle of a hallway. He makes it worth her while when he braces his wrist band to the lock over the door, when she’s leant against the wall with her irises lingering on him and her lashes batting coyly. She’s well-behaved, hands tucked behind her back like a combat to handsy temptation.

It’s a different story behind the door.

He makes it worth her while when her fingers toy at her crocheted halter, index perusing at the fabric below cleavage and brushing over chalky yarn. He makes it worth her time when he steps into her space all slow-like, face tipped down and the pink below his cupid’s bow worked into a soft curve, lengthy, deft digits working over the buttons of his shirt. An untamed tendril teases over one of his brows. Her hands meander from fondling at her own tits, at rogue pieces of yarn in the stitches, to straying up his ink-etched forearms. That’s when he lets her take over the work, when his arms snake over the vale of her waist. When his colossal hands cup lower, when he nudges forward and their mouths brush again. He licks into her mouth and rolls into the gap between her teeth.

Filthy kisses are shrouded behind closed doors, even in the easy ambience of a resort. Furlough on the greedy pursuit of pleasure, on some secluded island with crystalline waters, plus tequila — that’s practically a petri dish for hook up culture. But filthy kisses are saved for the bedroom, and there it’s taste buds doused in citrus limon and gray goose, a tip of a tongue swiping along a row of teeth, basking in the ridges.

“What do you like, little minx?” Harry murmurs. He climbs the column of her throat with the ruddy border of a hungry cavern, and her pulse murmurs back under his mouth. “Hm?”

The blunt tip of his forefinger traces her collarbone, follows a line of cleavage, toys at the cinch in her top; unravels her. It splits down the center, and the straps follow limply down her shoulders. Harry pinches a nipple and scrapes his teeth over her neck, humming again.

Behind closed doors, his red-lycra-mystique (bare, her tits are bare now, in the backdrop of his picture) gets denuded to flesh when she shimmies the dress down her hips. He helps her and then tears his own shirt over his head. It’s hasty, like disrobing takes too much time from a place where time moves slower, riding the water in leisure. Harry still doesn’t know her name, and she slips to her knees, batting her lashes, and takes his buckle apart like unslotting puts the last of the puzzle pieces together.

When her tongue rides under the ridge of his tip, delving and dragging over the prominent vein jutting on the underside of his shaft, he cranes his neck back and makes a sound like she’s torn into his chest with the tips of her french-polished manicure. He punctuates every pornographic, wet sound with dialogue.

“Christ, you’re a dream.”

“Fuck, you’re pretty with cock in your mouth.”

“Yeah, that’s it, just like that, sweetheart.”

“—Y/N,” red-lycra-mystique supplies, gaze bouncing from the twist of her wrists at his base to his face, and then sweeps his bubbling head over her bottom lip and swallows him down halfway.

“Y/N,” Harry mirrors, tone bathed in the same sweetness she radiates at his feet.

And then she trails the very tips of her blunt nails up his sac, and the shiver that rolls up his spine short-circuits every feasible attempt of formulating something in english. Just… gone. Something splinters.

Harry doesn’t cum all over her tongue, despite the pretty mental image he’d cherish of Y/N on her knees with ribbons of silky white coating the insides of her mouth. He thinks about the way he’d dip the pad of his thumb against her tongue, the way he’d stir and scrub it in. He thinks about her lips latching and her cheeks hollowing.

He’s got immense willpower, particularly when she takes him all the way down until her nose nearly brushes the neatly-trimmed tuft of hair the tributary of his happy trail pools into. Because then, she pulls off, chin sloppy with saliva, mouth wide, and stares up at him with this wickedly indelicate curl to the corners of her mouth as she gasps in breaths. Like she wants him to.

Instead, they make it to the bed. He splits her thighs with his palms and spits where she’s puffy and warm, leaky with longing, toying at the seam of her hole with his digits. Smooths the wetness with his thumb when he tucks two fingers in and laves his tongue at the crease between her inner thigh and her cunt. He bumps her clit with the tip and rolls, and her spine arches like the highest point of her torso peaks at the clouds of nirvana.

“You’re a good girl,” Harry tells her, and his voice is so soft, like he’s reassuring an animal that’s backed itself into a corner, “Want you to drench my face.”

And she does, because when he holds a placid, unwavering hand out and talks her so sweetly, lips suckling in a vacuumed ‘o’ between her thighs, what can she do besides roll her hips against his mouth in little, desperate juts, face creased before bliss spumes through every major artery.

When Harry sits back, his chin is sticky, glinting in the buttery cast of the lanterns drilled into the ceiling. He kisses her again until her jaw is stained with her own slick, and despite the entire basis of a one night stand, his tongue meddles into her mouth with the same passion of a man carving a piece of her open. A cozy lacuna just for him in the depths of her chest, something that’ll linger and yearn. A hungry chasm that’ll grumble when her cunt pulses — when he’s not there to fill it. She’ll think of him; a stranger’s leg flitting like a passing speck in the background of her photograph.

Y/N’s cunt hugs him like it can’t get enough.

Eventually.

Because at first, it’s: too big, won’t fit, pleated brows when he’d split her spongy walls apart on the latex-coated tip, stretching to tuck in and hovering to imbibe in miniature ticks of her expression. A twitch in her lashes, a shift in the line of her mouth, a little swallow bobbing down the column of her throat.

“You’re a good girl,” he’d crooned, smoothing a thumb over a rib and then her clit, just to see her squirm more over his cock.

Eventually, she clambers over his lap, planting her palms back over inky, firm muscle. It’s leverage as she bounces to fill that starving cavity — the one he’d drilled with his tongue, like the shape of him can fill every square inch of space before they never see each other again. Hungry, hungry, hungry.

“Come on, baby, come on,” Harry coaxes, a low groan mottled with breathy pants, “—Shit.”

Momentarily, he pauses the guiding grasp he’s got over her hips to drag the pad of his thumb over his tongue lewdly, smearing spit over the digit and swiping circles over her clit, instead. In response, the rolling pace Y/N has set stutters, knees jolting, and her mussed hair spills off her shoulder as she cranes her neck back.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Yes, yes, yes—“

His eyes flit from her cunt to the ethereal line of her neck, the borders of her shoulders, the shape of her tits bouncing.

Ultimately, of course, his gaze winds back down to ogle where they connect, because that’s the view — that’s where she swallows his cock, thighs splayed and trembling, gliding from the tip until about midway before rising and repeating the cycle. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. He draws his thumb lower, lets it meddle where they merge, where her hole flutters and rolls over him, gleaning the sticky arousal that coats his shaft and bringing the pad of it back to her clit. His eyes linger. Flicker up. Return to watch her ride and nearly roll back into his head.

He’s carved the void, and later, when she tips forward and her nails scrape over his pecs, feral, she whittles her own. Later, the space between his thighs aches and heats. Something pulses on the underside of his balls. It yearns for blue curaçao, pellucid, crashing waters, and a skimpy red bikini.

#harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles one shots #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader

624 notes · View notes

dolicekiss · 7 months ago

Note

Hi, how are you? I have a request about Le Chiffre. Female reader and her male colleague are undercover agents for MI6 to get Le Chiffre but he found out who they really are and kidnapped them but Le Chiffre wants to give to the female reader a personal interrogation by himself, warning:non-con, what do you think?

Captured

♡: noncon + le chiffre is the perfect combo tbh i love it

cw: smut (18+, mdni please), noncon, kidnapping, torture, death threats, unprotected sex, impact play, breath play, forced kissing, use of restraints, degrading, throat fucking, oral (male receiving), knife play

Staying in the same hotel as Le Chiffre was no coincidence, it was all planned. Being an undercover agent had its own privileges and advantages, such as staying in luxurious hotels at the expense of the Government.

Your counterpart — another agent helped when it came to use of strength while you were the brain. Le Chiffre was your aim and bringing him alive were your orders. Killing him wouldn't do the world any good because of the potent information he kept concealed in his brain.

You flipped through the pages of magazine, looking at the man swimming in the pool through your cartier glasses.

He had his little blonde girlfriend on the side but she was too occupied with tanning to pay attention to Le Chiffre. You, on the other hand, decided to make your move by standing up and sauntering towards the pool.

Unwrapping the shawl from around your hips, you tossed it and then slid into the pool like a snake. Eyeing your prey like a hawk, you swan around in the blue clean water.

Le Chiffre noticed you when you swam, arms moving like a writhing worm. You could feel his gaze on you and you didn't make eye contact, acting oblivious to him but you knew you'd captured his attention. The whole plan was to seduce him, bring him to your hotel room and get your male agent to knock him out.

But things were not as simple as they seemed.

He stared at you, drinking in your appearance.

You were beautiful, that was for sure. Your frame crafted by the hands of gods themselves, skin untainted like a canvas for him to paint on. Hair like some new creature found in the water, swirling around. You were a beauty and you knew that, hence you used it to your advantage.

You had the allure and Le Chiffre felt the attraction bloom.

You pushed yourself under the water, a small grin on your face before twirling and swimming back up to the surface. Your dance was enticing, how swiftly you moved your little body in the water.

You soon left the pool, walking out of the area with a little towel around you. Le Chiffre’s gaze followed you like you were the prey here.

You found your way to your hotel room and when you shut the door, your colleague greeted you.

“How was it?”

You rolled your eyes. “So far it looks like he wants to eat me.”

Your colleague laughed, obviously satisfied that the plan was working. You were the most beautiful of agents the MI6 had, a strong weapon they used to weaken strong and powerful men.

You decided to take a shower, taking your dress inside. After you were finished with the shower, you dressed up and left the bathroom only to find the room deserted. Not thinking much of it, you moved to the vanity and took a seat infro of the mirror.

Your colleague had probably left for downstairs, maybe to work on something.

You didn't pay it mind — your unawareness of the danger making you vulnerable. You reached for the brush to untangle your wet hair and then something in the corner of your eye moved.

A black shadow.

Your head snapped in its direction but to your disappointment, there was nothing. Empty space by the curtain of the balcony.

“I'm definitely stressed.” You whispered to yourself, in hopes of reassuring yourself but your horrors were brought to life when suddenly black clouded your vision.

You weren't even given time to struggle or react — as you were knocked with the hilt of a gun and rendered unconscious.

— ♡ —

Awaken by a splash of cold water across your face, you jolted up and regained consciousness in a split second. Your body shivered as your vision got used to your surroundings.

You felt tightening in your wrists and realized you were tied up, hanging from the ceiling.

“Look who's awake.”

You moved your gaze up to find Le Chiffre standing before you, one hand slipped inside his pocket. His maroon silk tie complimenting his black suit, a sparking contrast and seemingly the only color in this rusty, dirty room.

Your throat was parched and a throbbing sensation banged at the back of your skull.

This couldn't be.

Your cover could not be blown out, not like this. Unless someone actually outed you to him and you were clueless to who it was. Your colleague was also missing, probably taken captive by Le Chiffre and his men.

You struggled against the rope from which you hung from but that only worked to strain your arms even more. An agonizing hiss left your lips and Le Chiffre smirked, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you.

He looked up at you, tilting his head.

“You thought your little swan dance in the pool would distract me?” He had genuine amusement in his gaze. “I have no lack of women willing to throw themselves at me. You're not special.”

You pressed your tongue against the inside of your mouth.

“I wouldn't even let you touch me with a ten feet pole.” You spat, furry awakening in your gaze.

Le Chiffre’s amusement only increased. “I didn't say I wouldn't touch you. You're a gorgeous woman.”

You flinched when his glove covered hand extended out to brush the wet strands of hair sticking to your forehead. His touch made you cringe and you turned your face away from him, glaring at the crumbling paint on the wall.

Le Chiffre’s scarred eye twitched.

“I brought you here to interrogate you but I must say, your beauty is a distraction.”

You wanted to punch him. If he'd attempted to fight you rather than attacking you from behind, you would've definitely taken him down. Le Chiffre had no morals other than money and making money.

The man was as shallow as a fucking sea shell.

“How did you know..?” You asked, curiosity biting at your abdomen.

He scratched his temple with a finger, walking around you in a stable circle like some animal stalking its prey. “I have spies everywhere, you think I wouldn't know MI6 agents trying to threaten my business?”

You inhaled, apprehension threatening to break your demeanor.

Le Chiffre’s hand moved up to your hair, his fingers tangling in it and tugging your head back. You winced at the striking pain in your scalp, glaring down at him. He only chuckled, tightening his grip.

“Fuck you.” You spat, fury swimming in your blurry eyes.

Le Chiffre tilted his head. “Yeah? I do the fucking here, mon cheri.”

He reached over to the metal rod which held the rope tightly around him. He undid it, watching you fall back on the ground with a loud thud. Your body ached from the abrupt fall and you whimpered — your elbow stinging because of the skin scraping against the concrete.

You looked at the skin and found your elbow to be bleeding and the air clinging to it only made it sting more.

Le Chiffre pulled you up by your hair, forcing you to get on your knees. Thankfully you were in casual clothes so the sweatpants helped protect your knees from grazing over the floor and possibly ending up with the same fate as your elbow.

Your hands flew to grab his wrists, trying to push him off you but the man didn't budge at all. Le Chiffre glared down at you, anger visible in his eyes.

“What information have you transferred regarding me? Trust me when I say I won't ask again, especially this nicely.”

You stayed silent and then your cheek hurt — a stinging sensation spreading through the flesh. Your head had moved to the side from the powerful impact. Le Chiffre had slapped you and you knew more was to come.

“You don't want to open your mouth? Fine.”

One hand gripping your hair tightly, the other frantically reached for the black zipper of his dress pants. Your eyes widened in horror as he unzipped his pants, hand shuffling inside and soon pulling out his hardened cock.

Panic consumed you as well as screaming fear.

“If you won't open your mouth to speak, then you'll open it to suck my fucking cock.” Le Chiffre’s rough hand grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks causing a pout to form on your lips. You still didn't budge, staying firm and resilient.

In result of that, Le Chiffre slapped you once more. This time causing your lower lip to bust, droplets of blood streaming down your chin and smearing over your lips. Tears emerged over your waterline from the sheer pressure and force of his hits, causing you to finally comply and part your lips.

He brought his cock head, driving it into your mouth and you braced yourself. You wished to fight back — desperately but you knew better. All at his mercy, you could only whimper around his cock as it breached the entrance of your mouth. You felt him glide across your tongue, making way into your throat.

Attempting to breathe through your nose, your small hands banged at his thighs but Le Chiffre didn't care. He continued breaching your throat, fucking himself deeper into it and tears welled up — vision becoming a messy blur. Both his hands rested atop your head, fingers tangled in your hair.

Then your nightmare began.

He pulled out, only to slam his cock deeper into your mouth and your throat constricted, sending jolts of pleasure down his loins. Le Chiffre threw his back, drilling his cock rapidly and you choked, gagging sounds filling up the room. No amount of pressure or slaps to his thighs and knees made him falter.

He continued fucking your mouth with sheer dedication and your eyelids fluttered shut, forcing tears to slide down your face. Your tongue laid flaccid, welcoming his thick cock to caress it. Your sobs and choked sounds echoed and Le Chiffre could only groan, his own matching with yours.

The evil man lifted one hand from your head, moving it in front of your face. He pinched your nose together, cutting off your air supply and all access to oxygen. Your face began to turn blue, shoulders squirming as you pleaded him with your blurry gaze.

Le Chiffre held your face against his pelvis, your nose buried in his neatly trimmed pubic hair as you continuously fought to breathe through either your mouth or your nose, forbidden to inhale any air.

“Fuck, what a tight throat you've got, mon cheri.” He panted like some wild animal, reaching his end. When he shot rope after rope inside your mouth, you weren't even given chance to spit it out. Bubbles of saliva and cum formed when the man fucked his cock thoroughly into your throat to push down the remains of his climax.

Forcing you to swallow it.

When he watched you gulp, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. His one eye sparkling with malice. “Look at yourself. Lips swollen, face red and my cum dripping down your chin. This is where disobedience gets you, whore.”

You flinched at the insult, glaring at him with a busted lip and swollen lips. He enjoyed that, how rebellious you were despite the vulnerable situation you were in right now. Le Chiffre chuckled and kicked your thigh, causing you to lose balance.

You fell back, on your tied hands glued behind your back and a painful wince left you.

Le Chiffre got on top of you, his weight supported his knees resting on each side of you. Thankfully the man was kind enough to not crush you and you watched with panic filled eyes as he shuffled through his pocket and retrieved a blade. Your eyes enlarged upon locking eyes with the weapon, glinting against the dim light.

“No..”

Le Chiffre scoffed. “Relax, I'm not going to kill you. It is to rid you of these clothes.”

You swallowed, shaking your head but you were allowed little to say in this matter. He reached for your collar, grabbed the white shirt and stabbing it with the tip of his sharp blade. It gave him enough space to dig his fingers into it and tug at it, ripping the shirt.

You were bare underneath the shirt and a gasp left you. Your peaks hardening and Le Chiffre groped you with his gloved hands, fondling the fat and toying with it. His touch harsh and rough. You tried to wriggle but to no avail.

“Stop fighting back.” It was an order, his tone serious and dark. “Do you want me to fuck you or all my guards?”

You didn't say anything, only weept as the monster on top of you grabbed your face, fingers dimpling in your cheeks. “Answer me, brat.”

“Y-You.” You whispered but he still didn't seem satisfied. “I want you to fuck me.”

Le Chiffre smiled, nodding his head and releasing your face but not before tapping your cheek lightly. “Good girl. You can be obedient, huh.”

“Asshole.” You couldn't hold back your tongue and Le Chiffre went silent. He didn't say anything, instead pulled your sweats down and no matter how much you kicked and struggled, he still managed to get them off you and reveal you to him. Your dark panties were ripped apart too, leaving you in completely nothing.

You didn't want to beg him but you had to, to try your luck. Tears fell furiously and you looked at him. “Let me go, please. I would not say a word about this to anyone. I will leave MI6 and never look back, please.”

He didn't care for your empty or full promises, being too far gone into his lust for you. The darkness that he kept concealed behind his one good eye, while the scarred one carried remnants of it.

He forcefully pinned your legs down with his, aligning his cock with your hole. Le Chiffre spat in his hand and rubbed it across your glistening slit, fingers prodding at your swollen bud and you whined — back arching off the bed. Your lips, parted released the sweetest sounds and he couldn't wait to hear you make more with his cock inside you.

Le Chiffre guided his thick cock head into your hole, allowing you to adjust to his size and once you had, he snapped his hips and filled you up with his entire length in one go.

Your face contorted, full of pain and you struggled. Forcing your shoulders into him, trying to push him off you and Le Chiffre having enough of this constant resistance, brought the blade to your throat. Brows scrunched and lines ceased in his forehead.

“You fucking move one more time, I will not waste a single second slitting your damn throat and fucking your dead cunt.” His threats made you quiver and you calmed down, sobs growing louder.

Le Chiffre pried open your thighs, holding them like that as he fucked his cock into your cunt. He loved how tight you were, gripping him like a vice and he relished in the pleasure of you. Groans and moans falling from his lips as he drove deeper and deeper into you, each thrust earning loud whimpers out of you.

The force of his thrust was such — he had your body surging forward. The blade managed to cut into your skin, only the first layer, blood leaking out. The stinging sensation was ignored and overpowered by the feeling you felt in your pussy.

“God, such a perfect pussy.” Le Chiffre groaned, sweaty bangs hovering over his forehead. “Oh I'm keeping you. All for myself, mon cheri. Your delicious cunt will accompany me on cold nights.”

Your pain covered face formed into a pleasure one, imitating Le Chiffre’s heated expressions as the sound of his cock slapping into your gummy walls reverberated. You cried, wailed even while he made home inside your sweet cunt. Repeatedly hitting that spongy spot of yours to draw out an orgasm — similar to his.

The man raised his hand and landed it across your breasts, making you flinch and gasp out at the impact. Heavy and painful, you stared at him in surprise but were given no time as he began to pummel his cock into you. Watching how his cock head bulged against your taut stomach.

You were breathless, bruised, a little bloodied and drained.

Yet he had not enough.

Le Chiffre dug his nails into your hips, searing pain welcoming you as he tore the barrier of your skin and made you bleed. Cock pounding into you and you sobbed, trying to reach out for him but your hands were still tied into that fucking rope. Your stomach tightened, walls sucking him in. Squelching sounds filling you with repulsion.

Your orgasm broke free with tremendous intensity as your eyes rolled back and your thighs shook, body riled up. Hot white coursed through you and as you cried out your orgasm, Le Chiffre came too. His thrusts slowly, only for a moment to ride out his climax within you.

“Oh my god.” He groaned, head thrown back as he began to fuck you with newfound vigor which caught you off guard. “Pretty pussy, such a pretty pussy. Can't wait to fill you up with my cum.”

You felt his warm seed shoot into your womb, rope after rope. Each one more thicker and fuller than the one before. The moment he was finished with you, he inhaled long breaths — bated and shuddered. His body still possessed enough strength to stay stable above you while yours twitched profusely from the abuse you'd suffered.

Broken and numb, your gaze focused somewhere else other than his face. Knowing you would find no empathy, not a sign of regret or remorse on his face. It was best to shut your mind off, only frail and worthless tears sliding down your temple.

”I'm not done with you yet, but I'll let you regain your energy. There's more, mon cheri.”

#le chiffre x reader #le chiffre #le chiffre smut #le chiffre fanfiction #le Chiffre one shot #smut #mads mikkelsen smut #mads mikkelsen #mads mikkelsen x reader #casino royale #james bond #james bond fic #hannibal smut #hannibal #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter

268 notes · View notes

swiftiethatlovesf1 · 7 months ago

Note

Anything for Toto Wolff with wife reader including their son, Jack!!! Fluff. Thanks!! :))

Hii I hope you enjoy my first request as a one-shot about Toto :)

The time you've been waiting for has arrived—summer break. Jack doesn't have school, and Toto can finally relax even though he always says his work never ends. Your family is together, and you couldn't be happier.

This year, you've decided to return to the Maldives, the paradise where you and Toto celebrated your honeymoon five years ago. Time has flown by so quickly. At first, people judged your relationship with Toto because of the age gap, but with time and Jack's presence, you've learned to ignore others' opinions and cherish every second of your love.

The gentle hum of the seaplane filled the air as it glided over the crystal-clear waters of the Indian Ocean, the endless expanse of blue dotted with the green jewels of the Maldives' islands. You glanced over at Jack, his eyes wide with wonder as he pressed his face against the window, marveling at the view below. Toto, sitting beside you, reached over and squeezed your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. The excitement was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness.

As the seaplane descended toward the private island resort where you had spent your honeymoon, memories flooded back. The island had been a sanctuary for you and Toto, a place where you could escape the world and revel in your love. Now, returning with Jack made the experience even more special, a testament to the life you had built together.

The moment you stepped off the seaplane, the familiar scent of saltwater and tropical flowers enveloped you. Jack let out a delighted laugh as he ran ahead, his feet kicking up sand. You and Toto followed hand in hand, savoring the warm sand beneath your toes.

The villa was just as you remembered, with its open-air design allowing the ocean breeze to flow through. Jack's eyes lit up at the sight of the infinity pool merging with the sea beyond. "Can we go swimming, Mommy? Please?" he begged, his excitement infectious.

"Of course, sweetheart," you replied, ruffling his hair. "But let's unpack first and get settled in."

As you and Toto unpacked, you couldn't help but steal glances at him. He looked as handsome as ever, his hair slightly tousled from the journey, a relaxed smile on his lips that seemed reserved just for you. He caught you staring and raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "What are you thinking about, mein Liebchen?"

"Just how lucky I am," you replied, stepping closer to wrap your arms around his waist. "To be here with you and Jack. To have this life."

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "I'm the lucky one," he murmured. "You've given me everything I could ever want."

Later that evening, after a long swim and a delicious dinner, the three of you settled on the beach to watch the sunset. Jack built sandcastles nearby, his laughter filling the air as the waves lapped at the shore. You leaned against Toto, his arm around your shoulders, drawing you close.

"Do you remember our first night here?" you asked, looking up at him.

He chuckled softly. "How could I forget? We danced under the stars, and later made love under them."

A blush covered your cheeks as you remembered that magical night and the years you've shared. "Through everything, you've been my rock."

"And you, mine," he replied, his gaze intense. "I love you more each day."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, you felt a profound sense of contentment. Jack ran over, plopping down between you and Toto, a tired but happy smile on his face.

"This is the best day ever," he declared, snuggling against you.

You exchanged a look with Toto, your hearts swelling with love for this beautiful, perfect moment. The future stretched out before you, full of promise and joy. No matter what came your way, you knew you would face it together, as a family.

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #toto wolff #mercedes f1 #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff x you #toto wolff imagine

363 notes · View notes

crazyunsexycool · 6 months ago

Text

My little love

Chapter 37

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x enhanced!Reader

word count: 3.5K

Warnings: fluff, scare prank, talks about a wedding, nightmares, briefly implied smut, little bit of angst at the end I guess,

A/N: Alright my lovelies were we are with another chapter of our favorite family. We are getting closer to the slight end of the series there are about 4-5 chapters left. Like I said before I still have more things planned but it will mostly likely be fluff fun check ins and maybe Bucky and Sugar's point of view for Steve and Honey's story. So lots still to come but my focus will soon be on A love as sweet as Honey

Series Masterlist

“Daddy, you catch me?”

“Of course I will, doll.” Bucky smiled up at Lottie.

“You stay wight the-uh?”

“I’ll stay right here. All you gotta do is jump.”

“Kay.” Lottie says as she shimmies backwards.

Bucky sees her peering back down at him and can’t help but chuckle. Her furrowed brows and concerned blue eyes peek over the ledge. She crouches down and wraps her arms around her knees.

“You don’t have to do it, doll, it's ok.”

“No, I do it. Am big girl.”

“Ok. How about if I count and then you jump?” Bucky suggests.

“Kay.”

“1…” Bucky says and he watches as Lottie stands up straight. “2…” her little toes and fingers wiggle around in anticipation. “3…” she giggles nervously. “Jump!”

Lottie jumps when she’s told to and she splashes into the water. Bucky’s right there to catch her. She’s all giggles as Bucky wipes away the water from her face. It was Lottie’s first time jumping off of a diving board but she did it.

“You did it, doll. I’m so proud of you. Do you want to do it again?”

“Yeah.” Lottie nods and Bucky swims to the edge of the pool with her.

With how hectic your lives have been lately you and Bucky had decided to have a pool day with the kids. You wanted to do something fun with them before you continued your wedding planning. The closer the wedding got the less time you would have to do fun things like this.

Bucky got to the pool before you did since you had to work at the medbay in the morning. You walked into the pool area an hour after Bucky got there. In the pool you first saw Charlotte in her red and gold bathing suit, mini arc reactor painted on the front, swimming. She didn’t have on her life vest or anything else that could help her afloat, she was going it all on her own. The way her legs and arms moved she looked like a little frog. Bucky was right beside her making sure she was ok as she learned to swim.

“Wook it, mama.” Lottie yelled. “Am swimming wike a big girl.”

“When did you get so big?”

You could see her kicking her feet and moving her arms really fast as she treaded water. Her little head bobbed up and down as she looked at you with a smile, some strands of her hair sticking to her face. You got closer to the edge of the pool to talk for a moment.

“On my biwthday.” She starts to slowly swim in a circle around her dad.

You and Bucky laugh at her very matter of fact answer.

“Your swimsuit is in that green bag.” Bucky points to a chair.

“Thanks, babe.” You turn to grab your things before looking back at the pool. “Where’s Henry?”

“AAAHHH!” Henry yells as he turns himself visible again. He leaped over the edge of the pool and grabbed your leg.

The scream you let out echoed through the large room. Henry was laughing so hard he was turning red. Half of his body was still in the water. Bucky and Lottie had joined in on the laughter but you had a hand over your heart. It was definitely unexpected.

“Henry Grant Barnes. Just wait until I get out here, you’re going to pay for that.” You said playfully before running to get changed.

****

You changed as quickly as you could and thought about how to get Henry back. At the door of the changing room you peek out to see where he was. You saw that Sam and Nat had joined. As quickly and quietly as possible you open the door and slip out.

Lottie was currently being balanced on Bucky’s hand. She had her arms stretched over her head in a circle and one leg kicked back, like a ballerina would. Sam was both cheering her on and making sure he could catch her if she fell. Henry had his back to you. He was hanging on the edge of the pool while talking to Nat and sharing grapes. You tiptoed to the edge of the pool and when Bucky brought Lottie down with a splash you jumped in and immediately submerged yourself. In a few quick strokes you were across the pool and grabbed Henry by his midsection and lifted him out of the water. Now it was his turn to scream.

“Gotcha.” You said as you pulled his back towards your chest.

“Mama!” Henry started laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Soon everyone else was also laughing. His head was resting against your shoulder while he calmed down. You turned your head to give him a few kisses on the cheek.

“Told you you’d pay for that.”

Henry giggled again as you let him go and he took his place by Nat again.

“I’m watching you mister.” You narrow your eyes in his direction before swimming away.

For the rest of the afternoon you lounged in the pool and played games with the kids. Wanda and Vision joined soon enough. Finally Steve showed up and was pushed into the pool by an invisible Henry.

After the day in the pool, dinner and bedtime for the kids, you and Bucky were laying in bed cuddling. You yawn and your eyelids get heavier with how Bucky is rubbing his hand up and down your back.

“Are you gonna tell me where we are going for our honeymoon?” You ask for the hundredth time.

Bucky had told you he’d take care of the song for the first dance and the honeymoon since you were already taking most of the wedding planning. He had decided to keep his plans a secret.

“Nope.”

“But how am I supposed to know what to pack?” You were so excited for this trip you just wanted to try and get any information any way possible.

“Nice try, Sugar but I already have that figured out.” Bucky chuckles as you groan. “Just let me surprise you.”

“Fine, but it’s a trip you’ll enjoy too, right?”

“Sugar, you know that I could go to the most boring place in the world with you and I’ll enjoy it. But yes I’m choosing something fun for both of us.”

“Good.” You say and then break the silence again by asking, “But what is it?”

Bucky laughed at your insistence. “You’re not getting a word out of me.”

You pull back and narrow your eyes at him. Bucky gives you a smug grin and raises his eyebrows. He didn’t expect you to straddle him and take both his hands in yours and pinning them above his head.

“I bet I could get a lot out of you.” You said before leaning in and pressing your lips to his.

Bucky smirks up at you. “I’ll give you everything I got, Sugar.”

Bucky walked into your shared home mid afternoon. He was done with his briefing and he knew there were some things that needed to be talked about concerning the wedding and kids. You had taken most of the responsibility even though he offered many times to take some things off your plate. From the wedding to getting the kids into a normal routine, you wanted to handle it all. So it was no surprise that you were more exhausted than usual. Bucky found you napping on the couch with papers and folders sitting on the coffee table. Alpine was curled up on top of your chest, keeping you company.

Just as Bucky started to smile at the sight, you flinched. Alpine shot up and moved away quickly, annoyed she’d been awakened. Bucky watched for a second as your face contorted with fear and pain. A whimper escapes your lips followed by a small ‘no, please.’.

“Hey Sugar, it’s ok, it's just a dream.” Bucky whispers. His hands trail up and down your arms. “C’mon you gotta wake up.”

And you do, with a start. You almost head butt Bucky in the face. He holds you at arms length for a moment until your eyes aren’t glazed over. Your lower lip trembles and he finally pulls you into his chest.

“It was just a dream. You’re safe. They can’t hurt you anymore.” Bucky reassures you gently. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head and press yourself deeper into his chest. After a moment of calming yourself down you pull away.

“We have a wedding to finish planning.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky asks. His concern was evident on his face.

“I’m sure. I’d rather focus on one of the happiest days of our lives.” You smile.

Bucky nods, letting the subject drop and following you to the dining room to lay out everything you have to go over. You first go over the final guest list making sure you didn’t forget anyone important. Then it was on to seating arrangements at the reception. You were grateful that Bucky was giving so much input and opinions. It was his wedding too after all. He’d been the one to suggest the sweetheart table should include the kids. You smiled warmly at him.

Once the wedding topics were done, it was on to the kids. Mostly what you wanted to do about school. Tony had offered to get private tutors for them but it was the socializing aspect that worried you.

“Well the results for the tests Tony and Bruce have done came in. They say that Henry and Lottie could skip a couple of grades.” You say while reading the IQ results from the tablet you had.

“But do we really want to set them up for that? It could be hard on them being so much younger than the other kids.” Bucky points out.

“How about if we keep them with their regular age group and appropriate grade and put them in some extracurriculars?”

“That sounds good. Balance it out so they won’t be bored?” Bucky nods as he says it.

“Daddy. You home.” Lottie makes her way to Bucky.

“Hi doll.” He kisses the top of her head.

“Is doing wedding stuff?” She asks as Henry sneaks his way onto Bucky’s lap, too.

You smile as you watch each kid settle on one of his thighs as he answers her question. The kids ask a couple more questions about the wedding before Bucky mentions school.

“I stay with mama.” Lottie says.

“Me too. I don’t want to go to school.”

“I would love for you to stay with me all the time but you have to go to school.” You say.

“But I already know a bunch of stuff.”

“Bubs, there's a lot of things you still have to learn. That’s what school is for.” bucky adds. “Besides you would get to meet new people and make friends.”

“And we were talking about you guys choosing something fun to do after school.”

“Like what?” Henry asks, turning more to look at you better.

“Like playing a sport on a team or learning to play an instrument.”

“Oh dancing? Can wearn that?” Lottie asks excitedly.

“Of course, there’s all types of dancing you can learn. Is that what you want?” You smile as you ask her.

“Yeah, I dance wike Auntie Nat.”

“You want to be a ballerina?”

“Mhm, and dance on my tippy toes.” Lottie sticks her foot up in the air and wiggles her toes.

“You’ll be the prettiest ballerina, doll.” Bucky says before turning to Henry. “What about you? What do you think you’ll want to try?”

“I don’t know, yet.”

“It’s ok my sweet boy, you can think about it and we can find something you’ll like later.”

“Ok.”

“Now, the real question is, who is going to help me with the cake tasting that’s in a few days?”

“Me!” Both kids yell at the same time and you can’t help but laugh.

This is what you focus on as you fight to keep the nightmares at bay. All you wanted to think about was your family and your future.

You woke up again with a start. Tears streaming down your face and a scream caught in your throat. Nightmares were starting to plague you more the closer you got to the day you were taken. It was always the same thing. Just as you were going to say I do, the sky turned black. There were gunshots and fire. Bucky would grab Lottie while you took Henry’s hand. As you ran away from the darkness that was crawling towards you, you pushed Henry away towards the safety Bucky provided. When he turned to reach for you, you found yourself strapped to a table with people hovering over you. A voice taunted you and told you how they were going to get Bucky and the kids this time. That you’d never have a chance to be happy or see the kids grow up or even grow old with Bucky.

Bucky would almost always be by your side and managed to calm you down but this particular night he was out on a mission. So you sat in your room in the dark, taking deep breaths until you managed to calm down. The same dark thoughts running through your mind over and over again. Knowing you won’t be able to go back to sleep again, you go into your closet and search until you find a small box that holds only one thing in it. You pull out the small thumb drive, get your laptop and sit down. You’d had this information for months and were unsure of what to do but now you knew you had to act. There was no way you could continue to live your life without making sure all of hydra was gone.

After your decision has been made you paced around your room for a bit. The truth was this scared you to death. Things could go right but they could go wrong too. But this was your mess to clean up. If you told anyone on the team, especially Bucky, someone else would handle it. This was your responsibility and you were willing to do anything to keep them safe. You had to make sure this ended.

Before getting dressed you stopped by the kid’s rooms. Although you shouldn’t be surprised to find Henry and Lottie cuddled up in his bed with Alpine curled up at the foot of the bed. You smiled as you watched over them for a few minutes.

****

You were standing in the living room looking out through the large double doors that faced the backyard. It would only be a few minutes before your dad showed up to stay with the kids since everyone else was on a mission and they would try to stop or want to go with you if they knew.

“Mama?” Henry’s sleepy voice startles you out of your deep thoughts.

You turn to see Henry leading a sleepy Charlotte down the steps.

“Sweet boy what are you doing up?”

“Lottie had a bad dream.” He yawns. “We couldn’t find you in your room.”

“C’mere sweet Angel.” You pick Charlotte up and sit down on the couch with Henry sitting beside you. “What was your dream about?”

“Mama was cwying. And I see bad woman. She so mean, mama.”

“Are you going on a mission?” Henry asks as he finally takes in your clothing.

“I am. But I’ll be back soon.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going on any more missions.”

“I know,” you caress his cheek. “But this is really important. I have to do it to keep all of us safe.”

“What about dad? Is he going with you?”

You could see how anxious he was getting.

“Baby, your dad is on a mission right now ok? But I promise everything will be alright. If he comes back before I do, don’t worry him about my mission. Can you do that for me?”

Henry studied you, he had the same look Bucky did when he was concerned. Fortunately he nodded although he did so reluctantly. There wasn’t much more time since Eddie had just gotten to your house. You put the kids back into bed and promise them that everything will be ok.

“Is everything ok, kitten?” Eddie asks as he walks you to the door.

“Everything is fine. I’m just needed for a mission.”

“Be careful and come back to us in one piece ok?”

“I will, dad. I love you.” You give him a quick hug.

“I love you too.” He says as he watches you go.”

It was early morning when you landed in the empty field. You had some knowledge on flying the jet so it was a bit rocky. Thankfully there was autopilot and assisted landing. You stood at the top of the ramp and wondered if this was the right move. Deep down you know it was but it wouldn’t be easy for you.

Checking your gear one last time you finally leave the jet. You’re looking down at a small town in a valley. From that vantage point you could see everything. It’s a small community, no more than a few hundred people. But you didn’t come here for any of them. The person you’re looking for is hiding up a mountain in a small cabin. Hiding like a coward.

Before you went there you had to make another stop. Another cabin about a mile away. So you turn away from the town and head into the forest.

****

You stand just behind the tree line. A single cabin sitting in the middle of a small field. You watch and wait until four men head out. Once it’s clear, you move fast around the small two bedroom cabin. It’s bare, there’s no warmth to any room. As you suspected, this was just a safe house. But you were sure there was information you could use. Being careful to not move things out of place too much.

In the small living room there was a desk pushed up against a wall just under a window. There were all kinds of files spread across the desk. Some open with pictures and detailed reports. You rifle through them and your blood runs cold. These weren’t just random reports but information about you, your dad, Luke, Sophia and Joshua. Even Molly and Olivia are included. Their schedules and pictures are in there too and they all seem recent.

The hair on the back of your neck stands up and your eyes snap up to the window. You can just make out a silhouette right behind you. Everything happened slowly but somehow fast at the same time. You threw a kick backwards, sending your opponent crashing through the opposing wall. As soon as you turned around three more were coming at you.

“We were told you’d be coming by. Didn’t think it’d take you this long.” One of them said as he lunged at you.

They all had knives in their hands and it’s the first time you realize there was very limited metal in the cabin. These people had been waiting for you. Now you’d show them what you could do. Fortunately you had your metal bracers and used them to your advantage. It wasn’t difficult for you to fight them off and leave them where they fell. The only thing you did was take their dog tags off and stuff them in your pocket, then grab the documents with your family’s information. With one final look around you head up the mountain.

****

This cabin was larger than the first one. It had a large porch with a porch swing. The curtains were open to allow the sunlight in but there was no one home. With a flick of your wrist you unlock the door and slip inside. This place was prepared for someone more important. Paintings on the wall were expensive originals from famed artists. Everything you’d ever need to live in a remote location was available. Nothing was out of place as you walked through the hallway and into the living room, the kitchen, then the dining room and the bedrooms in the back.

After a thorough inspection you remove all hidden weapons and find more documents on your family. This time Bucky, Henry and Charlotte are included. You’d read something similar before, a list of experiments and procedures they had to endure. Your own file was to the side, all of them with neatly written notes on the margins. It made you uncomfortable reading what had been done to you but you grabbed everything and headed towards the living room where you laid everything out.

Then you waited.

****

The sun was high in the sky when steps on the porch finally broke the silence. A jingle of keys echo through the hallway, followed by the soft click of the door closing again and more steps. From the shadows emerges the one person you weren’t ready to face but had to.

“Mother.”

Ch. 38

Permanent taglist:

@rebekahdawkins

@cjand10

@nalny5

@Sturchling

@angywritesstuff

@seitmai

@writing-for-marvel

@goldylions

@almosttoopizza

@littleseasiren

@pono-pura-vida

@talesofadragon

@midnightramyeoncravings

@bunnygirlwriter876

@pandaxnieenke

@kandis-mom

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@braveclementine

@otterlycanadian

Series taglist:

@buckystevelove

@vicmc624

@just-someone11

@sjsmith56

@emily-roberts

@spencerriedisagorgman

@superduckmilkshake

@samfreakingwinchester

@lofaewrites

@enchantedbarnes

@callsign-athena

@broadwaybabe18

@saranghaey

@viperchick47

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

@da-pimp-river-niall

@ozwriterchick

@jenn-f

@rebel-soldat

@therealwritersblog

@alyroseking

@samlworld

@witchybabel

@capswife

@oceaniamadness

@queenie32

@buckybarnessimpp

@multifandom-girlie

@joliver1328

@noonespecial90

@mega-kittyglitter-1

@pumpkin-babydoll

@imaginexred

@olipiaa

@zuri-767-666

@thedonswife13

#my little love series #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x enhanced!reader #dad!bucky barnes x mom!reader #Charlotte barnes #Henry barnes #bucky barnes seres #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n

152 notes · View notes

estellan0vella · 13 days ago

Text

The Greatest Fucking Tragedy: L. Mh Lee Minho x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 14.3K

Content Warnings: Marijuana Use, Depictions of Focal Impaired Awareness Seizures (FIAS), moments of dissociation, and post-seizure disorientation, Drowning/Non-Consensual Submersion, Retaliatory Violence, Threats of Harm, Crude Humour, Background Jilix

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The Alpha Phi frat house smells like weed and stale beer. It’s a permanent scent, woven into the fabric of the couch cushions and lingering in the wooden floors no matter how many times Seungmin bitches about cleaning. Right now, though, the weed is winning. Thick smoke curls through the dimly lit living room, the cheap LED lights flickering in rhythm with the low hum of music playing from someone's speaker.

Minho is sprawled across the couch, legs spread, shirt discarded somewhere across the room, his grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He takes a slow drag from the bong before passing it to Chan, his eyes heavy-lidded, lips slightly parted. It’s a good high, the kind that makes his limbs sink into the cushions, makes the world feel warm and slow.

Across from him, Felix is perched in Jisung’s lap, and Jisung, the little shit, has both hands shoved down the front of Felix’s sweatpants. Felix barely reacts, eyes glazed over, exhaling smoke through his nose.

“Dude,” Changbin mutters, head lolling to the side as he looks at them. “At least fucking pretend like we’re not all here.”

Felix grins, a lazy, stoned smile. “Nah.”

Jisung laughs, head tipping back against the couch. “You’re just mad because you’re not getting any.”

Changbin flips him off, but it lacks any real heat.

“You know what’s actually pissing me off right now?” Hyunjin announces, draping himself dramatically across the armchair like some Renaissance painting. His long black hair falls into his face, and he exhales, letting the smoke swirl in front of him before looking at Minho. “Minho doesn’t know how to fucking swim.”

There’s a beat of silence before the entire room erupts into laughter.

Minho groans, throwing his head back against the couch. “Oh, fuck off.”

“Wait, wait,” Jeongin gasps between laughs. “You’re telling me you—Lee Minho, who can probably do a backflip off a fucking moving car—can’t even float?”

“Jesus Christ,” Seungmin chokes out. “That’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing,” Minho mutters, reaching for the bong again. “I just never fucking learned.”

“It’s embarrassing,” Jisung sings, poking at Felix’s stomach while Felix tries and fails to bat his hands away.

Chan, who’s been silent up until now, takes a hit before leaning forward, elbows on his knees. His short blue hair is messy, and his eyes are half-lidded, but there’s a sharp glint of amusement. “Bro, what happened? Did your parents just decide, ‘Fuck it, let’s let this one drown?’”

Minho exhales slowly, fingers flexing against his knee. “I grew up in Gimpo, dipshit. Not exactly a fucking beach town.”

“That’s bullshit,” Hyunjin interjects, sitting up suddenly. “I’ve seen kids in the middle of fucking Seoul learn to swim.”

“Okay, well, I didn’t, you fucking pretentious art bitch.”

Hyunjin gasps dramatically. “Excuse you, I’m an art history major. Say it with respect.”

“Art bitch,” Minho repeats, deadpan.

“God, that’s pathetic,” Changbin snickers. “Can’t wait to throw your ass into a pool.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” Minho warns, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, we absolutely would,” Seungmin grins. “Like, imagine the fear in his little rat face.”

“Fucking hilarious,” Jeongin agrees, laughing. “We’ll get some floaties for you, hyung.”

Minho exhales sharply through his nose, looking between them all with narrowed eyes. “Alright, you wanna go there? You wanna play this fucking game?”

Felix hums, head tilting slightly. “Always.”

Minho leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Hyunjin, you pretentious fuck, you spend more time making sad little sketches of broken statues than actually studying for your bullshit major. Jisung, you look like a fucking poodle with that mop on your head, and I hope you choke on Felix’s dick one day and die happy. Felix, your mullet is an actual crime, and I’m gonna shave that shit in your sleep.”

Felix gasps, clutching at his chest. “Rude.”

“Jeongin, your entire wardrobe looks like it came from a thrift store run by blind grandmas, and Seungmin, I hope every client you have in the future fucking sues you into the ground.”

Seungmin just grins. “That’s fair.”

Minho shifts his glare to Changbin. “And you, motherfucker, I hope you trip over your own fucking dumbbells and break both your legs so I never have to hear you talk about leg day again.”

Changbin snorts. “Joke’s on you, I’d just talk about arm day instead.”

Minho exhales sharply, leaning back against the couch. “Fuck all of you.”

Chan chuckles, passing the bong again. “Love you too, dumbass.”

“You know what, though?” Jisung suddenly pipes up, squinting in Hyunjin’s direction. “Hyunjin, you were the dirty bastard that left the used condom in the hallway after banging that Kappa Tau girl.”

A collective groan fills the room, a mix of disgust and exasperation.

“Oh, what the fuck,” Changbin grumbles, shaking his head. “I stepped near that shit, man. You’re fucking nasty.”

Hyunjin, instead of looking remotely ashamed, stretches his arms above his head lazily. “That may be true,” he admits, voice smooth and amused, “however, no one saw me bang that girl.” He smirks at Jisung and Felix. “But we all saw you two going at it on the couch that one time, you dirty exhibitionists.”

Felix, without hesitation, points an accusing finger at Hyunjin and shouts, “Homophobia!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Hyunjin scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re just mad because your past sins are being brought to light.”

“It’s not a sin,” Jisung grins, tightening his arms around Felix’s waist. “It’s called being in love, bitch.”

Seungmin, who’s been lazily nursing a beer on the other side of the couch, snorts. “Jisung’s probably fondling Felix’s balls right now.”

Felix smirks. “He is, actually.” He adjusts slightly in Jisung’s lap. “I’ve been at a semi for like twenty minutes.”

Jeongin groans, burying his face in his hands. “Fucking gross.”

“Hey, don’t kink shame,” Felix says with mock offence, raising his brows.

Minho takes a slow drag from the bong before passing it off and exhaling through his nose. “Shame,” he deadpans. “So much shame. We all saw Jisung balls deep in you, Felix.”

Felix just shrugs, completely unbothered. “And? You're all just jealous.”

“We also saw Jisung’s nasty balls,” Hyunjin pipes up with a smirk, “and his surprisingly fat ass.”

Jisung gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “Excuse you! My ass is none of your concern.”

Hyunjin leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It became my concern the moment I had to witness it in a position I never wanted to see.”

Jisung glares. “Hyunjin, we all saw your used jizzy condom.”

Hyunjin smirks back. “But we all saw your nasty balls.”

Jisung whines, kicking his feet. “I fucking hate you.”

Felix laughs, patting Jisung’s cheek. “Ji, baby, your balls aren’t nasty or else I wouldn’t put them in my mouth.”

A collective groan of disgust echoes through the room.

“Jesus fucking Christ, man,” Chan mutters, rubbing his face. “I’m too high for this conversation.”

Jisung just grins proudly while Hyunjin mock gags. “You’re the most insufferable couple I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing.”

“You’re the one,” Jisung suddenly snaps back, pointing an accusing finger, “who, instead of using tissues like a normal fucking person, used a sock to clean up after your wank sessions.”

Hyunjin instantly straightens. “Wait, hold the fuck up-”

Jisung steamrolls over him. “And then, like the absolute menace you are, you had the fucking audacity to send me looking for a pair of your socks when you sprained your ankle last semester.”

The room goes dead silent. Then Changbin lets out a wheeze.

“Oh my fucking god,” Seungmin mutters, eyes wide with horror. “No.”

“Yes,” Jisung continues, as if reliving a war story. “Me, being a good fucking friend, went upstairs, searched through your shit, and found your sordid sock of shame.” His voice rises in outrage. “It was hard, Hyunjin. Socks shouldn’t be fucking hard!”

The entire room erupts into chaos. Felix practically falls off Jisung’s lap from laughing so hard, while Jeongin looks seconds away from leaving the house altogether.

“Hyunjin, what the actual fuck?” Chan gasps, leaning away from him.

“You nasty fuck,” Changbin wheezes, shaking his head.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Jeongin mutters.

Minho just smirks, watching the conversation unfold, deeply satisfied that the attention is nowhere near his lack of swimming skills anymore.

Hyunjin groans, running a hand down his face. “Alright, first of all, that was one fucking time-”

Jisung interrupts with a loud, “Bullshit!”

Hyunjin glares. “Second of all, why the fuck were you digging that deep in my stuff?”

“Because I thought I was helping a fucking friend,” Jisung snaps back. “I didn’t think I had to watch out for a biohazard!”

“Fuck you,” Hyunjin mutters.

“I’m gonna get you a box of tissues,” Felix laughs, wiping his eyes. “That was the most disgusting shit I’ve ever heard.”

“You all suck,” Hyunjin huffs, slouching back into the chair.

“Not as much as Felix,” Jisung quips.

Felix beams. “That’s right, baby.”

The argument between Jisung and Hyunjin doesn’t die down. If anything, it escalates, because neither of them knows when to shut the fuck up.

Hyunjin suddenly grins, pointing at Jisung with a newfound spark of mischief in his eyes. “You wanna talk about nasty? You fucking humped one of Felix’s pillows once.”

The entire room explodes with laughter, except for Jisung, who lets out the most inhuman screech imaginable.

Felix, to everyone’s surprise, doesn’t even look offended. Instead, he tilts his head, looking at Jisung fondly. “That’s cute, Ji.”

Jisung glares at Hyunjin, face burning red. “Yeah, well, Hyunjin fucking jerked off while wearing one of Changbin’s hoodies!”

The laughter somehow gets even louder.

Changbin, who had been taking a sip of his drink, immediately chokes. “What the fuck?”

“I fucking knew it!” Seungmin yells.

“I don’t fucking know why you’re all so surprised,” Minho mutters, shaking his head.

Hyunjin throws his hands up defensively. “Okay, first of all, that hoodie was comfy as fuck. Second of all, it’s none of your goddamn business.”

“Oh, it became my business,” Jisung snaps. “Because you’re a fucking weirdo.”

Felix, wiping tears from his eyes, claps his hands together. “Alright, enough talking. Time for physical violence.”

And just like that, all hell breaks loose.

Jisung and Felix immediately launch themselves at Minho, and Jisung shouts, “POWER OF THE GAY BOYFRIENDS!”

Felix follows it up with a very enthusiastic, “YEAH! Like Power Rangers!”

Minho doesn’t have time to roll his eyes before Jisung tries to tackle him, but Minho is faster. Years of football training make it easy for him to dodge, and he grabs Jisung by the waist, flipping him effortlessly over his shoulder and slamming him down onto the couch. Before Jisung can wriggle away, Minho shifts, trapping him between his thighs in a tight grip.

Felix tries to grab Minho from behind, but Chan, who had been minding his own business, too high to care, suddenly gets dragged into the mess when Minho pulls him forward, locking an arm around his neck in a headlock.

“Fucking traitor!” Chan gasps, squirming.

Minho just grins, tightening his hold on both of them. “You little shits thought you could take me?”

Felix, still determined, throws himself forward, trying to grab Minho’s arm. But Minho is faster, he catches Felix mid-motion, wrapping an arm around his neck and securing him in another headlock.

“I got two of you now,” Minho announces, grinning wildly.

Felix flails. “Let me go, you fucking rat bastard!”

Jisung is still trapped between Minho’s thighs, thrashing wildly. “Felix! Betrayal! He got me!”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Jeongin and Seungmin are wrestling like rabid dogs.

“Your fashion sense fucking sucks!” Jeongin yells, trying to shove Seungmin off him.

“Oh yeah?!” Seungmin barks back, gripping Jeongin’s shirt and yanking him down. “At least I don’t look like a thrift store threw up on me!”

“I fucking told you, vintage is in, asshole!”

Changbin and Hyunjin have also somehow ended up grappling with each other. At first, it was just playful shoving, but now Changbin has Hyunjin pinned down, and Hyunjin, breathless, suddenly blurts out, “I’m weirdly into this. Is it because I’m bisexual or submissive?”

Without missing a beat, Minho, who still has both Chan and Felix in a headlock, calls out, “Both.”

Jisung takes advantage of the distraction and bites down on Minho’s thigh. “OW, YOU FUCKING GREMLIN!” Minho yells, immediately releasing his hold on Chan and Felix to shove Jisung off.

Jisung cackles maniacally, rolling off the couch. “FUCKING WORTH IT!”

Chan, now free, immediately lunges at Minho, tackling him. “Payback, bitch!”

Felix joins in, piling on top of them. “GET HIM!”

On the other side of the room, Seungmin has Jeongin in a headlock, Jeongin is still screaming about fashion, Changbin has Hyunjin pinned, and overall, the frat house is complete fucking chaos.

Just another normal night in Alpha Phi.

Minho stands in the frat house kitchen, flipping thinly sliced beef in a pan, the rich scent of soy sauce, garlic, and sesame oil filling the air. His black hair is damp from a quick shower after the royal rumble in the living room, and he’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. A cluster of Hello Kitty bandaids is haphazardly slapped onto his thigh, covering the spot where Jisung fucking bit him like a rabid animal. He still doesn’t know where the hell Felix got Hello Kitty bandaids from, but at this point, he’s given up questioning anything in this house.

Just as he’s about to taste a piece of bulgogi straight from the pan, Chan strolls in, looking far too smug for someone who got his ass handed to him in the wrestling match earlier. He props himself up against the counter, arms crossed, watching Minho cook.

“Hey,” Chan starts, casual. Too casual.

Minho narrows his eyes immediately. “What.”

“I have a friend who can teach you how to swim.”

Minho blinks, staring at him. Then, slowly, he reaches over and turns down the heat on the stove before resting his hands on the counter. “You have friends outside of the frat?”

Chan scoffs, shoving at his shoulder. “Obviously, dumbass.”

“I don’t believe you.” Minho smirks, popping a piece of bulgogi into his mouth. “You leave this house for, like, two things. Football and music. That’s it.”

Chan rolls his eyes. “She’s an architecture major. Business minor. She’s the year below us, and she’s on the swim team.”

Minho chews, waiting for him to continue. “And?”

Chan exhales. “She’s kind of anxious. Kind of like Jisung, but where Jisung’s awkward and loud, she’s just quiet, doesn't really speak unless she has something to say.”

Minho hums, tossing the beef in the pan. “Okay.”

Chan leans against the counter. “Go to the college pool tomorrow night. That’s when she’s there. Just explain that you’re like a baby that got tossed into water, and she’ll take pity on you.”

Minho snorts. “Wow. That’s a real confidence boost.”

“She’s nice,” Chan says, ignoring him. “She’ll help.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “She hot?”

Without hesitation, Chan slaps the back of Minho’s head as hard as he can.

“Fuck!” Minho hisses, rubbing his skull. “What the fuck was that for?”

Chan glares. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”

Minho smirks, rolling his shoulders. “Well? Is she?”

Chan slaps him again, this time across the arm.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Minho mutters, taking a step back. “I’ll just keep asking.”

Chan exhales through his nose, looking like he’s fighting the urge to hit him again. “Objectively, as a straight man? Yes. She’s attractive. But I don’t look at her that way.”

Minho takes another bite of beef, chewing thoughtfully. “Fine. I’ll go and see what she’s about.”

Chan nods, pleased. “Good.”

There’s a beat of silence, just the quiet sound of the stovetop sizzling. Then Chan adds, “Oh, also, she has epilepsy. FIAS.”

Minho’s chewing slows slightly, then he swallows. “Focal impaired awareness seizures, right?” He glances at Chan. “They covered it in my first aid certification course.”

Chan raises his brows, looking impressed. “Yeah.”

Minho shrugs, flipping the last of the beef onto a plate. “Alright.”

Chan watches him carefully. “That’s it?”

Minho scoffs. “What, did you expect me to freak out? ‘Oh no, the girl who’s gonna teach me how to swim has a medical condition, I guess I’ll just drown instead’?”

Chan snorts, shaking his head. “No, but I figured you’d at least have some dumbass question.”

Minho grabs chopsticks and digs into his plate, shrugging again. “Nah. I got it.”

Chan watches him for another second, then claps a hand on his shoulder. “Good. Just don’t be a dick.”

Minho grins, mouth full. “No promises.”

The air inside the college swimming centre is thick with the scent of chlorine, the sound of water lapping against tiled edges echoing through the vast space. Minho walks in, hands in his pockets, boots heavy against the slick flooring. His black top, with open-knit sleeves exposing glimpses of his arms, contrasts against the bright, sterile lights overhead. His black pants, speckled with splatter-paint details, shift slightly as he moves, and the layered silver chains around his neck glint under the fluorescents. The star-shaped pendant catches the light with each step.

His eyes scan the pool, and then he sees you.

You're in the water, moving with eerie precision, muscles cutting through the water like you were born for it. Your blue hair, tied back into a ponytail, gleams under the lights, the two silver strands at the front catching his attention. You’re wearing black yoga shorts and a white T-shirt, slightly translucent from the water, revealing the black swimsuit underneath.

Minho watches as you push off from the shallow end, slipping entirely under the surface. You don’t come up. Not once. He watches, eyebrows raising, as you glide through the water, streamlined, controlled. Your body moves with an effortless fluidity, and he finds himself unable to look away.

By the time you reach the deep end, a full fifty metres later, you finally surface. Not even gasping. Not even fucking struggling. You just exhale sharply, hands sweeping through the water to keep yourself afloat.

What the fuck.

Minho smirks, stepping closer to the edge of the pool. "Hi."

Your head turns towards him as you tread water, eyes sharp and calculating as they land on him. Your expression is calm, blank, like you're not entirely sure what to do with his presence.

He tilts his head slightly. “I’m Minho,” he says, tone easy, casual. “I, uh-” He gestures vaguely. “Need to learn how to swim. Because I’m sick of my asshole friends picking on me for it.” He grins. “It’s my only flaw, really.”

You blink at him.

Undeterred, he continues. “I’m free Wednesdays and Fridays. Whichever works for you. Chan referred me to you, so here I am.”

There’s a beat of silence, the water shifting gently around you. Then, finally, you speak.

"You need some swimming trunks."

Your voice is soft, quiet, but not hesitant. Minho watches the way your lips barely move when you speak, like you're used to making yourself small. He leans forward slightly, smirk deepening. "I can get those."

"Friday nights. Late."

"See you then, mermaid girl," Minho says, stepping back slightly. Then he pauses. "Wait, Chan mentioned FIAS. What happens if that happens in the water?"

You meet his gaze evenly, voice completely flat. "I pray."

Minho snorts. The bluntness catches him off guard, and for the first time, he sees your lips twitch, just barely. It's small, barely a movement, but he sees it.

Interesting.

"See you Friday, then," he says, turning on his heel, already looking forward to whatever the fuck this is going to be.

Minho arrives at the swimming centre late Friday night, the place eerily quiet except for the distant sound of water lapping against the edges of the pool. The fluorescent lights cast a cold, sterile glow over the tiled floors as he steps inside, heading straight for the men’s locker room. He’s dressed in sneakers, sweatpants, and a hoodie, his usual go-to for lazy days, but now, faced with the inevitable, he exhales sharply.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, stripping out of his clothes.

He pulls on the black swimming trunks he bought earlier that day, minimalist, simple, no unnecessary designs, because he refuses to wear some ridiculous board shorts with neon patterns like an overexcited tourist. He rolls his shoulders, shakes out his arms, and then, satisfied, steps out of the locker room and into the main pool area.

You’re already there, standing by the edge of the shallow end, your blue hair tied back into a ponytail, the two silver strands in the front catching the light as they sway slightly. You’re wearing the same white T-shirt and blue yoga shorts as before, the fabric damp from where the water has already lapped at the edges.

Minho watches as you drop into the pool effortlessly, slipping beneath the water before resurfacing in the shallow end. The movement is smooth, controlled, as if the water is an extension of you rather than something separate.

Minho, however, is not fucking graceful.

He carefully climbs in, feeling the cold water instantly hit his skin. The chill makes him jolt, and before he can stop himself, his hands fly up to his chest, covering his nipples.

“Oh my!” he exclaims, voice high-pitched in mock horror.

Then he pauses, blinking.

“Fuck,” he snorts, shaking his head. “I sounded like Dorothy Gale.”

Your expression remains neutral, but the slight quirk of your lips does not go unnoticed.

Minho grins. “You’re holding back a laugh.”

“I’m not,” you say, though your voice is softer than before, almost amused.

“Liar,” he hums, letting his hands drop back to the water. “Alright, teach. What’s first?”

Without a word, you grab two inflatable armbands and a bright orange life jacket, stepping forward to hand them to him.

Minho stares at them, unimpressed. “Really?”

“No risk of drowning if you wear those.”

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head, but pulls them on anyway, the plastic squeaking slightly against his arms. The life jacket is a little snug, but he fastens it without complaint, standing in the water looking every bit like a grown-ass man being forced into safety gear like a toddler at the beach.

“This is humiliating,” he mutters.

You don’t comment, simply nodding towards the water. “Lie on your front and kick your legs.”

Minho eyes you suspiciously before doing as instructed. He stretches out, floating on his stomach, and starts kicking. The water splashes aggressively around him, but he doesn’t fucking move.

He pauses. Kicks harder. Still nothing.

You tilt your head slightly, watching the sad display. “Okay. New plan.”

Minho flips onto his back, groaning. “Thank fuck.”

You step closer, extending your hands toward him. “Hold my hands, and then kick your legs. I’ll pull you.”

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t argue. Instead, he reaches forward, grasping your hands in his own. Your grip is surprisingly strong despite your smaller frame, steady and sure, like you know exactly how to keep control.

Minho lets you guide him, kicking his legs as you gently pull him through the shallow end. It’s not exactly the most dignified moment of his life, but he supposes he has to start somewhere.

“We’ll stick to the shallow end for now,” you say, voice calm and even. “You need to get comfortable in the water.”

Minho watches you as you focus, your movements precise, controlled. Your face is unreadable, but he can tell you’re completely in your element here, unbothered by the water surrounding you.

“You know,” he muses, kicking lightly, “for someone so quiet, you sure take your job as a teacher seriously.”

Your grip on his hands remains steady. “You’d rather I let you drown?”

“Nah,” he grins. “I like the attention.”

"Keep kicking,"

Minho groans as he keeps kicking, his legs starting to ache. “This is fucking tiring,” he complains, gripping your hands tighter as you continue pulling him through the shallow end. The life jacket and armbands are doing most of the work, but still, kicking non-stop is a workout.

You don’t respond, just keep moving, your expression unreadable as always. The water ripples around you both, the fluorescent lights reflecting off the surface. Minho watches the way you move, barely making a sound, like you’ve done this a million times before.

Then, suddenly, you stop.

Minho doesn’t.

“Oof! Fuck,” he grunts as his face smacks directly into your stomach. His fingers clutch yours tighter on instinct, and for a second, he just stays there, processing the fact that he’s literally face-planted into you. He blinks before pulling back slightly.

Your fingers twitch in his grasp. Minho straightens up immediately, expecting some sort of reaction, maybe a shove, a deadpan glare, a snarky comment, but instead, you’re just standing there. Your body is still, eyes unfocused as you stare off into the distance, expression blank.

His brow furrows. “Uh, hello?”

You don’t react. Minho tilts his head. Then, cautiously, he waves one of his hands in front of your face, letting you hold the other. Your fingers twitch again, slight, barely noticeable, but he feels it.

Then it clicks.

“Oh,” he mutters, realization settling in. “It’s happening, huh?”

You remain frozen, still staring at nothing. Minho watches closely, observing the subtle shifts in your body. Your fingers keep twitching against his palm, and there’s the faintest movement in your lips, like you’re about to say something but never quite get there. He’s seen shit like this before, at least in training videos, but seeing it in person is different.

“Damn,” he murmurs, leaning in slightly. “That’s actually kind of cool.”

He inches closer, curious, watching the way your expression remains eerily blank. He wonders what it feels like, if you’re aware of what’s happening or if it’s just an empty space in your head. He’s about to say something else when you suddenly blink rapidly, your head jerking slightly.

Your eyes focus again and then you yelp when you see a pair of brown eyes inches from your own. Minho barely has time to react before you start toppling back into the water. His hands shoot out, grabbing you by the waist before you go under, keeping you steady. His grip is firm but careful, keeping you upright as you breathe sharply, eyes wide.

“Whoa, easy there, mermaid girl,” he says, smirking slightly. “You good?”

You blink up at him, hands gripping his arms instinctively, body still slightly tense from the abrupt shift. Your lips press together briefly before you nod, adjusting yourself so you're standing properly again.

Minho doesn’t let go immediately, watching you closely, making sure you’re not about to keel over again. Your fingers tighten slightly on his arms before you let go, taking a small step back. “Sorry.”

He snorts. “What the fuck are you apologizing for?”

You just shake your head, as if brushing it off, and Minho narrows his eyes slightly. “Does that happen often?” he asks.

You hesitate, then nod. “Sometimes.”

Minho watches you for a second longer, then finally releases his hold on you, stepping back as well. “Huh.”

You tilt your head slightly. “Huh?”

Minho shrugs. “I dunno. Just thought it’d be more dramatic. Like glowing eyes, speaking in tongues-”

You stare at him.

He grins. “What? I think that’d be cool as fuck.”

Your lips twitch again. Not quite a smile, but something close. Minho notices and he finds himself already looking forward to seeing more of it.

Minho wakes up feeling like absolute fucking death. The moment he tries to move, his muscles scream in protest. His legs? Useless. His arms? Betrayers. His back? Feels like he got hit by a fucking truck. He groans, flopping onto his side, and staring at the ceiling like it personally offended him. He knew swimming was a workout, but this? This feels like he spent all night fighting for his life against a bear and lost.

After several moments of regretting every decision that led to this moment, he decides he needs to get to the kitchen. Food. Coffee. Maybe painkillers. Preferably all three.

Except there’s one problem, his legs don’t work.

With a grunt, he rolls onto his stomach and starts crawling out of his room. The frat house hallway is silent except for the occasional creak of floorboards beneath his weight as he drags himself forward. His limbs feel like jelly, completely useless beneath him.

He pauses, exhales sharply, then keeps going, determined. If he dies, at least let it be in the kitchen where someone will find him before his corpse starts to stink.

Reaching the staircase, Minho stares down at the steps like they personally wronged him. No way he’s walking down those. Not happening. Not when his legs feel like they’re made of fucking pudding. So he sits his ass down on the top step, grips the railing, and starts bum-shuffling his way down like a fucking toddler. Every bounce sends a fresh wave of agony through his body.

Fucking fuck. Fucking swimming. Fucking Chan. Fucking mermaid girl.

By the time he reaches the bottom, he’s out of breath. This is the worst workout of his life, and it’s just existing at this point. He flops onto his back for a second, groaning, before realizing he still has to make it to the kitchen.

So he rolls back onto his stomach and starts crawling again.

This time, he doesn’t even pretend to make it look dignified. He’s just dragging himself forward with his arms, barely using his legs. Like some pathetic fucking soldier crawling through the trenches.

When he finally reaches the kitchen doorway, he gives up. Completely. With a dramatic groan, he sprawls out on the cool tile floor, pressing his face against it, arms and legs splayed out like a crime scene chalk outline. "I'll nap here," he mutters, voice muffled against the floor.

And he means it. If this is how he dies, so be it.

An hour later, the frat house is still mostly silent, everyone either still asleep or too hungover to move. The only sound is the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the old wooden floors.

Then, Jisung stumbles into the kitchen.

Still half-asleep, he drags his socked feet across the tile, rubbing his face, grumbling something unintelligible under his breath. His hair is a mess, sticking up in every direction, and he looks like he just crawled out of hell.

Which is exactly why he doesn’t see Minho sprawled out like a fucking corpse in the doorway. With absolutely no warning, Jisung’s foot slams down onto Minho’s ribs.

"FUCK!" Minho yells, jolting awake as if he’s just been electrocuted.

Jisung screams too, flailing backwards. "WHO THE FUCK- WHY THE FUCK- WHAT THE FUCK."

Minho groans dramatically, rolling onto his back. “Ji, you fucking dickhead.”

“Me?” Jisung yells, gripping the kitchen counter to keep himself steady. “Why the fuck are you sleeping on the goddamn floor like some fucking Victorian orphan?!”

Minho sighs, cheek still pressed against the cool tile. "Legs don’t work. I’m dead."

Jisung blinks, looking down at him, expression shifting from pure horror to vague amusement. “Wait, for real?”

Minho just groans in response.

Jisung smirks, stretching his arms above his head. “Damn. Sounds like a you problem.”

Minho lets out a long, suffering sigh. “Ji, drag me to the kitchen table.”

Jisung stares at him. “You want me to drag you?”

“Yes. By my ankles. Do it.”

Jisung shrugs. “Alright, bet.”

Without another word, Jisung crouches down, grabs Minho’s ankles, and yanks. Minho grunts as his body scrapes across the tile, arms flopping uselessly at his sides like a fucking ragdoll. The kitchen floor is cold and definitely not clean, but at this point, he has no fucking dignity left.

Jisung keeps dragging him across the room, humming casually, like this is a completely normal morning routine. By the time they reach the table, Minho is done. His pride? Gone. His will to live? Questionable.

Jisung finally stops and hoists Minho up into one of the chairs, grunting as he shoves him into a semi-sitting position. “Jesus, you’re fucking heavy,” Jisung mutters, rubbing his arms.

Minho flops against the table dramatically. “Coffee?”

Jisung leans against the counter, eyeing him. “You want it black or with a side of my dick in it?”

Minho barely lifts his head. “Both.”

Jisung snorts, shaking his head. “You’re fucking disgusting.”

Minho sighs, pressing his cheek against the cool surface of the table. “I love you.”

Jisung rolls his eyes, grabbing the coffee pot. “Yeah, yeah. You’re buying me breakfast, asshole.”

The swimming centre is eerily quiet this late at night, just the low hum of overhead lights and the distant echo of water lapping against the pool’s edges. Minho steps inside, adjusting the collar of his black leather jacket, his boots clicking softly against the tiled floor. Underneath, he’s wearing a simple black top, paired with heavily distressed light-wash jeans that hang loose around his frame. His silver chains clink softly with each movement.

He scans the pool area, expecting to see you standing by the water like last time. Instead, his eyes travel upward and his stomach fucking drops. You’re on the highest diving board.

Minho freezes, every muscle in his body locking up as his palms instantly start to sweat. The fuck are you doing up there? The fuck are you doing up there? His own fear of heights kicks in violently, making his heartbeat hammer in his chest.

Then, before he can even breathe, you leap off.

“Oh, what the fuck-” Minho slaps his hands over his eyes, peeking through his fingers like a horrified child watching a horror movie.

You free-tumble through the air, flipping effortlessly, the movements fluid and controlled like you’re meant to do this, like gravity is just a suggestion. Right before you hit the water, you take perfect form, slicing through the surface with barely a splash.

Minho drops his hands, exhaling sharply, watching as you pop up to the surface like it’s nothing, slicking your hair back casually.

You’re insane.

“I’m gonna go change,” Minho announces, his voice slightly higher than usual.

You just nod. He watches you for a second, still processing the absolute insanity he just witnessed. Then, a thought strikes him. “Is that safe for epilepsy?”

You shrug and Minho stares. “Cool, cool, cool. No doubt, no doubt, no doubt.”

Then he turns on his heel and beelines for the locker room, already questioning every fucking choice that led him to this moment.

Minho steps out of the locker room, now clad only in his black swimming trunks, his skin still chilled from the air-conditioning inside. The moment he emerges, he spots you standing by the pool, waiting, with those fucking armbands and life jacket again.

He stops in his tracks. "You’ve got to be shitting me."

You don’t even blink, just extend them towards him like it’s non-negotiable.

With a long, suffering sigh, Minho stomps over, yanking the armbands onto his arms before grudgingly pulling on the life jacket. It squeaks slightly as he fastens the buckles. He steps into the pool and immediately tenses at the coldness. “Fucking shit, fuck-”

You wait, completely still, just watching as he hisses through his teeth before finally sinking deeper, water lapping at his shoulders.

“This is actual torture. I’m filing a fucking lawsuit.”

You ignore his dramatics. “Okay,” you say evenly, voice calm, “so today, we’re going to get you comfortable with not being able to touch the floor.”

Before Minho can protest, you grab the back of his life vest and start towing him toward the middle of the pool. “Let me go!” he yelps, kicking his legs as if that’s going to help.

You nod. “Okay.”

And then you fucking do.

Minho immediately freezes, his breath catching in his throat as he realizes. He’s just floating. Not touching the ground. No solid surface beneath him. Just water. His muscles tense, but instead of immediately drowning like his instincts scream he’s about to, he just bobs.

Minho blinks.

You’re treading water beside him, effortlessly balanced. “See? You’re fine.”

He exhales, body still stiff, but, yeah. He’s fine. He lets himself bob around for a bit, staring at the ceiling, processing the fact that he hasn’t died yet.

After a few moments, you speak again. "Want to know next week’s lesson?"

Minho glances over warily. “What?”

You meet his gaze, voice neutral. “Getting comfortable being underwater. Fully submerged.”

Minho immediately straightens. “The fuck I am!”

Panic shoots through him as he starts paddling away, pathetically, in what can only be described as the saddest attempt at a doggy paddle ever witnessed. He doesn’t get far. Because you just grab his ankle and tow him back.

“NO!” he yells, flailing. “FUCKING LET ME GO!”

You don’t even struggle, just calmly drag him back toward the centre of the pool like he’s some misbehaving pet. Minho groans in defeat, throwing his head back.

This is actual fucking hell.

Minho storms into the frat house living room and immediately regrets it because Jisung and Felix are making out on the fucking couch. “For fuck’s sake,” Minho groans, marching over. “Do you two ever fucking stop?”

Jisung barely acknowledges him, just waves a lazy hand in Minho’s direction while still attached to Felix’s mouth. Minho scowls. Fuck this. He grabs the back of Jisung’s hoodie and yanks.

“HEY!” Jisung yelps as he gets ripped away from Felix, arms flailing. “WHAT THE FUCK?”

Felix blinks at the sudden loss of contact, lips slightly swollen. “Uh why?”

Minho ignores the way Felix looks two seconds away from pouting. “I need him,” he says simply, already dragging Jisung toward the stairs.

Jisung stumbles after him, grumbling. “Can I at least finish-?”

“No.”

“Jesus, you’re strong for a dude who doesn’t even fucking swim.”

Minho hauls him up the stairs, yanks open his bedroom door, and shoves him inside before slamming it shut.

Jisung huffs, straightening his hoodie. “Alright, asshole, what the fuck is this? Why am I here? And why-” He pauses, eyes locking onto the bathtub, which is completely full of ice water. “-the fuck is your bath full of ice?”

Minho sighs. “I need your help.”

Jisung squints at him. “With what? Are you planning a fucking polar bear plunge?”

Minho runs a hand through his hair. “I’m taking swimming lessons.”

Jisung stares at him for a long moment. Then, he just nods. “Finally. The bullying worked.”

Minho glares. “Fuck you.”

Jisung grins, clearly too pleased with himself. “So, what? You’re trying to get used to freezing to death?”

Minho exhales sharply. “My teacher wants me to get comfortable underwater, and I don’t want to look like a bitch in front of her. So, you’re helping me practice until next Friday so I can show her I can do this shit.”

Jisung snorts, crossing his arms. “And you think dunking yourself in a fucking ice bath is the way to go?”

Minho gestures toward the tub. “Water’s water.”

Jisung shrugs. “Fair enough.” He gestures toward the bath. “Get in, then.”

Minho grimaces, looking at the water like it personally offended him. “You’re gonna have to force me in.”

Jisung blinks. “Are you serious?”

Minho nods. “Dead fucking serious. My body is screaming ‘fuck that’ right now.”

Jisung grins. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Before Minho can protest, Jisung grabs him by the arms and lifts him straight off the floor.

“WAIT- FUCK-”

Jisung drops him into the ice water. Minho screams. Not just any scream. A full-body, guttural, horror-movie victim scream. “FUCKING SHIT! JISUNG, YOU FUCKING DEMON SPAWN!”

Jisung, completely unbothered, leans over the tub. “Deep breath.”

Minho whips his head around, shivering violently. “What? Why?”

Jisung shoves his head under the water. The cold hits like a fucking truck. Minho flails, the shock rattling every nerve in his body, but Jisung holds him down.

Ten seconds. Ten seconds of pure, fucking misery.

Then Jisung yanks him back up. Minho gasps, sputtering water, eyes wild. “WHAT THE FUCK-”

Jisung claps him on the shoulder. “Only five more days of this. Deep breath.”

Minho’s eyes widen. “Wait-”

“Three, two, one.”

And back under.

Underwater, Minho screams, but all that comes out are bubbles. He starts shouting curses at Jisung from beneath the water, muffled but angry as fuck. Jisung just grins, keeping him down.

This is absolutely the best part of his fucking week.

The water is cool against Minho’s skin as he drops into the shallow end of the pool, his silver chains glinting under the fluorescent lights. The weight of them against his collarbones is familiar, grounding. The past week of Jisung’s torture training has prepared him for this moment, and for once, he doesn’t hesitate before stepping into the water.

You swim over to him, moving effortlessly, your sage green yoga shorts clinging to your hips, your white T-shirt damp and slightly translucent from the water. Minho catches the slight contrast of your sage green bikini top beneath it, but he doesn’t let his gaze linger.

"You ready for submersion?" you ask, voice quiet but steady.

Minho grins, rolling his shoulders. "Yep," he says confidently. "I fucking trained for this."

And without waiting for a response, he drops under the water.

Everything muffles. The sounds of the pool, the hum of the building, even his own heartbeat, it all dulls to a distant echo as he sinks just enough for his head to fully submerge. He hovers there, his body bobbing slightly, legs kicking just enough to keep him steady. His lungs burn slightly, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s almost peaceful.

Then his mind starts wandering. Why the fuck is he so desperate to impress you? It’s not like he gives a shit about what people think of him. He’s always been confident, always had people watching him, but this feels different.

And then, before he can stop himself, his thoughts shift. To you. To how fucking beautiful you are. And then, seamlessly, to all the filthy fucking things he wants to do to you.

Minho smirks to himself, keeping his face submerged as his brain dives headfirst into every inappropriate thought he probably shouldn’t be having in a fucking swimming pool. But fuck it.

He thinks about you in his bed, tangled in his sheets, your body pressed against his as he drags his teeth over your skin, making you moan for him and him only. He thinks about your legs wrapped around his head, your hands clutching at his hair as he eats you out, taking his time, drowning in you in the best fucking way. He thinks about you with your legs around his waist, his hands gripping your thighs as he fucks you, your breath hitching, voice breaking as you say his name the way he wants to hear it.

His lungs start burning a little more now, but he stays under, letting the thoughts roll through him like waves. Then, finally, he pushes himself up.

He breaks the surface, shaking the water from his hair, and immediately locks eyes with you.

"Forty-six seconds," you say, nodding slightly. "Impressive."

Minho grins, still thinking about the absolute filth that just went through his mind. "Told you I trained."

You just hum, watching him, but something in your gaze makes him wonder if you can somehow tell what he was just thinking about.

Then, after a pause, you say, "Hey, what's the best way to shut a guy down?"

Minho raises an eyebrow. "Depends. Are we talking politely or effectively?"

You tilt your head slightly. "Just straightforward."

Minho shrugs. "Just say, ‘Hey, not interested.’ That’s it. No explanation needed."

You nod, processing that. "Okay."

Minho narrows his eyes. "Wait, who the fuck are you rejecting?"

"Just some guy who asked me out that I’m not interested in."

Minho immediately wants to ask who, but shakes it off. Instead, he smirks. "There is another option. Do this." He lifts both middle fingers.

You pause, watching him, and for the first time since he met you, you smile. Not a twitch of the lips. Not just a small reaction. A real, actual fucking smile. And Minho feels it hit him straight in the chest like a fucking wrecking ball.

Oh, he’s in trouble.

The pool water is cooler than usual tonight, but Minho barely registers it as he steps in, his silver chains clinking softly against his collarbones. You’re already there, standing waist-deep, your blue yoga shorts clinging to your hips, your white T-shirt damp against your frame with the blue bikini top just barely visible underneath. Your hair is tied back as always, those silver strands framing your face.

"Okay," you say, voice smooth, measured. "You're learning breaststroke today. It’s the easiest for beginners. You keep your head up."

Minho nods, already bracing himself for whatever bullshit he’s about to endure.

You hand him the life vest. Without hesitation, he pulls it on, tightening the straps. At this point, he barely even complains about it anymore, just accepts his fate.

"Lie on your front," you instruct.

Minho exhales through his nose and flips onto his stomach, legs floating behind him.

"Hold the wall," you say.

Minho grips it, brows slightly furrowed.

"Legs are important in breaststroke," you continue, treading water next to him. "You kick your legs in a circular motion to propel yourself through the water. The legs are the primary source of propulsion, so it's important to get the technique right."

Minho hums, tilting his head slightly. "So what do I need to do?"

You watch him for a moment, then explain, your voice steady, clear. "Start with your legs in a streamlined position, feet pointed. Then," You pause. "Bring your heels towards your ass, with your knees slightly over hip-width apart."

Minho listens, brows furrowing slightly as he tries to visualize it.

"As your heels come up, turn your feet and knees out," you continue. "Then push your feet back in a circular motion. Finish with your legs together, stretched out, and in a streamlined position."

Minho blinks at the ceiling for a second. "That’s a lot of fucking steps."

"It’ll feel more natural once you start," you say simply. "Go ahead. Try it."

Still gripping the wall, Minho starts practising the motions, his legs moving through the water, awkward at first, but getting smoother as he repeats the cycle.

And then, your hand presses against his stomach. Minho freezes, muscles tensing beneath your touch. "Focus on keeping your core strong while you work your legs," you say, completely unaware of the absolute fucking war raging in Minho’s head right now.

Minho nods stiffly, resuming the leg motions, but all he can think about is how soft your hand feels against his bare skin, how close you are, how he’d kill to touch you in return. But he pushes the thoughts aside.

Because fuck that, he needs to get this right. He focuses hard, making sure his legs move in the correct circular pattern, making sure his core stays tight, making sure he doesn’t look like a complete fucking dumbass. Because if he’s going to impress you, he’s going to fucking earn it.

“And now stand up.”

Minho obeys, his feet finding the pool floor as he straightens. The water drips from his hair, sliding down his skin, but he barely registers it. His focus is entirely on you, watching as you move with that same effortless control, completely at home in the water.

“Okay, now the arm movements,” you say, treading water next to him. “You extend your arms, keeping your elbows tucked in, then push them forward to create a streamlined position.” You demonstrate, your arms cutting through the water with precision, your movements controlled and fluid.

Minho watches carefully, then mimics your motion, extending his arms in front of him. His elbows are a little too stiff at first, but he adjusts, rolling his shoulders, making the motion smoother.

“Then,” you continue, nodding at his form, “dip your head between your arms.”

He does, the coolness of the water surrounding him in a way that should be unnerving but isn’t. Not as much as before.

“And when you're using your legs and arms at the same time,” you say, your voice calm, even, “glide forward as your kick finishes behind you. Then sweep your hands out to the sides until they form a Y shape with your body.”

Minho mimics the arm motion, feeling out the movement. It’s strange, a little awkward at first, but it makes sense. He grins, looking at you with sharp confidence. “I’m ready to try and combine both.”

You nod. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Minho takes a deep breath, steadies himself, and then tries. It is an absolute fucking disaster.

The moment he attempts to coordinate his arms and legs, it’s like his entire body forgets how to function. His kick is mistimed, his arms flail in some horrific attempt at a Y shape, and instead of gliding smoothly through the water, he just sinks slightly, floundering like a dying fish.

For the first time ever, you giggle. It’s quiet, soft, but it immediately catches Minho’s attention.

His head pops up above the water, hair dripping into his face, and he grins instantly. “Made you laugh!”

You keep giggling, and it’s genuine, your shoulders shaking slightly as you try to compose yourself. “You looked so ridiculous,” you admit, voice breathless with amusement.

Minho’s grin only widens. “I didn’t look that bad.”

You nod, still giggling. “You did.”

You lift your hand and point at him, as if emphasizing how fucking ridiculous he looked, and you’re still laughing, the sound soft but real. Minho watches you, something warm spreading through his chest, and for once, he doesn’t say anything. He just lets you laugh.

The next day, Minho aches. Every single part of his body feels like it’s been set on fire, the result of spending hours practising breaststroke, pushing himself relentlessly just so he can show you his progress next Friday. His arms hurt, his legs feel like fucking concrete, and his core, don’t even fucking get him started on his core.

But it doesn’t matter. Because he’s going back.

It’s midday when Minho arrives at the swimming centre, determined. The pool is mostly empty at this hour, which is perfect, it means he can practice without distractions.

He strides into the locker room, pulling his hoodie over his head, tossing it onto the bench before stepping out of his sweatpants. His movements are slower than usual, stiff from soreness, but he powers through, grabbing his black swimming trunks and pulling them on. The moment he steps out, rolling his shoulders, he hears it.

Splashing. But not the normal kind. Panicked splashing.

Minho he snaps his head toward the pool. There, crouched at the edge of the deep end, is some Sigma Chi fucker. He’s leaning over the side, one hand pressed down into the water, holding someone under. Whoever it is, they’re clawing at his arm, fighting desperately.

Minho’s stomach drops. Then, he realizes.

It’s you.

“OI!”

His voice booms through the swimming centre, and the Sigma Chi guy jolts, head snapping up in alarm. The guy’s face drains of color, hands immediately raising in surrender the moment he sees who the fuck he’s dealing with.

Because everyone knows about Minho.

Minho doesn’t stop until he’s standing right there, towering over him and then, the guy removes his hand from your head. The second his grip is gone, you break through the surface, gasping for air, your hands immediately gripping the pool wall as your body wracks with coughs. Water drips from your hair, your shoulders shaking as you struggle to breathe, to steady yourself.

Minho’s rage spikes so violently he sees fucking red. Without hesitation, he shoves the Sigma Chi guy straight into the pool. There’s a loud splash, followed by a string of panicked curses, but Minho ignores him. His focus is on you.

He crouches immediately, reaching down and with zero effort, he pulls you out of the pool. The moment you’re standing, you cling to him, your body still trembling, coughs shaking through you. Minho wraps an arm around your back, pulling you closer, his other hand smoothing your soaked hair down in slow, calming motions.

"Want me to call Chan?" His voice is low, controlled, but his fury is boiling beneath the surface.

You shake your head, still gripping onto him, your fingers curled tightly into his skin. You don’t say anything, don’t let go, just keep holding onto him like he’s the only stable thing in the fucking world right now.

Minho doesn’t move. Just keeps rubbing your back, keeps smoothing your hair down, keeps holding you until your breathing steadies.

Behind him, the Sigma Chi guy sputters in the water before shouting, "What the fuck, Minho?!"

Minho doesn’t look at him. "What the fuck you?" His voice is sharp, cutting, layered with undiluted venom. "What the fuck are you doing trying to drown her?"

The guy scoffs, pushing his wet hair out of his face. “She deserved it!”

Minho’s jaw tightens. His fingers flex against your back as he holds you tighter, keeping you as far away from this fucker as possible. “Oh yeah? How?” His voice is calm, too fucking calm, and dangerous.

The guy’s eyes flare with resentment, his face twisting in rage. "She fucking humiliated me! She rejected me! Like anyone else would even be interested in her!"

Minho feels your fingers tighten around him, your whole body tensing against his.

That’s it. That’s all it takes.

Minho shifts, turning to face you, his voice gentle now, quiet. "Go get dry and dressed," he murmurs, his hand still soothingly rubbing your back. "We'll get coffee, yeah?"

You nod, hesitating only slightly before finally slipping away, heading toward the women's locker room. Minho watches you disappear through the doors before he finally turns back.

Minho crouches at the edge of the pool, his lips curling into a grin, but there’s nothing friendly about it. It’s the kind of grin that makes people sweat, the kind that carries the weight of a promise. One soaked in violence and bad fucking decisions. The Sigma Chi guy treads water below him, still coughing, still glaring, but there’s a flicker of something else behind his eyes now. Unease.

Minho tilts his head, fingers drumming against his knee like he has all the time in the world. “You wanna drown someone smaller than you?” he muses, voice light, almost conversational. “Someone who’s too shy, too fucking kind, too scared to fight back?” His head tips forward slightly, his grin widening. “Well, now, you’ve pissed me off.”

And then he moves. With zero hesitation, Minho’s hand shoots forward, grabbing the fucker by the collar and shoving him straight down into the water.

There’s a choked gasp, followed by a violent splash, but Minho doesn’t let go. He watches as the guy’s arms flail, his hands grabbing at nothing, his legs kicking uselessly beneath him. It’s not panic yet, not fully, but Minho can see it brewing, feel it building, and he revels in it.

It’s not even close to what the bastard did to you, but Minho doesn’t need long. Just a few seconds. Just enough to make a point. Beneath the surface, bubbles rise as the guy thrashes, his fists hitting at Minho’s wrist, but Minho doesn’t budge.

And then, just when he starts to struggle harder, just when the panic fully sets in, Minho yanks him up by his hair.

The guy breaks the surface with a ragged gasp, sputtering, coughing, trying to push his wet hair out of his eyes. His breathing is shaky, his expression furious, but it’s fury laced with fear now.

Minho leans in closer, voice low, steady, sharp as a fucking blade. “I see your face around her ever again,” he murmurs, tightening his grip in the guy’s hair, forcing their eyes to lock, “and you won’t resurface next time.”

The guy stills. His whole body goes rigid, his breath caught somewhere in his throat, and Minho watches as his brain finally fucking catches up. Minho lets go, standing up smoothly, towering over the water-drenched mess below him. He doesn’t need to say anything else. The warning is clear enough. And if the bastard is smart, he’ll take it.

------------------------------------------

Minho steps out of the pool area, rolling his shoulders as his gaze immediately finds you sitting outside the women's locker room. You’re curled up on one of the plastic benches, elbows resting on your knees, fingers playing with the hem of your white cropped hoodie. Your black sweatpants are slightly too long, pooling around the tops of your scuffed white Converse, and your damp blue hair is still tied back, the silver strands at the front framing your face.

You look small like this, curled in on yourself, your usual quiet presence even quieter than usual.

Minho exhales, schooling his expression into something lighter, something easier. He won’t make this worse for you by hovering too much, by pressing for details you probably don’t want to give.

Instead, he stops in front of you, tilting his head slightly. "I'm gonna go throw some clothes on, and we'll go, okay?"

You blink up at him, nodding once, your fingers still idly tugging at your hoodie sleeve.

Minho doesn’t hesitate. He turns and strides into the men’s locker room, making quick work of peeling off his swimming trunks. His body is still aching from hours of practice yesterday, and now with the added exertion of holding someone underwater, his muscles protest every movement.

Still, he moves fast, pulling on a pair of black sweatpants and a fitted hoodie, leaving his damp hair to dry on its own. Within minutes, he’s stepping back outside, rejoining you where you’re still sitting in the exact same position.

He doesn’t give you a chance to hesitate.

"Come on," he murmurs, gently pulling you up to stand, his arm automatically wrapping around your shoulders, tugging you into his side. He keeps his grip loose, non-restrictive, letting you lean in as much or as little as you want. "We’ll get you some tea or coffee, yeah? It'll help."

You nod again, your body moulding slightly into his warmth, and Minho exhales softly, steering you toward the exit.

The air outside is cool, the sun dipping lower, casting long shadows across the pavement as Minho leads you toward the frat house.

“We can go back to the house,” he says, keeping his tone casual, like this is just another normal day. "Everyone has lectures or shit to do, so it'll be quiet."

You nod again, your gaze fixed ahead, silent but steady.

Minho watches you for a second before tightening his arm around you slightly, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your shoulder. He doesn’t say anything else. He just keeps walking, keeps leading you forward, until the swimming centre is nothing but a fading memory behind you.

The frat house is exactly as chaotic and disgusting as Minho expects when he pushes the door open, stepping inside with you tucked at his side. You glance around, eyes scanning the absolute mess that litters the floors, the couch, the countertops, crushed beer cans, abandoned hoodies, a pair of sneakers that definitely aren’t the same size, and an inflated condom bobs around the hallway.

Minho kicks it out of the hallway like it personally offended him, muttering under his breath before leading you toward the kitchen.

You follow silently, your steps slow, as if still processing everything from earlier. Minho keeps one eye on you, making sure you’re not checking out mentally before focusing back on the kitchen doorway.

And then, you trip. Minho's arm shoots out immediately, catching you before you even come close to hitting the ground, steadying you with ease. But instead of focusing on you, your eyes drop to the floor, to the thing that nearly sent you flying or rather, the someone.

There, sprawled across the cold fucking tile, is a guy with fluffy brown hair, dead asleep. His cheek is smushed against the floor, arms sprawled out, one leg bent awkwardly over the other, like he just died mid-walk and collapsed.

You blink.

Minho exhales through his nose. "That’s Jisung," he says, bored, like this is the most normal thing in the world. "He’ll literally sleep anywhere. The fact that he’s still here means Felix isn’t, or else his clingy little boyfriend ass would’ve coaxed him into sleeping somewhere socially acceptable."

You nod, still staring at the grown-ass man sleeping peacefully on the filthy frat house floor.

Minho steps over him without hesitation before glancing back at you. "Just step on him."

You frown. "That’s cruel."

Minho smirks. "It’s Jisung, it’s fine."

You shake your head and carefully step around him instead. But Minho steps directly on Jisung’s back. There’s a grunted noise from below, a sleepy, confused “fuck off”, but Jisung doesn’t even move, just shifts slightly before settling back into deep unconsciousness.

Minho moves on, making a beeline for the kettle, rolling his shoulders as he opens a cabinet stuffed full of tea bags, instant coffee packets, and a variety of shit he barely remembers buying.

"Any preference for tea?" he asks, glancing at you over his shoulder. "I have every kind you can think of."

You hesitate for a second before murmuring, "Green tea."

Minho nods, pulling a box from the cabinet with one hand while reaching for the kettle with the other. "Honey?"

"Yes, please."

He hums, setting the kettle on before turning to face you, leaning against the counter. His gaze lingers on you for a second before he says, voice still casual but laced with something sharper, "So. What happened with that Sigma Chi dick?"

You don’t answer immediately, fingers curling slightly against the hem of your hoodie. Then, finally, you sigh, voice quiet but steady.

"He and his friends cornered me. He asked me on a date, I said no, and then, well, you saw how he took that." Your lips press together briefly before you add, "He was waiting for me when I arrived at the pool."

The sharp, earthy scent of tea fills the kitchen as the kettle steams, and from the floor, Jisung sniffs like a fucking bloodhound. His eyes crack open groggily, still half-asleep, but immediately locked onto the source of the smell.

"Tea," he mutters, voice rough from sleep. "Me want."

Minho doesn’t even glance down, just rolls his eyes as he pulls two mugs from the cabinet.

Jisung starts to push himself up but pauses mid-motion, blinking slowly as his gaze shifts to you, still seated at the table. His head tilts, squinting slightly, like he’s trying to confirm whether or not you’re real.

"There’s a Smurfette in the kitchen,"

Minho snorts, shaking his head. "Jisung, this is Y/N," he says, setting a mug down in front of you before handing you a spoon. "She’s my swimming teacher, my friend, and Chan’s friend."

Jisung blinks again, brain still not fully operational. "Chan has friends?" he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes before his head snaps up properly, realization finally fucking hitting. "Wait, wait, wait, you’re Minho’s mystery teacher?"

Minho sighs. "Give him a minute," he mutters to you. "His two brain cells need time to fucking jumpstart."

Jisung doesn’t even register the insult. Instead, he points at you, eyes wide, and then immediately swivels back to Minho. "What the fuck did you do to the poor girl?!" His tone is accusatory, like Minho’s some villain who just kicked a puppy. "She’s soaked and sad!"

Jisung scrambles up onto his feet, rubbing his eyes before dramatically throwing himself between you and Minho, arms outstretched like some tragic hero. "It’s okay, honey, I’m here to protect you from the big meanie."

You blink at him, processing the absolute whirlwind of energy that just came flying at you, before calmly saying, "Minho helped me."

Jisung freezes and his arms drop slightly, his brows furrowing as his lips purse in deep confusion. He turns to you slowly, like he’s trying to process words that don’t make sense. Then, with absolute seriousness, he asks, "Minho? Lee Minho? Helped someone?!"

Minho just rolls his eyes, stirring the tea, but Jisung isn’t done. His brain pivots instantly, fixating on you instead. He squints at you, tapping his chin. "You look like you have anxiety. I have anxiety. That makes us anxiety buddies."

You blink as Minho groans, setting his mug down with a small thud. "Jisung, she doesn’t need your crackhead anxiety energy right now. She needs calm."

You shrug, voice still soft. "I don’t mind."

Jisung immediately flips Minho off before he slides into the chair beside you. With zero hesitation, he digs into the pocket of his hoodie, pulling out a small fidget toy, a soft, squishy ball that glows slightly when squeezed, and places it in your hand.

"Here, these help," he says. His voice is genuine, no longer teasing, just light and warm and real.

You look down at the toy for a second before wrapping your fingers around it, testing the texture, feeling the slight give as you squeeze. It’s simple, but oddly grounding, and when you look up again, Jisung is grinning at you.

"It’s okay," he says, nodding sagely. "Minho might seem like a dick, but he’s nice."

You don’t hesitate. "I know."

At that, Minho pauses, his spoon still stirring, but his lips twitch slightly, a hidden smile that he quickly hides behind his mug as he takes a slow sip of tea before he turns back to the counter, grabbing the jar of honey and twisting off the lid. He dips a spoon in, watching the thick golden liquid drizzle into the mug, swirling into the warm tea as he stirs. His movements are unhurried, the soft clink of the spoon against ceramic filling the kitchen.

Behind him, Jisung shifts in his chair before he speaks again, voice more curious than concerned. "Uh, Minho, what’s wrong with her?"

Minho glances over his shoulder and immediately spots it. You’re completely still, your eyes locked straight ahead, your fingers still fidgeting with the squishy toy Jisung gave you, but your expression is vacant like someone hit a pause button on you.

Minho exhales through his nose, setting the honey jar down. "She’s having a seizure."

Jisung frowns, turning toward you, his head tilting as he waves his hand in front of your face. No reaction. You don’t blink, don’t shift, don’t even seem aware of the movement at all.

Jisung leans back slightly, processing, before muttering, "Aren’t seizures more-" He suddenly jerks his arms and shakes his whole body violently, mimicking full-body convulsions.

Minho snorts, shaking his head. "Different type of epilepsy, dumbass. She’s just not here right now."

Jisung drops the act, blinking at you with open fascination. "Dude, this is cool as fuck. I need to learn how to disassociate like this. My brain never fucking shuts up."

Minho just rolls his eyes, turning back to the counter and grabbing your mug. He lifts it carefully, making sure the tea is mixed properly, before moving back toward the table.

Just as he sets the mug down in front of you, your body jerks slightly, and then you blink. Your hands twitch around the fidget toy before your gaze refocuses, flickering around as if you’re reorienting yourself.

Minho watches, giving you a second before speaking. "Tea’s ready, mermaid girl."

Your eyes drop to the mug in front of you, your fingers hesitating for half a second before wrapping around the warm ceramic. You don’t say anything, don’t acknowledge what just happened. And Minho doesn’t press.

He just leans back in his chair, watching as you slowly bring the mug to your lips, your fingers still curled around Jisung’s fidget toy.

Minho arrives at the swimming centre late Friday night, his boots scuffing against the pavement as he approaches the entrance. The air is crisp, the quiet hum of streetlights buzzing faintly in the background. He spots you immediately, standing just outside the doors, your fingers fiddling anxiously with the strap of your bag.

You’re dressed in beige cargo pants, the fabric slightly oversized, hanging comfortably around your frame. A white knit sweater is layered over top, the sleeves slightly too long, the hem brushing just below your waist. A beige cap sits snugly on your head, your hair tucked back neatly, and your white sneakers scuff lightly against the pavement as you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

Minho slows his steps, his brows pulling together slightly. "You okay?"

Your fingers still against the strap for half a second before you nod, but your voice is quiet, controlled. "I didn’t want to go in without someone checking he wasn’t waiting again."

Minho nods once, his jaw tightening as a familiar wave of irritation flickers through him. He doesn’t say anything—just wraps an arm around you, pulling you close as he guides you inside with him. His gaze scans the space immediately, sweeping across the pool deck, the empty bleachers, the locker room hallways. His muscles are tense, his grip slightly firmer than usual, but he doesn’t let it show on his face.

After a few moments, he exhales through his nose. "I think you’re good," he murmurs, finally glancing down at you. His arm squeezes briefly, reassuring, before he steps back. "Meet you in the pool?"

You nod once, your voice slightly steadier. "We’re working on breaststroke in the deep end today."

Minho smirks, shaking off the lingering tension. "Great."

He heads toward the men’s locker room, stripping off his hoodie and jeans as he moves. His body is still sore as fuck from practising all week, but he doesn’t care. He’s determined. He tugs on his black swimming trunks, running a hand through his hair before stepping back out toward the pool.

The moment he does, his eyes immediately find you.

You’re standing by the edge, adjusting your navy yoga shorts, your posture casual, your skin still slightly damp from warming up earlier. You’re not wearing your usual T-shirt over your swimsuit this time, just a navy bikini top, the fabric snug against your frame, exposing more skin than usual.

You catch him looking and exhale through your nose, tilting your head slightly. "I forgot my T-shirt." Your voice is as even as always, but there’s a hint of hesitation, like you’re expecting a reaction. "Is that okay?"

Minho grins immediately, his gaze sweeping over you without shame as he hops into the pool, the water sloshing around him as he lands. His smirk is lazy, teasing, eyes glinting.

"More than okay," he says smoothly, shaking the water from his hair.

You don’t react. Just tilt your head slightly, watching him with that same calm, unreadable expression. But Minho notices the way your fingers pause slightly against the waistband of your shorts before you follow him into the water.

Minho paddles out into the deeper part of the pool, his strokes steady, his muscles aching slightly but functioning better than they ever have in the water. You swim beside him, your movements smooth, effortless, like the water bends around you rather than resists. The contrast is almost funny, where you glide, Minho is still learning, still adjusting, but for the first time, he doesn’t feel like he’s fighting against the pool itself.

“Remember what I taught you,” you say, your voice lighter than usual, more open. There’s a warmth to it now, something easier, something softer.

Minho grins. “Obviously,” he scoffs, then actually fucking does it—his arms and legs moving in sync, his body pushing forward without immediately sinking. It’s not perfect, but it’s breaststroke, and it’s working.

You watch for a few moments, and then, to his absolute fucking delight, you smile at him.

“What now? I’m like a fucking fish!”

You tilt your head, clearly unimpressed. “At best, you’re at a six-year-old’s swimming competency.”

Minho gasps, hand dramatically slapping his chest. "How fucking dare you-"

His overreaction costs him immediately. The second he loses focus, his rhythm breaks, and his body tilts awkwardly, sinking slightly. His instincts kick in, panic flaring for half a second, but before he can do anything, you move first.

You dive forward, reaching out without hesitation, your hands gripping his arms, steadying him, keeping him above water before he can actually fuck himself over.

Minho exhales sharply, adjusting, getting his balance back, and then grins triumphantly as he resumes swimming, this time more controlled. “You,” he pants, paddling closer to you, his voice smoother, cockier. “You’re a fucking miracle worker.”

You glance away, almost shy, before nodding slightly, the corners of your lips twitching again. Minho watches you for a beat longer before he moves.

Without thinking, without second-guessing, he surges forward, closing the distance between you in an instant. His fingers tangle into your damp hair, and before you can react, his mouth is on yours.

The kiss is hot and demanding, his lips moving over yours with no hesitation, no uncertainty, just pure fucking intention. His other hand grips the pool ledge, holding you right where he wants you, his body pressing against yours, chest-to-chest, nothing between you but water and heat.

Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your thighs squeezing slightly as you pull him closer, and he fucking groans into your mouth, his fingers tightening in your hair as he kisses you deeper, harder, hungrier. Your hands find his shoulders, gripping lightly, nails digging in as you kiss him back, the slow burn of tension between you finally fucking snapping.

Minho’s hand slides down, dragging over your thighs, your hips, your waist, mapping out your skin like he’s memorizing it, like he’s claiming it, like he’s been waiting for this the entire fucking time. And then, slowly, he pulls back, his breathing slightly uneven, his forehead resting against yours as he smirks. “I’m gonna take you on a date,” he says, voice rough, but amused, like the words just popped into his head and stuck.

You blink at him, slightly dazed, and he grins. “Somewhere where I have the high ground,” he muses, still catching his breath. “Like football.” His fingers trail lazily down your spine, and he smirks even wider. “Yes. I’m going to teach you how to play football.”

You stare at him for a second, and he knows you’re about to call him a dumbass, but before you can, he tilts his head slightly. “Wanna go on a date?”

There’s a pause, a small one, but a pause nonetheless, before you finally nod. "Sure."

The college football field is eerily quiet this late at night, the floodlights casting long shadows over the empty bleachers. The grass is slightly damp from the evening air, but the field itself is pristine, untouched, a perfect stretch of green beneath the stadium lights.

You stand near the centre, arms crossed loosely over your chest, dressed in black leggings, black Converse, and a long-sleeve black T-shirt. The fabric clings to your frame just enough to be flattering, but loose enough to be comfortable, your movements easy, fluid, as you watch Minho with quiet curiosity.

Minho, on the other hand, is grinning like a fucking idiot, clearly thrilled about whatever the fuck he has planned for tonight. In his hands, he holds his black and red #25 jersey, the fabric slightly worn but clearly well taken care of.

"Put it on," he says, handing it over with zero explanation.

You eye him for a second before taking it, fingers brushing against the material as you pull it over your head. The scent of fabric softener, faint cologne, and something distinctly Minho lingers in the material, comforting, familiar in a way you hadn’t expected. Minho watches, clearly pleased, before stepping closer and placing a football helmet on your head.

It immediately slips forward, covering your eyes. There’s a beat of silence. Then Minho sighs, shaking his head. "Okay, maybe we forget the helmet. Time to learn football."

You adjust the jersey, pushing the sleeves up slightly before glancing at him. "You know, I had hoped our date would involve food."

Minho waves a hand dismissively. "Food later. I’ll cook for you. I’m the best cook in the frat." His smirk widens. "But right now, I get to teach you something."

You exhale through your nose, clearly unconvinced, but before you can argue, Minho tosses you a football.

You reach for it and miss completely. The ball thuds against the ground, bouncing off into the distance.

Minho throws his head back, letting out an obnoxiously loud whoop, his hands shooting up toward the sky. "YES!" He claps his hands together. "You suck at something! Thank you, God! Finally!"

You glare at him, but there’s no real heat behind it. "Shut up."

Minho grins, clearly delighted. "Okay, can you run?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Yes."

Minho smirks. "Of course you can. At least you’re terrible at catching. You need a flaw, sweetness, and God has finally given you one."

You don’t dignify that with a response, just watch as he tosses another football toward you. You reach for it and miss again. With a deep sigh, you drop your hands. "This isn’t fun."

Minho hums, tapping his chin thoughtfully. Then, suddenly, he snaps his fingers. "Okay, let’s make it fun." He leans in slightly, his voice dropping into something lower, smoother. "Kisses. Lots of kisses. If you can take this ball from my hands, I’ll reward you."

You tilt your head, stepping closer. "Or," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers brushing against his as you lean in. "You could fuck me in your jersey."

Before he can process what the fuck just came out of your mouth, you snatch the ball straight from his hands and sprint. Minho freezes. His brain short-circuits completely, his entire system rebooting like a fucking crashed computer. His hands are still outstretched, fingers still slightly curled, like they haven’t quite registered the loss of the ball yet.

His brain screams at him to move, but all he can do is blink rapidly as the words repeat in his head on a fucking loop.

Then, finally, he reacts. "HEY!" His body jerks forward, snapping into motion as he scrambles to chase after you, his feet digging into the turf as he takes off.

But, you’re faster. You fucking sprint, your movements quick and controlled, your legs carrying you with ease as you gain distance. Minho grits his teeth, pushing harder, but you’re already ahead, already laughing breathlessly as you weave across the field.

The cool night air rushes past as you sprint across the field, the football tucked securely under your arm. Your heart pounds, not from fear, not from exhaustion, but from the sheer exhilaration of being chased.

You glance over your shoulder just in time to see Minho gaining on you, his strides long, powerful, relentless. His expression is pure determination, sharp and focused, but beneath it is a grin, a cocky, teasing thing that says he’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

Before you can push forward, before you can even think about trying to outrun him again, he lunges. His arms wrap around your waist, and for a split second, the world tilts. But instead of hitting the ground hard, he twists mid-fall, flipping the position so you land right on top of him, his back hitting the grass instead of yours. The impact is cushioned, controlled, his body taking the fall for you effortlessly.

You blink down at him, breathless, the warmth of his body radiating up through your clothes.

Minho’s grin is smug, his dark eyes flickering in the dim stadium lights. "Nicely played," he murmurs, his voice low, amused, his hands still resting against your waist, fingers just barely digging into your hips.

You smile, something mischievous flickering behind your usually calm gaze. Slowly, deliberately, you lean down, your lips barely brushing against his, teasing, soft, fleeting before you’re gone again.

You push off of him, sprinting away before he can even think about stopping you, the ball still firmly in your grasp. Minho bursts out laughing, a full-bodied, genuine laugh, as he scrambles back to his feet, his boots digging into the turf as he launches himself after you.

"Come on, sweetness!" he calls after you, his voice dripping with cocky amusement. "You can’t run forever!"

You know he’s right, his endurance is better, his reaction time quicker, and before you can dodge, before you can make another move, he snatches your wrist mid-sprint.

With one fluid motion, he spins you back into his chest, your body colliding with his, and in an instant, his mouth is on yours. The kiss is nothing like the last one.

This one is fierce, unapologetic, possessive, his hands cup your face, thumbs brushing over your skin, fingers threading through your hair as he holds you there, as if making sure you’re not slipping away again.

Your breath catches, but you don’t pull away, don’t hesitate, don’t second-guess. Instead, you press closer, your fingers gripping at his clothes, your entire body melting into the kiss like you’ve been waiting for it.

Minho makes a low, satisfied noise, something deep and approving, something that vibrates against your lips as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss even further, like he can’t help himself.

The football?

Completely forgotten.

The swimming centre is buzzing with faint echoes of water slapping against tile, but the real noise comes from the group of seven loud-mouthed Alpha Phi assholes standing at the edge of the pool, all of them dressed in various pairs of swimming trunks, looking either confused, bored, or outright suspicious.

Minho stands in front of them, hands on his hips, grinning like he owns the fucking place.

"Good afternoon, bitches," he announces, his voice echoing through the space. "Meet Y/N."

You’re standing slightly behind him, relaxed but observant, dressed in your usual yoga shorts and a bikini top, arms loosely crossed as you watch them all process the introduction.

Chan, standing closest, immediately steps forward and wraps you into a warm, familiar side hug, squeezing lightly before pulling back just as quick. You return it, a small smile forming as his presence is steady, grounding, something safe.

Jisung, already grinning, waves happily at you, his expression bright, easy, open—completely different from the crackhead energy he had the first time you met him. You wave back, your movement small but genuine, and Jisung nods approvingly, like he’s decided he fully supports your existence now.

Then Hyunjin, who has been watching Minho with pure suspicion, tilts his head, arms crossed over his chest. "Why are we here, Minho, and why the fuck are you in swimming trunks?"

Minho’s grin widens, clearly thrilled to finally say it. "Because, dear Hyunjin, I can swim." He claps his hands together, turning slightly as he throws his arms out dramatically. "And I'm here to prove it to all you bitches." Then, his voice shifts, going softer, more playful, as he turns to you. "Not you, baby."

Your lips twitch slightly, but you don’t say anything, just watch as Hyunjin’s jaw actually fucking drops.

"What?" Hyunjin sputters, looking wildly at the others. "Are we being punked? Are there cameras? No fucking way."

Chan, still processing, frowns slightly before turning back to you, his eyes narrowing. "Y/N, you and Minho?"

You nod once, your face calm, unreadable.

Chan immediately loses it. "WHAT? NO, NO, NO! NOT MY LITTLE BABY!"

And then, before you can react, he fucking cradles you. Chan, all muscle, all protective instinct, literally wraps his arms around you, holding you like you’re an actual fucking child, his voice dramatic, pained. "This is a disaster. This is the worst thing to ever happen. No. Nope. I refuse. We are undoing this. Y/N, blink twice if you need saving."

Minho, completely unfazed, crosses his arms, rolling his eyes as he waits for Chan’s meltdown to pass.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Minho waves him off, stepping forward, leaning casually against your shoulder, completely ignoring the fact that Chan is still holding you like a toddler. "I corrupted your baby. Wasn't really hard anyway. It's me, Chan. Time to accept it."

Chan groans loudly, shaking his head. "I hate this. I hate everything."

Minho grins wider, fully basking in the moment. "And anyway, none of that matters because the real point is-" He gestures toward the pool with both arms, dramatic as ever. "Y/N taught me how to swim, so my only flaw? Gone. I am now perfect."

Jisung bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach, literally bending over as he wheezes. "Your only flaw? Minho, you are the biggest piece of shit I’ve ever met."

Hyunjin claps sarcastically, still looking personally betrayed. "Wow. Wow. I’m so happy for you. This is truly a moment for all of us."

Seungmin leans against the edge of the pool, arms crossed, his expression completely unimpressed as he watches Minho stand there like he’s about to unveil the greatest athletic achievement of all time.

“Get to swimming then, Tinky Winky,” Seungmin deadpans.

Minho’s head snaps toward him so fast it’s a miracle his neck doesn’t break. “Fuck you,” he shoots back, flipping him off before stepping toward the edge.

And then, without another word, he hops into the pool.

The water splashes around him, cool against his skin, but he barely registers it before he pushes off the wall, kicking off with force, and starts breaststroking up and down the pool. His movements are controlled, precise, smooth, nothing like the floundering disaster he started with weeks ago.

It’s not perfect, but it’s damn good.

The guys watch for a few moments, still processing the fact that Minho, Lee Minho, the man who refused to even put a toe in the deep end, is actually swimming like a normal fucking person.

“Pssst, Y/N,” Hyunjin suddenly whispers, leaning in slightly. "Hi, I’m Hyunjin. How bad was he when he started?"

You tilt your head, your expression calm, innocent, but there’s a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes. "He wore a life vest and arm floaties."

Hyunjin’s hand flies to his mouth, trying to smother his snort, but it’s too late—a wheeze escapes him, and the others immediately zero in on the conversation.

You lean in slightly, lowering your voice just enough to make them hang on every word. "The first time he tried combining the arms and legs for breaststroke," you continue, straight-faced, "I thought he was going to die."

The guys erupt into laughter, the sound echoing through the swimming centre, bouncing off the walls as Chan doubles over, clutching his stomach, while Jisung literally collapses onto Felix. Seungmin is wheezing, Changbin is cackling, and Jeongin actually has to sit down on the edge of the pool from laughing so hard.

You smile innocently in Minho’s direction just as he reaches the wall, finishing another length.

He catches the look on your face immediately, and his own grin grows wider. "What are you talking about?"

Hyunjin, still laughing, straightens up instantly, clearing his throat. "Oh, uh, nothing, right Y/N?"

You tilt your head, playing along effortlessly. "Nothing."

Minho narrows his eyes slightly, clearly not buying it, but before he can say anything else, he reaches up, grabs Hyunjin’s wrist, and yanks him straight into the pool.

Hyunjin yells in betrayal as he hits the water, arms flailing dramatically, his voice muffled by the splash as he disappears beneath the surface.

The others cheer loudly, jeering as Hyunjin resurfaces, coughing and spluttering, glaring at Minho like a wet cat.

Felix and Jisung, still grinning, move toward you, offering their hands. Without hesitation, you take them, letting them help you into the water, the cool temperature washing over you instantly. Changbin, Chan, Seungmin, and Jeongin all hop in after, the pool filling with energy and laughter as the guys start splashing each other, the tension from earlier completely gone.

Then, from somewhere behind you, Seungmin calls out.

"CHICKEN!"

Minho turns to you immediately, his smirk returning full force. "Get on my shoulders, baby."

You raise a brow but don’t hesitate, placing your hands lightly on his shoulders as he ducks under slightly, guiding your legs around him before standing up fully, lifting you above the water with ease. For a second, the world tilts, your vision filled with stadium lights reflecting off the rippling pool, the sounds of laughter and splashing fading slightly as your focus shifts solely to Minho.

He’s looking up at you, his hands firm around your thighs, holding you steady. But his expression is different now, his usual cocky smirk softened, his dark eyes taking you in with something quiet, unreadable.

The lights from the pool cast a soft glow around you, catching on the strands of your blue and silver hair, making them shimmer like fucking stardust. And then, before he can even stop himself, Minho murmurs, almost in awe,

"You’re beautiful, you know that?"

You smile at him, a small, genuine thing, one that lights up your eyes. Minho smiles back instantly, warmth spreading through his chest, a deep, easy kind of happiness settling in his bones.

For the first time, he lets himself think about it, really fucking think about it. If the guys hadn’t bullied him into learning how to swim, if he hadn’t let his own stubborn pride push him to prove himself, he would have never met you.

And in Minho’s mind, that would have been the greatest fucking tragedy.

General Taglist: @nightmarenyxx @velvetmoonlght @annafee_bou @mlink64 @intoanothermind

Lee Minho Taglist: @0haerireah0 @linowzzzz

Proofread by the lovely @eastjonowhere

122 notes · View notes