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gyuswhore · 10 days ago

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Soundproof

Lee Chan x reader | part of the Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab hosted by @camandemstudios

word count: 9.2k

contains: band member!chan, high school!au, angst, fluff, neighbours to lovers, mentions of stress and overwhelming emotions, chan is emotionally constipated, mention of parents

synopsis: Noise has followed Lee Chan his entire life, at least that what it feels like to you since the day his family moved in next door. It goes from his yells and screams to his midday guitar riffs and drum solos, all somehow ending up in your parents garage for his audacious band practices. Noise has followed Lee Chan his entire life, but at some point, you fell in line too.

[a/n]: this one was. a ride. to say the least. this felt like I was going back to my roots, I was getting so much htwhfd vibes from this and it made me all emo. its not as plot heavy or extensive as I usually go but it was about time I wrote something for chan before they took my dinonara status away so plsplsplsplspls remember to reblog or send me an ask with your thots 🥹

ty to @highvern the yin to my yang or whatever they say about married couples for beta-ing this for me, to jewel @100vern and mr. jewel for helping me out with all the technical instrument bits, ily hehehe. and of course, the BIGGEST thank you to everyone that participated in this collab, we had 26 fics this time around (what! the! fuck!) and it was honestly so fun to interact with new and old writers and to watch them create fics <333 ily guys tysm and PLEASE check out the collab masterlist above for all the amazing fics!!!

masterlist

The day you met Lee Chan was a memory as vivid as yesterday. Mostly because it was the first time you heard a scream so blood curdling. It was enough to push you out of your seat where you were pouring over an impossible Kumon problem, hurtling towards a window looking over your front yard, interest piqued beyond the math problems on your desk. Tripping over your stuffed otter in haste, you threw the toy onto the bed with perfect aim before returning to your mission.

Nose pressed against the cool glass, you find a giant moving truck right in front of your house. Well, half in front of yours, the tailend towards the house next door. The truck's compartment is wide open, and a million wrapped and boxed things lay on the pavement, leaving a trail that leads all the way into the open front door. Wrapped chairs and tables, what look like vases and bowls littered next to crudely labelled cardboard boxes. The chaos wasn’t quenching your interest though; the men that haul things from the truck to the ground are not the ones screaming, and neither is the woman that pops her head out to drag a box through the threshold and into the house.

Your hands are on the glass too, trying to push yourself farther than your tippy toes to catch a better look at the newcomers. You nearly give up, about to drop back on your heels and go back to hunch over algebra, before you hear a loud yell. “Dad! DAD! Look!”

He’s sprinting so fast you hardly catch him, through the door, jumping down the steps of the porch, zigzagging through boxes and furniture and uncut grass as he hurtles towards the truck. The bright blue hoodie he’s donned makes it easier to keep up, but also the fact that he’s holding a giant object in his arms as he books it across the lawn.

“Chan, be careful, you’ve barely had it for ten minutes!” someone yells, their voice muffled through the glass. He doesn’t seem to listen, crashing into his dad who receives his bone crushing hug with surprise.

It’s a guitar. He’s holding a guitar. His father speaks, directed at the woman in the doorway, “I told you to wait for me!”

“He found it himself!” she defends, but her tone is light with amusement. It’s half drowned by the unending chorus of thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou from the boy who continues to balance his brand new guitar and the tight embrace that’s locked his dad’s arms at his own sides.

A few hours later, there’s company at your door, the distinct sound of your mother greeting her guests pouring through to your bedroom. You instinctively press pause on your speakers, the static noise of One Direction halting abruptly as you eavesdrop. As though on cue, your mother called for you.

At the door is a woman with a kind smile on her face, handing your mother a tray full of something covered in foil, all while she’s being ushered onto the couch. Behind her trail two boys, a taller and a shorter.

“This is my daughter,” she introduces you to the crowd beckoning you forward. Shuffling your feet, you oblige. “This is Mrs. Lee and her sons.”

“This is Geon,” Mrs. Lee gestures towards the shorter one that’s more content behind his mothers legs. “And this is Chan. You might be the same age!”

“They’ve just moved in next door,” your mother informs, lifting her head to address Mrs. Lee. “You’re enrolling him in the local middle school right? Maybe you can show him around!”

It’d be hard to do that when the boy in question was more interested in the carpet below his socks. But you nod and give a tight smile regardless. With the adults seated, your mother has somehow pushed you into dragging a seemingly unwilling Chan to show him your room. Both of you oblige, mostly because you see his mother give him the look when he wouldn’t move from his spot.

It’s torturously silent as you climb the steps, trying to think if you’ve left out something embarrassing in the open. Your stomach jolts, the giant pile of clothes fashioning itself in your eyelids, your training bra at the top of the clean pile. Suddenly, you’re bolting up the steps faster than Chan, making a beeline to shove the damn thing under the mound of clothes before he could walk in and see. Throwing the door open, you take a moment to address Chan walking up the last step, “Um, just in here.”

There it is, pink with Minnie Mouse plastered all over it. By the time it’s hidden, Chan is walking through the threshold and into your room. His eyes wander, taking in the blare of your space. He looks odd standing with his clothes that are all black down to his socks and his mop of hair, a void against the bright pinks and blues of your bedroom. The desk is against the window that overlooks the backyard, your curtains patterned a purple chevron. It’s clean for now, but your shelves are lined with textbooks and novels, a smaller corner for your CDs. The bed is still warm and ruffled from when you were lounging in it, your nightstand decorated with a star lamp and your pink CD player.

“You can sit down,” you invite, giving the pile of clothes one last kick in its place next to your blue wardrobe. You migrate to the chair behind your desk, letting him take the edge of the bed. He still hasn’t said a word, and you wonder if this is the same person that was running and screaming outside just hours ago. Chan continues to observe the contaminants of your room, landing on your nightstand where your CD player is, the case for your One Direction CD right next to it. Reaching for it, he says his first words to you.

“Is this yours?” A dense question in hindsight, but you appreciated him filling the silence. You nod immediately, “I have more! I have them all, actually.”

He puts the case back on your nightstand. The silence plunges itself into the space once more, and the pressure on your chest is near unbearable. “You can…you can borrow them if you like.”

Chan looks startled, eyebrows raised as he registers the offer. “Oh, uh, I don’t…I don’t listen to One Direction. Or boy groups or girl groups or…pop.”

“Oh,” you falter, heat rising in your cheeks. Nothing was said outright, but you couldn’t shake the distinct feeling of being judged.

“Do you play?” he asks. Cocking your head in confusion, you ask, “The CD player?”

“No, uh,” he points to under your desk, where there’s a pink plastic ukulele covered in multicolour glitter from a chaotic DIY, “that.”

“I try to.” Your cheeks burn. “Youtube videos are helpful sometimes. Do you?”

It was a pointed question, brought forth from the fresh memory of his loud gift receiving earlier. “I play the ukulele but it’s not a lot of fun. I just got a new guitar for my birthday last week. I only got it today because we were moving and I wasn’t supposed to find it but I did. It’s a Fender Jazzmaster in Olympic White. My mom wanted me to get Surfer Green but it felt like a gir— anyway.”

“Why…don’t you like Surfer Green?” you ask, because it felt like the obvious follow up.

He stares at you, mouth open slightly. “What I really wanted was the Fender Mustang but my mom said that was too expensive. Dad would’ve gotten it but they bought my brother a console so I had to comiprise…copm…comripise—”

“C-Compromise?” you suggest meekly.

“Yeah.”

You frown a little, “Aren’t you happy with the one you got?”

“I like the Jazzmaster too, but holding those Mustangs just–just feels different in the stores,” he continues. “Kurt Cobain had a Mustang.”

“Who’s—”

“You don’t know Nirvana?”

“Um—” you stutter, like you’d been asked a question you didn’t have an answer for in front of the entire class.

“Right,” he deflates, eyes flitting to the empty One Direction case on the nightstand.

You swallow, wiggling your toes to hold down the fort that was your pride. “Are—um…Are there no other famous people with…what you got?”

He ponders for a moment, face uncurling. “Bob Dylan had one…”

You breathe a sigh of relief, having at least heard the name before. “That means it’s still really good!”

“Yeah,” he nods, like he was having a genuine epiphany. “Yeah it is pretty good.”

“Good.”

“I still want the Mustang though,” he continues, and then adding with a mumble you hardly catch, “Why does Geon have to get a present on my birthday.”

Later on in the week, when you’re out at the mall with your friends, too sweet frappes and milkshakes in hand, your gaggle enters the music store. The others crowd around the laid out drumset, some walk to the functioning keyboards, you find yourself trailing to the salon style depiction of electric guitars mounted on the walls. Cold fingers wrapped around your mocha frappe, you read the signs on the different guitars, trying to find two specific ones to pause on.

There it is. The placard calls it a Fender Player II Mustang in bold black font. It’s jet black, reflective in the glossy finish, complete with all the white accents and the wood piece at the top. Your hand, sweaty with condensation, reaches out to touch the smooth surface of the guitar, half mesmerised by the finish. You’re interrupted with a jarring, “Can I help you out?”

Retracting quickly, you turn to the salesperson stood before you, small smile on her face. “Uh—do you guys have this in surfer green?”

She furrows her brows, “Not the Mustangs. We have Jazzmasters in surfer green but they’re out of stock. Would you like to place an order?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you’re quick with your, “No, thank you.” It’d be strange for a middle schooler to book something that expensive all by herself, let alone with a flock of friends. The lady smiles at you regardless, and you smile back, going to give the black beauty one last look before walking back over to your friends, where they attempt to play the intro to Shake It Off with very little success.

You steal one last glance as you leave the store.

Remembering freshman year of high school is quite easy when you take into account all the time you spent locked in a bathroom stall crying. It began to make a little more sense after your first bleed, having something to attribute your feelings to when things in your 16 year old brain got rough, but you wouldn’t leave a particularly high rating on your high school years.

It wasn’t all bad, though, especially when you were sitting in your homeroom class with neatly folded hands and a slightly jittery leg, watching all the people file into the room. You didn’t know if he’d be here, it wasn’t like you talked to him in middle school much, nor did you hear anything from your mother. You’d rather have died than ask, choosing to wait until you bumped into him — if you bumped into him. The manifestation made itself known as Lee Chan walked into the door of your homeroom class nearly fifteen minutes past reporting time. The teacher simply smiled with raised brows as he greeted him, not missing the leisurely way his backpack was strung on one shoulder paired with his blaring METALLICA t-shirt. His eyes sweep right past you as he makes his way to the very back of the class to find a seat in the last row.

It’s difficult to not crane your neck to see him, hiding under the guise of a neck stretch as you turn your head. He’s slumped in his chair, face unreadable as he stares at the front of the class. He isn’t doing much, which is like always, but it’s enough for you to want to take another peek. You don’t, because your homeroom teacher has clapped his hands to get the attention of the now full room, ready to start the first day of high school.

Did you like Chan? Or did you just like the way that he was? At 14, he seemed infinitely cooler than you, just like he did in middle school when he made his first impression in the resounding girlish brightness of your room, in front of your boyband CDs and glitter crafted ukulele that were all seemingly too juvenile for his tastes. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you knew you wanted to be his friend, a feat that seemed significantly harder than it should be.

Chan would never tag along with his mom or brother when they’d come to visit, and he’d always be cooped up in his room when it’d be you sitting with his brother in the living room of his home while your mothers conversed endlessly. It was the only reason you were that enthusiastic anyway, the possibility of seeing him and sparking a conversation that didn’t die down in half a minute. You’d been to Chan’s room only once, and hardly even at all. It was the summer before high school and your families were barbecuing in the backyard of Chan’s home, and you’d been tasked to run up and pull him out to come eat. He was the only one left in the house, who seemed to not respond when you knocked cautiously on the wood of his door.

His door was a collage of him; posters of unresolved rock bands, loud DO NOT ENTER warnings and endless loud tearings of the sort. You spotted a pink unicorn sticker among the mess, and you were almost sure it was the workings of Geon, one that Chan was yet to spot. There was a muffled hum filtering through the door, and it sounded like the low strumming of a guitar. Chan was playing something, and you remember so clearly the way you stood there for seemingly ages trying to figure out what the tune was. It was worlds quieter than his usual loud guitar riffs that seemed to occur at the very reasonable times of 10 O’clock at night. It seems you were taking too long, because next you know, his mother was bounding up the steps to find you vacant outside his door.

“Is he not answering?” she asks. “God, those stupid headphones, never should’ve bought them—CHAN!” She raps on the door with significant force. “LEE CHAN, get out of your cave, everyone’s waiting for you at the table!”

The door swings open to reveal a severely disgruntled Chan, his headphones nowhere to be found. “What?”

“Poor girl’s been knocking for twenty minutes, have some decency and get downstairs,” she snaps. You were frozen in your spot, mouth gaping as you tried to say something. You’d only knocked once, and not very firmly either. Technically, this was your fault. His mother looked down at his shirt that depicted a very graphic skull paired with pyjama bottoms. “And change for goodness’ sake!”

With that, her expression changed so quickly it gave you whiplash. She gave you a smile and pulled you along with her back downstairs, pushing you to sit down at the dinner table as Chan emerged into the lawn a while later. He’d pulled a jumper over his shirt despite the pleasant weather, his sweatpants changed out. You noted how he shoved Geon out of his seat at the very end of the table, making him move to the only other seat available — next to you. Nobody noted the exchange, nobody batted an eye. They were always going at each other, this had only felt like another brotherly spat.

Even now, as you note the free seat next to you in your homeroom class, you know it was only because he didn’t see you when he walked in, and that he’d rather die than sit anywhere closer than the farthest bench, but you couldn’t help feeling what you felt. An ugly kind of stir, a pang of hurt. There was nothing close about you and Chan but your proximity, but when the universe’s recipe to bring everyone else in the world closer fails, it’s impossible to feel like there’s resistance somewhere, somehow.

Getting in the car of Chan’s mother’s car, he takes the front seat and immediately pops in headphones on, while you talk about your day to his mom. Geon, having been picked up from his middle school first, is fast asleep in the seat next to you, leaving you as the only person she could talk to. You didn’t mind, Mrs. Lee was always nice, maybe even exceptionally nice to you. She did mention wanting a daughter at some point, but you appreciate that she’s putting you out of your self imposed silence.

Freshman year was a lot; emotions, friends, grades, and the very existence of the fact that you were growing up through the thick of it all. But there was one thing that it wasn't, and that was Chan.

Senior year of high school, things become exponentially harder for you.

It’s the first day back to school, this time without the nerves of freshman year. Three years into the game, you’d built a high school specific armour that served you well for most of your career. You were jogging out the door and into the morning chill, immediately looking for the white of Mrs. Lee’s SUV, only to find a silver sedan parked in front of your driveway. Halting in your steps, you looked over to find the car you’d been looking for still parked and stationary in the neighboring driveway, looking back to the unfamiliar car in front of you.

The windows rolled down just as you were about to cross the lawn and knock on the neighbor’s doors, maybe Mrs. Lee was running late? But all you saw was Geon in the shotgun seat waving you over, and you catch the explicit sight of Chan at the driver’s seat.

Oh.

As you slipped into the backseat, you remember the distinct feeling of unease. “I…I still thought your mom was dropping us off.”

“Chan bought the car yesterday! But he had to promise mom to let you carpool with us—”

“Geon,” Chan grit quietly as he turned the corner out of the neighborhood. In true seventeen year old fashion, you felt your legs turn to jello. You’d hardly seen him over the summer, overheard talks from the adults that he was giving guitar lessons to younger kids; perhaps that was how he bought the car? But the gap in contact meant you had no idea just how deep his voice had gotten over the past months. You remember the uncomfortable lurch in your stomach, the way Geon ignored his brother and only continued to speak to you, but you were hardly listening over the roaring in your ears. “...a new CD booklet but it’s all his shitty rock music—”

“Language,” Chan hissed. Geon frowned, “I’m going into high school next year. I think I’m allowed to say shit.” He only turned back to you in a grin, “He just can’t accept that his music is shitty.”

“Get out of my car,” Chan said as he pulled up in front of Geon’s middle school.

Immediately, panic flooded in your system. Do you stay in the backseat? Do you move up front? Why didn’t you think of this before? Getting out of the car and moving up front felt like an exceedingly embarrassing task. Opening the door, closing it, the awkward run up to the front seat, not to mention the silence, were you supposed to talk to him—

“You can just jump over the console up front,” Chan turned to say to you, and you jump a little at the way he directly addresses you.

“Uh, are you sure?” you asked, eyeing the way he moves his elbow out of the way so you’d have space to hop over.

“Yeah, I don’t mind,” he assured, only half paying attention. Leaving your backpack in the back, you found yourself moving towards the centre console, swinging a leg over to bring the sole of your shoe directly on the front seat to push yourself over. You succeeded, dropping down with a thud. Chan had already begun driving as you grappled to find the seatbelt.

The only thing you remember from that first drive with Chan alone was the way your brain felt like a broken record.

“Geon.”

“Language.”

“Get out of my car.”

“You can just jump over the console up front.”

“Yeah, I don’t mind.”

It was too much for all of seven minutes from Geon’s middle school to your high school, evident in the way you blurted out a quick “thanks, see you at 3” over your shoulder as you’d booked it into the building and out Chan’s vicinity. If he’d found it weird, he didn’t say a thing.

This went on for the first few months of senior year, even having been promoted to shotgun at some point to make the ordeal easier, much to the annoyance of Geon who sat moping for most mornings and afternoons. Despite the fact, Chan never really spoke to you throughout the time, his only words coming in the form of snapping at Geon when he mildly annoyed him. But you had acquired his phone number, which ensued a chatbox of endless short sentence exchanges.

[Chan 7:15 AM]: Come outside [You 7:15 AM]: Ok [Chan 3:02 PM]: Come outside [You 3:03 PM]: Ok

The turn didn't happen until tonight. It’s the first week of winter break, a bleak Friday night as you’re getting ready to reorganise your shelf of magazines. The room is filled with Taylor Swift filtering through your pink speakers, still in the same place on the nightstand as it was in middle school. The pile of magazine issues is taking over your floor, more than half of them covered in settled dust over the years, some just about ready to disintegrate at a touch. You’re more than focused on your task of separating the viable contenders to the ones that have had their run, when the distinct sound of the doorbell cuts through your music. A glance at the clock tells you it’s nearly 8 PM, too late for guests. Well, invited ones anyway.

Soon, there’s a warble of high pitched conversation, one that urges you to shut your music off to ensue your usual eavesdropping. There isn’t much you can make out with your ear pressed to the door, and you have half a mind to move out and loiter in the hallway. You still can’t tell who it is, but when you hear the sound of the front door closing, you know it’s safe to wander out.

“Who was that?” you ask your mother casually under the pretense of wanting an apple.

“Oh, it was Chan!” she responds. Your hand that’s rummaging through the fridge freezes. “Did you know he’s in a band? He wants to use the garage for band practice, asked so nicely I couldn’t say no.”

Emerging from the fridge with a deformed stick of cheese, you ask as evenly as possible, “Why—What’s wrong with his garage?”

“They’ve got an extra car now so one always needs to be inside to make space in the driveway. Something about his dad’s exercise machines too but I wasn’t listening, I didn’t have a problem with him using the space anyway.”

“But,” you start, but falter. “But the noise…”

“He said weekends in the late afternoons only, seems reasonable enough,” she says. This time, when she turns to you she has a strange look on her face, and you immediately know you’ve pried too much.

“Well, I’m done for the day, keep your music down, will you? I’m taking an early night.”

The irony isn’t beyond you, but when there’s someone at the door at 3 PM on Saturday, you know exactly who it is.

You’ve been loitering downstairs all afternoon, bringing your homework to the open kitchen table under the guise of “wanting a change of scenery”. There’s no one around when you slowly slip off your stool, dropping your pen like you were immensely inconvenienced by the distraction, slugging towards the door to wrench it open.

Chan is in a zip up today and dark washed jeans, but it’s blacker than a void all the same. His guitar case sits next to him as his hands remain pocketed. He registers you for a moment, “Hey. Is your mom around?”

“Uh—” you stutter. Looking back to see her rushing towards the door to greet Chan.

“Oh, you’re here!” Immediately, she smacks at your arm to move you from the door, “Let him in, will you? It’s freezing outside.”

You grumble something under your breath that she doesn’t catch, letting Chan into your home as your mother starts listing things off.

“Okay! I made sure the garage was clean, the floors are mopped and I’ve put up a heater in there in case it gets too cold. Just plug it into the socket near the garage door and it should work. Don’t worry about staying late, it’s not like you have to drive home!” Your mother laughs at her own joke with vigour, prompting Chan to break a smile of his own which you’re sure is out of nothing but politeness. But you can’t help the hitch in your threat as you see him smile, the breathy laugh he lets out to seal the deal.

“I’ll be out with snacks once all your friends get here, feel free to get comfortable, you can leave all your fancy equipment in the garage too, no one really goes in there.”

“You didn’t have to do all that, really—”

“Nonsense!” your mother exclaims, cutting Chan off. She finds you trailing behind her and pulls you in. “You’ve been handling drop off duties since middle school, I’m glad you’re giving me a chance to do something for you.”

You want to mumble something about Mrs. Lee being the one doing most of the picking up and dropping off in the past years, but choose not to as she shoos Chan into the garage to let him set up. You’re left alone in the opening of the living room as your mother ushers into the kitchen to start on the aforementioned snacks. Following her, you take a begrudged seat back at the island, picking up your deserted pen and scratching a nonexistent itch in your scalp as you stare blankly at the papers in front of you. There’s a giant bag of dino nuggets slammed on the island as your mother rushes about behind you, and you stare at them a little confused.

“Um,” you attempt to start, turning to address her. “I don’t know if Chan or his bandmates are gonna appreciate dino nuggets as snacks.”

She frowns. “But I always made you dino nuggets when your friends came over. Orange or apple juice, string cheese, and cookies!”

Your eyes close as you remember the spread that was always expected, that your friends always liked. “That was a while ago, mom.”

“You haven’t had friends over in so long, I wouldn’t know what kids like at that age.”

Shoulders slouched, you mumble under your breath, “That’s ‘cause you won’t let me change my room.”

She catches it, still adamant that your bursts of bright pink, purple and blues were perfectly appropriate for you. “But you still like the same things!”

“Yeah but…I don’t have to be so loud about it,” you grumble slightly, trying your hardest to complain without complaining.

“Well, tell me what they’d want then.”

You hadn’t planned to be too involved with the process, but the situation called for it if you were to save face somehow. You're in the middle of fighting with the oven when you hear the distinct tremor of testing cymbals and the deep, low sound of guitar notes. By the time you’re done helping out your mother, band practice is in full session, the muffled noise of cohesive music pouring through the walls as you let your mother plate up the food. You manage to replace the tray with the dotted spaceships to one that’s less assuming.

“Alright, you can go ahead and get this to them, my load of laundry’s been sitting in the dryer for half an hour!”

Snapping your head up, you bug your eyes out at your mother. “W–What?”

“Go on, they’re probably waiting!” she yells over her shoulder as she rushes to her ever important stash of laundry.

Later in life, you’ll think back to this very moment, and the very embarrassing way you snapped down to look at your outfit first and foremost. The heat rose to your cheeks even in the moment, having the sudden urge to change into your jeans. It was like the first day in Chan’s car all over again, the prospect of carrying the tray over to a garage full of boys who knew they were infinitely cooler than you was downright mortifying.

You were old enough to realise the oddity of your behaviour, the way you seem to flare up like an ignition the moment Chan was anywhere near the vicinity of your thoughts. But when you’re sitting in the middle of a group of giggling, exhilarated friends, talking about all the ways their crushes make them swoon, it all seems so out of place. The lift of their smile, the cascade of their hair, the way they enunciate their words. There was always something to talk about when it came to the person with the glowing halo around their beings.

Did you like Chan?

Liking Chan meant having something to talk about. He pays you no mind, takes no interest in anything that doesn’t directly concern him, hell, you can’t remember the last time you heard your name from his mouth. But when you think of his dark hair, dark clothes and equally dark demeanor, nothing comes to mind to back up why you seem to see the monochromed boy scintillating like he glows from within. It was just him. It was just Chan.

Even now, as you timidly duck through the half shuttered garage opening, you feel yourself putting every ounce of strength you had to not drop the tray altogether.

It’s mostly silent now, the slight sounds of tuning instruments the only thing occupying the surroundings. The garage is near unrecognisable, not that you’re in there alot anyway. It’s darker, only a single yellow lamp ignited in the corner, the half covered opening of the garage letting in the fading orange of sunlight. An entire drumset’s been shoved in the area, the seat occupied by one of Chan’s friends you recognise immediately, Hansol. A giant black box with knobs and wires you think is an amplifier, and two people with guitars, a ruby red and a shiny, lacquered black, fiddled around by Seugkwan and Yeonjun. You don’t see Chan immediately, but recognise the white guitar propped up against the mic stand.

“Grub!” one of them yells, and that seems to push Chan out of his hunch in front of the sockets.

“Um, my mom said to give this to you,” you say, placing the tray on the spare table in the corner. “I’ll just…have a good session.”

“Fanks!” Seungkwan muffles through a mouth full of hotdog, waving as you timidly leave.

You remember hearing a chorus of thank yous as you’d left the garage, but as you sit back down at the kitchen island to ‘resume’ your homework, all you can think about is Chan’s own voice was mixed in with the crowd.

You can’t tell, but when your mother walks in to dump a clean pile of laundry to fold on the couch, she asks you why you’re smiling.

Every Friday, Saturday and Sunday, you accustomed your afternoons to homework on the kitchen island sponsored by the background music pouring from the garage. You couldn’t recognise any of the songs they played to save your life, but when it was Chan’s turn at the mic, you found you didn’t really care what was being strummed out.

It took you a couple weeks, but you soon found yourself positively launching at the snack tray anytime your mother made a move to go deliver them, having honed the skill of reminding her of another more pressing task she always seemed to have. It didn’t take long for the boys to start calling you all sorts of heavenly names, a perk of being the bearer of the food.

Chan stuck to his small “thanks”, but it seemed to do mounds better for your mood than the other “angel”, “goddess”, or “your highness”s being thrown at you.

Until, of course, it all came crashing down.

The band had continued to use the garage even as the semester had started, pouring all the way into the end of the spring semester. Finals were upon you like an agitated hive of wasps, graduation edging nearer and nearer as you hunched over homework and notes and assignments for real this time. Sleep was a commodity, as seen by the fifteen minute naps you pushed in every morning in the passenger seat as Chan drove you to school. Not very surprisingly, Chan seemed unphased. Band practices occurred like normal, but with much sorrow, you had to give up your snack runs to your mother when you realised you couldn’t afford the distraction.

Noise cancelling headphones and the wood of your bedroom door, you try your darndest not to miss the few minutes of cheese and crackers you’d share with the band, the feeling of being included by people you didn’t think would bat an eye. It felt silly, when you realised they were also just high schoolers with different interests, the isolation having been a wall constructed in your consciousness alone.

The only thing you can manage is a hi when you pass in the hallways, or a quick goodbye when you get into Chan’s car where they crowd. It isn’t until you’re walking home late from study group when it’s past dark that you have a chance, the sound of music still rumbling from the shuttered garage door. There’s a temporary slouch in your shoulders, and a mind that’s too tired, too sleepy, and frankly, too sick of your own bedroom. So you find yourself walking into the garage from the door on the inside of the house, soliciting a very exciting response.

“Oh? Has the snack goddess returned?” Yeonjun asks, in jest because you can see the empty tray of snacks already devoured and digested.

“Hey,” you smile tightly. You don’t know if it’s because you’re near exhausted, but the prospect of looking at Chan feels like it would push you over the edge you’ve been teetering on for weeks.

Suddenly, this seems like it was a bad idea.

“What, missed us too much?” Hansol muses, and you immediately want to cry.

You can’t understand what’s going on, but suddenly, the buzz of being around Chan is doing worse than just flooding you with a manageable buzz.

The weather’s getting warmer, and he’s wearing a t-shirt that reveals a universally acceptable amount of skin, but it feels like a visual hook when your eyes glaze over his form.

And then there it is.

The upturn of the corners of his mouth, the cascade of his dark hair, the way he enunciated, “Geon’s been worried about you.”

Have you? Have you, Chan?

Not a thought about the fact that these were the most amount of words he’d said to you in years, not a thought about how he’s looking directly at you, or that he addressed you in a way that wasn’t passive or monosyllabic.

It’s the strange sting of tears that takes you aback, the itch in your nose, the lump in your throat. “I’m fine.” You sound…watery. “Just wanted to check in. Have fun.”

Through the now shut door of the garage, you hear a voice through the wood. “Geon’s been worried about her? Fuck you, Chan, seriously.”

When you make it up to your bedroom, it’s just another punch to the gut. The purple of your curtains, the baby blue of your bedsheets, the glitter of that stupid ukulele you just can’t seem to throw away.

The pink of your CD player.

It’s all too much. Too much in the tears that roll down your face, too much in the sound of your sniffles, too much in the ache in your temples.

Too much, but after the years where it all felt so unsure, you find through the blur of your tears the clear sign pointed directly at Chan. And the one that doesn’t point back at you.

Your feelings weren’t even remotely new, but the epiphany you’d just received certainly was.

You’re perfectly aware of how thick the air was when you slipped into the passenger seat Monday morning, refusing to look at Chan and simply muttering a small “hey”. As always. You slip into your nap that was mostly just you pretending to screw your eyes tight shut, head leaned against the window.

The car slows to stop, but you don’t hear the sound of the door opening from the backseat to signal Geon leaving.

It’s silent for a few moments before Geon pipes up. “Did you make her mad?”

“What?”

“You did something.”

“Are you getting out or not?”

There’s a small mumble of “Idiot” as opens the door to leave, slamming the door shut with a force that shakes the entire car. It forces you to open your eyes, but you hardly flutter them as you stretch your arms out like you just woke up. You watch as you pull into the final turn that leads to your school, only to find Chan turn…the other way?

He pulls over to the side as soon as he makes the turn, exiting the car before you can react or ask what he was doing. You only stare as he enters a tiny neon lighted coffee shop tucked into a corner on the elevated pavement. It irritates you for some reason, so you simply tuck your head back into your own shoulder and close your eyes. The car door opens, and you feel him pull out to take the other turn.

You don’t open your eyes till he parks and you hear the pull of the handbrake. Not even looking over, you reach for your bag to leave the car, only to be stopped by Chan.

There’s two plastic cups in the cup holders and a paper bag with a bright logo. Chan picks one of the cups up and makes to exit the car. “The coffee’s only half a shot so it’s not too stimulating. Sandwich should warm up by lunch.”

He’s already slammed the door of the driver’s side shut, leaving you in your seat utterly perplexed. You stare at the light brown liquid in the to go cup, the slight stains of oil on the paper bag, mind blank.

Then the door opens again, Chan poking his head in again, “I have to lock the car.”

“Oh!” You scramble to grab everything, looking up sheepishly. “Thanks for this.”

“S’fine.”

And then he’s gone again, leaving you a mess you’re increasingly failing to conceal.

It seems the universe is dead set on ensuring your final weeks in high school are anything but laced with peace.

The exhaustion, lack of sleep and the constant strain of using your brain so much is making you irrational. Suddenly, everything Chan does feels like a signal.

It was coffee and a sandwich, then it was letting you know he was okay with waiting for you an extra hour when you had meeting after school, calling you in the mornings instead of his usual brief text asking you to come outside. But then there were the sights you’d witness in school. He’d smile, talk, and laugh so loud you could hear him from across the hall, to boys and girls and teachers alike, like he was only odd around you. It’s giving you whiplash. It makes you wanna spin him around and ask him what on Earth you did wrong. Why he’s held such distaste for you since the day you two met all those years ago as kids.

When you break down into tears in the middle of your Algebra final, your teacher only assumes it’s the stress of senior year getting to you, and it probably is. But you know there’s more to what’s happening to your emotions.

The good thing is that was your last final, walking out of the doors of your high school, knowing you’d never have to think of the last few months of torture ever again. The doors aren’t nearly as flooded as you imagined the final day of high school would have them be, having been one of the last people to take the exam. A bleak end to a bleak year.

That is, until you find the familiar silver sedan parked in the very front of the nearly empty parking lot.

Chan did not have an Algebra exam today, he’d been done with school for a whole week, and you’d been taking the painstaking walk back home for your remaining days, as you had expected to do for your very last.

He’s leaning against the driver’s side door outside in the near empty parking lot anyway, wearing a black hoodie despite the warm afternoon, his jeans a dark blue.

Your knees weaken. Why was he here?

Taking slow steps down to the parking lot, Chan finally notices you approaching, straightening up as you grow closer.

“Are you done?” he asks first, which is jarring enough that he piped up before you.

“Did you have a final today?” you ask sharply

“Uh, no.”

“Did you have work in the admin office?” you push.

“No—”

“Then why are you here?”

That seems to stump him, his eyes flitting to everywhere but you. “I just—I thought you might need a ride.”

It’s silent as you stare at him, disbelief engulfing you. Nothing was making sense, he doesn’t make sense.

“Chan, I just—” you stop, feeling the tears pool into your eyes. “I just don’t get you.”

Chan notices the wobble in your voice, the glisten in your eyes as he finally, finally, brings his gaze up to yours to take in your face. His face is unreadable, as it always has been, and it only overwhelms you more. It seems you feel too much and he doesn’t at all.

“I…Seungkwan said you weren’t doing too well during your exam—” Of course, Seungkwan was in the same room as you wrote your final, the blabbermouth never knowing when to stop.

“And you came running? Why Chan?”

“I don’t know, I just thought—” You cut him off again, because it’s the same Chan over and over and over again. No intonation to his voice, not an emotion on his face.

There was nothing left to keep you tethered anymore, and you hardly understood what you were saying as you had a meltdown right there in your school parking lot, tears rushing down your face like some dramatic soap opera.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately. And I don’t know if it’s in my head or if it’s true or if you think it’s funny, but I think I liked it better when you just acted like I didn’t exist. I fucking like you, Chan and I don’t know…fuck, I don’t know anything. I could handle it when you didn’t care, I could handle it when you seemed to want to be friends with the entire world but me, when you looked at me like I wasn’t worth a conversation. But please just, stop doing whatever it is you’re doing right now. I’m tired of being confused.”

The world disappears as you sniffle loudly, wiping your tears and the trickle from your nose with your sleeve, having no care of what you look or sound like anymore. Everything was overflowing, and you needed it out into the air before it poisoned you from the inside out.

And despite it all, minutes tick by where there’s nothing but the sound of your own tears, not a single word from the boy who merely stands before you like a human punching bag, never punching back.

“Chan!” you voice. “You’re supposed to say something now.”

Looking up to his beautiful face, you only feel yourself bursting into a fresh set of tears.

“You…” he starts slowly. “You like me?”

“That’s what I said, yes,” you grit. You have half a mind to swing your near empty bag at him, just to have something to do, to get a reaction out of him that wasn’t perpetually lukewarm.

“Okay. Let’s go home.”

In that moment, you feel your first headway of clarity. Letting his response sink in. Okay. Let’s go home. That’s all he had to say.

You did go home, but it wasn’t in his car.

The days leading up to your graduation ceremony were headlined with staying away from your house as much as possible. The weekdays were for hogging your friends’ TVs and eating from their fridge as you left for home well past dark, the weekends were when you just wouldn’t return home at all, sleeping over under the pretense of blowing off steam. Which was true, almost.

You hadn’t seen Chan since that day, the aftermath of the explosion taking over your mind as you did everything to distract yourself from the fact that things would never be the same. Despite it all, you couldn’t help but feel significantly lighter, like a world’s worth of burden had been lifted off your chest. There was nothing to hide anymore.

But you were aware you’d have to face the music today as you adjusted the strap of your nice shoes under your dress and gown, the hat placed on your done hair already slipping. You make a mental note to pin it better.

It’s easy to let the thought slip away as you make your way to the stage to accept your diploma, the distinct cheers and flashes of a camera from your family in the crowd as you give out a genuine smile. For better or for worse, Chan accepts his while you’re in the process of getting back to your seat, so you don’t see him.

The grass area is flooded with students and families taking pictures and shedding tears and overflowing with congratulations. Your own parents usher you into a million different poses for the camera; flowers, without flowers, diploma, without diploma, each parent and then both.

The last one had you forcing a smile, because that’s when the Lee family joins you to take larger group pictures. Chan holds up the camera as you smile at the lens, attempting to forget what lay behind it.

Then comes the bit you’d been dreading. It’s you, Chan and Geon pushed into frame, to which you manage to push Geon between you two as a saving grace.

“Now one with just the grads!” Chan’s dad yells out as he ushers you two to get closer.

You hesitate too outwardly, because Chan is immediately filling the gap and stepping in next to you, flowers in both your hands to occupy them. You were thankful for it, because you’d really be selling the fact that things weren’t okay if they saw how awkward your hands would’ve been.

It’s easier to avoid him for the rest of the day, even during dinner where you chose to sit on the opposite end of the table from him. You can hardly see him as you eat, joining in on the conversation like normal.

By the time you’re home and in bed, under your baby blue sheets dark under the lack of light, you half congratulate yourself for avoiding him as good as you did today. Nearly drifting off in contentment before you feel the distinct buzz of your phone.

Pulling out your phone from under you, you tap the screen to check the notification.

Your heart is in your throat.

[Chan 12:42 AM]: Can you meet me at the park

All you can do is stare at the digitized letters, blinking furiously like they’d disappear if you shook off the delusion. But all it does is pop up another.

[Chan 12:45 AM]: Please

Please.

Why were you so simple?

Getting out of bed, it’s all you can think about. Pulling a zip up over your shirt and shorts, you put on your slippers and leave the house as quietly as possible.

The walk was hardly five minutes, but it was impossible to not think about what on earth Chan wanted to talk to you about. Scrolling up the chatbox, it was riddled with nothing but the same monotonous texts, this new one glaring like a sore thumb in the midst of your empty, nonexistent relationship.

The only thing you can hear is the crunch of your own footsteps on the gravel and the thump of your own heartbeat as the park comes into view. All you can see is Chan’s face sitting on the bench waiting for you, his clothes so dark they disappear. There’s a single street light illuminating the area, like a spotlight to the irony of the moment.

Chan gets up as he sees you. “I didn’t think you’d come. You didn’t answer my text.”

You’re keeping a good ways away from him, needing the space if you were to think clearly. “Why did you ask for me to come here?”

He swallows visibly, the gulp obvious in the way his throat bobs. He presses his lips together, whisker dimples too noticeable to you for comfort. “I just…”

And then you watch him put his hand into his pockets, fiddling around for something. He emerges with a folded piece of paper, wrinkled like it’d been scrunched up and smoothed back out again. You almost think he’s gonna hand it to you, till he unfolds it himself.

“I’m not…please don’t laugh. I don’t know how to put this into words so I wrote it down. I’m gonna read it off of here, I know how lame this is but I know talking to you is more important. Just, please don’t laugh.”

Chan looks at you, directly at you, like he was waiting for confirmation. Your eyes trail over to the sheet in his hands, his grip on the paper. He almost looks like he’s shaking a little. You try to absorb what’s going on. The tailspin in your mind is the usual with the way it becomes when Chan is around. But through the buzz, you realize this is the first time he’s reaching out.

So you nod. He takes a breath, and begins to speak.

“I wanted to say sorry for being an ass. I didn’t mean to hurt you by being distant or not talking to you, but I can’t lie and say I wasn’t behaving that way on purpose. When I met you in middle school, I was probably the biggest asshole I ever knew. I never realised it but after that conversation in the parking lot, I thought about how horrible I must’ve made you feel about the things you liked the first day we met. I don’t know why I would avoid you or make things awkward like I did, but it felt like I couldn’t face you without struggling to do it. I didn’t realise how much I liked you till we started practicing in your garage, when you’d show up and talk to the band. It looked like it was fun talking to you, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And then you disappeared, and I felt disappointed when it wasn’t you who walked in with the trays of snacks anymore.

All of my friends noticed how I’d never talk to you, and they knew how I felt before I could come to terms with it. They pushed me to start…doing things to show you how I felt. But I don’t think I executed that very well. I didn’t realise how that was making you feel either. And it’s my fault because I just…I just don’t know how to talk to you. I hate that I can’t look you in the eye or the fact that I have to fucking…fucking write this down just so I can talk to you about it. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry, and that…I do really like you. This doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to, but I’m trying to be better. I don’t know how to end this, but I hope I’m making sense.”

Chan lets his hands drop, his head following as he takes a long breath in and out.

“Chan?” you start, voice shaky. He looks up to you, and you see the red that rims his eyes, the bite he has on his lower lip. “Can I hug you?” He answers you by moving forward himself, touching you for the first time as he places his hands on your upper arms tugging you towards him. You’re immediately hugging him, your arms coming around his torso in a tight hug.

“Don’t think about it, Chan,” you whisper. “Stop thinking.”

Maybe he heeds, because you feel his arms coming around you properly, squeezing you tight. Your face is buried into his neck, breathing him in. You let out a small sob, letting your fingers dig into his back, molding into him. There’s less hesitation in his movements now, and it’s like you can feel the tension leaving him as he melts into your hold.

Right there, in the middle of the park, it all feels so impossible. From the fact that Lee Chan just said he liked you, that he’s hugging you, or the feeling of his lips on your forehead as you slowly pull away.

“That was brave of you,” you say, a hint of a smile on your face.

He smiles too, and your heart swells. “Don’t praise me for talking.”

“I forgive you. Thank you for apologising,” you sigh. Staring up at his face, you do the same thing you’d done for so long at a distance. The lines of his eyes, the low slope of his nose, the deep corners of his mouth. Leaning up, you kiss him on the cheek. “We can figure out the rest together.”

Right at that moment, in the summer before college, freshly graduated and celebrating a close, there was more than one open waiting on the other side. There was an entire summer left to build on what you and Chan didn’t in the past years, and as you’d go to college to try and figure it out all over again, there’s comfort in the fact that you won’t be doing it alone this time.

#lonelyheartscafecollab #thediamondlifenetwork #dino fluff #lee chan fluff #dino #lee chan #chan #seventeen #svt #dino scenarios #dino x reader #dino imagines #dino fics #lee chan imagines #seventeen fluff #em.writes #svt fic recs

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wintersnails · 2 months ago

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which House MD characters are microwaveable?

Chase: becomes soggy if you leave him in too long. you can do it, he just won’t taste very good

Cuddy: no, but will authorize the microwaving of other characters if she thinks it’s in the hospital’s best interest

House: loves to be microwaved but immediately releases extremely toxic fumes

Taub: he’s literally the perfect size, the most microwaveable man i’ve ever laid eyes on. gets nice and crispy on the outside without becoming dried out

Cameron: melts

Foreman: it’s completely ineffective. you microwave him for an hour and he’s still the exact same temperature as before. he raises his eyebrow skeptically the entire time he’s rotating around in there

Kutner: catches on fucking fire and burns your house down

Wilson: labeled as ‘microwave safe’ but he starts making weird popping noises halfway through so you have to take him out when he’s still lukewarm

Amber: gets kind of burnt on the edges but she’s mostly edible. you’ve probably ingested some carcinogens tho

#posts that feel like they should put me in the DSM #*rattling the bars of my enclosure* ‘DO YOU UNDERSTAND? IT ALL MAKES SENSE’#house md

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mercurycft · 3 months ago

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𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓 - 𝐋𝐖

## reader x leah williamson !! MINI FIC

hi pookies!! i’ve really been enjoying writing shorter and fluffier fics recently! somehow this ended up being a bit longer than intended! i hope you enjoy this! more to come. you’ll be able to find them under the “mini fics” section on my masterlist!! love always - RG x

2k words!

no warnings. pure in-love sweetness.

"so, what do you think, le?" you asked, eyes sparkling with excitement as you held up a newly-purchased jersey with the number six emblazoned on it.

leah looked up from her laptop, a smile playing on her lips. "it's perfect, lovie, just like everything else you pick." you replied with a sweet smile and a gentle eyeroll, folding the shirt neatly and pushing it to the side of the sofa which remains empty beside you.

the two of you sat in leah's living room, which as of a few days ago was now officially also yours too, cozied up beneath a blanket. you sat surrounded by boxes containing all of your beloingings, labelled by room and organised neatly into piles. re-runs of old shows playing on the tv ahead of you, casting flashes of colour across the room, overpowered by the lamp light from the corner of the room.

though you sat close together, leah had angled her body and screen away from you. tapping away on the keys with narrowed eyes of concentration. "what're you tip tapping away so furiously at?" you teased, lifting your head exageratedly to sneak a peak at her screen.

"hey, no peaking!" she quipped back, pulling the screen down to sheild it. "good things come to those who wait, love." she spoke after a second, lifting her hand and brushing her knuckles against your cheek gently.

"fine," you huffed, tilting your head to kiss her hand softly before turning back to the screen in front of you; attempting to drown out the noise of her tapping with the serene sounds of gavin and stacey.

the football season was in full swing, and your weekends were usually spent cheering from the stands, so a saturday in together was a rare but valued gift. you spent the time relaxing, allowing yourself to potter around. leah, on the other hand, seemed consistently distracted. whether that be by training, or whatever it is she seemed to be doing on her laptop or phone. you paid it no mind, aware of leah's growing responsibility. unbeknownst to you, that evening, leah had announced to the team her plans for the coming days.

you woke on sunday to leah leaning over you, training kit on and hair slicked into a ponytail at the back of her head. "good morning, love. im off in a minute, call me when you get up okay?" through the stirring of your sleep you murmured a small response and lifted to kiss her gently, before waving her out of the room.

it was past nine when you finally woke up fully. leah long gone and already at training as you made your way around the house carefree. after a swift call to leah, a lazy breakfast and a hot shower - you stumbled into the kitchen; towel still in hand and scrunching the last of the water out of your hair.

the sun shone through the kitchen windows, casting a warm glow on the gleaming counters. it was quiet without leah's usual 'morning country session' as you called it, and the sound of her soft singing echoeing through the hall. you grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table, scrolling through your phone.

your thumb froze mid-swipe when you saw a message from leah pop to the top of your screen. "hey, the girls keep bothering me about seeing you. wear your new jersey. love you x" you stifled a laugh at the thought of beth forcing leah to type and send the message, shaking your head softly and typing small reply.

you took your time getting dressed, slipping on the jersey adorned with leah's number six with a sense of pride. wearing it felt like a silent declaration of your support and love for her. as you made your way to the living room, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house.

your face screwed together with confusion, taking a second to swipe your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans to check the time. half ten. "can't be leah then," you thought aloud as you made your way to the front door, you swung it open to reveal beth. stood in her kit and holding two take-away cups of coffee in her hands.

"good morning, my favourite wag." she spoke cheerfully, moving into the open space you had created by opening the door further to let her in. you shared a small hug as she came in, laughing at her comment.

"you know i hate when you guys call me that," you laughed, but shook it off, taking one of the cups from her as she thrusted them towards you. "you're the best, but can i ask what you're doing here and not at training?" you shut the door behind her as she advanced further into the house.

"i have a late start and leah said to come and get you because-"

"she took the car," you both said in unison, breaking into a small shared laugh over leah's predictability.

"give me two minutes and ill be ready to go, just have to go put on my jewellery."

you retreated back into the bedroom, as you reached for your necklace, the doorbell rang again. you huffed quietly to yourself, confused on who else could possibly be at the door.

"i got it," beth called from downstairs, opening the door.

"what was it?" you asked as you made it down the stairs, clasping the necklace around your neck and shaking your hair onto your back.

"just a parcel," she said shrugging, placing it on the kitchen counter and turning back to you. "ready?"

you nodded, grabbing your keys and checking for your phone one last time before flicking off the lights and locking the door behind you.

the car ride was quick, and you and beth chatted the whole way. once you arrived at the grounds, beth led you around to the side entrance, away from the usual doors at the front. "whats going on?" you questioned with a quizzical look, "leah said to bring you here." she replied with a seemingly unbothered shrug.

you followed her down the corridor and into the changing room, which was unusually quiet and empty. beth stopped you just before the double doors, forcing you to turn around and face her one last time. she smiled at you, with nothing over than love with a small hint excitement. "where is everyone? you lot are stressing me out." you laughed, attempting to break the confusing silence.

"they're all outside, probably running circles around your mrs." she teased, eyes flicked across your features and hair, then down to the jersey. you watch as a smile spreads across her features and she reaches for your phone out of your hands.

"you're scaring me, i dont want to go out there alone if everyone is out there!" you whined like an anxiety ridden child, taking a deep breath as beth pushed your hair off your shoulders and looked directly into your eyes.

"you'll be fine. trust me, go out there."

beth nudged you gently towards the doors, the sound of your heartbeat growing louder in your ears. you took a deep breath and stepped out onto the field, squinting against the sudden burst of light. once they had focused to the brightness, your eyes skimmed across the pitch searching for leah.

your gaze finally fell into the middle of the pitch where players and staff seemed to crowd around someone down. your face fell into concern when you realised leah wasn't standing with them, and instead they were stood around her.

"leah?" you called, eyes wide as you sped up to reach the group. the sound of your voice brought a hush over the crowd, who all shared the same concerned look as they concealed leah from your view. you tried to calm your breathing as you made your way closer, mind reeling with the worst possible scenarios of why leah is on the floor. "leah?" you called again, now close enough to reach for some of the girls to move them aside. as your hand extended to push past katie, the girls in front of you parted - finally giving you a full view of leah.

however, it was not the view you expected. you had expected to see her on the floor, injured and writhing in pain. instead, what you found had you stopped dead in your tracks.

leah, knelt on the grass, her eyes glued to yours. her hand outstretched, a small velvet box balanced on her palm and clasped between her fingers. you couldn't read her expression, and couldn't bring yourself to say anything. the world around you seemed to fade into the background as you stared at her, your eyes wide.

you watched as she took a deep breath and began. "i have loved you from the moment we met on this very pitch, during that first interview all those years ago. i have loved you everyday since and will continue to love you everyday for the rest of my life. since that first day, you have changed my life in ways i will never be able to explain to you. i knew from the first time you laughed at one of my stupid media trained jokes that i would marry you. so, im down on one knee, ready to love you forever. will you marry me?" leah's voice was shaky and hopeful, her eyes never leaving yours.

you felt like the air had been knocked from your lungs. your hand flew to your mouth to cover the shock that washed over your features. the crowd around you was silent, their eyes flicking between leah and you, their expressions a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

slowly, you stepped closer to her, the realization of what was happening settling into your heart. "are you serious?" you whispered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"as serious as i've ever been," she replied with a hopeful smile.

you dropped down to your knees in front of her, wrapping your arms around her and pressing a swift kiss to her lips. "yes," you choked out, the word barely audible but clear enough for the entire field to hear. the crowd erupted into cheers, their claps and whistles piercing the quiet air like a gunshot.

leah's face broke into a grin so wide it could've split her face in two as she watched the tears fall down yours. she brought the box closer to you, revealing the ring nestled inside. it was simple, a silver band with a small diamond in the center - but to you, it was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes on.

you took the box from her, watching as she lifted the ring out and slipped it onto your finger. it was a perfect fit, as if it had been made just for you. "yes," you repeated, louder this time so that everyone could hear the conviction in your voice. "i'll marry you, leah."

the crowd around you grew closer as the teammates you had come to know so well rushed in to embrace you both. the warmth of their arms around you, the sound of their cheers in your ears. they wrapped around the both of you, all smiles and laughter.

as the congratulations died down, you took a moment to swat her shoulder with a stern look "i thought you were hurt!" you muttered, looking down at the ring sat perfectly on your hand, then looking back to leah who mirrored your wide smile. before you could continue back and fourth, the sound of renee's voice called everyone back to training.

"you two got something to celebrate," she said with a knowing smile, "but remember, we've got a game on tuesday." you both laughed, as well as the rest of the girls surrounding you as leah moved to give renee a quick hug. around you the team split back into their usual groups to continue with their session, but leah made her way back to you.

"mrs williamson. it suits you."

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homeofthelonelywriter · 1 month ago

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Not your Burden Pt. 5

Idea | Previous Part

tw: future dom-sub relationship, sexually explicit content, pet names, age gap (early twenties - late thirties)

The house was huge. Huge enough for you to be confused after just walking for a few minutes and rounding only three corners. There were doors everywhere, but barely any of them were labeled. And during the few minutes you had walked, you had counted three different staircases. Simon quickly noticed and chuckled lowly. “You’ll get used to it. And if you get lost, either ask someone you see for help or stay where you are and call me, and I’ll pick you up.” You nodded, a blush forming on your cheeks, as his eyes were trained on you. Especially when you noticed how his eyes darkened as they flickered from yours to your lips.

But he shook it off, turning back around and continuing the tour. You just managed to remember the most important spots: the kitchen, the indoor gym and pool, the way to the garden, where there was another pool, his office, the library, and your room. Maybe you’d make your own little map at some point.

“And this is the gun range.” Your eyes widened as you glanced past Simon’s massive frame. It looked just like in the movies and you couldn’t help but wonder if you were allowed to try out shooting here as well. “Ah, Boss, bonnie.” Johnny grinned as you spun around to look at him. The scott nodded at Simon before gently pushing past you, stopping once he was through the door. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he turned to you. “You wanna try?”

Before you could stop yourself, you nodded enthusiastically and pushed past Simon, never noticing the glare he had fixed on you and Johnny.

The left-hand man was nice enough, getting you some safety glasses and hearing protection, before getting a Glock. He led you to one of the booths and started to show you how the gun worked, but before he could get very far, Simon stepped in. “I think someone’s looking for you upstairs, mate.” It could’ve sounded perfectly polite, but the deep grumble in Simon’s voice conveyed a silent threat. Johnny quickly stepped back, his hands raised and with a smirk on his face. “Got it, boss.” Then he turned to you. “Have fun, beautiful.”

Another low growl escaped Simon’s lips before he could stop himself, his eyes fixed on his best friend until he disappeared around a corner. Then he turned back to you. “W-We really don’t have to do this now, if you don’t have time or something.” He chuckled and shook his head, picking up the gun. “It’s alright, love.”

Within a few minutes, he explained everything about the gun to you, that you had to know. After putting it into safe mode again, he handed it to you, so you could get used to the weight and feel. It was heavy and cold, but somehow…felt good in your hands.

While you were studying the piece of metal, he gently slit on the safety glasses, before popping on the hearing protection, making sure that it was sitting correctly. Gently, he hooked his finger under your chin and tilted your head until you were looking up at him. His eyes jumped to your lips, lingering there for a few moments, before he looked up again, smiling gently. “Ready?” You could barely hear him, but you nodded.

After putting on his own protection, he spun you around so you were facing the range. With gentle touches, he corrected your posture, giving you tips, but all that you could focus on was the feeling of his chest pressed to your back. Your breath hitched, as his hands traced your curves, giving your hips a gentle squeeze when you positioned yourself correctly. His body still pressed against yours, he lifted the left shell covering your ear. “Good. When you’re ready shoot.” He put the shell down again, his breath wafting over the side of your face and neck.

You tried to focus on the silhouette of a human, not too far away, before you took a deep breath and shot. The recoil and noise made you jump, but Simon was steady behind you, holding you close, while your heartbeat slowly calmed down. After a few moments, Simon gently took the gun from you and put it on safety before placing it on the table in front of you. Then he pulled off your protection, a proud smile on his face. “What do you think?”

You stayed quiet for a few moments, before grinning back at him. “That was amazing! How did I do?” He chuckled at your enthusiasm, pressing a button, to pull in the silhouette. “Your form was good and with time you’ll get used to the recoil and noise.” He glanced at the piece of paper, a surprised grin lighting up his face. “And your aim…is pretty good.” When you glanced at it, you saw that, while it wasn’t a bullseye, it was pretty close. You chuckled, looking back at him. “Beginner’s luck.” Simon shrugged, pressing the other button and you watched the paper go back to its earlier position. “May be beginner’s luck, but it’s good all the same.” When you turned back to him, you noticed that his eyes were still on you, he never looked away.

You swallowed thickly, averting your eyes, blushing when you heard him chuckle, a quiet ‘cute’ leaving his lips.

For the next hour or so, he continued to teach you. He let you test different guns, showed you how to aim, and also explained what to aim for if you only want to wound and slow someone down, instead of killing them. By the time Simon decided that it was enough for the day, your arms ached from the weight, and your hands burned from the friction.

“If you want to come back and shoot, let me know. I’ll come with you.” You frowned at Simon’s massive back. “Aren’t you like…busy?” He glanced at you over his shoulder, a smirk on his face. “I’ll make time for you, love.” Then he focused back on putting everything away. Once he was done, he gently grabbed your hand and led you through the building, until you were back in his office. There, waiting for the two of you, was a tray with two plates filled with pure deliciousness. You watched as Simon, with practiced ease, pulled off his suit jacket and rolled up his dress shirt’s sleeves, until they were snug just above his elbow. You almost drooled as you watched the muscles and veins in his arms shift whenever he moved.

“Come, eat.”

Next Part

A/N: Another part. I hope you enjoy it so far. And to everyone who comments: thank you so much! I always get really excited to read them! I love you! 💕

@alilstressyandlotdepressy @brickwall035 @trampondemand @inarabee @blinca @rileys3dworld @msjaeger @oreojenni @starlightmoon2020 @piconico17 @l1lpip @originalsoulcollector @ig-you-idiot @corvusmorte @ohdrey89 @dreamland08 @dprmoon @lilynotdilly @blinca @weirdducky17 @hidden-treasures21 @scaryplanetdestroyer @aikeia @kurochan3 @thriving-n-jiving @justdamnpeachy @tessakate @midnightgrimoire @awkwardalie

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mrsbarnesblog · 1 year ago

Text

new purchase

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Mob! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You just got a new expensive lingerie set and decided to tease your mafia boss boyfriend with some sexy pictures.

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: modern setting, mafia boss bucky, established relationship, nude photos, dom bucky, smut, vaginal sex, mirror sex, lingerie kink, hair-pulling, doggy style, butt slapping, dirty talk, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie.

Author's note: I'm back🥹 Tumblr blocked my account again, but thank God support replied and everything is fine now. put community labels if you don't want to end up like me lol. I'm returning to re-upload everything. thank you for the support💞💞

As soon as the message from you popped up on Bucky’s screen, he was no longer involved in the conversation with his people, who were reporting on the situation that got a few men killed.

No, now his eyes were glued to the screen of his phone. To the photo that you sent him, to be exact. You were standing in front of the mirror in the new blue lingerie set that Bucky definitely hadn't seen before.

“miss you, baby.”

Bucky took a deep breath, studying every little thing in the photo—from your half-hidden smile to the soft skin of your legs and stomach—and noticing the way your boobs were perfectly sitting in that almost see-through bra. Fuck, to be right now on top of you instead of sitting here was a dream. You knew what effect you had on him and that Bucky loved your expensive lingerie, but he couldn't just leave now, right? Controlling Brooklyn was not easy, especially when some brave idiots tried to threaten him.

“please, Jamie…”

Another text message with an attached picture appeared in front of him, and his pants immediately became much tighter. Now it was from another angle. You were on the bed on your hands and knees, your spine perfectly arched to show your round ass in just a little piece of fabric that shouldn’t even be considered underwear.

Flashbacks from all the times Bucky was holding your hips while thrusting into you from behind filled his head and he almost wanted to moan out loud. No, it was impossible to listen to whatever Peter was saying, especially when it was the first time you sent such photos.

“You better stay in this position, baby. I'm coming.” He typed quickly before suddenly getting up from his fancy leather chair, making the whole room go quiet.

“D-did I say something wrong, boss?” Peter’s face became white. Bucky probably looked really angry right now, but only because he couldn't touch you and bury himself in your heat at that exact moment.

“I didn't listen, Parker. I need to go; finish here without me. Steve, you're responsible.” Bucky took his jacket and stormed out of the room without another word.

***

You were walking around the bedroom in nervousness, as if it were your first time waiting for Bucky from work. But now something was different, though. You knew that he was busy, and you hated disturbing him, but after looking in the mirror at yourself for too long, you got so confident and bold that you decided to text him with photos, which you had never done before.

Your best friend Nat took you out shopping, but even though Bucky always gave you his card and told you to buy whatever you wanted, you never actually did it. Until you saw that unbelievably beautiful blue set. Bucky went crazy every time you had new pieces, but they weren’t as expensive as this one because you always bought them with your own money. Your friend basically shoved you into the changing room and convinced you that it cost every single penny, so you gave up and used Bucky’s black card.

The loud noise of the slammed door came from the first floor, and you knew that your boyfriend had come home. Fuck, it has been only 15 minutes since he messaged you, and he was already there.

You sat at the edge of the king-size bed, facing the door. And in just a few seconds, heavily breathing and slightly annoyed, Bucky stood in the door frame. If you hadn’t been dating him for almost a year now, you would’ve thought that he was angry, but the way he licked his lips and the look in his eyes while he was scanning your almost naked body told you otherwise.

“You’re such a fucking tease, babydoll. I had an important meeting, and you just had to send me those photos, huh?” Bucky grinned at you, taking off his expensive jacket and rolling up the sleeves of the white shirt. He took small steps toward you, but you were too focused on his tattooed and veiny forearms to notice it.

You blinked only when a soft but firm hand pressed under your chin, making you look Bucky in the eyes. The realization of how ridiculously wet you were hit you hard, and Bucky probably saw the way your cheeks blushed because his lips curled in a one-sided smirk.

“You’re looking like the sexiest thing on the planet, but you’re blushing. God, you’re amazing, baby.” His eyes slid down your body, covered in a thin lace, and you swore that his eyes darkened within a second.

“I just thought that I became wet by just looking at your hands.” Bucky growled at your words. He took both of your hands into his, silently asking you to stand up from the bed. "Sorry for bothering you at work, I just... I don’t know.”

“I don’t care about work as long as I can see my amazing girlfriend looking so incredible. Is this new? I know every single piece of clothing that you own; I’ve never seen this before.”

“Nat convinced me to buy this... from your card. I hope you don’t mind." Bucky chuckled at your words.

“I told you a million times to buy whatever you wanted. My money is your money, ‘key? Now spin for me.” He lifted your hand above your head, helping you to spin around and show him every little detail of your new purchase.

The bra, which perfectly lifted your boobs, so they seemed nice and round. Matching lacy blue thongs and a garter belt that was attached to the tights sat on your waist, showing every curve of your hips. There was nothing left for imagination. You looked so soft, delicious, and sexy, but those cute little flowers all over the fabric made Bucky want to destroy you.

“So pretty, goddammit. I need you right now.” He firmly grabbed one side of your face, connecting your lips in a hot and messy kiss, while the other hand trailed its way from your neck down to your soaking wet panties. “Still can’t believe that you’re mine. The most beautiful woman on the whole fuckin’ planet.” Bucky growled into your lips, refusing to let you go. “Is that all for me? Are you so wet because of your naighty little photos or from my hands? Tell me.” Two fingers run up and down your covered folds, making you moan into Bucky’s mouth from the stimulation.

“Both… Jamie, please. I need you.” You tried to grind your hips on his hand, but Bucky gripped your thigh and lowered his mouth onto your hot neck.

“‘M not gonna let you get off on my hand, not today. You teased me with those sexy pictures, so I think it would be fair if I just fucked you senseless. That’s what you asked me to do anyway, right?” You just eagerly nodded, hoping that Bucky would do anything. The heat in the lower half of your stomach was almost painful, and you felt awfully empty inside, squeezing around nothing with every kiss Bucky had left on your sensitive skin. “Should I bend you over the bed? Or maybe on the floor in front of the mirror so I could see how good you feel when I fuck you?” He asked mostly himself.

Bucky pulled away from you, admiring fresh red marks on your collarbones and neck and already knowing that you'd blame him in the morning before work. His lips were swollen and his hair was a mess, but you still bit your lip at how sexy and pretty he was. Lately, you didn’t spend much time together because of his job, and now you wanted to spend every second admiring and touching him.

“I don’t care, Buck. I just want you, I miss you.” Your hands flew to the collar of his shirt, opening every button until his tanned chest was on full display.

“Get on your knees and hands, doll.” Bucky mumbled, and you knew that he had lost all of his patience.

You lowered yourself on an expensive white rug and teasinly moved your ass from side to side, looking at Bucky through the mirror. His eyes stuck on your body, and he licked his lips once again. You saw the way his pants were barely holding the hardness behind them, and your mouth instantly started watering from that thought.

“Are you going to fuck me or keep starring at my ass?”

He smirked at your words and fell onto his knees behind you, slightly pushing his covered hips into yours and making you both moan.

“Oh, I am going to fuck you? Don’t worry about that, doll.” The sudden slap on your ass cheek made you loudly gasp; your mouth stayed slightly open as Bucky was massaging your burning cheek with one hand and unbuckling his pants with the other.

You felt the silky-soft skin of his cock between your legs when Bucky ran his length on your wet panties. “It’s too pretty, I don’t wanna take it off of you. ‘M just gonna push them to the side.” He took your underwear out of his way, lining the leaking tip with your wet entrance.

You couldn’t stay steel, so Bucky had to grab your hair, raise your head, and perfectly arch your back. You whined at the slight pain from his grip, but it soon turned into a loud mixture of a moan and Bucky’s name when he pushed inside of you.

It never failed to amaze both of you how perfect you were for each other. The sex was incredible every single time. Your body instantly adgasted for his size; your wet and soft folds gripped his cock firmly, as if your body didn’t want him ever to leave. Bucky honestly didn’t even remember the sex before you; at that time he thought it was nice, but since the first night with you, everything has become blurred, and he couldn't look at any other woman in a sexual way anymore.

“Fuck-fuck-fuck, James!” You cried, squeezing him harder and gripping the soft material under your hands.

“Holy shit, doll. Your pretty pussy ‘s taking me so well; she’s so greedy for my cock.” Bucky slapped your ass again at the same time as he bottomed out in you. You tried to stay focused on the reflection in the mirror, but that teasing little push of Bucky’s hips right into your g-spot made your eyes roll back. "What? You can’t handle it, baby? But that's what you asked for. You thought that you could just send me these things and not get fucked like a naughty little girl?” He chuckled, immediately increasing the speed of his thrusts.

“I just wanted you, J-Jamie, fuck!” You cried at another slap on your ass. Red hand prints were already visible, and you knew that it would be hard to sit the next day. “I need to cum, please…”

“Already drunk with my cock?” Bucky chuckled, slightly squeezing your hair in his hand, until you opened your hooded eyes and looked at him in the mirror. “Look at you, always so perfect for me.” His blue eyes studied your reflection. Your still covered in bra tits bounced every time he pushed his cock inside of you, and Bucky felt like he became even harder because of the fact that he couldn’t see you fully naked.

It felt like he wanted to split you in half with the power of his movements. Your skin slapped into each other, and the wet sounds of your pussy were almost too loud and inappropriate for you, but Bucky didn’t care. He moved fast and hard, mumbling praise words under his breath, which you barely understood, being too close to cum.

“Bucky, ‘m gonna cum… Please, let me cum, ‘m so close.” You loudly moaned when your body started trembling and your hands were almost too weak to hold you up.

“Do it, doll. I’m right behind you. Cover my cock in your cum.” Your mouth fell open, and your eyes instantly closed when you finally came, clenching around him. Bucky looked closely as your face expression changed—it was his favorite thing.

He pushed into your tight cunt a few more times before freezing as his own orgasm came. You moaned at the feeling of his hot seed feeling you from the inside.

“Just like that, doll. You did so well.” Bucky soothed the skin of your thigh and reddish cheek, finally loosening the grip on your hair. Your hands couldn’t hold you up anymore, and you collapsed on the soft rug with a muffled puff.

Bucky slightly chuckled, slipping out of you, and flipped over your exhausted body so you could face him. You both were flushed and slightly sweaty. Bucky brushed your hair from your face and lowered himself to catch your lips in a slow kiss. You wrapped your arms around his strong shoulders until he fell on top of you.

“I’ll call Nat so she can take you shopping tomorrow. Use my black card and get yourself everything that you like, because now I want to see you in every possible shade and variation of lingerie, doll.” Bucky mumbled near your ear while his hands traced the soft skin of your ribs and stomach.

“I don’t want to spend your money, James.” You laughed.

“Then I’ll give my card to Nat, so she can spend it on you. Because I won’t leave you alone anymore, doll. You drive me crazy looking like this.” He started kissing your neck, going lower to your chest. You just sighted, knowing damn well that there’s no point in arguing and that your amazing boyfriend would find a way to make you buy more lingerie. “Are you ready for round two? Because I really wanna put those pretty tits in my mouth.”

Whatever you wanted to say died on your tongue with the first touch of Bucky’s wet tongue, and your brain went completely blank.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you

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kzlove · 1 year ago

Text

handle you

syn -> eren proves that he can handle you.

warnings : smut, squirting, creampie, thick black reader, weed and alcohol usage, unprotected sex, spit, not proofread; just nasty

you were laying in bed with your led lights on, tv playing music softly from its speakers.

frank ocean, flo mili, sza, steve lacy, kali uchis, and whoever fit their way into the mood.

it was definitely past twelve o clock now, but you didn't feel even a bit of tired.

you take a couple pictures and post it on instagram, labeling it as 'bored' before posting.

you see a lot of your homegirls like it immediately, but of course they all was doing something.

sasha had a class to go to in the morning, annie was exhausted from work, pieck was with her boyfriend.

the only person that didn't heart it was mikasa, and that was probably because she was with her boyfriend too.

you drop your phone down and roll your eyes, deciding to begin working on your assignment due next week.

but you don't have to mess with it for long.

your phone buzzes next to you, gaining your attention from the laptop. an instagram notification.

onyandrift replied to your story : smoke sesh? wtw

you roll your eyes, recognizing the username as your boy best friend.

the two of you use to kick it with each other all the time, and even spent a few nights at his house over the summer in high school.

but you fell off, cause eventually he got a girlfriend and started to stream games and a bunch of other nonsense.

around that same time, you started focusing more on yourself.

loveyn : lame booooo loveyn : ion got weed to share w u

onyandrift : girl you nvr do onyandrift : i'm providing onyandrift : come kick it w me n a few of my hbs

loveyn : uhm loveyn : you think i wanna be around bare niggas tn??

onyandrift : stop yappin and get dressed im omw

you roll your eyes at the text and sigh, checking the weather.

it wasn't gonna be too cold, so you settled for this and grabbed your phone charger and lip gloss.

onyankopon doesn't live far, so it doesn't surprise you when you hear his audi a6 make that annoying popping noise outside your house.

you groan in annoyance and grab a water bottle before stepping outside, immediately walking to the car.

"why the fuck you still got that shit bruh?" you complain, climbing into the front seat.

he had on his essentials hoodie and black sweatshorts, grey yeezy slides on and a velvet durag.

he shoots you a grin before he takes takes your things and puts it in the backseat like he always did.

during your senior year, he had you sit outside with him in the hot ass sun while he put something on his car to make it noisy as hell.

he did explain what it was, but it wasn't like you really cared so you ignored him.

you didn't expect him to still have it though.

"who all gon be up in there ony?" you ask once he makes it to the stop light.

onyankopon sits back in his seat and things, rubbing the stubble on his face in fake thought.

"don't know." he fakes, before driving off when the light turns green.

you groan in annoyance, fixing your hair and at least making sure you looked good.

when you make it, he grabs your things and tells you to head to the backyard where everyone else is.

you follow his instructions, grumbling about how he had better sprayed all the mosquitos.

everyone was back there like he said they were.

it was armin, jean, mikasa, onyan's girlfriend zara, and some guy you don't recall ever seeing.

"hey girl! come sit!" mikasa grins, swinging her legs off jean and patting the seat beside her.

it happened to be between her and the random guy.

he didn't pick his head up to greet you or even look at you, tapping away at his phone.

'rude ass' you thought to yourself, sitting next to mikasa with a bit of a stank face.

she follows your view, and sighs, leaning back. "don't mind him. he just don't wanna be outside." mikasa reassures.

you roll your eyes and fix yourself, saying hi to everyone else.

onyankopon joins you all in the back with all the spliffs he had rolled after hitting everyone up.

sooner or later, lost by frank ocean was playing lowly on the speaker and you were all on your third spliff.

"this would be so much better if we had drinks." mikasa complained, leaning back onto jean.

he ignores her, because everyone knows how nasty she gets when she's drunk and high.

"fuck that. some fucking food would be amazing." armin huffed out smoke, handing the spliff over to zara.

everyone groaned in agreement, and you were the only one to get up with a hum.

you don't miss the way a pair of eyes trace your body as you stretch and fix your pants.

"finna go find sum in the kitchen for us to eat." you grumble, venturing into the house.

you close the screen door behind you and look through his cabinets with a frown, fixing your hair out of your face.

the sliding door to the backyard slides open and closed, making you turn to the sound.

it was the silent guy, eren, you learned his name was.

and now you could see him in proper light.

he wore a grey hoodie and a pair of baggy sweats, long hair pulled into a up and down.

you had to admit that he was fine, his wife beater seeming tight around his chest.

and green eyes staring you the fuck down.

"can i help you?" you question rudely, turning back to the fruit snacks in the pantry.

"maybe you can." he responds, and you hear him approach you.

now you know your position could be taken as anything but innocent, bent over inside a pantry.

you stand up straight and face him, looking him up and down. you weren't know easy bitch, and you won't be treated as such.

"you can't handle me." you complain, pulling your phone out and grab the whole box of fruit snacks.

he takes the box from you and puts it on the counter, smirking just a little bit at you.

"you don't think so?" eren questions, tilting his head teasingly.

you scoff, jabbing your nail into his chest harshly until he backed up.

"trust me, baby. i know." you grab the fruit snacks up and join everyone else.

"nah don't run now. thought i couldn't handle you?" eren grinned down at you cockily.

you were bent over onyankopon's guest bed, back arched and face smushed into the sheets.

one thing is for certain, you shouldn't have picked up that fucking cup.

mikasa brought out the liquor and poured everyone a cup.

which led to everyone spending the night at ony's house and crashing in every room.

mikasa and jean took the game room in the basement, ony and zara obviously took his room, while armin crashed on the long L shaped couch with eren.

or well, he should've.

you couldn't stop teasing him in that stupid fucking graphic tee ony lent you for the night.

which led you here, under eren's strong hold and getting your pussy pounded something serious.

"ooouu why you fucking me like this?" you whine out a bit too loud, reaching back to press on his stomach.

but eren shut that down immediately, slapping your hand away and stuffing all eight inches in your gut.

"all fucking talk." eren grumbles to himself, angling his hips upwards and fucking you even harder.

at this angle, his fat tip was slamming right into your g-spot.

your jaw goes slack in a silent scream as you push your ass back onto him, holding onto the pillow.

eren grins over you, slapping the flesh connecting your waist to your thighs.

"good girl.. take this fucking dick." eren grunts out, obsessed with the way your ass ricocheted off his abs.

"wait wait wait! m'gonna make a mess!" you pleaded with him, grabbing his strong arms.

hearing that only made him speed up, staring directly at your pussy as it clenched around him.

you screamed into the pillow, squirting harshly onto the sheets beneath you.

eren pulls out to watch, catching his breath and clapping your ass cheeks together.

when you catch your breath, you turn your head to figure out why he was so quiet behind you.

he stared back at you, before chuckling lightly. "onyankopon is gonna fuck us up." he joked, flipping you onto your back.

you rolled your eyes and get comfortable, staring at him from behind your lashes.

"not us. you. i told you i'd make a mess." you shoot back, letting him lift your legs up.

"uh huh. sure." eren says, not even listening to you as he pushes right back inside of you.

in this position, he reaches deeper inside of you and it makes you whine again.

you can't even think of a remark to say back, because his pace picks up once more.

eren wraps his hand around your throat and leans in, spitting in your mouth.

you accept it gratefully, swallowing and pulling him down to kiss him.

eren groans into the kiss, rutting into harder and rubbing your clit in rough circles.

you moan out, arching your back and grabbing his hand.

"fuck.. gonna make me nut in this pussy." eren groans out, moving his hand off your throat and kissing just below your ear.

you squeeze your eyes shut at the pleasure, bucking your hips weakly into him.

what he says doesn't register in your brain, your head going foggy as all you could focus on was how good he was fucking you.

eren starts to mumble something you don't hear clearly, bucking into you wildly.

you cum around him again, locking your knees behind him and digging your nails into his back.

eren groans in your ear, hips stuttering as he shoots thick, hot ropes into your sensitive pussy.

you flinch and whine lightly at the feeling, playing with his hair.

the two of you lay in your combined juices, still coming down from your highs.

eventually, eren turns his head to face you and grins.

"i gotta buy you a plan b?" he questions, rubbing your thigh in slow circles to get your full attention.

you shake your head and close your eyes. "i'm on birth control." you inform, taking a look at your nails.

"you gotta pay for my lashes and nails tho. got me fucked up." you grumble, looking at your broken index nail and missing pinky.

eren laughs at that, pulling out and climbing off the bed to pull his boxers back on.

"can't handle you my ass. don't ever let me hear you say that shit again girl." eren teases, helping you off the bed.

loud knocks make the two of you freeze, grabbing the sheets to cover your still naked.

a loud voice rings out from behind, making you remember exactly where you two were.

"aye make sure yall niggas clean up and take that fucking sheet home! got me fucked up, fucking in my house like that!" onyankopon complains, before walking off.

eren looks back at you with a grin, before slapping the fat of your thigh playfully.

he's never letting you stay over again.

#aot fanfiction #attack on titan #aot fluff #shingeki no kyojin #eren yeager #eren x reader #eren x black fem!reader #kz-loves-you #eren jeager #eren jaeger x reader #eren aot #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x black reader #eren x black reader #eren x black y/n

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 6 months ago

Text

Celebrating Wins

Word count: 942

Pairing: Lando norris x girlfriend!reader

Summary: As a new couple landos girlfrined celebrates his polepostion with with a playful, intimate evening, marking the start of their relationship

Request are open

______________________________________________________________

The excitement from the day still lingered as we made our way back to the hotel. The buzz of the crowd, the thrill of Lando securing pole position in Q3—it was all still fresh in our minds. But now, it was just us, away from the cameras and the noise, and I had something fun and a bit silly planned for our own private celebration. I couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. We had only just gotten together, and this was my first chance to really show him how proud I was of him. I wanted to make the night special, something he’d remember—not just as a celebration of his pole position, but as a moment that marked the beginning of us.

As we stepped into our room, Lando immediately burst into laughter. I had covered the bed with orange and blue confetti—McLaren’s colors, of course. There were small, goofy trophies on the nightstand, the kind you’d find at a dollar store, with labels like “World’s Best Driver” and “Pole Position King” hastily scribbled on them in my handwriting. I’d even put out a cheesy plastic crown that said “Speed King” in glittery letters.

“Are you serious?” Lando asked, grinning from ear to ear as he picked up one of the trophies. “You really went all out, didn’t you?”

“Well, someone’s got to remind you how awesome you are,” I teased, reaching up to place the crown on his head. It was a bit too small, but he wore it proudly, striking a ridiculous pose.

“I feel like royalty,” he declared, holding out his hand for me to kiss, as if he were some kind of racing monarch.

Laughing, I took his hand and gave it an exaggerated, over-the-top kiss. “Your Majesty, the Speed King, shall we dine?”

He snorted, his eyes shining with amusement. “Lead the way, my loyal subject.”

We moved to the small table I’d set up near the window, where a simple dinner was waiting for us—nothing too heavy, just some of Lando’s favorite Italian dishes, including a massive bowl of pasta. I’d even ordered pizza, because who can resist pizza in Italy? And there, chilling in the ice bucket, was a bottle of his favorite champagne.

As we sat down, I grabbed a napkin and tucked it into his shirt collar like a bib. “Can’t have you getting pasta sauce on your royal robes,” I said, doing my best to keep a straight face.

Lando burst out laughing again. “You’re ridiculous! But I love it.”

We dug into the food, the atmosphere light and playful. Lando twirled his pasta dramatically, pretending to be a food critic as he took a bite. “Ah, yes, the perfect carbo-loading meal for a champion,” he said in a mock-serious tone.

“Only the best for you, your highness,” I replied, mimicking his tone.

As we finished eating, I brought out a small cake I’d hidden earlier. It was nothing fancy, just a simple cake with “Pole Position!” written in blue and orange icing, with a little toy car on top for good measure. I stuck a single sparkler in the middle and lit it, the tiny fireworks crackling and popping.

Lando’s face lit up with childlike glee as he watched the sparkler. “This is amazing. I didn’t think I could be this excited about cake.”

“Well, it’s not just any cake,” I said, grinning. “It’s the first of many celebrations this weekend, I hope.”

“Does this mean if I win tomorrow, I get another cake?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, you bet,” I replied, slicing into the cake and handing him a piece. “And maybe I’ll even throw in a victory dance.”

He nearly choked on his cake from laughing so hard. “Please tell me you’re not serious about the dance.”

“I’m dead serious,” I said, trying to keep a straight face. “It’ll be legendary. You’ll win the race and I’ll be the talk of the paddock for my sweet moves.”

He shook his head, still laughing. “Now I’m even more motivated to win, just to see this ‘legendary’ dance.”

After we finished the cake, we collapsed onto the bed, both of us a little too full and a lot too happy. Lando was still wearing the plastic crown, and I couldn’t help but giggle every time I looked at him.

“You know,” he said, turning to me with a grin, “this has been the best celebration ever. No fancy dinners, no big parties—just us, being goofy.”

I leaned in, resting my head on his shoulder. “That’s because it’s real. And you deserve to enjoy every second of it, without any pressure.”

He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close. “Thanks. I needed this. It’s easy to get caught up in everything, but tonight, I feel like I can just be me. With you.”

I reached up and took the crown off his head, placing it on mine. “Well, tomorrow, the Speed King is going to show everyone what he’s made of. And McLaren is going to be that much closer to winning it all.”

Lando grinned and leaned in to kiss me, his lips warm and soft against mine. “I couldn’t do it without you, you know. You make this all so much better.”

As the night wore on and we finally started to drift off to sleep, Lando whispered, “No matter what happens tomorrow, this is my favorite victory.”

I smiled, cuddling closer to him. “Mine too. But just so you know, I’m ready for another cake tomorrow.”

He chuckled softly. “You better start practicing that victory dance then.”

#fanfiction #reader insert #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #fanfic #fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando x reader #italien gp

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thebestofoneshots · 24 days ago

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6.7 K Warnings: none Prompt: It's time for a sweet –and maybe a little spicy– picnic. Proofread by sweet @girlwihkaleidoscopeeyes

Chapter 72: Relentless

“What…” Remus said as he blinked a couple of times, trying to get his mind around what he was looking at: he’d just left you in your room and now you were in his! Right next to Sirius – well, technically, right on Sirius. Both of you looking as appealing as the food surrounding you.

He turned to you, pointing his index finger your way. “You were distracting me!”

“Well…”

“Surprise date!” Sirius said as he gently lifted you, placing you on the side to walk towards Remus. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the boy’s cheek, in the exact way he’d done with you so many times in the past. You smiled at the sweet scene. “We planned this together, we wanted to do something special for you.”

Remus smiled. By now you were also standing up and you leaned your head on his shoulder as you admired the wonderful picnic Sirius had prepared. Everything was strategically placed over the blanket (which would have been perfectly straight if it weren't for you and Sirius crumpling it earlier with your playful wrestling). You extended your hand, using some wandless magic to softly straighten up the sheet before leaning your head on Remus’ shoulder again. “Sirius did most of it,” you added. “I was tasked with the distraction this time around.”

“Did Nieve even need the extract?” He asked, and then you heard him suck in some air and turn to you, a little more alarmed. “You extinguished the firestone, right?”

“Yes and yes,” you retorted with a confident nod. “It might not be as urgent as I made it seem but she does need the extra meds. And I extinguished the firestone right before leaving the room.” He was about to say something but you interrupted. “Yes, I placed it on the tin, and made sure the warning colours appeared on the side before placing it on the desk.” Remus smiled and shook his head;, it was somewhat entertaining that you knew exactly what he would ask before he did.

There was a rather hollow noise coming from the window, and Sirius quickly disengaged himself from the tangle you’d been on before walking over to it. “What’s that?” you asked as you noticed the brown paper bag that Tom’s owl delivered. Remus, who was kind of familiar with those brown paper bags, just smiled, already imagining which type of alcohol Sirius must have gotten his hands on this time.

“Our celebration drink,” he said as he walked to the picnic blanket and sat with the bag ibn his hands. He then pulled the bottles of wine from it, three too many for the ones that would actually fit.

Tom must have charmed it, you thought as both you and Remus sat on the floor.

“Wine?” Remus asked as he raised one of his eyebrows.

“Sparkling wine,” you corrected as you picked one of the bottles from the floor and stared at the label. “And from Tarascon – the famous dragon breeding town.”

“Shit, that’s fancy,” Remus said as he looked at the label., Sirius seemed pretty proud of himself, even if the choice had probably been Tom’s.

“Only the best for my lovers,” Sirius said with a jokingly condescending tone, emphasising the last words and getting an eye roll from Remus, who still wasn’t too keen on the term.

You laughed, and plopped down on the blanket again, “May I have a grape now, please?”

“Yes, you may, Étoile.”

“Merci,” you smiled, taking a grape and popping it in your mouth, biting and spilling its juice all over your tongue with a happy sigh. “He wouldn’t let me have any of them until you arrived.”

“You were about to mess up my perfectly balanced picnic,” Sirius retorted.

“One grape wouldn’t have made a difference!”

“Would too!”

“Do you two get more childish when I’m around or is it always like this?” Remus teased, having the both of you turn his way with a shocked expression that was, at least for him, amusing.

“Oh, take that back!” You said.

“We’re not childish!”

“You are a little,” Remus shrugged, with that same teasing smile.

“Someone childish, wouldn’t have gotten you nice sparkling wine,” Sirius said as he pulled the wine and started twisting the wire of the muselet covering the cork.

“They wouldn’t?” Remus smiled, a playful lick of his lips accompanied by a slight tilt of the head. He wasn’t just amused, he was having the time of his life.

“And they wouldn’t have been so effective distracting you, either,” you mused.

Once the muselet was out of the way, Sirius shook the bottle, then he looked at Remus, winked, and proceeded to press the cork upwards at an angle to release it.

“I know a spell for–” you started and were not-so-gently interrupted by the cork flying out of the bottle and hitting you right in the brow.

“Shit, you okay?” Sirius asked as he placed the bottle on the ground, his hands wet with the bubbles that had flown from it.

“Yeah,” you said as you picked the cork from your skirt and examined it. It was iridescent, shifting between navy and forest green, a nod to the scales from the Tarascan Dragons.

“You sure?” Remus asked as he leaned a little closer, sliding his hand to the back of your neck and gently pulling your head towards him;, you could have turned into a puddle right there and then. “It’s kind of red.”

“Yeah, it was nothing,” you said honestly. You were more startled than anything, it had been way too close to your eye.

“Could have gotten in your eye.”

“They’re charmed against that,” Sirius said, smiling at the doting way in which Remus had veered closer to you and pulling the mugs they normally used for tea. He tried to convince the elves to give him wine glasses, but he hadn’t been successful and he didn’t want to take them behind their backs either, especially because of how willing they had been to help with this picnic. “Tough luck, Starshine. Out of all the places it could have fallen, it chose your face.”

You shrugged, “I guess the universe has to set the balance somehow; after all, I got the hottest boys in the entire school all to myself.”

Remus’eyes widened slightly, there was a hint of a smug smile on his lips as he finally pulled his hand from your neck. You responded with a wink before leaning in to grab one of the mugs Sirius had already filled. It belonged to James and had “#1 Captain ” written on it, next to the image of a golden snitch that always flew to a different side of the mug when you spotted it. You suspected Peter had gotten it custom-made for him, but he claimed he’d found it at a second-hand shop somewhere in Diagon Alley.

“Well, it’s the truth, we are the hottest,” Sirius said rather smugly and took his mug, a gift from his cousin Andromeda. It had Freddie Mercury singing in bright yellow overalls, but the picture did not move since it was muggle-made. Moony grabbed his mug as well, a Gryffindor mug he’d gotten when he was made into a prefect. “Let’s toast to that,” Sirius said with a smile.

“To me having bad luck in retaliation for dating the two of you?” you teased.

“Not that,” he said as he shook his head. “To us!”

“To us?” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“To us,” you confirmed as you extended your mug. “And to more picnics together.”

“And more kisses,” Sirius said with a cheeky smile.

Remus smiled – he was definitely on board with the last one. “To endless moments like this.”

You exchanged a fond look with Sirius, “To endless moments like this!” both of you said as you clinked your mugs, some of the wine spilling down your hands from how overfilled they were. You smiled and brought yours to your lips, taking a short sip and enjoying the feeling of the sparkling bubbles in your mouth. Magical wine was always more fun than muggle; the bubbles were better somehow.

“Here, try these,” Sirius said, mug still close to his lips, as he waved his wand and a plate with sweets floated towards the centre.

Both you and Remus reached towards it. “Sorry,” he said as your hands bumped into each other, you had both tried to grab the same mince pie. “You take it.”

“No, don’t worry,” you said, also pulling your hand from it.

“Just share it,” Sirius said with a laugh, finding the interaction both endearing and slightly ridiculous. You had shared food many times before dating. Why were you acting so shy now?

You looked at him and smiled, taking the pie in your hands, giving it a bite, and then extending it towards Remus. He exchanged a short look with Sirius, almost like a question, and Sirius’ confident smile was more than an answer. It pretty much said, “Go ahead.”

And he did, leaning in and taking a bite himself. “It’s good,” he nodded, picking a small piece of the crust from the corner of his mouth.

“Really good,” you agreed as you moved your weight to your knees and leaned a little closer to Sirius, offering him some as well. He smiled and leaned in to take a bite as well, pressing a short kiss to your finger right after. He nodded and hummed in approval.

You went back into a sitting position, completely missing the wandering look from Remus as your skirt rode up a little. But Sirius, ever so attentive, did not. His lips tightened into a small smirk, wondering just how much of that Remus would be able to stand before caving in. How much of it could he stand before caving in? He already found you delightful in the uniform skirt; this one, a little shorter, a little more flowy… what an absolute treat.

“Eyes on her face, Moons,” he said with a teasing smirk.

“Huh?” You asked as you turned to him, missing the stern look Remus gave him in return.

“Remus here was just–” Sirius’ mouth was shut by a cupcake flying into his face. As much as you cared for whatever he had to say, Remus casually unwrapping a sandwich from the side was too funny not to laugh at, especially since you knew it had been him. “Oi!”

“What?” Moony asked nonchalantly.

“Arse,” Sirius said as he pulled the cupcake off his face and started wiping the icing with his bare hands. You picked a cloth napkin from the table and handed it over to him. But as you leaned closer he smiled. “Mind giving me a hand, Starshine?” He asked as he tilted his head towards you and closed his eyes.

You knew Sirius didn’t need help whatsoever, but he looked way too adorable to be denied, so you took the napkin and started cleaning off the leftover icing from his face. “You’re still kind of sticky.”

“Why don't you lick it off then?” he smirked.

“Gross!” you responded with a grimace, turning to grab a glass and using Aguamenti to fill it up with some water to dip the clean part of the napkin inside of it. While you were distracted, Sirius turned to look at Moony with a self-satisfied smile and teasing eyebrows.

“Should I tell her?” he mouthed.

Remus glared at him and pointed at the cupcakes. “Go ahead and try,” he mouthed back.

Sirius smiled again and closed his eyes as you came back with the napkin, cleaning off the sticky residue of cupcakes from his face with gentle hands. Sirius was sure those same hands would drive Remus insane, and felt a need to see it happen.

But he also wanted the picnic to be enjoyed first, so he resorted to continuing teasing Remus without you finding out about it, at least for a bit longer. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what sounds would leave his boyfriend's mouth as you touched him, or as he touched him.

“Done,” you said as you pulled back, your skirt yet again flowing teasingly around your thighs, this time around perhaps with slight help from Sirius, who did some wandless magic to bring a slight breeze in. “Getting kind of chilly, isn’t it?”

Remus threw a look at Sirius. “Yeah, definitely,” he agreed with a smile. Now you weren’t oblivious enough not to realise the two of them had something going on, but you hadn’t quite cracked what it was, especially since you would never have expected your skirt to rouse such a response with the boys.

“What are these?” you asked as you picked up a tea sandwich with greenish insides.

“Veggies and cream cheese,” he responded. “I think there are some with cucumber, some with ham and brie, and some with cranberries and chicken.”

“No egg sandwiches?” Remus asked.

“Maybe three or four, but I left them in the basket,” Sirius said as he pointed at it. “I know they’re not your favourite.” You smiled, Sirius, who was either always talking to somebody at meal times or joking around with the boys – especially James – had always been good at paying attention, and not only did he know Remus didn’t love egg sandwiches, but he had specifically asked for more of the others instead.

“Right,” Remus said, the corner of his lip tilting upwards ever so slightly.

“There’s also some peanut butter, jam, chocolate spread, and scones.”

“Scones?” you asked, leaning a little closer to examine the spread.

“Over there,” he pointed at a plate covered by a white napkin. “Blueberry.”

You smiled, leaving the sandwich on your plate and getting on your knees again to get the plate. You could have probably floated the plate towards you, but the jams and fruits were also on that side of the blanket and you decided to just reach for it. After all, it wasn’t nearly that far.

You found an empty spot in the middle of the blanket and placed one of your hands to hold yourself in place while the other one reached for the plate. Sirius couldn’t help but smirk at the nervous look Remus threw your way, averting his gaze from you and your compromising – not really – position, and turning towards his sandwich as if it were the most interesting thing in the room.

Sirius leaned his head to the side as he shamelessly stared, “Nice skirt, Starshine.”

“Thanks,” you said innocently, as you placed some of the fruits and jams onto the plate with the scones. “Got it in muggle London, Tom and Beth said I had to get it.”

Sirius let out an amused scoff. Aapparently, Tom had been acting as cupid for way longer than he even knew. “As they should have, it looks absolutely ravishing on you,” he smirked, “Doesn’t it, Moony?”

Remus pulled his gaze from the plate to look at Sirius warningly, but of course, you were right in between the two of them, there was no way he would have avoided looking at your bare thighs or his jumper riding up on your torso just enough to show a bit of skin. His gaze lingered for a second before throwing a heated look at Sirius, whose eyes seemed to be sparkling as he smirked.

“You look lovely, Little Witch,” he finally agreed, turning back to look at his sandwich.

You turned to him with a smile, just now noticing how focused he seemed on his sandwich. You frowned and turned to Sirius, questioningly.

“It’s, uh… short,” he mouthed, nodding at the skirt. You tilted your head to the side just slightly, as if you didn’t quite get it. “I think Moony likes it a little too much.” You hid the gasp you made by moving back into your spot with the plate in your hands. “I do as well.”

You tried not to blush at the fact that the two of them had been checking you out without you noticing. Was that what Beth and Tom had been going on about when you tried it on?

“You do what?” Remus asked as he turned to Sirius.

“I like blueberry scones.” He smiled innocently towards Moony. “You want one too?” he asked as he pulled one from the plate you still had in your hands. “I could prepare it for you.”

“No, thank you.”

“You sure, Rem?” you asked as you turned to him, pulling down on the jumper. “I could make them the way you like. I think Sirius said there's cream cheese.”

“I did,” he confirmed, pulling out a small crystal container from the basket and handing it over to you.

Remus looked in between the two of you, narrowing his eyes. Did Sirius tell her? he wondered. “Okay,” he responded while looking at you. You smiled; the same smile that drove him insane for months, making his craving for you grow and grow. It was nice to see it adorning your lips again, it was nice to be one of the reasons it was there in the first place.

You took one of the scones and started to prepare it: cream cheese, clotted cream and then some of the chocolate spread Sirius had brought over – a secret recipe from the kitchen elves, almost as delicious as Hope’s.

Once you were done, you handed it over to him. Sirius was already eating his – cream and strawberry jam, with fresh berries sprinkled in between – a classic, but his favourite nonetheless. You took yours and filled it with your favourite fillings before taking your first bite. Somehow you couldn’t stop thinking about the skirt thing. Was it really that big of a deal for the two of them? Could you tease them about it? Did you want to tease them about it?

You thought it over for one or two bites, attentively looking at the two of them, Sirius with his long dark lashes falling over his cheeks as he focused on preparing himself another scone and Remus still enjoying the first one, with his broad shoulders and impossibly gentle hands. You wondered how it was possible for someone so big to be that tender. For a wolf to also be a lamb – it was fascinating. The duality of Remus Lupin was something that had always caught your attention. The secrets hiding behind his skin had been one of the biggest mysteries since you arrived at Hogwarts. You wondered what other secrets it hid.

How soft or tough it was… how warm… how would it feel under your fingertips… how would it feel on your lips… what sounds would you hear as you kissed it… would it be sensitive enough to get hickeys with ease, or was it thick and resilient like him... Would said bruises last, or would they heal overnight due to his overly fast metabolism... would he enjoy getting them, be it by your lips or Sirius’... You knew for a fact Sirius enjoyed leaving marks all over you, would Remus like that as well? Did he want to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss him? Was the need as constant for him as it was for you?

You took another bite of your scone. Yes, you thought, I definitely want to tease them about it.

“I’m glad we stayed here, by the way,” you said. “Not that Hogsmeade wouldn’t be fun, we haven’t gone together since we started dating but, I guess the fact that this is a little more intimate is better for our first date.”

“Mhm?” Sirius asked as he looked at you. It seemed like you might have been up to something.

“I mean, we don’t have to be careful about anything here, I can shamelessly stare at Remus’ beautiful face without worrying that someone might notice how bad I’ve got it for him.”

“Right,” Sirius said with a smile. “And Remus can stare at your short little skirt all he wants without making people think he wants to fuck his best friend’s girlfriend.”

Remus almost spat his drink after Sirius spoke, coughing as he reached for a napkin and throwing a murderous look at Sirius, who was still smiling, delighted at his reaction.

“You okay, Rem?” you asked as you leaned a little closer to him.

“Yeah,” he said with a short nod and then turned to look at the other boy – ridiculously handsome even when being a prat – “And Pads can ogle either of us all he wants without seeming like a pervert.”

“I'm too handsome to be seen as a pervert,” Sirius said with a wave of his hair, which got the two of you to laugh.

“There is no such a thing as too handsome to be seen as a pervert!” Remus retorted.

“There is too!” Sirius insisted. “Think of one of those romance novels Vixen reads in her book club. Wasn’t there one where the pirates kidnapped the reader who was a cartographer and then started teaching her how to be a pirate?”

“Point of Know Return?” you asked.

“Mhm, that one!” Sirius said with a nod. “Didn’t you say that in one scene she accidentally got all wet because of the waves, and that she had been wearing a white pirate shirt, and that the male lead just stared at her for a hot minute before helping? AND THEN he helped her change because the ties were tangled?”

“Uhh…” you said as you tried to think of that scene, you had almost forgotten about it entirely, and you wondered how on earth he remembered it. “Wait, hold up. Did you read it?” you asked as you turned to him with a frown.

“Not the point,” Sirius said dismissively. “Anyway, I swear it was the single most pervy thing ever! But Mr. Pirate got a pass because he was handsome.”

“You definitely read it!” you said with a gasp. “Why?”

“Well, you seemed pretty into it,” he shrugged. “And also you mentioned it was kind of spicy, I was curious as to what spicy is for you.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it.”

“You never said who picked that one,” Sirius teased.

“And I will never say it either. What happens in the book club stays in the book club.”

Sirius laughed, “I mean it wasn’t a bad scene. We could probably reenact some of the things that– HEY!” Another cupcake flew to his face, this time you were to blame for it.

“Godric, please, never let him read any spicy books ever again!” you said dramatically. “He’ll get ideas.”

“But they’ll be fun ideas,” Sirius teased as he took the cupcake in his hands and licked some of the icing from the side of his lip. “Either way, my point was made. I’m too handsome for being a perv.”

“Sirius do you think–”

“Tell me I don’t have a ‘romance novel leading man’s face, go on,” he challenged both you and Remus.

You just rolled your eyes. Both of the boys were leading man material in your opinion, but you weren’t sure either needed the ego bust. Well, perhaps Remus could do with some. “I mean, I have imagined Remus on a spicy book cover… you know, with his Halloween costume and all? But I never did picture you in one.”

“I'll have you know my Halloween costume was well worth its own romance novel cover, Sweets. Just think about it: My Handsome Devil…”

“More like: My cupcake-faced devil,” you said as you took some of the icing he’d missed from his cheek with your finger and plopped it into your mouth.

“See?” Sirius said as he smiled at you. “Now you’re even naming the novel I’d be in. Point made.”

“Whatever you say, Puppy,” you said with an amused shake of your head. It seemed everyone was more at ease now, even if the earlier implications had almost taken the conversation in a different direction, a direction that perhaps you wouldn’t put past exploring, just not yet. “We should listen to some music,” you said as you stood up, walking towards the chest drawer with their stash – and the record player.

“Need any help?” Sirius asked, leaning his head back for a second to watch you.

“Nah, I’ve got it,” you said as you used your wand to move the heavy piece of furniture and look through the hole in the wall. It was exactly as you remembered, filled with a bunch of miscellaneous things. You rummaged through it until you found the cassette player in one of the furthest crannies.

You were pulling it out when Remus, out of nowhere, appeared behind you.

“Let me do it for you,” he offered. Now, that could have been a very natural thing for Remus to do, except that there was a hint of nervousness in his voice that made your curiosity peak.

“It’s fine, I can do it by myself,” you said simply, trying to gauge his next reaction.

“I know, I’d like to help though,” he countered, rather insistent. You narrowed your eyes at him. By then, you already had your hands on the cassette player, and he was gently pushing you to the side to take it himself.

“What are you hiding?” you asked as you raised your eyebrows.

“Nothing,” he said, a little too fast, which got you to hum and smile.

“Okay,” you said as you removed your hands from the cassette player and looked at him attentively, he cleared his throat, took it in his hands, and stood, motioning for you to come along, but you knew there was something he was hiding. You looked back at the stash and cast a silent Revelio with your wand. A strip of rubbers dropped from the side. Remus looked mortified as you took them in your hands. “So this is what you meant with Away from prying hands?” you asked teasingly.

“What’s away from prying hands?” Sirius asked, curious as to why you were taking so long.

Remus looked even more mortified now that Sirius joined in, you tried to place them back in their place but Sirius was faster, “What are these?” he asked as he read the logos on the packaging. Something along the lines of: “Savage Night”

You exchanged a look with Remus, Sirius hadn’t had as much contact with the muggle world as the both of you, and the wizarding world used potions as prevention most of the time, could he possibly not know what they were?

“Erm… Special balloons,” you said with a shrug.

“How are they special?” Sirius asked as he turned the strip around and started reading some of the text in the back.

“Well, if we told you, we’d have to kill you,” you retorted, trying to sound as lackadaisical as possible. He looked up from reading with a frown.

“It says: best lube included, ensuring your fit since 1953,” he gave the two of you a look, Remus covered his face with both of his hands and you burst out into a laugh.

“You’re kidding!” you said as you pulled them from his hands and read through the label. “Shit, it really does say that! Remus!”

“Please stop,” he mumbled as he shook his head, the embarrassment already painting the tip of his ears a deep crimson.

“But where does anybody have to fit? Are these magical? Can you get inside them?”

You laughed at his question again. In theory, he could. “Extremely muggle,” you said, handing them over to him. Sirius got slightly impatient since he felt he was being left out of the joke and just stared at you. He had that small wrinkle in the middle of his eyebrows, the sulking line, as James called it, but you still couldn’t stop your laughs.

You took them from his hands, dangling them in the air as you showed them to him as a teacher would. “So, these are like–” you laughed again, trying to gather your wits to explain why the whole thing was so hilarious – “like the potion, but a… muggle version.”

“Are these… preservatives?” Sirius asked as he looked at them with a confused frown. “But how exactly do these–”

“You put them on,” you responded almost too fast, and then a slightly impish smile stretched through your lips. “I guess Remus could teach you one day,” you teased, giving a side glance at Remus who still hid his face in between his hands. Upon his lack of reaction, you almost felt bad about the way you had taunted him, so you left the strip to Sirius who seemed curious and slightly confused and walked towards Rem, who stood just a few steps from the two of you.

“Hey,” you said softly, placing a hand on one of his shoulders. “Sorry for teasing, I didn’t mean to–” You were stopped mid-sentence, as he grabbed your waist and pulled you roughly into a hug. Remus and Sirius exchanged a short look, Sirius nodded in response to the other boy’s silent question, and you were pulled from the floor and tackled towards Remus' bed. You yelped in surprise at Remus, who now had a hard time not laughing. Clearly, you had mistaken his intentions.

“How about I give you a better reason to laugh?” he said with a smile; it took you a second to register what he meant, and by the time you tried to scramble yourself off the bed, he was already tickling you mercilessly.

“Sides of the ribs,” Sirius said. “That’s her most ticklish spot.”

“Sirius!” you managed to protest in between laughs.

“Je suis désolé, Étoile. Can’t help you with this one.”

You huffed, squirming as you tried to stop Remus from tickling you, and resorting to just tickling him back, but you didn’t know his weak spots yet. As you laughed, you moved your hands all over the side of his ribs, trying to find a place that made him laugh as hard as you were laughing.

“I’m just not that ticklish,” Remus said with a teasing smile. You laughed involuntarily as he pressed the pads of his fingers ever so gently on the side of your belly. Your jumper and shirt had ridden up again, only slightly, and he was now touching your skin directly. But, in between the laughs, neither realised the compromising position you had both ended up in at this point. One of his knees right in between your thighs, one hand beside your head holding him up as he continued to tickle you, and your hands running through his chest as you laughed, still trying to find a ticklish spot.

Perhaps his neck?

Although unnoticed by either of you, it had not slipped by Sirius, who was attentively watching the situation as he sipped on his sparkling wine and bit on a fresh strawberry, the juice spilling from the fruit and wetting his already lascivious lips. He almost felt like the devil, watching Adam and Eve in paradise, innocent, pure, uncorrupted. What he saw wasn’t the same as either of you saw, and as he wiped the juice that had unwittingly slipped toward his chin, his mouth quirked into a smirk. Yes, his Halloween costume couldn’t have been more accurate.

As Sirius stared at the two of you with a gaze almost too lustful for the coy scene he was watching, you reached up to touch Remus’ neck – which finally seemed to get a reaction from the boy. He shied away from your hand, his head instinctively bending to the side and his shoulder rolling upwards as he tried to inch himself away from it. You smiled, making use of the distraction to place both hands on his shoulders.

There was no way in hell you could win with your strength alone, but they didn’t call you Vixen just because you could turn into a fox, rather it was because of how resourceful you were. Or perhaps your animagus had turned out a fox because of how resourceful you were, what came first, the phoenix or the flame? Whichever it might have been, it was still one of your best qualities and you’d be damned if you didn’t use any of your quick wits to give yourself an advantage in the situation.

Using his distraction, you pressed both of your hands on his shoulders, focusing as much as you could to cast a silent Impedimenta. It wasn’t nearly as effective as if you had used a wand, but it was enough to get his legs to go limp You kicked the one in between your legs to the left while you pushed both his shoulders to the right, successfully inverting the position you’d been on. He was so shocked as he landed on the bed that he just gawked at you, giving you just enough time to take his wand from the side and pointed it at his neck. Both of you knew you would never hurt him, but it was one of the ways to mark a duel as finished, leaving your opponent unarmed, and at the end of their own wand as a sign of defeat.

“Do you surrender?” you asked, looking down at him with a smile as you tried to catch your breath, both of your legs rested on either side of his torso as your chest heaved up and down. You had that same triumphant smile you’d sometimes make after stopping a goal on the Quidditch pitch. Or the one you’d had for a split second as you caught the snitch in that one game, at least before you fell on the swampy water.

Remus was far too stunned to speak, and Sirius was absolutely delighted as he plopped another strawberry in his mouth. He would have already dragged you down for a kiss by then. Perhaps I’m not the only one, he thought after noticing something interesting in Remus’ eyes.

Remus swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat as he looked at you; he had somehow recovered himself from your Impedimenta, enough to turn things back around if he’d wanted to, but there was something about you looking at him the way you were that he wasn’t sure he was ready to change yet.

He drank you in for one more moment, eyes flashing gold before he used one of the arms still on the bed to force himself into a sitting position while the other one snatched his wand from your hand in a move so fast you barely saw coming. Once he was halfway up, and you started sliding down his torso, he used his now free hand and placed it behind your back so that you wouldn’t fall to the floor.

“Do you?” he asked once he was sitting on the bed, you’d landed on his lap facing him, but it didn’t take you as long to recover as it had taken him, you could feel the tip of his wand on the side of your neck now, right under your jaw, barely pressing against you, both of his arms caging you to him. When an attacker's wand came from behind it was much harder to get out of it, but that didn’t mean Nightshade hadn’t taught you how to do it. The catch here was that you didn’t really want to.

Remus noticed your eyes sparkling as they moved across his face, a gaze so piercing and calculating it almost made him nervous; it had that same confident quality Sirius’ often had, and when your eyes landed on his lips, he realised that perhaps you hadn’t been that wrong with your initial assumption. Sirius looked at the two of you, tilted his head to the side, and locked the door with a silent spell, trying to make the entire thing as quiet as possible. Not that either of you would have noticed, not with how enthralled you were with one another.

Instead of responding, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, his hands instantly pulling you closer to him. It was instinctive the way he held you to him, lips crashing against each other, scrambling together, hungry, mad, loaded with lust and desire, some of the tension from earlier slowly dissolving into into zest, into the intrinsic need for one another, the natural magnetism that already drew the two of you close to one another, comme il faut.

Sirius had to resist the urge to whistle at the sight, he wanted to tease the two of you madly, but you’d probably stop kissing if he did, and the idea of losing the sight of you sitting on Remus’ lap as you pretty much devoured his lips was dreadful. He didn't think he’d mind just sitting there watching while the two of you fucked each other senseless, perhaps he’d even encourage it; after all, Remus hadn't yet gotten to feel you the way he had, so perhaps things should be evened out before the three of you tried something together. Not that either of you had forgotten about Sirius. In fact, knowing that he was watching was perhaps making the entire ordeal even more stimulating.

But ‘resourceful’ wasn’t the only characteristic that could describe you. You were also incredibly competitive, and the little tickling duel from earlier wasn’t something you wanted to lose either, so while you kissed Remus, and felt the wand in his hand travel from your back to the front, you traced a line brushing your fingers from his forearm to his hand, and then snatched the wand from his hands, as if you were helping him get rid of it. He already had his hand on your cheek when you pointed the wand against his ribs and pulled back from the kiss with a smile. He leaned onto you for a whole second before finally pulling back with a confused realization.

“What–” he started.

You tilted your head to the side and lowered your gaze towards the wand against his ribs. “How about you surrender?” you said, soft breath fanning against his face as you recovered from the lack of air and the thumping of your heart against your chest, as calmly as you could. The way you were looking at him, a mix between teasing and kissed-dumb, oozing confidence, was almost too much to bear, absolutely maddeningly attractive.

Sirius didn’t hold back this time around and wolf-whistled, the sound almost blending with both yours and Remus’ heartbeats.

“You–” he let out a soft, airy laugh as he looked at your soft hand holding his own wand against him for the second time in the last couple of minutes. “You kissed me as a distraction,” he chuckled.

“I kissed you because I wanted to.“ you corrected. “It being a perfect distraction was nothing but a happy coincidence.”

He shook his head in amusement and you pressed the wand to his rib a little harder, as if that could make any difference, “Go on, wave the white flag.”

Remus gave you a challenging look as if he was thinking of another way to take his wand from you. He could have, if he really wanted to, he’d just have to push you to the side, neither of you was going to actually use magic on each other. But his thoughts were more aligned with yours than it seemed: he didn’t want you off him either.

“Just say you are and go back to snogging,” Sirius whispered to himself as if he were watching a movie or reading an extremely exhilarating book. Of course, Remus heard him, even if you didn’t. Luckily, he wasn’t nearly as competitive as you were. Being around James and Sirius – who were basically brilliant at anything they tried – had taught him that he didn’t need to be the fastest or the best at something to be remarkably good at it. Besides, who gave a damn about winning when losing would bring your lips back to his.

He turned to the wand again, and when he pulled his gaze from it. Then, he looked straight at you, his eyes flashing golden for a second before he said, “I surrender,” creating an oxymoron with the defying manner in which he spoke. His lips curled just slightly upwards as his gaze focused solely on yours.

“What a little shit,” Sirius whispered, this time aware Remus would hear.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Well, I have not been writing as much as I used to but I'm forcing myself to do it by posting some of my back up chapters (I've written like 9 ahead of posting –I guess it's only 8 now). And you know what would be lovely and uplifting? To see your thoughts and comments! Either way, as always: Love, Lils

Leave a comment telling me if you wanna be tagged on Gilded Constellations

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whoreforjisung · 10 months ago

Text

Pervy neighbor Jisung one-shot ✨

-Might continue the story in multiple parts if people are interested! I still have many ideas when it comes to pervy jisung

-Content / tags / warnings: smut / non-idol au / perv!jisung pining for new neighbor reader / masturbation (m,f) / ji is a little bit of an asshole / non-consensual pictures / one use of “noona” / drug and alcohol consumption / brief mentions of Felix, Minho, Changbin, and Seungmin

-Names are used as faceclaims only, and do not reflect the actions and personalities of real people

-Word Count: 6.2k

-I am very new to tumblr, and this is my very first time writing anything like this, so it is not proof-read or edited. Constructive criticism welcome!

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As a full-time freelance artist, you luckily had the liberty to pack up your cherished belongings and move to wherever you desired whenever you liked. That’s how you ended up landing yourself in Seoul at the ripe age of 24. It might sound silly, but you had a lifelong dream of living in a cozy apartment with a decent-sized balcony area. When a listing popped up during an impromptu trip to Korea, in Seoul nonetheless, for a manageable price, you immediately jumped on it. It was game over as soon as you visited and saw the beautiful balcony with a wrought-iron spiral staircase. After reluctantly returning home, it was hard to contain your excitement in the weeks leading up to your move. You were already eagerly selecting furniture to buy, as well as decorations, and brainstorming ideas on how to use the space as soon as you finalized the lease.

As you finally pulled up to the new apartment, you couldn’t contain the wide smile that crept across your face as you shielded your eyes from the sun, admiring your spacious balcony. Just the thought of being able to curl up at dusk with that book you’ve been meaning to read for ages on the hammock chair you purchased for it, had you teeming with excitement. It kept you in a positive spirit as you lugged boxes containing your possessions one by one up the stairs and into your new home. That was, until you accidentally dropped the large framed painting you were attempting to transport, sending it tumbling down the stairs leaving hundreds of glass shards in its wake. The sudden noise startling your cat, Newt, from his peaceful slumber in his carrier. He reacted with a hiss and a few agitated meows.

“Would it kill you to keep it down? Some of us are trying to WORK here! FUCK!” You look up from your kneeled position on the stairs as you’re scrambling to pick up the glass shards, and your eyes meet a young man with a scowl on his face, leaning over the balcony opposite to yours. He has a pair of headphones dangling around his neck and is clutching a can of beer, fingernails adorned with black nail polish. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve been more careful. It won’t happen again!” You replied as you continued picking up the pieces. “Whatever. Can you do something about your hairball? It’s making my damn ears bleed.” He angrily snapped in response, pointing towards Newt’s carrier. You could tolerate the first comment, but who did he think he was to so directly insult your pet like that? “Just because I caused a minor commotion doesn’t give you the right to be so rude to a complete stranger. Since I’m no longer disrupting you, Why don’t you close the window, remove the stick up your ass, and get back to your oh-so-important work while I quietly move the rest of my boxes into my house. Sound good?” He didn’t seem to have a response for you, instead opting to toss back the remainder of his drink, crushing the can and tossing it directly towards your feet before shutting the window. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your dustpan from the box labeled “cleaning supplies” and swept up the rest of your mess (along with “mystery jerk neighbor’s” added trash) before moving the final few boxes, as well as the cat carrier inside.

You were so grateful the place came furnished, as you promptly slumped down on the green velvet couch, allowing yourself to take a quick breather before taking Newt out of the carrier, letting him explore while you unpacked his necessities and began assembling the cat tree. By the time sunset began to roll around, you had made a decent amount of progress unpacking and building a good amount of your living room and kitchen furniture, including your hammock chair for the balcony. After brewing yourself a cup of tea and grabbing the book you intended to read, you finally made your way to your new outdoor relaxation sanctuary.

After situating yourself in the chair, draping a thin blanket over your legs, and taking a sip of warm green tea, you let out a content sigh as you finally opened your novel, ready to immerse yourself into the story for the next hour or so. You made it through exactly 2 1/2 chapters before “mystery jerk neighbor” made his second appearance. This time, followed by a small white puppy and the unmistakable smell of weed. Now, you normally wouldn’t consider yourself to be the petty type, but his disrespect towards you earlier prompted you to throw some back his way in retaliation. When he took a long drag and proceeded to start coughing up a lung, you shouted “Keep it down would ya? Some of us are trying to READ here!” Mirroring his first words to you. “Oh that’s realll original” he replied with a pained rasp between coughs. Rolling your eyes, you redirected your attention back to your book, assuming that would be the end of the distraction.

A small handful of pages later, a loud “YOOOO FELIX” pierces through the silence as he starts a phone call. Placing a bookmark to save your spot, you close the book and set it on your small side table. After a few minutes you return , donning your noise cancelling headphones. You’d be damned if you were going to let him ruin your highly anticipated reading time after a long and exhausting day. A peaceful 10 minutes later, he retreats back into his own apartment- much to your delight. However, your joy is short-lived as he soon returns with an acoustic guitar slung across his torso and takes a seat. Unfortunately, you quickly realize his strumming penetrates through your headphones. So much for noise-cancelling. Completely losing your focus and not wanting to engage with him any further, you decide it’s time to head inside and get yourself ready for bed. After a much-needed shower to rinse off the sweat and dust that had accumulated on your body throughout the day, you continue your nightly routine. Slipping on a pair of panties and one of your many oversized sleep shirts, you head to the kitchen to finish your cup of tea while absentmindedly scrolling on tiktok. After setting your mug in the sink and brushing your teeth in the bathroom, you finally turn into bed and listen to Newt’s content purrs as he cuddles up to you, both of you quickly drifting off to sleep.

You curse yourself for setting your alarm so early as you’re jolted awake by the incessant, absurdly high-pitched beeping at 8:00 AM. You did have a specific reason for wanting to wake up so early though, as you remember your plans and reluctantly drag yourself out of bed. Your first task of the day was grocery shopping, so after brushing your teeth and twisting your hair up into a claw clip, you threw on a pair of sweatpants with a black cropped hoodie and began your walk to the nearest market.

Arriving after about fifteen minutes, you began working through your ingredients list. You stopped at an herb stall with a middle-aged woman behind the booth. One of your many plans for your balcony space was to install a fresh herb garden, so you engaged in small talk with the seller as you selected various herbs to purchase. “Do you sell cat grass?” You asked. Suddenly, a young man with blond hair springs up from under the counter. “You won’t find any here at the market, but I can show you where to get some!” You’re taken aback by the deep voice that comes out of him, as well as his strangely friendly offer. Sensing your apprehension, the woman adds “Oh don’t worry dear, you can trust him! Yongbok here is our designated neighborhood helper.” She smiles at him as she pats his back. “Oh uhh okay. I have a few more things to grab here first, if that’s okay?” You reply, setting your items down for him to ring up. A few minutes later, you finished picking up the rest of the items on your list and returned to the stall to let him know you were ready. “I’ll be back in about twenty minutes Auntie!” He called back to the woman as the two of you walked away.

You found it surprising how talkative he was. He told you his name was Felix, he grew up in Australia, but moved to Korea when he was seventeen, and he loves cooking, baking, and gaming. Even though you just met him, you were happy you shared some of the same interests, and honestly a little part of you hoped this wouldn’t be the last you’d see of him. The short walk led you to a large apartment complex. Felix told you his friend, Minho, is a huge cat-lover who grows his own cat grass, so you figured this is where he lived. It seemed like he spent a lot of time at Minho’s place, as the security guard immediately buzzed you both in as soon as he saw him, greeting him with a wave.

Felix knocked on the door as you arrived at, presumably, his friend’s unit. You could hear multiple voices from outside the door, and began to feel a little bit anxious. The door opened to reveal quite possibly the buffest man you have ever seen in person before. He quickly pulled your new acquaintance into a bear hug, shouting “FELIX IS HEREEE- and who’s this?” He added as he broke away, noticing you. You shyly introduced yourself to him, still standing in the doorway before Felix enters, pulling you both in. Feeling slightly overwhelmed by the amount of people present, you keep your gaze trained on the floor as he ushers you into the kitchen. “Hey Minho! This is the girl I texted you about. You know- the cat grass” He explained as he gestures toward you.

You pry your gaze from the floor to see an -admittedly, beautiful man holding a spatula and wearing an apron that says “world’s best Mom” on it in hot pink lettering. As you struggle to stifle a giggle, he quickly explains that he received it as a gift from his friend Seungmin. Since he can’t leave the kitchen while he’s cooking, he instructs Felix to take you to his study, where he has prepared a small pot for you to take home. As you enter the study, you notice a sleeping figure on the black leather couch in your peripheral vision. It wasn’t until you quietly retrieved the pot, turning to exit the room, that you recognized the person sleeping. He was your mysterious jerk neighbor! You had to admit though, as much as your very limited interactions with him pissed you off, he looked kinda cute peacefully sleeping like that- with his dark, curly hair cascading over the side of his face, cheeks all puffed out and lips formed into a devastating little pout. It was hard to believe this was the same man as the asshole that lived across from you. Once you realized you were staring at him, you shook your thoughts away and silently made your way back into the living room. Thanking Minho and bidding farewell to everyone else, you and Felix began your trek back to the market.

Arriving back home shortly after dropping Felix off and giving him your socials, you got to work putting away your groceries and began to tackle the daunting task of unpacking and organizing your belongings. In order to not burn yourself out, you made sure to take breaks every few hours. During your breaks you would work on artwork, watch an episode of the kdrama you were currently immersed in, play with Newt, crochet, and stretch- even doing a little bit of yoga in the evening.

After you were satisfied with the progress you made for the day, you booted up your computer and logged on to Miroh- a new labyrinth MMORPG you had found yourself getting absolutely sucked into lately. You didn’t find the time to game as often as you would have liked to, but when you did, you preferred to set aside a good four hours or so in order to ensure you’d make a decent amount of progress with every session. After several failed attempts to demolish the octo-cyclops boss of the S-Class dungeon- in order to acquire its exclusive armor set, you were about to call it quits for the night when a random player requested to join your party. You accepted the request from _doolsetnet, sending a gratitude emote as you entered the dungeon for the umpteenth time that night, this time with another player at your assistance.

Your morale was high as you successfully cleared the second stage almost flawlessly, mentally preparing for the third and final stage. It started off well, but as the boss’s rage intensified, so did it’s attack speed. You both took a few good hits, your health bar depleting rapidly. Your helper still had a good three-quarters of their health to spare, and enough mana to cast one spell. The boss only had about a quarter left on its health bar- two more good hits and it would go down. You unmuted your mic to request a heal from your partner, which they promptly offered. With your health bar restored to half-full, and your mana charged for two attacks, you were finally able to hear the sweet, sweet cries of defeat as you slayed the beast. You jumped out of your chair, raising your fists in the air and letting out a loud “FUCK YESSS! TAKE THAT YOU ONE-EYED SLIMY CUNT” as the game rewarded you with the gorgeous mother-of-pearl armor set you’ve been ogling for months- complete with an iridescent helmet showcasing the monster’s eye. You sent user _doolsetnet a thank you message, and attached a gift containing a couple hundred gold along with a few of the rare armor dyes you had extras of. They responded by shooting you a friend request, which you accepted, and a rare weapon skin you also had your eye on. After logging off for the night, you hopped in the shower, brushed your teeth, crawled into bed with Newt in your arms, and fell asleep.

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The day you moved in was a rough one for Han Jisung. All morning he worked tirelessly, trying to perfect the song he was commissioned to produce for a high-profile client. Each time he finished editing and emailing the file, he was always met with a problem. The beat overpowers the vocals, the guitar is too quiet, the bpm is too fast, too slow- it was impossible to please them with this song, and he was going to absolutely lose it. As a perfectionist, he couldn’t let it go until both him, and the client, were both one-hundred percent satisfied. He was running on about six hours of sleep in the past three days, with a concerning lack of food and over-dependence on coffee, energy drinks, and beer. He could barely rip his focus away from the project long enough to shower and make sure his beloved puppy, Bbama, was still well taken care of.

When the blaring hisses and sharp beeps of the moving trucks breached through the music he was working on, he nearly screamed out the window at them to shut the fuck up, but he still had self control. Honestly, it was his fault for procrastinating even though he knew someone would be moving in across from him today. He tried to drown out the noise for the next hour, and when the trucks pulled out, his focus finally pulled in again. He locked in- diligently toiling away at the project, until two hours later, he had the latest revised version complete. Making sure he took all of his client’s requests into account, he submitted the file and began the waiting game. Anxiously pacing around his apartment and biting his nails for another hour, he received an email notification. He sprinted to his computer, not even bothering to take a seat as his hand hovered over the mouse for a few seconds in anticipation. He slid the cursor over the most recent email in his inbox, squeezing his eyes shut and chanting a quiet “please, please, please..” he clicked the mouse and slowly opened his eyes, scanning the results. “Mr. Han, We always appreciate your hard work, and are nearly content with the song. There are just a few small tweaks we would like to- “MOTHERFUCKER” he threw himself onto his couch and muffled an anguished scream with his pillow. He nearly started bawling due to the overwhelming frustration and crippling exhaustion.

The deadline was tomorrow, and he would have to rework the godforsaken song for the sixteenth and last time. He had to make his next submission perfect- or risk losing one of his most important clients. He peeled himself off the couch, sauntered over to his fridge to grab yet another can of beer, returned to his desk, took a few deep breaths, and got to work. There was one specific part of the song that needed reworked. He began playing the same fifteen seconds repeatedly, closer and closer to losing his sanity as he just could not pick out what was wrong with it. Another ten times- still couldn’t place it. Twenty more times, and then he caught it- at the very end of the segment. His full focus on the next loop, he cranked the volume and listened intently, not even daring to breathe in fear of it disrupting his flow. The last five seconds coming up- this was it.

A loud crash broke his focus, followed by the shrieking howls of an agitated cat. That was his last straw. He slammed his left fist down on his desk, still clutching his beer can in his right hand. Shooting out of his chair he flung open the sliding door and stormed to the edge of his balcony. He started yelling before even thinking, just letting all of his pent-up rage out on whoever his new neighbor was. Once the red-hot fury died down, and he actually saw the unfortunate victim of his outburst, he retreated in embarrassment. She was a girl who looked to be in her early to mid twenties, around the same age as him. Kinda cute too, and he threw his fucking beer can at her! God, what the hell was wrong with him? He wanted to crawl into the fetal position and just disappear forever. Unfortunately for him, though, he still had the grueling obligation of completing his wretched assignment. He stretched, cracked his knuckles, and got to work once more.

A painstaking six hours later, he checked over the email again, to refer to his clients requirements. Making damn sure he remembered EVERYTHING this time, he went through a mental checklist. He listened to the full song one more time, paying close attention to the fifteen second segment he had reworked dozens of times. This time, he had swapped the guitar for a bassy synth to create a break at the end of the pre-chorus, and he honestly felt satisfied with the outcome. He might’ve entered a state of delirium after twenty-four restless, stress filled hours, and slipped into a rather cocky mindset. He was happy with the song at last, and the client would be content with it too. Honestly, they were lucky to have a producer like him working with them. He was a musical genius. After confidently re-submitting the file for the final time, he rolled himself a much-deserved joint. He gave little Bbama all the belly rubs and smooches he had missed the last few days as he made his way to the balcony for a stress-relieving smoke.

Jisung took a few deep drags, feeling increasingly calm with every exhale, until his breath caught in his throat upon noticing you lounging on your balcony straight across from him- seemingly deeply invested in a book. The smoke in his throat burned, launching him into a painful coughing fit. He silently prayed that you wouldn’t notice, and mentally cursed himself when you did- repeating his same harsh words to you earlier, absolutely dripping with sass. He threw back a half-assed reply, wishing he could’ve put more effort into it, and was rewarded with a nonchalant eye-roll. Oh, it was game-over for him now. One thing Jisung could never control himself around, was a person who simultaneously gave off the vibes of a dom, while exuding just the perfect amount of brattiness- just enough for him to want to mercilessly fuck the attitude out of.

He decided right then and there to “test your limits”- so to speak. He dialed up his buddy Felix, making sure to greet him as loudly and obnoxiously as he could possibly muster. Only to be met with disappointment, as you just sighed and closed your book, withdrawing back into your living space. Maybe he jumped the gun- and assumed too much too soon? Oh well, he’d have plenty more chances to get a rise out of you, and began plotting his next move as he continued his conversation with Felix. When you returned wearing headphones, and sat back down to resume your book- completely ignoring him, he immediately felt his dick tightening against his pants, begging to be freed. He didn’t have you all wrong- quite the contrary. He had you just right, and the little bit of tantalizing cleavage your tank top revealed to him was the perfect tease, your breasts slightly squeezing together with every page you turned.

He attempted to mess with you a little more, even bringing out his guitar, in the hopes of disrupting your reading just enough to prompt an annoyed outburst. (And maybe even impressing you a little bit with his skills). When you once again retreated inside, and didn’t return, he figured you just went to bed this time. It was like all of his pent-up frustration throughout the week sent itself straight to his manhood. He was throbbing as he fell back on his couch, palming himself over his jeans. He had to use his imagination, having only his limited view of your cleavage to work with, but that wasn’t a problem for him.

You were straddling his lap on his couch, plush thighs squeezing either side of his as you slowly and tortuously ground yourself against his aching length. In this scenario, you had caught him sneaking a peek at you through the window and stormed over, angrily knocking on his door to confront him. You were yelling at him with your arms crossed, squeezing your tits together and giving him the perfect view. -He finally released himself from his denim prison, wrapping his hand around his thick, hard length, and letting out a sigh- When you noticed where he was staring, and looked down to see the prominent bulge in his pants, you forcefully pushed him down on the couch, climbing on top of him. Yanking the nape of his curly hair, you compelled him to look up at you, chastising him for being a dirty pervert. “You disgusting piece of shit- can’t even be scolded by a woman without getting yourself all hot and bothered.” You spat at him as he let out a whimper. “How pathetic” the way you breathlessly enunciated that word had him fisting his angry cock furiously, thighs twitching and breaths panting as he felt his chest tighten. He was so close already- probably due to his lack of jerking off for the past few days.

When you crept your hand up his chest and around his throat, harshly squeezing your fingers around it, he came. All over his hand, shirt, pants, couch, and even spilling a few drops onto his floor. He can’t even remember the last time he came this hard- it was probably one of the first times he ever masturbated. He didn’t even get to the best part in his scenario, the part where he takes over, flipping you onto your back and burying his face between your legs, eating you out like you’re his last meal while you’re whining and begging him to take you, as you release all over his fingers and face. He felt himself twitch, and looked down in disbelief to be met with yet another raging boner. God, the things you did to him, and you didn’t even know him, or his name. It just made the whole thing that much hotter. He’ll make sure you’ll find out soon, though, so the you in his fantasies can scream it for him.

After cleaning up his mess, and slipping into a clean pair of sweatpants, he made his way over to his fridge, and grabbed himself a cup of water. Chugging it down to soothe his dry throat, he glanced out the window- his eyes falling on you. You were wearing nothing but a large t-shirt, barely covering the curve of your ass, as you leaned over your kitchen counter. Sipping on a mug in one hand and scrolling on your phone in another, you were unknowingly giving him some quality material to work with. He made sure to engrain that image of you in his mind, taking note of every detail of your legs, including your tattoos, for next time.

The next morning, after getting a few hours of sleep and clearing his brain fog, he was mortified to say the least. He made himself out to be a complete asshole to his new (hot) neighbor, and immediately proceeded to ferociously pump himself dry to his imagination of said neighbor. Embarrassed was an understatement. He groaned as he got out of bed, heading into the bathroom to brush his teeth. As he refilled Bbama’s food and water dishes, he decided he should apologize to you for his rude behavior.

A little while later, he found himself standing outside your door, preparing his fist to knock. As he heard your footsteps nearing increasingly closer, he panicked and made a beeline to the end of the hallway, tucking himself around the corner. He caught his breath, noticing you exiting your unit and heading down the stairs. He was startled by his phone buzzing, pulling it out of his pocket to read a text from Minho. “Get your ass over here NOW. I know you haven’t eaten well in days and I’m preparing some bulgogi.” He honestly didn’t even notice just how hungry he was, being too distracted by this work, and- well, you, to care. He pulled himself up and made his way over to Minho’s.

He immediately flopped down on the couch in the study after greeting his friends. They knew him- and his current work dilemma, well enough to understand he didn’t have the energy for socializing until he got a good rest, so that’s exactly what he proceeded to do. Seungmin kicked open the door when their meal was ready, jolting Jisung awake. He drug his feet to the kitchen, joining Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Suengmin at the table and taking his seat. While quite literally stuffing his mouth, he listened to his friends converse and argue, adding in a few comments muffled by the food stored in his cheeks. His interest piqued when Changbin mentioned the girl that came by, turning to Minho and sending him a puzzled look. Since when does Minho invite girls over? His older friend noticed his expression, and responded by explaining that Felix had brought her over because she was on the hunt for cat grass. “I can’t deny though, she was just my type. I’ll have to ask Felix if he got her number.” Hyunjin piped up, wiggling his eyebrows.

Seungmin shot him a side-eye, pinching his arm and causing the other to yelp while chastising him for his fuckboy attitude. Jisung on the other hand, was intrigued- asking Hyunjin to describe her appearance, practically begging, honestly. Who could blame him? He was currently down bad- astronomically, even. After listening to Hyunjin’s description, agreeing that she did, in fact, seem very attractive, he rewarded his friend with a description of the goddess that had just moved in next door to him. Hyunjin was practically drooling as he described her perky tits and thick, tattoo-adorned thighs in great detail, prompting Seungmin to manually shut his jaw. “No more horny talk over the meal I slaved away at all day, to prepare for you ungrateful degenerates!” Minho shouted, bringing the conversation to an abrupt halt. After finishing the perfectly-cooked bulgogi and cleaning up after themselves, Jisung walked home, with Hyunjin in tow, begging him to let him crash at his place. Hyunjin lived only a block away from him, so he knew the only reason was so his friend could get a look at you. Cursing himself for his overly-enthusiastic recounting of your gorgeous body- only having seen the lower half so far, he pushed Hyunjin towards the opposite end of the fork dividing the paths between both of their residences.

When he returned home, he cracked open a can of beer, bringing it to his lips as he looked out his window, once again catching a glimpse of you. He quite literally spit out the liquid he was holding in his mouth, as his gaze was met with your ass pointed directly towards him, your back arched towards the floor, and arms outstretched while you contorted your body into what seemed to be a yoga pose. He silently praised whatever god might exist for you leaving your curtains open, and wearing the shortest compression shorts, as he stared- dumbfounded. He could literally see the outline of your pussy, leaving barely anything to his imagination. He wasn’t proud of it at all, but simply his memory would not suffice. He just had to snap a pic. He laid down on his bed as he pulled down the waistband of his joggers. Staring at his new favorite picture,

He began to slowly stroke himself as his imagination ran wild.

This time, you were doing yoga on your balcony when you caught him staring. You didn’t seem mad, quite the opposite, however, as he watched you sit down and part your legs, not breaking eye contact as you shoved your fingers in your mouth, slowly sucking on them. He watched you leisurely trail your other hand down your chest, squeezing your right breast, and releasing a pretty moan muffled by your fingers as you grazed over your nipple. He wondered how your moans would really sound. Would they be as needy as he’s picturing them right now? He hoped he would get the chance to find out. He imagined you releasing your spit-covered hand from your mouth, placing it on your inner thigh and leaving wet trails as it inched further and further to your puffy cunt, obstructed by your tight compression shorts. Still not breaking eye contact with him, you slid the garment to the side, as well as the tiny red thong you wore underneath in his fantasy. Giving him a mouth-watering view of your dripping heat, you plunged two fingers in, gasping at the feeling of fullness. You closed your eyes as you slowly pumped in and out, letting the quietest whimpers grace his ears. You lifted your head and offered him a sexy smirk, beckoning him to “come here” with your two glistening fingers. He brought his hand to his mouth, spitting into it and resuming its position wrapped around his needy cock. The added lubrication allowed him to increase his pace- still careful not to go too fast and risk missing out on the best parts of his scenario again.

He started to let out a few breathy whines as he imagined himself knocking on your door. You answered quickly, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him in before closing the door, and leading him to your bedroom. He kicked off his shoes somewhere along the way, and you sat on the edge of your bed, instructing him to kneel on the floor between your thighs. He trailed sloppy, open mouthed kisses up your inner thighs as you tangled your hand in his curls. He broke away to remove your shorts and thong, giving him a clear view of your arousal. He caught a whiff of your sweet scent, flattening his tongue and slowly lapping up towards your clit. You responded by pulling on his hair and grinding yourself against his face, causing him to release a deep moan, the vibration had you shuttering against him. He slipped his ring finger in, the cold metal of his ring contrasting with the warmth of your walls caused your eyes to roll back. You let out a loud moan as his middle finger joined the other inside you, relishing in the juxtaposition of slight pain and pleasure, as he stretched you out. You used his fingers to fuck yourself towards him, allowing his undivided attention to focus on sucking and circling your clit. This had you absolutely reeling, crushing his head between your thighs and coming undone, rewarding him with the most filthy, sinful, screams as his face was coated with your sweet nectar. He looked up at you as he sensually plunged his fingers into his mouth, licking up your release, and groaning at the taste. Your eyes glistened as he stood up, looking down at you as you returned his gaze through your lashes. You lowered your focus to the tent in his sweatpants, taking in the perfect outline of his curvature as you parted your legs and begged- no, pleaded with him to fuck you. You promised you’d be good for him, make him feel good, let him use you. The incoherent mumbling faltered as he sandwiched himself between your legs, and pulled his waistband down- his hard, leaking dick slapping against your abdomen. He hoisted your legs over his shoulders, keeping a strong grip on them as he finally plunged himself deep into your soaked cunt. He allowed you to adjust yourself to the stretch, choking out a guttural groan and a “fuck.. noona!” (He has no idea how old you are, he just has a little bit of a fixation on the idea of you being slightly older than him. He’ll unpack that another time.) As he imagined feeling you clench around him- and he felt his cock twitch violently in his hand- he blew his load all over himself, feeling the warm liquid coating his fingers and abs.

Panting heavily, he still couldn’t look away from his phone in his grip, displaying the picture he took of you. He wanted -needed- to know what it was like to see you up close in the same position. After taking a few moments to collect himself, he walked past his window on the way to the fridge. Seeing you sitting in front of your computer, back tensed in what appeared to be frustration, he tried to maneuver his vision around you to get a peek at what you were working on. He figured you were an artist, as you had all kinds of equipment set up around your living room- canvases, easels, and a cart full of what appeared to be paintbrushes and paints. He wanted to see if you were working on a digital art piece, and nearly came in his pants when he finally caught a view of your computer, instantly recognizing the images on your screen. You weren’t working on art, you were playing Miroh- his current favorite MMORPG. He opened his phone camera and zoomed in to try to get a better view of the game. Adrenaline surged in his chest as he saw the familiar Octo-Cyclops he has beaten countless times. In fact, he helped many players through that dungeon in the Miroh discord server he was an active member in. This was his time to shine. He captured a picture of your screen, hoping to make out your username. Sure enough, it was legible.

He practically sprinted to his computer and logged into the game, quickly typing in your tag and requesting to join your party, which you immediately accepted. He got to work preparing his inventory and chuckled to himself when you sent him a cute emote to thank him in advance for helping. At the third stage of the boss fight, he was playing defensively- letting you take the brunt of most of the attacks while he conserved his mana for a healing spell. As he watched your health bar start to deplete, he was preparing to heal you when you unmuted to beg him for help in the sweetest voice. He smirked as he released the spell, effectively restoring your health and mana, allowing you to fire off your last two attacks, defeating the boss. He smiled to himself as he heard your sailor-mouthed victory chant. Browsing his inventory for his rarest extra weapon skin, he attached it to the friend request he sent you before logging off and heading to bed. He was overflowing with pride with himself for being able to send you a nice gesture, even if it was anonymously.

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