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moody-alcoholic · 1 day ago

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Sub Ala Angeli

Part 5 - Miracle Worker

Summary: Ghoap x fallen angel!reader, mini fic. Sub ala angeli - Under the wing of an angel.

CW: suggestive content, intimate touching, mention/talk about death, near death experience.

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Enjoy <3

Johnny leads you down the main street, you walk past all kinds of different stores. There are plenty of people around too, sometimes you get the glimpse of other angels, guardian angels following people around.

Johnny leads you into a store, a bell rings and an old woman behind a counter smiles.

“John, Simon, it’s nice to see you again.” She says she has a strong accent like Johnny.

“Miss McBaine.” John says bouncing over to the counter.

“Mary please. Who is your friend?” She asks looking over at you.

“Angel.” Johnny says.

“Pretty name.” She gushes. You smile at her, something feels wrong. You look round the store, it’s filled with clothes. Johnny lets go of your hand and you go over to a hanger of fluffy looking jumpers. Your hand runs over them as you hear Simon come up behind you.

Johnny is still talking with Mary, you just can’t shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen.

“What do you think?” Simon asks. You run your hands down the arms.

“Anything I get we have to cut the back off.” You say letting go of the jumper.

“Guess it was easier when you didn’t have to wear anything.” He says. You nod thinking back to the angels you’ve seen on Earth, they’ve all been covered in some way, shape or form. Loose fitting flowy robes. Or light shines off them so bright you can’t make out any features on their body.

Simon takes you over to get some pants and shoes though, you pick what's comfy and Simon recommends other things. You hear Johnny still talking, the occasional laugh fills the store. It makes you smile.

Maybe you’re just being paranoid, it was probably the cryptic warning the angel gave you. Simon brings some shirts over, everything is oversized so you can cut a hole in the back. When you go over to take a look at dresses theres a sudden chill in the air.

Simon feels it too, you watch him shudder, goosebumps rise over your body. Dread pools in your stomach.

“Feels like someone’s just walked over my grave.” You hear Mary say. You swallow hard looking over at her and Johnny talking by the counter.

You reach out for Simon’s arm as her angel appears next to her.

“Simon. I think something bad is going to happen.” He frowns at you for a second then looks over at Johnny and Mary. You turn back to look. It’s like the scene before you is muted, the temperature of the shop drops.

Things happen quickly, Mary slumps against the counter. Johnny straightens up, Simon is already moving as Johnny reaches over the counter to try and help her. The silence of the room is broken by the gentle humming of her angel. It makes you feel sick, you know that tune.

She’s going to die.

You walk over to them. Simon is bent down by her head, you watch as the angel stands over her.

“Ambulance Johnny.” Simon’s voice brakes through the humming. Your heart is pounding in your chest.

“You’re going to let her die?” You ask the angel in your head. They look over at you and smile. They can’t do anything, you know what they’re feeling you’ve been here before. You look down at Simon, he’s hands are pressing on her chest.

You feel your fingers start to tingle, you could save her. You can save her, you have to believe. You walk over to them, Johnny is on the phone, you ignore him focusing on the tune the angel is humming.

You bend down by her side, Simon looks up at you. “Let me.” You say placing your hand on his. You look up at him. He looks confused but he stops, moving his hands away. You place your hands on her chest.

There’s no heartbeat, it feels wrong. You remember feeling Johnny’s hand under yours, for a second it feels like your own heart skips a beat. This could be him, if the warnings are true, you could end up in this same position only with him below you.

You close your eyes and let out a breath. The angel stops humming. You’ve only ever done this once before. On a child, not a fully grown person. You concentrate putting all your energy into praying for her heart to beat again. Your hands feel warm, your energy, your lifeforce being transferred from you into her.

You pray, pray for her to live, it feels like you’re willing the life back into her. You can feel yourself getting weaker, your head starts to swim, it’s becoming harder to concentrate. You don’t want to give up though, you won’t give up.

You feel a warm hand on your shoulder, you get a sudden burst of energy. The feeling of dread goes away, the weakness subsides and you feel calm, a warm feeling travels through you. When you feel her heart beat again you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

“Thank you.” You hear the angel say. Their warm hand leaves your shoulder along with the feeling of calm. You open your eyes looking over at Simon, you sit back on your knees, and smile at him as it feels like all your energy has just been pulled out of you.

Simon presses her fingers into Mary’s neck, he looks up at you shocked. You turn to her angel stood by her head.

“John is very lucky to have you watching over him.” They say.

“I’m not his guardian angel.” You reply.

“Ambulance is here.” You hear Johnny call as the sound of sirens gets closer. When you turn back the angel is gone. Simon comes over to you wrapping his arms around you and helping you to your feet. You lean against him, your legs wobble, your whole body feels heavy.

You’re not even paying attention to the random people rushing into the store. Johnny talks to them as Simon takes you out the way over to a chair. As soon as you sit down and lose the support of his arms your head swims and you slump to the side.

“Easy, easy.” He says his arms coming back round you, you lean against him. You straighten up as best as you can. You grit your teeth, you have to keep your wing hidden.

“Simon,” you breathe. He looks down at you as he pulls you tighter against him. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this for.”

“C’mon,” he says, helping you to your feet. You can still feel a chill in the air. You lean against him, Johnny sees you moving and comes over to you.

“What happened? Are you okay?” He asks, his hand coming to rub your arm. You nod and it makes your head swim.

“We’re going to the car, how much longer do you think you’ll be?” Simon asks, Johnny quickly looks back at the paramedics loading Mary onto a stretcher.

��Not long.” Johnny says. “I just have to get someone to mind the store, call her daughter.”

She’s alive, you did that, you broke the rules again. And you’ll do it again if you need to, especially for Johnny or Simon. As Simon guides you out the store people are coming over to look. Small town, probably the biggest thing that’s happened in a while. By the time you make it to the car you can barely keep it together.

“Si-” his name catches in your throat.

“Almost there, c’mon you can make it.” He encourages you, hitching you up against him while he fishes his pocket for the key. You grit your teeth using the last of your energy to grip onto him while he opens the door.

Black spots flash across your vision. Simon turns you sitting you down in the back of the car, you can’t hide your wing anymore. Lucky Simon is blocking anyone from being able to see in. Simon’s hands rest on on your shoulders holding you up. You hear the door open behind you.

“I got her.” You hear Johnny say pulling you back against him. Simon picks your legs, putting them in the car, and closing the door. You shiver as Johnny wraps his arms around you.

“She’ll be okay.” You say.

“Will you be okay?” Johnny asks. You don’t know what to say, you've never felt like this before. You feel tired, your body is heavy, you can’t keep your eyes open.

“I won’t let anything happen to you Johnny.” You say as your breathing slows.

“What's that love?” Johnny asks, he shakes your shoulders, it jolts you and you look over at Simon in the front seat. He looks worried, you smile at him as you relax further against Johnny.

“She’ll be okay.” you repeat closing your eyes.

___

You think you’re in a dream, for the first time ever. You wake up back in heaven, it’s just not quite right though. It’s like you’re there but not there, the colours are faded and the sounds are muted, you're not quite sure how you got here. There are angels all around you, Archangels and Seraphims.

You’re in the judgment hall, towering gold and iridescent structures surround the massive space. In the center there’s a collection of other angels, messengers, other guardian angels all watching you as the higher angels decide your fate.

You hear doors open behind you, you turn to see two angels come out and stand behind you.

“Judgment has been decided.” One of the Seraphims says, their voice echoing round the space. You’re holding your breath. All you can think about is Mary, her lifeless body under your hands.

“Take the other wing.” One of the Seraphims says. You feel sick, tears start rolling down your face. You need your wing, you can’t protect Johnny if you lose one more thing that makes you who you are.

“What about Johnny?” You ask, stepping forward. You hear mumbles rise up.

“You sealed his face by saving the woman.” The same Seraphim says.

“No!” You shout lunging forward. Arms grab you pulling you back and forcing you to your knees. It hurts sending shooting pains up your legs. You hear the growl of a dog.

“Please save him!” You plead. “Send me to hell, take my wing but please spare him!” You’re begging, sobbing at them. You know it’s not going to change anything you know it’s not going to make them think any different. You fight out the grip of the angels holding you and rush forward.

“I love him! Simon loves him!” You’ll destroy them both!” You shout between sobs. The Seraphim turns back to look at you as your arms are pulled back again. To your surprise they fly down. You’ve never seen one so close to you before. They’re bigger than you ever thought they were, their 6 wings make them look even larger.

“You’re an angel, you know nothing of love.” They spit, there’s emotion in their voice, anger, disgust.

“Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” You say to them. Their eyes widen and they float away from you.

“Take the wing!” They shout. You smile up at them as you hear the patter of the hellhound's feet rushing towards you.

You let out a scream as its teeth sink into your flesh.

…

Your body jolts up, you look around franticly. You’re in their house, their bed, you look out the windows, it's dark now. Your body is covered in a layer of sweat, your heart is pounding rapidly in your chest. It feels like you can’t catch your breath.

You panic, pulling your wing round holding it in your arms. You let out a sigh of relief stroking down the feathers. You swing your legs out the bed throwing the duvet back and stand up letting your wing go and pressing it back against you.

Now you need to see Johnny, you need to make sure he’s safe. You walk out the bedroom, you can see them on the sofa Johnny laid in Simon's arms. As soon as they hear you Johnny gets up to his feet coming over to you.

You feel tears forming in your eyes as you rush over to him, throwing your arms and wing around him, pulling him against you as you sob into his chest.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. What’s wrong?” His hands rub your back. You pull your face off his chest sniffling.

“I had one of those dreams, it felt so real.” You say looking up at him. His hands come up to your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. He leans down to kiss you, it feels good, safe. He’s gentle, his hands brushing your cheeks as the tears escape. You break from the kiss as a sob rises in your throat.

“Come sit, talk to us.” Johnny says, you nod, dropping your wing and following him to the sofa. You sit in between them. Simon’s hand lands on your back while Johnny rubs your thigh.

“What happened today. With Mary?” Johnny asks.

“I don’t know how to describe it.” You say hanging your head.

“Can you bring people back from the dead?” Simon asks.

“No, but if we’re quick enough, and have help, like today. We can essentially stop death.” You explain.

“Help?” Johnny asks.

“Mary’s guardian angel helped me. I wouldn’t have been able to save her on my own.” You say.

“How?” Simon asks. You look up at him.

“The energy angels have, we can channel it, use it to bless people or heal people. Normally just cuts and bruises, It’s only in very specific circumstances we can use it to- for example- restart a heart.” You let out a sigh, you still feel exhausted. “If we use too much energy it will kill us.”

“I thought you were immortal.” Johnny says.

“Immortal not invincible.” You say. Johnny squeezes your thigh. It feels good calming, just like Simon’s hand rubbing your lower back.

“You saved her life. She’s going to be okay.” Johnny says. You look up at him and smile.

“What was your dream about?” Simon asks.

“They were taking my other wing for saving her, like I saved the kid I was ordered to watch over.” You say leaving out the part about Johnny. It doesn’t work though.

“You were mumbling in your sleep. You called out for Johnny.” Simon says.

“In the car, you said you wouldn't let anything happen. Is something going to happen?” Johnny asks. You look between them. You feel a lump rise in your throat. Everything in your body is telling you not to tell them.

Maybe telling them will ruin it. You remember what the Seraphim shouted at you in your dream ‘you sealed his fate.’ You open your mouth but you can’t think of an excuse. Whatever you were going to say is replaced with a sob and you throw your face in your hands.

“I met Johnny’s guardian angel. They warned me you’re going to die.” His grip tightens on your leg, Simon’s hand stops rubbing your back. You look up at Johnny, there’s worry in his eyes. “They told me to save you. When we went to the town, another angel warned me that your fate isn’t sealed. They told me to protect you.”

You don’t expect them to say anything, Simon lets out a sigh and his hand runs over your missing wing. It sends chills down your spine.

“How-” You watch Johnny swallow. “How will it happen?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see the future, no one can.” You say.

“So how do you know he’s going to die?” Simon asks, there’s an edge in his voice

“We can’t see the future. We’re told the information we need to know.” You say.

“Did they say when it would happen?” Johnny asks.

“They said a week.” You reply solemnly. His hand comes up to pull your chin to look at him. He smiles, tipping his head and kisses you.

“Nothing bad is going to happen.” He says brushing his lips with your thumb.

“But-”

“No. You saved a life today, you’re a miracle worker. You said my fate is not sealed.” He looks over at Simon quickly then back to you. “That means I have a chance.” You nod.

Simon’s arms come back around you pulling you against him. You stretch your wing out wrapping it over the back of the sofa and around Johnny who shuffles into it running his hand over the tip.

He smiles at you and leans against it. He reaches down and pulls your legs up over his thighs. Simon's arm wraps over your chest.

“It’s going to be okay.” Simon says as he presses a kiss on the back of your head.

“We’ve faced worse odds and come out on the other side.” Johnny says. You believe them, at the same time you don’t know what might happen, Johnny rubs your leg. You can feel Simon’s heart beating against your back.

You don’t mean to fall asleep but sleep comes anyway. You feel Johnny stroking the feathers of your wing resting round his shoulder.

You’ll keep him safe, you’ll keep them both safe.

…

“Johnny.” Simon whispers. He turns to see you sleeping in Simon's arms. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I know.” He replies looking back at the TV.

“Want me to call the cavalry?” Simon asks.

“Yeah,” Johnny scoffs. “And tell them what? Hey Gaz, you’ll never believe this; an angel landed in our backyard and told me I’m going to die in a week.”

“Johnny.” Simon sighs. “What does that book of yours say about fate?”

“Everything is already written.” He says.

“Sounds like bullshit.” Simon replies, tightening his grip around you.

“Up until a few days ago you didn’t believe in anything.” He reminds him, running his hand through your feathers.

“I believe we make our own fates.” Simon says.

“Let’s go to bed.” Johnny says turning the tv off.

“What about her?” Simon asks as Johnny stands, your wing goes limp and your snuggle further against Simon’s chest.

“I can pull the bed out?” Johnny asks. Simon looks down at you brushing the hair out your eyes.

“No, let’s bring her to bed with us.” Simon says.

“You sure?” Johnny asks. Simon’s already moving, pulling you up in his arms. Johnny smiles, going to help him tucking your wing over Simon’s shoulder. He follows close behind, watching as Simon carries you through to the bedroom. Your chin rested on his shoulder, legs hanging round his waist.

“Maybe she can talk to heaven or something?” Johnny says.

“If she could, do you think they would listen?” Simon asks, walking round to Johnny’s side of the bed. Johnny doesn’t say anything, Simon lays you on your stomach, pulling the duvet over you. Simon sighs, coming over to Johnny and wrapping his arm round his waist.

“I’ll lock up. You get into bed.” Simon says, pressing a kiss into his neck.

“Don’t take too long.” Johnny replies. Simon smiles and leaves the room. Johnny changes scooting into bed next to you. You’re completely passed out again, your body is like a lead weight has he moves you a little giving Simon more room to lay next to him.

Simon comes back, turning the hallway light off and closing the door to the bedroom behind him. Johnny watches as he pulls his clothes off in the dark then crawls into bed wrapping his arms around him and pulling him up on his chest.

“Johnny.”

“Yeah?”

“Hell will freeze over before I let anything happen to you.” Simon says his hand coming up to stroke Johnny’s cheek. “God will have to come down here himself and get you.”

“It’s going to be okay. We have our own guardian angel.” Johnny says, wrapping his arm round Simon’s waist pulling him against him. Simon hums leaning over to kiss him. Johnny’s fingers dig into his waist. Johnny hums in his mouth moving one of his hands round to the front of Simon’s boxers.

Simon pulls away from the kiss. “We’re not alone Johnny.” Johnny hums wrapping his hand round Simon’s cock feeling it twitch in his hand.

“You’re all pent up.” Johnny whispers his lips brushing Simon’s. Before Johnny can go any further you turn behind him. He feels your arm slip over him. He freezes looking up at Simon as your wing stretches, resetting over them both.

He feels the heat coming off the wing, he moves his hand back over to Simon’s waist.

“I love you Si. We’ll figure it out.” Johnny says, pulling himself against Simon’s chest.

“Yeah we will. I love you too Johnny.” He replies, kissing his forehead. Johnny smiles hearing Simon’s heart beat against his ear and the warmth of your wing covers them all. He doesn’t feel fear, worry, he doesn’t feel anything. Just the warmth of your wing and his husband's arms.

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01zfan · 1 day ago

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bad friend: bestfriend’s sister

brothers bestfriend!sungchan x reader | 5.3k words

well...you guys know i couldn't end it without sungchan getting his lick back.

contains: eunseok and sungchan are in a war that hasn't been vocally waged, sungchan is kind of a manipulator, reader is semi-innocent, some sort of tension between sungchan and eunseok that neither of them acknowledge

bad friend: AITA

Sungchan was disappointed that it took him so long to figure out what to do. After he read Eunseok’s Reddit post he had to think, picking at the peeling skin of the vinyl seat he was in.

He sat in the seat of the cafe closer to their apartment basking in rage while his bestfriend was unaffected. Eunseok barely looked up from his laptop, Sungchan imagined his friend was editing the post as he sat right across from him. He could see Eunseok mouthing words, repeating phrases back to himself before he could hear backspacing on his computer and some more typing. Sungchan felt his friend’s eyes occasionally lift to look at him, and when he would catch his eyes Eunseok would snap right back to his screen.

Sungchan could feel the atmosphere around them change, until Eunseok couldn’t bare it anymore and closed his laptop. Sungchan stared at the logo of Eunseok's laptop, thinking about the post that his friend was working on only moments ago.

“Are you ready to go back to the apartment?”

Eunseok hesitated with each movement. Sungchan was unbothered, stretching his back and arms until they rested on the vinyl seats again.

He couldn't lie and say he didn't enjoy seeing Eunseok uneasy from the tension. Asking about something as trivial as food left in their shared fridge made Eunseok finally drop that nonchalant act. The facade fell to show what Eunseok truly was, remorseful even if he tried to hide it and thinking about what he did to his alleged roommate and bestfriend.

Sungchan enjoyed seeing Eunseok uncomfortable, he hoped that it was guilt. Eunseok was so used to being the diplomat he didn’t know what to do when he was the one waging a war. Sungchan recalled the times Eunseok's easygoing attitude got him out of trouble while growing up. Eunseok asking Sungchan is it worth it? when he was about to lose his cool or telling him to calm down in that annoying monotone voice.

Sungchan could tell his friend didn’t know how to face a problem he created. Sungchan was sure the comments on whatever he was going to post would be telling him that he wasn’t the asshole. That's what losers on the Internet did. They convened in the dark corners, circle jerking and letting eachother know that even at their lowest they're justified. There would be someone like Sungchan, well adjusted and socialized telling him he should come clean. That he should tell Sungchan that he slept with his girlfriend. Sungchan even gave him the perfect segue into the conversation. All he had to do was come clean about the leftover food in the fridge. Sungchan would even let Eunseok lie, he could tell Sungchan that you came onto him, and he couldn't deny you. He could spare Sungchan the details because he read them already, he could just say that he wanted you to feel better.

Sungchan looked from the barista behind the counter back to Eunseok. He was taking too long to slip his laptop into the secure place in his backpack.

“My sister is coming over later today, by the way.” Eunseok was still looking into his backpack, speaking to it quietly. “Some mail still ends up going to my parents house for some reason. So she’s bringing it to me. She might bring some food too.” He added.

Food was always the olive branch extended between the two of them. When Sungchan was invited to that birthday party in elementary school and Eunseok wasn't he brought him vegetable dumplings from the convenience store. When Eunseok beat Sungchan at the schools spelling bee they ate samgyeopsal until Sungchan thought his stomach would explode. Food was always how they silently told eachother the other went too far without directly saying it, and each time it worked. The resentment that built up over the twenty years of friendship was in no way related to the fact they never actually talked about their problems. That was something that couldn't be explained, or maybe Eunseok could ask a fucking sub-reddit about it.

But what was important was that Eunseok was offering another olive branch. Although Eunseok nodded his head, Sungchan barely listened to the rest of Eunseok’s mumble, they were going to be even. Eunseok was talking about the mail that ended up at his parents house, or something about the coffee here, but Sungchan couldn't be bothered. Revenge walked into his lap, mentioned candidly while Eunseok tried hard to push past the uneasy feeling in his heart.

When Eunseok finally looked up from his backpack to look at Sungchan, he had already honed his emotions and changed the expression on his face to something neutral.

“I didn’t know your sister was coming over.” Sungchan tried remembering what you were doing with your life now. Your brother rarely mentioned you for some reason. You were just a contact on Eunseok’s phone that would call when you had a question about your computer and an old contact photo in his family’s groupchat. “Is she back in town?” He asked.

After Sungchan asked his question Eunseok had the nerve to side eye him from his backpack. As if Eunseok wasn’t the one who fucked his bestfriends girlfriend then was going on the Internet to garner sympathy. He looked at Sungchan like he was the crazy one for asking about your life.

“Only for a month or so." Eunseok stood up from his recliner and Sungchan followed suit. "She's staying in town for a friend's wedding or something.”

Sungchan could tell that Eunseok really wanted to repeat what he told him all those years ago. Back when the three of you became young adults and Sungchan stopped looking at you like you were Eunseok’s little sister.

Eunseok caught on fast, but you were more like Sungchan when it came to hiding things. All cards were on the table, you couldn’t hide your adoration for your older brother's bestfriend.

In the beginning Eunseok and Sungchan just chalked it up to you wanting to know how boys had fun. When he would complain about you suddenly taking an interest in video games or action figures your mother always told Eunseok to let you play. When he was still young and hardheaded he would protest, saying you were a girl and his sister and he didn't want to play with you. But when you wouldn't budge and neither were his parents, Eunseok was forced to become indifferent.

He had to be indifferent about your presence because his parents would always take your side. Sometime during that, Eunseok became indifferent to you as a whole. He never wanted the responsibilities of an older brother so he nevver doted on you or was protective.

Sungchan noticed that you two never became close. Even when you got older and started to become your own person, Eunseok was unconcerned with what was going on in your life. Sungchan watched you both separately behave like only children, living under the same roof but never having conversations that went beyond telling the other that dinner was ready.

Eunseok would never admit that you were closer to Sungchan than you were to him, that you favored being around him. There are pictures of you hanging on the wall at Eunseok's parents' place. An old digital picture at Sungchan and Eunseok's soccer game, clinging to Sungchan instead of your brother. You were barely to his waist then, but your smile was bigger than the two of there's put together. You held onto him so tight it wrinkled his jersey. When you would call for your older brother it used to be in reference to Sungchan, when you wanted comfort you used to run past Eunseok right into Sungchan's arms. You used to complain about Sungchan having to go to his own house instead of spending another night at your place.

When the looks you started giving him became more obvious and turned to something different. Overnight you started hanging on every word Sungchan would say, batting your eyelashes and looking up at him. Eunseok and Sungchan still hung around after they graduated highschool and you were nearly done yourself. During that gap year you seemed to always be home, seniors in highschool always seemed to be everywhere else but school.

Eunseok was casual about it, he always was. He would only look between you and Sungchan's exchanges, nothing more than a scratch at the top of his head and everything else was forgotten. Sungchan knew that being an older brother was never something Eunseok strived to excel at, he remembered the casual confession from his friend that he never asked for a younger sibling. Eunseok described your existence as something that just happened one day, his parents went to the hospital and he was watched by his grandparents all day. Sungchan could even recall the day sometimes, how he was buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing a baby while his friend only shrugged his shoulders.

Eunseok was convinced that he had to still remain indifferent to you. But Sungchan could tell that it upset him to no end that he was bested at another thing. Even if something was irking Eunseok so deeply about whatever was blossoming he refused to let it show. The idea of Eunseok truly not caring upset Sungchan even more. He was too stoic.

Eunseok’s calm demeanor regarding you pissed Sungchan off. If he had a sister and he caught wind of mutual attraction he would’ve forbid Eunseok from coming over before it ever turned into whatever your stares at him had become. But Eunseok was a sleazy older brother, nonchalant and more concerned with video games and anime than being protective of you. Then Eunseok went as far to accuse Sungchan of liking you because he cared more about where you were going dressed the way you were. Sungchan was the one asking if you needed to be picked up later, if your parents knew what you were doing. Eunseok would only ask more questions to follow his friends lead, side-eyeing your conversation he was pushed out of. Eunseok would have to clear his throat to get the focus back on him, and then he would finally try being an older brother. But it was obvious he was only doing it for show.

He thinks to this day Eunseok never truly cared about protecting you when he gave Sungchan the rule, he just wanted to stand between another thing Sungchan was good at.

Eunseok was casual about it, paying more attention to the game than Sungchan. Sungchan stopped playing entirely, he could feel the controller vibrate in his hand with each hit he was taking. Eunseok didn’t look towards him once. He bit his lip in concentration from pressing the buttons at the right time, leaning back like the game was fair as Sungchan lost. Eunseok watched his character rip out the spine of Sungchan’s character in a gruesome way while the announcer called out the fatality.

You had to have picked up on the rule. The dynamic between Sungchan and Eunseok changed that night and Sungchan knew you noticed, He gave you more credit than Eunseok ever did, even if you conflated things and blew them out of proportion. You thought that it was funny to call them boyfriends, and you said they were always in competition with eachother. Your commentary on their relationship was one of the things that pushed Eunseok to get his own place, because he couldn’t get rid of you but to his dismay he couldn’t get rid of Sungchan either. So that night only after Eunseok won a game over Sungchan, he told him two things.

He was getting his own apartment but he needed a roommate.

Sungchan absolutely could not, under any circumstance, fuck his sister.

When you’d come around looking for Eunseok but find Sungchan you still had that look of adoration in your eyes, but Sungchan had respect for his friend. He avoided you, looked past you, would end up gone each time you came around. He knew you were looking for him, because he wasn’t stupid and you were more like your brother than you would ever know. When you stopped coming around after they moved in together Sungchan knew you knew he was purposefully making himself scarce. He also knew that Eunseok would feign benevolence each time, and would’ve just shrugged his shoulders if you asked where he was.

Sungchan convinced himself that all was fair in the car ride back to the apartment. Eunseok was the one who waged the war, and the way you always looked at Sungchan was reminiscent of something tender. Maybe not love but blind adoration. A childhood crush that was never requited. Sungchan knew the crush was still fresh for you, because you still asked where he was each time he came around. He knew it still bothered Eunseok because he would always avoid giving you a straight answer. Sungchan would just have to be there to tell you himself.

Sungchan and Eunseok spent another quiet night on separate ends of their couch, watching a television show neither of them liked. The episodes dragged on after they were finished eating. It was obvious both of them were focused on other things. Eunseok’s leg was permanently restless, and Sungchan had his head balanced on his hand while the other picked at the couch.

Your knock on the door gave Eunseok an excuse to call it a night, he got up too quick and paused the television show too fast. Sungchan lingered on the couch. When Eunseok’s back faced him he fixed his appearance, making sure his shirt fell just right and his hair looked nice, that he wasn’t getting the life drained out of him by boring television and his boring roommate. He made sure the hair you always used to pull at when you were younger looked fluffy, and the shoulders you used to hang off of when Eunseok didn’t want to play with you looked broad.

Instead of going back into his room when Eunseok opened the door for you Sungchan stayed right there, he even leaned forward to come into your line of sight. Sungchan watched you try focusing on your brother before you looked over his shoulder, then he watched Eunseok follow your line of sight until he grabbed the mail from your hands.

“Is that it?” Eunseok spoke loudly but you still didn’t look at him. Watching him try to be a big brother after all this time was amusing. Sungchan hoped he saw the way your eyes still focused on him, how you spoke to Eunseok but stayed looking at Sungchan on the couch. “Mom found some of your clothes laying around and she made me bring that too. She also made me bring food because she knows you guys are eating only eating takeout.”

“She made food for me too?” Sungchan asked.

He got up from the couch, and he watched you two focus on him. You two were too easy to fluster. Eunseok narrowed his eyes and you nodded your head mindlessly.

“Of course, she loves you.” Eunseok turned back towards you, because his mom rarely said something so heartfelt. Like Sungchan hadn’t been there a majority of Eunseok’s childhood to see it first hand, he watched you take your shake your head and quickly motion between him and Eunseok. “She loves you both. She loves you both and the food is in my car.”

Before Eunseok could reluctantly offer to help you, Sungchan was clearing the apartment and sliding on Eunseok’s crocs. He took his friends small shoes and crammed his feet in them, knowing those were things Eunseok had chided him for in the past.

Sungchan didn’t close the door in Eunseok’s face. He let him see the way your expression lit up, he let him see the way he looked down at you with a smile. He wanted Eunseok to bask in it, he wanted you to ignore him when he insisted he could help you instead. He let Eunseok’s thoughts ferment in the entryway and wonder what you two were talking about while he scrambled around the apartment for another pair of his shoes. When Eunseok finally made it down the stairs to the parking lot Sungchan let him see the moment you put your number in his phone before realizing he was there, and he let Eunseok see the way you tried to act inconspicuous about the whole thing.

The following weeks, Sungchan played you and your brother. Eunseok’s guilt made it easy. Eunseok knew that Sungchan was texting you because he didn’t try to hide it. He saw your name pop up on his phone screen, he saw the way you came around everyday. Eunseok suddenly had a million things waiting for him at his parents place, and you were the only one who could bring it by. Eunseok didn’t press the issue further because he didn’t know how to be a good big brother after years of pretending you didn’t exist, and he didn’t know how to be a good friend after fucking Sungchan’s ex. He just watched and waited, question on the tip of his tongue when Sungchan would tell him he would be bringing company over at night.

Eunseok did try to catch him in the act once. In the middle of the night after Eunseok came back from what Sungchan assumed to be another visit to his ex he heard him come through the door. Almost instantly when the front door close Sungchan let himself get louder, letting go of his bitten lip to let the smallest sounds slip through the walls. Sungchan had the biggest room but it was right by the entryway, he could hear Eunseok’s loud steps stop right by his closed door. Sungchan ignored the quiet knocks, instead getting louder and squeezing his hand tighter.

When Eunseok opened the door, Sungchan jolted in his bed. He pretended like he didn’t hear Eunseok the past week try to subtly drops hints about how he was too loud late at night. He watched his friend’s expression shift from triumph of catching him in the act to pure horror when he realized it was Sungchan in his room by himself.

After Sungchan told him to get out, he had to worry about Eunseok’s presence alot less. Guilt from walking in on his roommate masturbating tacked on with the guilt of fucking his ex-girlfriend made Eunseok disappear all together. He was doing things on his own throughout the day and turned the sound up on his headset late at night. When Sungchan would come out to grab something from the common area Eunseok would duck away no matter what he was doing. Food was left on the table and the fridge was practically left open, the only trace of him being there was the glow from his headset and the sound of his door closing.

Eunseok unfortunately made himself too hidden. Sungchan realized after the fact that he foolishly pushed his bestfriend past his limit, turning him into a complete hermit. When Sungchan started sneaking you into the apartment Eunseok never got the chance to get a glimpse of you. The first night you were in Sungchan’s room and your body was leaned against his shoulder the only thing Sungchan was paying attention to was the sound of his friend coming out of his room. Both you and Sungchan sat on the edge of his bed facing the door, his fingers deep inside of you. You made him promise to lock the door but you two still managed to end up there, practically on display just waiting for the door to open. The anticipation made it so Sungchan couldn't look away even if he wanted to. He didn’t take his eyes away from the door, he still looked at the handle when he'd turn his head ever so often to plant a distracted kiss on your lips. You were no better, not even paying attention to what was going on beyond the walls of Sungchan's bedroom. You still held your sounds back then, the same way Eunseok always held back his, so worried about your unknowing brother who did not care.

The second time you got too loud. Sungchan was thinking about other things, like what was going on beyond the wall he shared and you were distracting him. You called him by the nickname Eunseok gave him mockingly, telling jinsu to go faster and that you were so close. He had you bent over the dresser that was against their shared wall, and he had to finally clasp a large hand over your mouth. By the end of that night you were sucking on his fingers, and moved to the center of his bed and pushed down to a pathetic position on your stomach. Sungchan had to wrap a hand underneath your waist to keep you up.

Sungchan found out you were weak just like Eunseok too. No endurance, no sports you stayed involved in. There was a pattern between the two of you that was never brought up, where you two started in sports but developed a liking for indoor activities instead. There was a time where Eunseok played sports with Sungchan, then overnight his friend ditched him for anime and video games. You went down the same path, you were just able to cover it up with makeup and making friends. When Eunseok became a recluse you became a social butterfly, a homebody that was ironically out every weekend. Sungchan told himself he could never bring this up because how much you hated being compared to your brother, and Eunseok spent most of his days forgetting he even had a sister.

You were also low maintenance just like your brother. The pretty hair and expensive clothes were just for show. The spoiled princess accusations Eunseok used to say under his breath passing was false. The concept of someone wanting something and vocalizing it was just so foreign to Eunseok he assumed you were rotten. If anything it was Sungchan who was spoiled. You came running with just a text, ditching your friends and any plans just to sneak into his apartment. The only thing you asked was if your brother would be there. That didn’t seem to bother you too much, because Sungchan said maybe and you still were at his door with an overnight bag tucked underneath your arm.

When he opened the door you came right into his arms. Like the day you went without seeing him was a century, you buried your head deep in his chest and breathed him in. You smelled like Eunseok but sweeter, as if he was drowned in rose and vanilla.

“I missed you.” You whispered it when you pressed the side of your face into Sungchan’s chest. Sungchan felt you squeeze him tighter and play with the bottom of his shirt. He hummed and rubbed your back, easing out that tension in your shoulders.

He didn’t know someone in your family could be so vulnerable. He had known Eunseok for years and there were still walls he didn’t bother to break down anymore. He let his friend be mysterious and he let your parents be passive. You treated Sungchan like a gift because he let you be vulnerable, even if he only responded with i know or it’s okay.

Sungchan almost felt bad for what he was doing. Even in the dark entryway he could see that look in your eye. Always like a lost puppy, seemingly becoming even more innocent in debauched circumstances. Eunseok was going to come home at some point, Sungchan knew that. He knew that you were going to make noise that would bleed through the cracks in his doors and the thin walls. He had to clasp a hand over your mouth anytime he had you like this, or push your face into the mattress until you got the hint. Being vulnerable came with being loud, a bumbling mess with tears welling in your eyes and broken words falling from your lips. You looked like a puppy and you sounded like one too, whimpering and drooling while you wasted all your energy.

But that wasn’t his view just yet. You were kneeling on his bed for him right now, left in your underwear and a camisole as you looked up to him. Sungchan was still fully clothed, looking down at the way your thighs pressed together the more you leaned back to try and settle yourself. He brought his hand up to your face, already knowing you’d eagerly move to put your chin in the palm of his hand.

“You’re too cute.” A pitiful exhale fans his palm. Your eyes manage to get even more watery, almost twinkling as you look up at him. He almost feels bad for what he’s doing. “Do you know how cute you are?” He asks.

You shake your head, and Sungchan is grateful for Eunseok being a terrible brother. Sungchan even feels gratitude in his heart for Eunseok being a terrible friend. If those things hadn’t happened, and Eunseok hadn’t made that post Sungchan would’ve never been here. Caressing your chin, feeling you give all your free will to him. You were malleable, made in Sungchan’s image after a little less than two weeks. His hands crafted you into whatever you were becoming. The power was intoxicating, because even he had no idea what you were molding into. Submissive, eager to please, reaching for something you didn’t know how to handle.

“Do you think your brother is an asshole?” Sungchan’s hand underneath your chin tilted your head up to him. Your pretty eyebrows knit together in confusion, and Sungchan tried not to laugh at tripping you up. He remained serious, tilting your head even further up. “Do you think he’s a bad person?” He asked.

He gave you the smallest amount of authority when you started messing with his belt. He let his hands fall to his sides and he overcompensated your strength, letting your shaking hands pull his hips towards you. Sungchan sighed at the thought of you being dominant. He knew you didn’t have it in you. Your avoidance of responsibility made Sungchan relinquishing power hard. Even if it was for your benefit, even if it was all a show the second sigh he let out was smug. His hands went to resting at his hips as yours became more hesitant.

You didn’t take well to being in charge. You didn’t take well to questions you didn’t know how to answer. You don’t know your brother, even if you grew up in the same house and had so much in common. Sungchan almost wants to tell you about the Reddit post, to let you know how truly sleazy your older brother is. But if he was honest he’d have to tell you that’s the reason why you two are in this room when there’s only a wall separating you from your brother’s room. Almost immediately your hands started to falter, the thought of disapproval from Sungchan made you fix your gaze on his stomach instead. You pulled his belt tighter instead of pulling it loose. You were more like your brother than either of you would ever know. Sungchan knew your palms were lining with sweat, the same way Eunseok would get whenever he knew he wasn’t doing something perfectly. Your face was hot to the touch, he could feel it when his hand went back to your chin.

“You’re really too cute.” Sungchan said again.

He notices that you two both have the same habit of denying compliments when you first receive them. Eunseok looks to the side while you slowly shake your head. Sungchan manually nods your head with his fingers holding your chin.

You and Eunseok were meant to be lead by someone like Sungchan. The self-proclaimed brains to his brawn. One couldn’t exist without the other, no matter how miserable the other had become. That’s why Eunseok fucked his ex. That’s why he was about to fuck you. Eunseok would eventually find out about you two, if he didn’t already know he would figure out by the clothes Sungchan would strategically leave laying around in the common area. He could tell you were going to make noise for him tonight. Eunseok was still up around this time, the banging on his wall and the sound of things falling would keep him awake.

Sungchan watches your hands go back to your thighs, resting in a clenched fist. Everything about you was made to please Sungchan. From his favorite color on your underwear to your shirt that was a size to small. You gave him everything, the little bow on your waistband like you were his gift. He should feel terrible for doing this. Breaking the one stipulation his bestfriend gave him. But he waged the war, and this was fair. You didn’t mind, because you started digging your nails into your leg when Sungchan took too long undoing his belt. He kept you waiting, until his pants were at his ankles and you were watching him grab himself over his boxers.

“Turn around for me baby.” He said.

You were better at listening to him than Eunseok. When Eunseok would’ve shaken his head or pretended not to hear him all together you were scurrying to the center of his mattress, turning around and sticking your ass in the air. Sungchan watched you let out out a pensive breath, settling into the arch he showed you the very first night. You were a faster learner than Eunseok too.

Sungchan took off his underwear and touched himself, knowing you wished you were the one doing it. The first night you told Sungchan a million times how much you thought of him, how you waited so long just for the chance to touch him. Sungchan let you remember while he slowly worked his hand up his length, the same way he did when Eunseok caught him all those weeks ago. He put on the condom slowly after he watched your shaky hands pull out the slimy latex. The top of the foil packaging was still between your teeth, only falling out when you let out another labored breath. Your head fell back to the mattress and Sungchan settled behind you, hands gripping your waist tight.

“Be loud tonight, okay?” Sungchan watched you preemptively bite your lip and look towards the shared wall. The occasional thud on the other side could be heard, the dull whirring of Eunseok talking into his microphone came through. Worry crossed your pretty eyes, you wiped your palms on Sungchan's comforter. Sungchan come clower to you, until he felt your frame give slightly underneath his. He focused on your big eyes and he pulled together his most sincere look. “Please? For me?” Sungchan asked.

That’s all it took for you to nod your head. You were easier than Eunseok, that was for certain. He pushed into you with ease because you were made for him, and you groaned loudly solely because he asked. Sungchan made sure you made noise for good reason, until you were rivaling with the creak in his mattress and his headboard bumping into the wall. He hoped that it rocked Eunseok’s computer setup, that his friends could hear it in their voice chat. The thought of it made Sungchan prop a leg up and pull your hips backwards to meet him. The thought made him make sounds of his own, until his throat become dry and his voice become hoarse. He was made for you too it seemed, because you squeezed him tight and your sweaty hand clasped around his perfectly.

He knew when you were getting close. He knows your brother so by extension he knows you too, and the same time you started forgetting about anyone else in the apartment he finally heard Eunseok’s door open. Sungchan heard the creak in the floorboards and then Eunseok's timid steps outside his door. Eunseok knocked just like he did the first night, and Sungchan wrapped his arms around your chest to bring you up from the bed to pull you against him. He let your sounds come out, the identity of who was crying obvious even to indifferent brothers. Eunseok didn’t knock again, he left the apartment completely and closed the front door so loud pictures on Sungchan’s wall shook. You shook in Sungchan's arms before you melted to his bed.

Sungchan broke the one rule Eunseok set for him. All is fair. Eunseok waged the war and Sungchan would end it. He wouldn't make a Reddit post about it, he would only leave the white sweater Eunseok bought for you on Christmas draped over the couch in their shared common area.

#seriez: bad friend #01zfan: sungchan #sungchan smut #riize smut

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ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes · 1 day ago

Text

Fractured Loyalties

pairing: bucky barnes(the winter soldier) x fem!ex-widow!reader

genre: angst/neutral

el's thoughts: okaaaaayyy i had a little too much free time today... this took me three hours and i'm exhausted but so proud of this!! it's prettyyy long compared to my last few fics, so enjoy!! please let me know your thoughts please please please!! tagging my few new bucky mutuals for feedback if you're willing! @lomlbuckybarnes @dollface-xoxo @probablybucky

bucky masterlist

They were never supposed to be anything more than weapons.

HYDRA made sure of that.

Y/N and Bucky were forged in the same fire–HYDRA’s brutality, the Red Room’s merciless conditioning. Their pasts were written in blook and rewritten in pain. They weren’t meant to have choices, weren’t meant to be people. And yet, somewhere in the fractures of their broken minds, they had found each other.

She had been the only constant in the Winter Soldier’s shattered existence. Even when memories faded, when his mind was wiped clean of anything resembling a past, he remembered her. The whisper of her voice, the flash of steel in her hands, the way her presence lingered even after she was gone.

She was more than a mission partner. She was the only one who knew what it was like to wake up in a body that no longer felt like her own, to fight battles she never chose. They never spoke of it–not with words, at least. But in the quiet moments between assignments, when their handlers weren’t watching, when their guards were down, they understood each other in a way no one else could.

And yet, it was never enough to save them from what they became.

“You hesitate too much, James,” she spoke up. She was sitting across from him in the dimly lit barracks, wrapping a bandage around a fresh wound on her forearm.

Bucky watched the careful way she tied the knot, her fingers precise, methodical.

“Maybe you don’t hesitate enough,” he countered, leaning back against the cold metal wall.

She looked up then, her sharp gaze pinning him in place. “That’s why you keep getting punished. One day, they’re going to take the hesitation out of you.”

Bucky exhaled through his nose. “They’ve tried.”

She smirked slightly, but there was no real humor in it. “Not hard enough apparently.”

Silence stretched between them.

He had never said it aloud, but he knew it wasn’t hesitation that made him different. It was her.

She was the only thing that made him remember he was still human.

And HYDRA didn’t want humanity. They wanted a weapon.

The first time Bucky sees her again, it’s through the scope of a sniper rifle.

He doesn’t pull the trigger.

He recognizes the way she moves—silent, calculated, a shadow slipping through the compound’s perimeter. Her face is different, a little sharper, a little harder, but it’s her. Y/N Y/L/N. The last person he expected to find standing between him and his mission.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, lowering the rifle.

She’s taking down guards with precision, a knife to the ribs, a twist of the wrist, a body crumpling without so much as a sound. Bucky has to remind himself to breathe.

Then she looks up.

Their eyes meet.

She stands frozen for a moment.

Something cold settles in his stomach.

And then she vanishes.

The screen flickers on causing Y/N to stand rigid, arms crossed tightly over her chest, eyes locked on the grainy surveillance footage of James restrained in the glass containment cell.

She can feel it before it even happens. A deep, gut-wrenching wrongness coiled inside her chest. She’s seen this before. She’s lived this before.

Then the interviewer starts speaking.

“Longing.”

Her stomach drops.

“Rusted. Seventeen.”

Y/N jerks forward, her pulse hammering.

“No,” she breathes.

Steve stiffens beside her. “Y/N?”

She doesn’t answer. She can’t.

Because she knew James had been compromised again—becoming someone she couldn’t trust. Again.

The moment his body was seen jerking violently against his restraints, Y/N was up and out of her seat.

“Y/N, wait–!” Steve calls after her, but she’s already bolting through the corridors, shoving past agents, and sprinting toward the containment room.

She knew what was coming.

And she knew she was already too late.

The alarms were blaring when she skids around the corner, but she barely registered the sound. The reinforced glass had shattered, the guards were down, and in the center of the wreckage stood him.

The Winter Soldier.

His movements are fluid and efficient. A calculated killing machine, taking out anyone in his path.

“James–”

He turned around at the sound of her voice. For a split second, something flickered in his eyes—something almost familiar. Something that nearly warms Y/N’s chest at the mere sight.

Then it’s gone.

He lunged at her before she had time to process.

Y/N barely dodges the first blow, twisting away as his metal arm flies past her face, crashing into the wall behind her, shattering the concrete as if it were paper.

She grits her teeth as she keeps her body low to the floor. “Guess we’re doing this the hard way.”

She counters fast, standing but quickly ducking under his next strike, driving a sharp elbow toward his ribs. He catches it effortlessly, twisting her arm behind her back. She hisses in pain but isn’t hesitant, slamming the back of her head into his face, catching his nose and lips.

It barely slows him.

“James, listen to me,” she pants, twisting out of his grip. “This isn’t supposed to be who you are.”

His response is a brutal kick to her side.

Y/N crashed into the ground but rolled onto her feet instantly, spinning around to throw a backheel kick aimed at his head. He blocks it with terrifying ease, grabbing her leg and throwing her across the room.

She lands hard, gasping as the air is knocked from her lungs.

Dammit.

She blinks rapidly, forcing herself up. She’s fought him before—back when she was still under the Red Room’s control. Back when they were both nothing but weapons. She doesn’t hesitate.

With a running leap, she throws herself at him, wrapping her legs around his shoulder and neck in a desperate attempt to choke him out.

“Come on, James,” she growls, tightening her grip. Her elbows repeatedly aimed at the back of his head as she was hunched over him. “Snap the hell out of it.”

For a second, it almost worked. He staggers back, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear something. Y/N froze, still bracing herself against his head.

Then he slams her into the floor.

The impact rattles her skull. Her vision blurs.

And before she can move, he’s on her—his metal fingers wrapping around her throat.

Her breath cuts off instantly.

Her hands claw at his wrist, but it’s like trying to move a mountain. Black spots dance in her vision.

She gasps, barely above a whisper—desperate, pleading.

“James… please.”

His grip didn’t loosen, and his stare didn’t let up. His blue eyes bore down into her eyes. Cold and unrecognizing.

Her chest burned. Her vision tunneled.

She’s losing.

A sharp blast of energy suddenly knocks The Winter Soldier backward. Y/N collapses into herself, coughing violently, sucking in air like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered to the world.

She blinks up—eyes wet, throat raw—to see Tony Stark standing in front of her, arm raised, repulsor glowing hot.

“Alright, Terminator,” Tony snapped. “How about you pick on someone your own size?”

The Winter Soldier’s jaw ticked, and he charged at him.

Y/N wheezed, clutching her throat. Every breath felt like fire, but she didn’t care.

She forced herself up.

Despite every bone in her body screaming at her to run away or at least end it all right then and there, she wasn’t going to leave him.

Not this time.

Sure, she didn’t trust the Winter Soldier in the slightest—not even James at this moment— she couldn’t bring herself to leave him. If she was given a chance to redeem herself and clear her name, she would do everything she could to give him that chance.

“You trust him?”

Y/N’s voice is razor-sharp as she leans against the wall of the safe house, arms crossed. Steve meets her gaze with an unshaken clam.

“After everything that just went down?”

“I do.”

She scoffs. “Then you’re more of a fool than I thought, Rogers.”

James watches from the side, silent. He doesn’t blame her for the anger coiled beneath her words and doesn’t expect her to trust him. He wouldn’t either. She had seen firsthand the things he did while in HYDRA.

“You’re still working against HYDRA,” Steve says, tilting his head slightly. “So is he.”

Her jaw tightens.

“We’re not on the same side,” she snaps.

Steve raises a brow. “Aren’t you?”

The silence stretches between them.

Finally, Y/N exhales sharply. “If he slows us down, he’s dead.”

James shifts in his seat. “Trust me, Doll, I know.”

Her glare could set him on fire.

Steve sighs but doesn’t argue. He knows Y/N well enough by now to understand that trust isn’t given—it’s earned. And right now, Bucky’s running on a deficit.

Y/N pushes herself off the wall, rolling her shoulders like she’s shaking off the weight of old ghosts. “Fine,” she mutters. “He can stay.”

She steps closer to James, her presence crackling with tension. Her eyes scan him, calculating, measuring—looking for a weakness, a hesitation, anything that proves she’s right to doubt him.

James meets her gaze head-on. He won’t flinch. Not now.

“But if you even think about crossing me–” She leans in, her voice a dangerous whisper. “I’ll put a bullet between your eyes before you can even blink.”

James’ lips twitch, not quite a smirk, not quite anything at all. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

She scoffs, turning away. “Then let’s get this over with.”

As she strides toward the door, Steve exhales, rubbing a hand over his face before looking back to his friend. Bucky watches her go, the ghost of something unreadable in his expression.

“She’s not wrong,” Bucky mutters, running a hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t trust me either.”

Steve exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “Then prove her wrong.”

Bucky nods, but the weight in his chest doesn’t lift. Because the truth is, no matter how much he wants to, no matter how much of himself he’s clawed back from the abyss—he’s still not sure he can.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagines #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagines #ellora.writes

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spencessocks · 17 hours ago

Note

bucky AND spencer??!!! are you my brain? my brain has a tumblr? but seriously im so happy you exist.

i was originally coming to say how in ‘through the silence’ the theme and the conversation could be the same (okay maybe just similar) with post prison spencer x reader and how he is trying to get back to reality and leave prison behind

love you xx

a/n: omfg what... im literally going to eat ur face... this sort of got a little longer than i intended and it took me a while because i was busy with work so im sorry!😭😭 but thank u so much omg i was reeling from this ask, ur so sweet and ilysm!!!

what remains

summary: after spencer returns from prison, the trauma he endured drives a wedge between him and the one person who loves him most.

pairing: postprison!spencer reid x reader

wordcount: 6.8k

warnings: sad spencer, sad reader, everyones sad, reader drinks like a sip of wine

the apartment is quiet when spencer walks in. it’s late—again. you don’t know where he goes, but he never offers, and you’ve stopped asking.

he drops his keys onto the counter with a dull clink, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion, and you watch from your place on the couch, heart aching at the sight of him. he looks different now. he's been home for months, but the man who walked through your door after prison isn’t the same one who left.

“hey,” you say gently, closing your book and setting it aside.

he glances at you but doesn’t hold your gaze for long. “hey.”

you swallow down the lump in your throat. “did you eat?”

“i'm not hungry.” his answer is clipped, automatic, the same response he’s given you almost every night since he’s been back.

you knew it wouldn’t be easy. that things would be different and he wouldn’t be the same. you had told yourself that over and over in the days leading up to his return, had braced yourself for the changes.

but you'd had hope—hope that, with time, things would settle. that he would come back to you—not just physically, but in the ways that mattered. that he would find his way back to the man he used to be, the man who used to curl up beside you on the couch, rambling about his latest case or a book he was reading. the man who used to laugh, used to smile, used to pull you into his arms like you were the safest place in the world.

but you had underestimated the impression this whole ordeal would leave on him.

it wasn't just in the way he carried himself, the way exhaustion clung to his frame or how the light in his eyes had dimmed. it was deeper than that. it was in the way he recoiled from touch when he used to seek it, in the way his voice lacked the excitement and curiosity it once held. in the distance that stretched between you, widening a little more each day, despite your best efforts to close it.

prison had carved something out of him, something you weren’t sure could ever be replaced. he had been home for months, but a harsh reality was starting to settle in you—that some wounds don’t heal the way you expect them to. some stay raw, lingering beneath the surface, invisible until they make themselves known in quiet moments—in the silence at the dinner table, in the way he avoids your gaze, in the way he flinches at your touch, in the walls he keeps building no matter how hard you try to tear them down.

he didn’t talk about what happened in there, and you didn’t press—even if sometimes curiosity clawed at you. but every laconic response, every empty stare, every night he disappeared without explanation told you more than words ever could. he was still there, trapped in a place you couldn’t seem to reach, and no matter how badly you wanted to, you weren’t sure you ever would.

you exhale slowly, measuring your words before speaking. "spencer, you know what i'm going to say." your voice is soft, careful, but it still makes him flinch, just barely.

"i'm fine," he mutters, turning away from you.

you hesitate, just for a moment, before the words slip out. a quiet, almost embarrassed whisper in the stillness of the room.

"will you at least sit with me for a little while?"

you regret the question the second it leaves your mouth, second-guessing yourself as soon as the vulnerability hits you. it sounds so small, so simple—sit with me, like it’s not asking for much, but in a way, it feels like you’re begging. you feel humiliation crawl up your neck.

"we don't have to talk," you add quickly, trying to soften the weight of your words. "we can just—"

"i'm tired," he interrupts, voice hollow. he’s already moving toward the bedroom, like he can't get away fast enough.

you stare blanky at him, his back already turned to you. you don't say anything. you can't. the words get stuck somewhere in your throat, tangled up with the shock and the sting of his dismissal. you just sit there, still as stone, the weight of his words settling over you like a thick, suffocating fog.

it shouldn't surprise you—this response, this distance, the way he shuts you out without a second thought. it’s been happening for weeks now, a slow unraveling of something that once felt unbreakable. and yet, it does surprise you.

because you still hoped—that he would just sit with you. that it couldn't possibly be that bad that your own husband couldn't sit on the the same goddamn couch as you.

you don’t know if your lack of response matters. maybe it does. maybe that’s why he hesitates in the doorway, fingers gripping the frame as if he's weighing his options. for a second, you think he might turn around, might give you something—anything. but then, just as quickly, he lets go and disappears into the darkness of the bedroom.

you sit there, motionless, as the door to the bedroom clicks shut behind him. the sound feels final, sharp.

the interaction plays in your head. "i'm tired."

the look on his face—or the lack of one. there’s nothing there. no fight, no frustration, not even the faintest trace of a desire to make things right.

you blink, once, twice, trying to shake the fog from your brain, but the shock is still there, thick in your chest. it’s like a pulse, steady and unrelenting, buzzing through your veins. you don’t know what to do with it. how to process it.

at this point, you can hardly recognize yourself. the person you used to be—before all this. you would have never let spencer walk away from that. you would’ve confronted him, spoken your truth, demanded that he listen. you were an opinionated person, it wasn't like you to let someone walk over you—spencer liked that about you. you would’ve never felt embarrassed by something so simple, so vulnerable, said to the man you loved.

the anger bubbles up, creeping through the shock like a slow poison, and suddenly, your skin feels tight. it feels wrong. how dare he? how can he just walk away, leave you in this empty room, in this awful, suffocating silence, after everything you’ve been through together?

surely, you wouldn't do this to him. that thought had crossed your mind before, only to be quickly pushed away by the reminder that you couldn't possibly know what he was going through—what he felt in that place.

but now, the thought clung to you, insistent, refusing to be ignored and with it came another. maybe he didn’t know how to let go of you—maybe he was too afraid to say the words, so instead, he kept hurting you without even realizing it. maybe he thought pulling away was easier than facing the truth. if the roles were reversed, you'd seek him out, wanting his comfort, his presence. so why wasn't he doing the same for you? why was he so unwilling to lean on you—when he had done it a million times before?

the pulse in your neck quickens, blood rushing, and you grip the edge of the couch, knuckles white. you don't even realize you're standing now, the instinct to do something, anything, pushing you forward. your breath comes quick and shallow as frustration and disbelief twist inside you like a knot that you can't untangle.

what are you supposed to do with this? what are you supposed to do when your own husband looks at you like you’re nothing—like you’re some kind of inconvenience he just can’t deal with tonight?

your body moves on its own, your legs carrying you to the door as if they have a will of their own—pyjamas and slippers be damned—the front door slams shut behind you with an almost violent finality. the apartment feels suffocating now, the weight of his absence, of his rejection, too much to bear. you need to leave.

you don’t bother to grab your phone. what would be the point? there’s nothing to say to him anymore—if he would even call. not when you’re standing on the edge of something you can’t even explain to yourself, a frustration and sadness mixing into something unrecognizable.

you walk fast, too fast, the cold air biting at your skin, and it helps. the briskness of the night, the sting of it, gives you a sense of purpose, something to focus on other than the gnawing emptiness inside you. you don’t want to sit in that silence any longer, don’t want to stew in your thoughts, trapped in that apartment where the echoes of your broken attempts at connection are suffocating.

jj’s place isn’t far—just a few blocks—but it might as well be a world away. the walk feels like an eternity, but it’s the only thing you can control right now. you don't have to think about spencer. you don’t have to think about him.

you find yourself at jj’s door, your breath coming out in white clouds, and for the first time tonight, you feel a brief flicker of something approaching relief. you knock twice, hard, before pulling back and pressing your forehead against the doorframe, closing your eyes, letting the coolness of it ground you. what the hell am i doing?

when she opens the door, her eyes widen at the sight of you, but she doesn’t ask. she doesn’t need to. she just steps aside, pulling you in with a soft, understanding smile.

“you okay?” she asks gently, though you know she already knows the answer.

you nod, but only because you don't trust your voice not to break if you speak. she doesn’t push, just closes the door behind you and leads you to the couch. you sit without a word, leaning back against the cushions, closing your eyes, and for the first time in what feels like months, you let yourself breathe.

jj moves toward the kitchen without a word, and you hear the familiar sound of glasses clinking, followed by the admittedly soothing pour of wine. she returns with a glass in each hand, her expression knowing. she hands you one and sits down beside you, settling into the cushions with the kind of ease that makes you wish you could do the same.

"talk to me,” she says, her voice quiet, but firm enough to break the silence that’s settled between you. it’s not a question, really—more like a gentle command, the kind that only someone who knows you can give.

you let out a breath, leaning back into the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment, unsure where to even begin. everything feels like a mess. but her presence, her calm, makes you feel like you might find the strength to sort it out.

“spencer—" you stop yourself, the words catching in your throat. you shake your head, a laugh escaping your lips at the disbelief of your situation. "i don’t even know what to say anymore. i don’t know how we got here. it’s like i don’t even know who he is anymore.”

jj listens, her eyes steady, her hands wrapped around her own glass, but her gaze never wavers. she’s waiting. you know she won’t interrupt.

“i thought... i thought he’d come back to me, you know?” the words slip out before you can stop them, and the sadness that follows hits you harder than anything before. “i thought, with time, things would get better. that i could get him back, the way he was. but... it’s like he’s not even here anymore. i don’t know how to reach him. and when i try, it feels like he just shuts me out more.”

you swallow hard, feeling a sharp sting behind your eyes. it feels pathetic, but you can’t stop it now. you can’t stop the flood of everything that’s been building up, everything you’ve been trying to ignore.

“he’s gone, jj. and i don’t know how to be with someone who’s... not really here,” you say, your voice breaking on the last word.

jj doesn’t say anything at first, just lets you breathe, lets you sit with it for a moment. “i know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but he’s not gone. he’s just... changed. and change is hard. for both of you.”

you scoff softly, shaking your head. “i feel like i'm going crazy."

jj watches you carefully, her gaze unwavering as she processes your words. you feel exhausted—physically, emotionally—like the weight of the past few months has finally settled on your shoulders all at once.

jj studies you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. then, she exhales, setting her wine glass down on the coffee table. “you’re not crazy,” she says simply. “you’re grieving.”

that catches you off guard. you blink at her. “grieving?”

she nods. “yeah. you’re grieving the life you had before. the spencer you had before.” she pauses. “and maybe... the version of yourself that existed before all this.”

you open your mouth, but no words come out. you want to argue, to tell her it’s not that simple, that you’re not mourning spencer like he’s some lost cause, but—god—doesn’t it feel like that sometimes? doesn’t it feel like the person you knew, the person you loved, is slipping further and further away?

jj sighs, leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “i know what it’s like to watch someone you love disappear into themselves. to feel helpless while they struggle with something you can’t fix.” her voice is softer now, careful, like she’s walking a tightrope. “it’s terrifying.”

your fingers tighten around your wine glass. “so what do i do?” the question comes out more fragile than you want it to, barely above a whisper.

she’s quiet for a moment, thinking. “you—" her words are interrupted by an abrupt sound. jj’s phone is ringing, sharp and sudden in the quiet of the room. you flinch, your heart leaping into your throat before you even see the name on the screen. but you already know.

spencer.

panic grips you, fast and unrelenting, and before you can think, the words spill out. “don’t answer it.”

jj hesitates, glancing at the phone on the coffee table. the screen glows with his name, the sound vibrating between you like a living thing. “he’s your husband,” she says gently, but her fingers hover over the screen instead of answering.

“i don’t care,” you whisper, shaking your head. “please, jj. don’t.”

she studies you, eyes flicking over your face like she’s trying to gauge just how serious you are. if she picks up, you’ll have to hear him—his voice, his clipped tone, his inevitable question: where are you? and what then? you don’t have an answer.

jj sighs, silencing the call but not declining it. the ringing stops, but the silence that follows is almost worse.

“you know he’s worried,” she says carefully. “you left without your phone. you think he’s just going to let that go?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping your glass like it’s the only thing tethering you to the moment. “i don’t know,” you admit. “i just—I can’t do this right now. fuck.”

jj shifts closer, her voice calm but firm. “running won’t fix this.”

you let out a short, bitter laugh. “staying hasn't."

she doesn’t have an answer for that.

jj watches you carefully, then sighs. “stay here as long as you need. but at some point, you have to decide—are you going home? or are you walking away?”

your arm is moving suddenly, the wine glass at your lips. her words settle over you like a weight. and for the first time, you realize—you don’t know.

jj's phone buzzes again, and you flinch at the sight of spencer’s name lighting up the screen. the call goes to voicemail, and for a few seconds, there’s nothing but silence.

the phone rings a second time. you can almost hear spencer’s voice in your head, the exact tone he always takes when he doesn’t know what to say.

“I’ll answer it,” jj says softly, but the words feel like a concession rather than a promise. she picks up the phone, and her thumb hovers over the screen.

you don’t stop her, but you wish you could. you wish you could shut everything down, turn it all off.

“spencer?” jj says, her voice calm, controlled.

you close your eyes, hearing his voice crackle through the speaker.

“jj... is she there?” spencer’s voice sounds worn, tight with something just beneath the surface. you can hear the familiar threads of guilt and concern tangled in his words. “i—i don’t know where she went. she just… she left without saying anything.”

jj looks at you, her expression unreadable. you can feel the heat of her stare on you.

“yeah, she's here.” jj finally responds, her words careful. “but she's not ready to talk to you right now, spencer.”

a long pause follows. you can hear spencer’s breath, shallow, like he’s holding something back.

“i just... i just need to know she's okay,” he says, the frustration and desperation clear in his voice. “please.”

you wince at the pleading in his words. it cuts through you in a way you hadn’t expected.

jj looks at you, her expression unreadable, before she glances down at the phone again. you can feel the heat of her stare on you.

“she’s fine,” jj says, with a note of finality. “but I think you need to give her some time. she’s been through a lot, spencer. you both have.”

“time?” Spencer’s voice cracks. “jj, i don’t—“

but she cuts him off. “i’m not getting in the middle of this. just... take care of yourself for now, okay? you’ll talk when she’s ready. she’ll come back when she’s ready.”

the phone goes silent for a moment, and then the faint click of the line disconnecting. jj pulls the phone away from her ear and sets it down on the coffee table with a soft sigh.

jj sits back, her gaze still trained on you, like she’s waiting for something.

the silence in the room feels heavier now. It presses against your chest, and the weight of it makes your thoughts swirl faster than they should. spencer’s voice still echoes in your mind—i just need to know she's okay. you don’t want to admit it, but the desperation in his words cuts deeper than you anticipated. you don’t want to feel guilty. but it settles over you, thick and unavoidable, as you sit on jj’s couch, the comfort of her presence fading into the background.

“he sounded worried,” you murmur, more to yourself than to jj.

she nods, watching you carefully. “of course he’s worried.”

you press your lips together, exhaling slowly. “i didn’t think he’d care that much.” the words taste bitter on your tongue, because the truth is, you had wanted him to care. you had wanted him to call, to ask where you were, to prove—at least to himself—that there was still something left between you worth saving.

and he did.

he did.

but now, sitting here, away from him, away from that apartment, the weight of your actions starts creeping in, cold and insidious.

you left.

you walked out without a word.

you knew what it was like to feel abandoned, to reach for someone and find nothing but empty space. and now you’ve done the same to him.

the realization makes your chest tighten, and suddenly, the fight, the frustration, the resentment—it all feels distant, overshadowed by something heavier. something closer to shame.

jj shifts beside you, her voice quiet but knowing. “you’re thinking about going back.”

you shake your head quickly. “i don’t know.” but it’s a lie. you do know.

you inhale sharply, pressing your palm to your forehead, trying to ground yourself. “god, what am I doing, jj?”

“you’re allowed to feel this, you know,” she says simply. “you’re allowed to be angry. to be hurt. to need space.”

you swallow hard, blinking down at your hands. they feel foreign to you, like they belong to someone else. “i just—” you hesitate, voice cracking slightly. “i just got so mad. he was so dismissive of me, and i couldn't be there anymore.”

“i know.”

you stare down at your lap, your fingers tightening around the fabric of your sweater.

you shake your head, guilt curling in your chest. “but that’s not me, jj. that’s not who I am. i don’t just… walk away. i got angry and i overreacted.”

she sighs. “one moment doesn't define you. things are different now. you've never been in a situation like this before,” she pauses. “sometimes you have to walk away, to get your thoughts in order."

"it would've been worse if you blew up at him." she added.

"i think i still might." you said with a dry laugh.

jj smiled slightly, her gaze softening as she leaned back, “you’ve always been the one to hold things together,” she said, her voice gentle but firm, as if trying to remind you that it was okay to break sometimes. “but you can’t hold it all in forever. and sometimes… sometimes you need space to breathe, to think. you don’t always have to be the strong one.”

you let out a breath, unsure of what to say next. jj was always good at cutting through the noise, but the guilt still sat heavily in your chest. you couldn’t escape the feeling that walking away—no matter how much you needed to—had been the wrong choice.

jj watches you for a moment, then leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “listen, i know it feels like you did something wrong by leaving, but you didn’t. you needed space. that’s not the same as giving up.”

you nod slowly, staring down at your hands, but you don’t respond.

jj sighs, then reaches over and squeezes your arm. "look, if there’s anyone who understands why you did what you did, it’s spencer. he has spent his life studying human behavior—figuring out how they think and why they do what they do. spencer knows exactly why you walked out, even if he won't admit it. he knows it was about needing space, about trying to make sense of everything that’s been building up between you.”

she pauses, giving you a reassuring look. “this isn’t the end. this is just a bump in the road—you'll go back when you're ready, and you'll start working through it all."

spencer knows why you left.

the thought lingers, easing the guilt that’s been clawing at you since you walked out. maybe that’s why he didn’t come after you. maybe, in his own way, he understood that you needed this moment to step back, to breathe, to process.

you hope—no, you need—to believe that he’s coming to his own realization. that in the quiet of your absence, in the stillness of an apartment that no longer holds your presence, he’s starting to understand. that maybe, just maybe, he’s replaying every word, every moment, and seeing where it all went wrong.

you want him to recognize that pushing you away was a mistake. that shutting you out, closing himself off instead of letting you in, only built more distance between you. and most of all, you hope he understands now—truly understands—that love isn’t about shutting doors, but about keeping them open, even when it’s hard.

the irony of the situation dawns on you. sitting here, hoping he comes to the right conclusion on his own, won’t change anything. no matter how hurt or frustrated you are, you know one thing for certain—you aren’t going to push him away the way he did to you.

you glance at jj, her eyes soft with understanding, and suddenly, you don’t feel as lost as you did before.

“i have to go back,” you murmur, the words feeling right the moment they leave your lips.

jj studies you for a moment before nodding. “yeah, i figured.” there’s no judgment in her voice, only quiet support.

you stand, but before you can say anything, jj speaks again. “i’m driving you.”

you blink at her. “jj, i can—”

"it’s late, and it’s cold,” she interrupts, crossing her arms. “and i know you. you’ll spend the entire walk overthinking, or worse, you’ll turn around and come right back here.”

you open your mouth to argue, but she raises an eyebrow, daring you to fight her on this. you sigh, giving in. “fine. i'll still overthink in the car though.”

jj smirks as she grabs her keys. "yeah, but at least this way, you’ll be overthinking with heated seats and no risk of getting hit by a rogue cyclist."

you roll your eyes, but there's a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "alright, alright. guess I’ll overthink in comfort then." you step outside, the weight of everything that’s about to unfold on your back.

the ride back is quiet, the streets nearly empty as jj navigates the familiar roads. you stare out the window, your finger spinning your wedding band, mind racing with all the possibilities of what comes next.

you wonder how it will be when you walk through that door. will he be surprised to see you? will he be angry? will he apologize? the questions swirl in your mind, but you push them aside—you'll find out in a few minutes either way.

jj pulls up in front of the apartment building and turns to you, her expression gentle. “you don’t have to fix everything tonight,” she reminds you. “just… put all your cards on the table. don't sugarcoat anything.”

you nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and nervous anticipation. "thank you, jj," you say softly, giving her a small smile. "i don’t know what i would’ve done without you tonight."

she smiles back, her eyes warm with understanding. "you’ll be fine. just be honest, that’s all you can do."

with a final nod, you push the door open, the cold air immediately hitting you as you step out onto the sidewalk. your heart is pounding in your chest, each step towards the apartment feeling heavier than the last.

you twist the handle, it's unlocked, but you hesitate before pushing the door open, gathering your courage in the silent hallway. when you finally step inside, the apartment is quiet—but not empty. a single lamp illuminates the living room, casting long shadows across the walls.

and there's spencer, sitting on the couch hunched over with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

he looks up at the sound of the door, and for a brief moment, his face is completely unguarded. relief washes over his features, followed quickly by something that looks almost like fear. he stands immediately, his movements stiff and uncertain.

"you came back," he says, his voice hoarse.

you close the door behind you, still standing near the threshold. "i started feeling guilty." you sighed, jj's voice in the back of your head—just be honest.

spencer swallows, his gaze flickering to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again. "guilty?" he repeats, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

spencer exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “you shouldn't feel guilty," he murmurs, then shakes his head. "i mean, it makes sense,” he says quickly, his words picking up speed.

“studies show that guilt is often a response to perceived moral transgressions rather than actual wrongdoing. it’s the brain’s way of enforcing social cohesion—an evolutionary mechanism designed to maintain interpersonal relationships by making us feel responsible for potential harm, even when no actual harm has been inflicted.”

you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of disbelief and amusement as he rambled on. it was as if, in the middle of all this, the man you once knew had momentarily resurfaced. even if what he was saying wasn’t at all what you needed to hear right now, a part of you couldn't help but recognize the familiarity in it—the way he always got lost in his thoughts, trying to explain things when he didn’t quite know how to connect.

he shifts on his feet, his words picking up speed. “and in this case, your reaction makes perfect sense. you removed yourself from a heightened emotional situation in order to regulate your response, which, psychologically speaking, is a far healthier alternative to reactive conflict. but then, the cognitive dissonance sets in—the part where your brain tells you that leaving contradicts your usual patterns of behavior, and that discrepancy triggers guilt, even if logically—”

“spencer,” you interrupt gently.

his mouth snaps shut, and for a second, there’s just silence. a flicker of something vulnerable crosses his face, and you realize—he’s rambling because he doesn’t know what else to say. because this is easier for him than actually talking about what matters.

you step forward, closing a bit of the distance between you. “i don’t need an analysis,” you tell him gently. "i just want you to tell me what's going on."

spencer’s gaze flickers for a moment, like he’s trying to find the words, trying to make sense of the situation. "i never wanted you to feel like you needed to leave," he says, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “but i didn’t exactly make it easy for you to stay.”

you lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, the weight of everything you haven’t said pressing heavily on your chest. "no, you didn’t," you admit, your voice just above a whisper.

his expression tightens, a flash of something—guilt, maybe—crossing his face before he looks away.

"i've been trying," he says quietly. "i have."

"have you?" the question comes out sharper than you intended, but you don't soften it. "because from where i'm standing, it feels like you've been doing everything possible to push me away."

spencer's gaze snaps back to you, a hint of defensiveness in his eyes. "that's not fair."

"isn't it?" you take another step forward, emboldened by the surge of emotions you've held back for too long. "you won't talk to me. you won't look at me. you won't even sit next to me on the couch. what am i supposed to think, spencer?"

he runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every movement. "it's not that simple," he says, his voice strained. "i want to be the person you remember, but i don't know if i can be that man anymore."

the admission hits you like a physical blow. "i'm not asking you to be exactly who you were before," you say softly. "i know that's not possible. i just... i need you to be present. to talk to me. to not shut me out completely."

spencer is quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on some point beyond you. when he finally speaks, his voice is barely audible. "i don't know how to explain what it was like in there."

your breath catches. this is the closest he's come to talking about prison since he's been home. you don't know if you should say something. you hold your breath, afraid that if you move or speak, he'll retreat again.

his eyes are distant, far away, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even aware of how much you’re hanging on his every word. finally, he exhales slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of it all is too much to bear.

“being in there… it broke something inside of me,” he says, voice low and strained. “i kept thinking about what it would be like to come back, to be here, with you. and then i just—" he paused for a moment. "i had to do something really bad. i had to do things in there that… things i never thought i would do."

"i hate myself for it. every second of it." his voice breaks on the last word, he shakes his head, hands shaking slightly as he runs them through his hair, frustration and guilt radiating from him.

"i wasn't just a victim in there—i became someone i don't even recognize anymore. i did things that went against everything i ever believed in, everything i told myself i would never do."

he looks at you now, and you can see the turmoil in his eyes—the deep-rooted shame and the self-loathing that’s consumed him. "and now i’m back here, with you, and i don’t even know who i am anymore. i’ve become this person who did unforgivable things. you don't deserve someone like me, someone who’s capable of—of that." he gestures vaguely, as if trying to encompass everything that’s happened to him.

"is that why you've been pushing me away?" you ask softly. "because you think i won't love who you are now?"

he doesn't answer, but the way he avoids your gaze tells you everything.

"baby," you whisper, shifting closer to him. "nothing could change how I see you."

you take a slow, unsteady breath, searching for the right words—any words—but everything feels inadequate. how do you explain something that goes beyond language?

"god, spencer," you exhale, shaking your head. "i wish i was better at this. i wish i had the right words, i wish i was some kind of poet, and that i could say the right things to make you understand, but i'm not."

you finally close the gap between you two and take his hands, gripping them tightly, pressing them against your chest as if somehow, if he just feels the way your heart beats for him, he’ll finally understand.

"it’s frustrating," you continue, voice thick with emotion. "because what i feel for you—it’s bigger than me. it’s bigger than words. i can’t explain it, and i hate that, because i need you to know. i need you to understand that this isn’t something breakable, something you can ruin, something you can chase away just because you think you should."

he swallows hard, his fingers curling around yours, but he doesn’t speak. maybe he can’t.

"i swear, spencer, if there was a way to pull this feeling out of me and give it to you, i would. if i could make you see yourself the way i see you, make you understand that what you did—what you had to do—doesn’t make you unworthy of love, i would do it in a heartbeat." your voice breaks slightly, tears now lining your eyes. "because i don’t just love you. it’s not that simple. it’s not just some feeling, some thing i could ever put into words. it’s more. it doesn’t begin or end with what you’ve done, or what’s happened to you, or who you think you’ve become. it just is."

he lets out a shaky breath, his eye are now wet, shining under the dim apartment light, his lips parted slightly like he wants to argue but can’t find the strength to. because maybe, just maybe, for the first time—he’s starting to believe you.

"i just wish—i wish you could feel it," you murmur, voice breaking. "i wish you could step into my skin, into my heart, and know how much i love you."

you don’t realize you’re crying until he reaches up, hesitantly, brushing his fingers against your cheek like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he touches you. his hand is shaking, but he doesn’t pull away.

spencer’s expression falters, something breaking inside of him, and when he finally—finally—pulls you into his arms, it’s not desperate or frantic. his arms wrap around you slowly, almost reverently, as though he's trying to let the feeling of your love wash over him, to understand it the way you do.

at first, it’s just the slightest tremble in his shoulders, so faint you almost miss it. but then you feel it—the shaky exhale against your neck, the way his fingers clutch at the fabric of your shirt like he’s afraid to let go. and then, slowly, silently, he starts to break.

his breath hitches, and before he can stop it, a quiet sob escapes him, muffled against your shoulder. his body shakes, all the pain and guilt unraveling all at once, and all you can do is hold him through it. his hands grasp at you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the present, like if he lets go, he’ll disappear into everything he’s been trying so hard to contain.

you don’t say anything. you don’t tell him it’s okay, because you know he wouldn’t believe it. or maybe because it isn't. but it will be. you'll make sure of that.

your fingers thread through his hair, your lips press against his temple, and you whisper the same words over and over, a promise and a lifeline: "i love you. i love you. i love you."

you stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other, the weight of everything that’s happened still lingering in the air between you. but it’s different now. lighter, somehow. not because everything is fixed—there are still conversations to have, wounds to tend to, pieces of him he hasn’t shown you yet.

but for the first time in a long while, you feel like you’re on the same side again. you’re not standing in separate corners, silently blaming each other for things you can’t control.

the weight in your chest, the anxiety that has gnawed at you since that day you got the call about him being detained, begins to fade. you don’t need to fix everything tonight. you don’t need to have all the answers.

his breathing begins to steady, the tears slowing, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he rests his forehead against yours, his voice a raw whisper as he says the only thing he can in this moment. “i’m sorry.”

you close your eyes for a moment, exhaling softly. “i know,” you whisper.

there's a beat of silence. "i've been having nightmares," he says, his voice so low you have to strain to hear him. "almost every night. that's where i go sometimes—i walk before going to bed. i walk so that i'm exhausted enough that my mind shuts down."

the sudden admission breaks your heart—but there's also a part of you that feels relief. relief that he wasn't turning to something worse or someone else to numb the pain.

"spencer, you could have told me." you said, fingers rubbings patterns into his back.

"i didn't want to burden you more than i already have," he says, shaking his head. "you've already been through so much because of me."

"that's not how this works," you say, squeezing his hand. "just forget all of that, okay? things will be different now. you not talking to me hurts more than that ever could."

he leans into you, his eyes closing for a brief moment. "i'm sorry," he whispers. "for pushing you away. for making you feel like you weren't enough. you've always been enough."

you lift a hand to his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek as you take in the exhaustion lining his features—the weight he’s been carrying alone for too long. slowly, carefully, you lean in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. just a warm, quiet reassurance that you’re here, that you’re staying.

when you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours, and he lets out a quiet sigh, his breath warm against your skin. he looks at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "do you want to go to bed?" he asks, voice low.

you pause for a moment, you hadn’t realized just how exhausted you were until his mention of sleep. your shoulders feel heavy, and your body aches from the emotional toll it’s taken.

a deep, almost instinctual sigh escapes your lips, and you nod softly, “yeah."

spencer squeezes your hand gently and leads you toward the bedroom. the moment the covers are pulled back, you slip under the soft sheets, the cool fabric against your skin offering the smallest comfort after everything you've been through. spencer follows you in, his body warm and reassuring as he settles beside you.

he moves closer, carefully wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into him with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten. you rest your head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you. his presence, steady and constant, washes over you like a balm, soothing the frantic, scattered thoughts in your mind.

his hand moves slowly up and down your back, the rhythm soothing, and you realize just how much you've missed this—missed him.

you close your eyes, letting the weight of everything melt away as you drift closer to sleep. spencer’s voice is soft, a comforting murmur as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"i love you."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler #prison reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #postprison!spencer

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lemonsrosesandlavender · 3 days ago

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Stretched (Part 1)

aka a filthy rolan x cleric postgame concept that I might write one day but in the meantime desperately want to get out of my brain and onto the page. EDIT: HAHAHAHA never mind, I wrote it. fuck me. Here you are, 1324 words and only part one!

ft fingering, “do assholes really work like that? we ignore it for kink reasons” and the BG3 equivalent of medical kink. Mild dubcon for "Rolan's having a great time but a healer shouldn't be enjoying fingering your asshole this much"

Rolan’s settled into the Tower; theoretically he has everything he wants. Apart from Tav, that is; he nursed a sore crush on them for a long time— ever since they saved his siblings— and has only just come to accept that they’re never coming back from Waterdeep. (… Several months after their wedding to Gale). Tav’s presence, however, awoke a very long-neglected (and repressed) part of him, and now though he thinks less often of them when he handles himself… he still handles himself often. Could it be the Archmage still needs something in his life beyond the Tower and his siblings?

He finds it, with some shame, behind the counter at Sharess's Caress. In disguise, of course; he doesn't want the city to know he's buying toys... especially not toys of this size. Rolan doesn't start with the largest ones, but as his hopes of Tav grow fainter, he finds himself seeking more and more challenge, more punishment for his aching, gaping hole. He loves to imagine them stretching him, taunting him for pining over them - claiming him as their own. And now that's receding, he still finds himself addicted to the sensation, barely able to come unless he's struggling on a cock far thicker than his own.

The figure that the cleric sees, coming through her door, is stiff with embarrassment, a violently crimson flush revealed on his cheeks as he casts off his Dragonborn disguise to show the tiefling underneath. Not just any tiefling.

‘Archmage,’ she says in recognition, keeping the note of amusement she feels hidden. She’s a professional, after all… although whatever ailment he has come to her with must be rather delicate, especially when his title makes him flush further and insist on being called by his name only. After a fair amount of evasion, and the confirmation that she is as discreet as every one of her previous clients has said, she at last pries out his problem: he fears he has stretched himself.

‘Using what implements? What are the symptoms?’

‘What other symptoms do you need?’ he hisses, before catching himself. ‘I know how it is supposed to feel.’

‘Is this immediately after use of toys, or…?’

‘I am not an idiot— I know to expect it after—but this feeling persists near-constantly.’ His voice drops, and she sees the true mortification and worry behind his bluster. It’s… more than professionally interesting. Poor man. She will make his embarrassment worthwhile.

‘Remove your trousers, and get on the bench. I need to examine the situation.'

He casts an anxious look at the door before he disrobes, and she asks if he'd like it locked; his shoulders drop a little when it is.

'Have you cleaned up, or should I—'

Rolan conjures a Prestidigitation faster than she can finish the sentence.

'Do not misunderstand,' he disclaims. 'I came prepared— I am merely being cautious—'

She can hear the irritable sound of him swallowing his nerves, and pats his bare ass gently. There's a slight hitch in Rolan's breath.

'Don't worry about it. Now.' She takes the base of his tail in his hand, and he draws another sharp intake of breath. If she had to label his affliction as anything, she would be inclined to say it was starvation. He is so hungry for her touch, that the slightest movement makes him shiver... and between his legs, his cock is beginning to stiffen.

Rolan clenches his thighs as she moves his robe out of the way, drawing his tail up so she can get a good look at his hole.

'Are you wearing this every day?' she asks, tapping the plug in his entrance.

It is rather basic, compared to the rest of him. His hair is beautifully twisted, and his elegant silk robes are drenched in expensive silverwork. But the plug is plain; not a jewel or crest in sight. Perhaps he is too ashamed of this hobby to let himself truly indulge in it. (A shame in itself, when the plug sits so prettily between his lovely, pert cheeks).

'Yes,' he admits.

'Mmm.'

'I have to!' he protests irritably. 'Otherwise, I can think of nothing else but the sensation of it. Being open—'

'I understand,' she says soothingly. 'I'll have to remove it for now.'

'Of course,' Rolan whispers, tensing his thighs even harder.

She puts a hand on one. 'Relax. Otherwise this will be more difficult.'

He lets out a choked whimper— but he does as he's told, and he keeps relaxing, with the utmost effort, until the plug is drawn from his hole.

There's no denying he's hard now. The cleric oils her fingers, presses one easily inside to begin the examination.

'One easy,' she murmurs, pushing it further up until she finds his pleasure spot. It feels healthy; in fine working order, if Rolan's gasp is anything to go by. She curls her finger a little more.

'Fuck!' Rolan whimpers. 'I mean— Zurgan— excuse me.'

‘Don’t worry about it. Just stay relaxed. I’m going to see how easily you accommodate wider objects.’

She presses another finger in, appreciating the heat inside him. Tieflings always run hotter than other humanoids. The lack of hair is very pleasing too— perfect for someone as neat and ordered as Rolan clearly is. The oil slicked on her fingers spills down his taint; she pauses for a moment, and takes a washcloth to wipe him clean.

Rolan’s asshole might be a little stretched, but she still feels it tense urgently around her. He lets out a short whimper, stifling it unsuccessfully with a cough.

‘Keep your tail up,’ she murmurs, as if she hasn’t noticed.

‘Yes— ’

Three fingers. Rolan shakes. She didn’t encounter much resistance, but clearly the act of being probed is rather stimulating for him, stretch or not.

‘Let me see.’ She gathers all four fingers, pressing them against his entrance— now, there is a little resistance— and checks to see how Rolan is taking it.

The moment he realises she’s looking at him, his cock twitches, and he panics, pulling away from her examining fingers.

‘Surely that’s enough,’ he gasps, dragging at the tails of his robe to hide his cock.

‘I need to determine the extent of the problem, if you want me to treat it properly.’

His tail flicks as he looks back at her. ‘Wretched Hells. Just how much are you going to put up there?’

The attempt at nonchalance comes out thin, breathy instead of confident. She can’t help but find him a little fascinating; easily embarrassed and yet pretending to be bold. And all over something so mild; she has treated people with far stranger ailments. Once again, she wonders if he perhaps only needs somebody else to make him feel that this is alright. Not that it matters at the present.

‘I’m going to find your limit,’ she says. ‘When it hurts, say now.’

Rolan pauses, and cedes, raising his tail once more to reveal his worked hole. His claws curl anxiously into the bench leather. ‘I am ready— ah— ah— ah— now!’

All four fingers and thumb, but not even close to the knuckle. Whatever monstrous girths he thinks he’s been stretching himself with, she is sure he could take quite a lot more— with practise and encouragement of course.

‘That’s the examination finished then,’ she tells him. ‘Let me clean you up.’

Again, she presses a gentle cloth to his skin— all the way down to his balls this time. He shivers, whimpering at her touch and not even trying to hide it this time. Too far gone, perhaps.

She notices a drip from his cock beneath him on the bench, and cleans that up too. Not the cock that it came from, though; that is his concern, even if he seems to anticipate it when she reaches beneath him.

‘Now,’ she murmurs, washing her hands off. ‘I’ll just consult my notes, and make you up a treatment salve.’

‘It is curable?’ Rolan asks.

‘Oh, certainly. I’ll explain what you have to do.’

#rolan #rolan bg3 #sub!rolan #rolan x ofc #cabbage writes #cabbage trash #idk man my brain is ON IT lately

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ohburgee · 1 day ago

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𝐃𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

mentor!rogal dorn x student-fem!reader

tw: violence (nothing any tw cuz this is fluff, just a small violence) an: this fanfic is requested from my best friend, it's his favorite primarch so, also he wanted to make dorn being jerk here. i see not lot of rogal dorn fanfic but i want to make him a fanfic of mine. summary: you are rogal dorn's student and he is your mentor, when you are defending your primarch from the mocks from his son's and try to defend his image but it turns out a misunderstanding because he doesn't show feelings, that made you upset and he was feel regret for the first time.

You are training with one of the Imperial Fists, swinging your sword with all your might, trying to land a hit. Your opponent, a towering Astartes, isn’t wearing his armor, but his skill is undeniable.

You lunge forward, but he counters swiftly, slamming his elbow into your side. The impact sends you crashing to the ground, pain flaring through your body as you hiss in discomfort.

"Training is done," your captain declares.

You push yourself up, wiping the sweat from your brow. "I’m not done training," you protest, determination burning in your eyes.

The captain looks at you with a stern expression. "Your time is done. We’ll continue this tomorrow."

You sigh in defeat, sheathing your sword as you walk back into the fortress.

Your mentor, the Primarch Rogal Dorn, had been called away by the Imperium on urgent duty. You had begged to accompany him, but he denied your request, leaving you behind in this fortress with his other son's.

As you make your way through the stone hallways, serfs pass by, bowing their heads respectfully. Your training gear clinks with every step. Eventually, you reach your small quarters, collapsing onto the bed to get some rest.

...

After a short rest, your captain calls for you, assigning you to accompany him for an announcement to the Imperial Fists.

During the address, the captain speaks of military defense and shares the news that the Primarch is returning home earlier than expected. Relief and happiness swell within you, your mentor is coming back.

But your joy fades when you catch whispers among the Astartes. One of them mocks Rogal Dorn, claiming he doesn’t care for the Imperium or his sons.

Your fists clench as the words dig into your heart. You try to ignore it, but the disrespect toward your beloved Primarch festers like an open wound.

Until you snap.

Without thinking, you charge at the Astartes. You don’t care that he’s in his armor or that he towers over you. You leap up, landing a punch against his head with enough force to gain all attention to you.

Your captain shouts your name, but you don’t stop.

"You dare to disrespect our Primarch?!" you yell, grabbing the Astartes by the hair. "I swear, you’ll regret those words!"

A booming voice cuts through the commotion.

"That’s enough!"

Everyone turns toward the entrance, and your heart drops.

Rogal Dorn stands there, his stern gaze locked onto you.

You immediately release the Astartes and stand at attention, your breath unsteady. The room falls silent as your captain approaches the Primarch.

"My Lord, we weren’t expecting you until tomorrow," the captain says, bowing his head.

"I returned as soon as I could," Rogal replies, his voice steady as stone. He walks through the room, stopping directly in front of you.

"Visit the planning room," he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You nod, swallowing your nerves, while the Astartes you punched sneers at you. But you don’t care you only care about what Rogal will say.

...

Later, you walk toward the planning room, each step heavier than the last. The anticipation twists your stomach in knots.

Your captain exits the room, sparing you a glance, but says nothing. You gather your courage, push open the door, and step inside.

Rogal Dorn stands behind a table, reading through papers. You stand in silence, waiting for him to speak.

After a moment, he finally addresses you.

"Do you know what you did?" he asks, his voice low but sharp.

You bite your lip, but lift your chin. "I was defending you."

"And you caused a mess," he replies, placing the papers down.

"But they were disrespecting you," you insist, frustration bubbling up.

"Let them mock me," Rogal says, looking at you with that same unshakable expression. "It doesn’t matter."

You can’t take it anymore.

"You don’t care?! They insult your name, call you a heartless lord, and you just stand there like a machine?!" you snap, voice breaking.

Rogal remains stoic, his silence like a wall you can't break through.

"You make yourself look like a fool!" you shout, voice trembling. "You don’t even care about yourself!"

Finally, his composure cracks but not in the way you expect.

"That’s enough," he says coldly, his eyes like ice. "You are not right to say that to me. You're just a civilian I mistakenly took in."

The words hit harder than any punch.

Your chest tightens, and you feel as though the ground has been ripped out from beneath you. Without another word, you bow yourself, turn and leave, slamming the door behind you.

You run through the hallways, ignoring everyone you pass, your vision blurred by tears. You aren’t crying because you’re weak.

You’re crying because you gave everything to defend your Primarch, the man who saved you from a frozen in Inwit, who trained you to fight despite your human limitations.

And he called you a mistake.

You bury your face in your pillow, clutching the fabric as if it could hold you together.

A warrior shouldn't cry.

But tonight, you do.

...

Rogal Dorn sighs, rubbing his temples as he stares at the map table. He can't concentrate.

Your wounded expression lingers in his mind like a ghost, haunting him with guilt. He shouldn’t have said those words.

After a while, he gives up on planning and makes his way to your quarters and look around to see anyone and gladly no one. He opens the door carefully, expecting you to glare at him but instead, he finds you asleep, face still damp from tears.

Guilt twists in his chest like a knife.

He sits carefully on the edge of your bed, watching your steady, fragile breathing. He hesitantly reaches out, brushing his fingers against your cheek, feeling the remnants of dried tears.

Silently, he wraps a blanket around you, tucking it in gently. He rests his hand on your head for a moment, a rare display of tenderness, before rising to leave.

Pausing at the doorway, he glances back at you one last time.

Tomorrow, he decides, he’ll train you himself.

And he’ll find a way to make things right. To get your forgiveness.

#rogal dorn x reader #rogal dorn #warhammer fanfic #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #primarchs #poor dorn he needs some hugs :')

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gunilslaugh · 2 days ago

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Raspberries

Oh Seungmin Summary:Belated love realizations never made sense to Seumgin. How could you love someone and not know it? That was until he got accepted to an art program abroad and suddenly you weren’t by his side anymore. (non-idol au) WC:~3k Warning:none

photo not mine credits to owner.

“One chocolate raspberry tartlet,” you said, sliding the tartlet over to Seungmin. It was his regular order that he got every time he visited your family owned cafe.

“Why do you always top his tart with raspberries when you know he doesn’t like them?” Jiseok, a shared friend of you and Seungmin’s asked.

“So that y/n can have them,” Seungmin responded, plucking the raspberries from the tartlet and handing them over to you.

“Thank you,” you smiled brightly at Seungmin as you plopped one of the raspberries into your mouth.

“But can’t you just steal some. You literally work here?” Jiseok followed with his brows knitted together.

“No,” you sigh. “My mom will yell at me for ‘Eating the inventory’,” you playfully mimicked your mom’s voice.

“Who’s eating the inventory!” your mom suddenly called from behind the counter.

“No one,” you held up one hand to calm your mother. “Jiseok just asked why I keep topping Seungmin’s tartlets with raspberries when he doesn’t like them,” you relayed the previous conversation to her.

“If you only ate a few it wouldn’t be so bad, but you’d eat the whole tub!” your mom scolded. You lips pursed together. You knew that your mom’s statement was true, even if you wanted to insist that it wasn’t.

“Anway since I’m not allowed to steal any Seungmin let’s me have his that comes with the tart he orders,” you explained.

A ping coming from Seungmin’s phone interrupts the current conversation. The way Seungmin’s eyes widen at the preview of the email illumination his phone screen alters that it’s not just any email.

“Is that the email?” you checked. Seungmin had applied to an art program abroad. It was one of the most highly regarded art programs in the world. Known for crafting successful artists. Seungmin nodded his head, still only staring at his phone screen. “Open it!” you encouraged him, sitting down beside him with your hands gripping his shoulders, giving him a little bit of a shake.

“I-but..I just-what if, what if I don’t get in?” he stumbled over his words.

“Come on man, believe in yourself there is no way that you didn’t get in,” Jiseok told him.

“Open it!” you shake him again.

“Okay, okay, I’m opening it.’ He raised his hand to stop you from shaking him. As he opens the email the three of you crowded around his phone to read the small printed words on the screen.

“Congratulations Oh Seungmin, we are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted into the prestigious art program at School Of Artists. We can't wait to see you at the start of the semester!” you ecstatically read out loud.

“He got in?!” Your mom excitedly called from behind the counter. She comes rushing over to read the email for herself.

“I got in?” Seungmin looks at you in disbelief.

“Of course you got it. I told you bro.” Jiseok leaned across the table to pat his shoulder supportively.

“There was never any doubt about you getting you,” you reached for his hand to give it a squeeze. “But mom what are we gonna do? We’re losing our most loyal customer,” you turn to your mom, hand slapping away from Seungmin’s.

“What about losing our most loyal customer?” Your father and fellow coworker turned friend, Hyeongjun walked in.

“Seungmin got accepted into School Of Artists,” you informed.

“That’s great! Congrats!”

“Yeah that’s great news,” your father and Hyeongjun took turns congratulating Seungmin. To which he thanked them.

“When does the semester start?” Jiseok questioned.

“In about a month,” Seungmin answered.

“So I have about a month left of free raspberries,” you stated with a playful hint of sadness in your tone.. Jiseok chuckles at your statement.

“He’s leaving and your main concern is your raspberry intake dropping. Aren’t you gonna miss him?” Jiseok said.

“Of course I’m gonna miss him, but my raspberry intake is going to be affected too,” you say.

“It’s ok I’m sure you can get some pity raspberries from Jungsu,” Seungmin looked at you with foe sympathy.

“He is nice like that,” you chimed with a slight nod. Unfortunately you can’t chat with Jiseok and Seungmin for much longer because your mom is scolding you about getting back to work. “That’s the cue to leave, I’ll talk to you guys later,” you dismissed yourself, standing up.

~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~

A month came to pass all too quickly. It felt as if you were just celebrating the news of Seungmin getting accepted now you stand in the airport looking at his suitcase. You had already known for a whole month that Seungmin was leaving, yet it only hits you now that he’s leaving. You won’t be seeing him in person for a long time.

“Why the long face?” Seungmin's thumb and forefinger lift your chin up to look at him.

“You’re leaving,” you state.

“I’ll be back,” he chuckled lightly. “No need to miss me too much,” he said playfully.

“Please I’m more sad that no one will be here to give me their raspberries,” you sighed.

“You’ll survive,” he says as he pulls you into a hug. His arms wrapping around your shoulders and yours snake around his waist. After a few moments you go to pull away, but Seungmin’s arms keep you in place. “A little longer. This is the last time I get to hug you.” You laugh lightly.

“You’ll be back. No need to miss me too much,” you repeated the words he said just moments earlier. Seungmin finally pulls back and opens his mouth to say something, but gets interrupted by his flight getting called for boarding over the intercom.

“Guess that’s my cue,” he said. You nod.

“Yeah, you better get going. Text me when you land,” you tell him.

“I will.” He pulls you in for one more brief hug then he proceeds to walk away towards his gate.

“I didn’t get a second hug.” At that moment you are reminded that Jiseok came with you to drop Seungmin off. You turn to look at Jiseok where he stood with a fake pout and folded arms.

“Probably because you tried to hide his passport this morning.” You elbowed his side.

“Don’t act like you didn’t think about hiding it too.” He elbowed you back. “You do seem sadder than I expected though. Are you really gonna miss him giving you his raspberries that much,” he partly joked, causing you to laugh.

“It’s weird,” you started. “We’ve known for a while that he was leaving, but it didn’t really hit me till now. I guess I’m just used to him always being here,” you say. Jiseok nodded understandingly.

“Yeah I get you. We’re gonna have to adjust to life without him.” He wraps one arm around your shoulders.

“Yeah we are.” You wrapped your arm around his back. A life without Seungmin. You didn’t really like the sound of that.

~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~

“What better way is there to get to know an artist than through their art!” Seungmin’s professor began to rave. “That is why to start off this class I have chosen one work from each of your portfolios and I will be displaying them on the screen one by one. We will have an open discussion about each piece and let the artist tell the story behind it and why they included it in their portfolio,” the professor stated.

Wavering looks danced around the classroom. It was always nerve wracking for an artist to share their work. Even more so for the students of the classroom who didn’t know which one of their works were going to be displayed.

“Alright let’s get started.” A small breath of relief came from Seungmin’s lungs as a painting of a bird perches on top the rail of a balcony projected from the projector onto the screen. At least he wasn’t up first.

His luck did run out soon enough. He recognized his painting instantly or rather he recognized you instantly. It was a painting he did of you baking in your shop's kitchen. Your hair pulled back into a ponytail, apron dirty with flour and chocolate. A very concentrated look on your face as you placed a raspberry onto the tartlet in front of you. Messy bowls cluttered on the table. You were in your element. Doing what you love.

“I’m Seunngmin. This painting it’s called ‘Raspberries’,” he introduced himself and his painting.

“The story behind it?” The professor urged him to continue. A small graces Seungmin’s face as he recalls the memory of why he painted you.

“It was my final for my art class elective. We were told that we could paint anything we wanted, but it had to be great. I wasn’t sure what I should paint and y/n,the girl in the painting,” he clarified. “Said ‘Saying you have nothing to paint when I’m right in front of you is offensive.’” He quoted your words from back then. A few chorus of chuckles can be heard from around the class. “But I liked the idea of painting her, so I painted her in her element doing what she loves. That’s about it,” Seungmin concludes.

“And why did you decide to include it in your portfolio?” The professor followed up.

“Also because of y/n,” Seungmin can’t help but let out a light laugh. “I mean I believe the painting speaks for itself; it deserves to be in my portfolio. It’s one of my best works, but y/n said that I should include it so that when people see it naturally they’ll be curious about the place it was painted and want to visit there. Hence upping her family’s business.”

“It was a business negotiation,” the professor jokes lightly. “Anyway,” with a swift clap he regains his students' attention. “Does anyone have any comments for questions about Mr. Sungmin's painting?”

“I was kinda wondering why you called it ‘Raspberries’? I can see that she’s placing raspberries on top of the desert, but they don’t seem that important to the painting itself,” a student questioned. Seungmin nods, understanding how the title could be a bit confusing,

“Y/n loves raspberries so I named it that,” he explained.

“So they are relevant to the painting,” the professor notes. His eyes hold a knowing look. Seungmin isn’t entirely sure what the professor means by that. He supposes that when you know the story. How he always orders chocolate raspberry tartlets just so that he can give you the raspberries because he knows how much you love them. Then yes raspberries are actually quite relevant to the painting, so he gives a nod as an answer.

The class moved onto the next painting. Seungmin retook his seat and examined the new painting that was displayed on the board. The class carried on until all the students had their turn. Afterwards class was dismissed.

~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~

Seungmin stares at the raspberries he picked off and set aside from the tart he ordered from a cafe that was close to campus. He feels hyper aware of your lack of presence. He couldn’t give his raspberries to you. He couldn’t talk to you. Well, he could, but he would have to pick up his phone and that’s just not the same as talking to you in person. He misses talking to you, having you right next to him. He misses seeing how your eyes light up as he hands you his raspberries. He misses seeing the happiness fill your body as you eat the tart berry. He misses teasing you for somehow getting ingredients in your hair despite having it pulled back. He misses showing you his artwork. He misses how you plop down beside him and rest your head on his shoulder when you’re feeling tired. He misses how you’d massage his hands after he spent hours painting or drawing. He misses you asking for his order when you know it’s going to be the same thing. He misses watching you work in the kitchen. He misses you.

“Not a fan of raspberries?” A voice pulls him from his longing stare. He looks up and sees his professor.

“Professor, what are you doing here?” he asked, watching his professor pull out the chair across from him and taking a seat.

“I have a life outside of school too you know,” the professor replied. Seungmin laughs lightly, giving his head a small shake.

“Yeah I know. I just didn’t expect to see you here,” he explained.

“I’m glad I ran into you,” his professor says.

“Why?” Seungmin asked.

“Your work hasn’t been the same lately. I mean technically it’s very good, but the nuance of it it’s different,” he tells Seungmin. Seungmin pursues his lips together, he knows what the professor is talking about. He too has noticed the change in his work, it would be impossible not to. At first he thought it was because he was adjusting to being in a new environment. However even after he had settled in, his work didn’t go back to normal.

“I know what you’re talking about, but I don’t know what’s up with me either.” Seungmin’s eyes fall back to where the raspberries lay on the plate.

The observable-full professor didn’t miss this. He thinks back to Seungmin talking about the painting of you and why he called the painting “Raspberries”. A theory about what’s wrong with Seungmin’s work easily conjured in his head.

“Are you sure about that?” he checked.

“I mean yeah. Nothing is really different…except.” Once more his eyes fall to the raspberries. You weren’t there beside him. That’s what was different.

“I think you miss someone back home. A special someone,” the professor emphasized. Seungmin picks up a raspberry from the plate, rolling it between his fingers. He certainly did miss you, but he already knew that.

“You know I was also a bit confused as to why you called that painting ‘Raspberries’, but after you said how y/n loved raspberries it made sense,” his professor began to say.

“Honestly sir I’m not entirely sure what you mean by that. To me it makes sense since she loves raspberries and I always order a chocolate raspberry tart just so I can give her the raspberries it comes with. Raspberries are actually kinda a big part of our friendship so to me naming it that makes sense, but I see where outsiders would be confused by it,” Seumgmin stated.

The use of the word friendship through the professor off. Maybe his theory was wrong, but when he thought about it a little more it still made sense. It also answered why Seunmgin was stumped as to why the nuance of his work changed. Seungmin hadn’t realized that he was in love with you.

“Seungmin, when you said that you named the painting ‘Raspberries’ because y/n loved them I thought you chose that name because you loved her. You used raspberries as a metaphor of love,” the professor shared his thoughts.

Seungmin froze for a second. Because he loved you? Because. He. Loved. You. He loved you. Oh it all made sense to him now. Seungmin lets out a scoff in disbelief. How could you have not realized how he truly felt about you? His fingers wrap around the raspberry that fell into his palm.

“Yeah I do love her,” he admits. All his memories of you flood his mind, but he sees them in a new light. Now that he recalls. He thinks that his professor is right. He remembers painting you that day. Capturing your every detail and he thinks that's the day he fell in love with you unknowingly. That he called the painting “Raspberries” because you loved them and he loved you.

“So tell her,” his professor told him.

“How? We’re thousands of miles apart right now,” Seungmin said.

“They have these things called planes and we’re on a two week break.”

Before Seungmin knew what he was doing was rushing back to his dorm room to pack his things and book a flight.

~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~

The chime of your store door opening catched your attention.

“Hello welcome to-” You can’t get any more words out because you're being crushed in a hug by Seungmin. That also causes you to stumble backwards. “Seungmin? What are you doing here?” you ask, pulling back from the hug.

“I had to see you. I missed you.” He brings a hand up to brush some stray strands from your face before resting his hand on your cheek.

“I missed you too,” you tell him. Truthfully life had been meek without Seungmin and you were one more long shift away from hopping on a plane and running to Seungmin yourself.

“No, I missed you. Like none of my works have been the same since you weren’t beside me and-and…I love you,” he confessed. Your eyes widen in shock.

“You love me?” you repeated.

“Yeah.” His other hand comes up to cup your face. “Like I’m in love with you.” A smile adorns your face.

“You know, I missed you more than the raspberries you give me,” you tell him. A matching smile paints its way onto Seungmin’s face. “And some clients asked us if we hired a new pastry chef because the desserts didn’t taste the same as before…I think I’m in love with you too,” you confessed.

Seungmin can’t contain his excitement as he picks you up and spins you around. A joyous laugh escaping your lungs. After a more couple of spins he gently sets you back down, yet still keeps you close.

“Did you really come back to just tell me you love you?” you say playfully, linking your hands together behind his neck.

“Is that not a good enough reason?” he played back. You shook your head.

“No, it’s plenty good. I’ve really missed you too. Life is less colorful without you,” you say.

“Life is less sweet without you,” he told you.

After a few moments you spoke, “So one chocolate raspberry tartlet?” Seungmin's smile grows bigger.

“Mhm, please,” he responded.

“Ok, I’ll be back.” You press a kiss to his cheek before heading to the kitchen. Once the tartlet is ready you bring it to Seungmin and just like always you picks off the raspberries and hands them over to you.

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin @junhanism

comment or message me to be added!

#xdinary heroes #xdh #xdh imagines #xdh x reader #xdinary heroes imagines #xdinary heroes x reader #xh seungmin #xh o.de #xdh seungmin #xdh o.de #seungmin x reader #oh seungmin x reader #o.de x reader #oh seungmin #seungmin #o.de

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alygator77 · 2 months ago

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just a little drabble for my current wip. arranged marriage with clanhead gojo.

warnings: mdni, smut, breeding kink, lots of breeding, praise, creampie, bit of angst.

arranged clanhead! satoru who still isn’t used to sharing his space, even after months of marriage. the grand Gojo estate, once his sanctuary, feels smaller with you in it—your scent lingering on the furniture, your soft hums echoing in the halls—not unpleasant, but… unfamiliar.

arranged clanhead! satoru who notices how your shampoo smells so sweet, clinging to his pillow. how your hair clogs his drain and it drives him fucking insane, yet he still finds himself instinctively reaching for your favorite brand of conditioner while he’s out, tucking it into his basket without a second thought. he doesn’t know why—it’s not like he cares… right?

arranged clanhead! satoru who steps into the kitchen late one evening to find you leaning against the counter. your hair falls in loose strands around your face, messy but still maddeningly pretty, and you sip tea from a mug—his favorite mug. you’re draped in one of his shirts, the hem barely brushing mid-thigh—your bare legs illuminated by the dim glow of the overhead light.

for a fleeting second, he freezes. you look… almost at home. he doesn’t want you to look at home. or does he? he shakes the thought away.

“couldn’t sleep?” he drawls, his eyes lingering on the curve of your legs. “or… were you waiting up for me? ‘cause I could really blow off some steam.”

arranged clanhead! satoru who emerges from the bathroom later that night, his snowy hair damp and tousled, a towel slung lazily over his broad shoulders. he’s wearing nothing but low-slung sweatpants, the defined lines of his abdomen on full display as he rubs the towel through his hair, his gaze sliding over to you lying on the bed.

“ready for tonight?” he asks, tilting his head with that signature nonchalance, as though he isn’t about to fuck the hell out of you, as though his sole intention isn’t to fill you so full of his cum that there’s no question the Gojo Clan will get their heir.

arranged clanhead! satoru who pushes you into a mating press the moment he’s on top of you, his large hands gripping your thighs as he folds your legs back against your chest, pinning you beneath him. his cock slides against your slick folds before splitting you apart, and his breath shudders as your cunt swallows him greedily.

“fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, panting through thrusts. “always so good f’me. always takin’ me so fucking well.”

arranged clanhead! satoru who hates himself for the shameful thrill that bubbles up within him, the sick satisfaction of watching you come undone beneath him. the way your pussy clenches around his dick, the way your gasps and moans echo in his ears, drives him to thrust harder, deeper, as though his very existence depends on filling you—which it does.

arranged clanhead! satoru who’s pace is merciless, hips slamming into you with an almost feral hunger. he tells himself it’s just biology, but deep down he knows better.

“good fucking girl…” he smirks, pushing your legs higher as you squirm beneath him—your nails digging into his arms, but the sting only spurs him on. “don’t worry sweetheart—haaa—this time, for sure, m'gonna breed that pretty pussy. gonna make you drip with my cum ‘til you can’t hold it all…”

arranged clanhead! satoru who watches your eyes roll back as his cock slams into you, the bed shaking beneath you as his focus narrows on the way your breasts bounce with every forceful thrust.

“you’re mine,” he groans, the words slipping out before he can stop them, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you—hot, thick ropes of cum painting your walls. his body trembles against yours as he buries himself to the hilt.

“fuuuck, take it…” he rasps, his forehead dropping to press against yours. “so fucking good f’me.”

arranged clanhead! satoru who doesn’t move for a long moment, his chest pressed to yours, his weight pinning you to the mattress. your breath mingles, warm and uneven, and for a fleeting second, he almost forgets why he’s here. why you’re here. but then reality creeps in, sharp and cold, and he pulls out slowly, watching as the mix of his cum and your slick drips onto the sheets.

arranged clanhead! satoru who remembers his duty as clanhead, as the leader of the Gojo Clan. like a good husband—like a good leader—he doesn’t waste a single drop. he shifts, his fingers dipping between your legs to scoop up the cum leaking from you.

“can’t let this go to waste, sweetheart,” he mutters as he pushes the thick mess back into you. his thumb presses against your clit, and he smirks when it earns a soft gasp from you—his fingers sliding deeper. he watches, transfixed, as his cum disappears inside you again, his cock giving a weak twitch at the sight.

arranged clanhead! satoru who rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling as his chest heaves with the effort of catching his breath. he doesn’t reach for you, doesn’t hold you, and you don’t reach for him. the silence afterward is louder than any moan you could make. he tries to ignore the ache in his chest, something he refuses to name.

arranged clanhead! satoru who lies awake long after you’ve drifted off, his arm slung over his eyes as he tries to ignore the ache in his chest. he won’t admit it—not to you, not to himself—but he’s starting to crave more than your body. he craves the softness in your voice when you call his name, the quiet way you laugh when you think he’s not listening.

but this is just obligation. just duty. just… fucking. right?

full fic in the works 🫶🏻 lmk if you wanna be tagged.

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pibsboots · 1 year ago

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I've always had chronic fatigue. I remember being twelve, and an adult mentioned how I couldn't possibly know how tired they felt because adulthood brought levels of exhaustion I couldn't imagine. I thought about that for days in fear, because I couldn't remember the last time I didn't feel tired.

Eventually I came to terms with the fact that I was just tired, and I couldn't do as many things as everyone else. People called me lazy, and I knew that wasn't true, but there's only so many times you can say "I'm tired" before people think it's an excuse. I don't blame them. When a teenager does 20 hours of extracurriculars every week and only says "I'm too tired" when you ask them to do the dishes, it's natural to think it's an excuse. At some point, I started to think the same thing.

It didn't matter that I could barely sit up. It was probably all in my head, and if I really wanted to, I could do it.

When I learned the name for it, chronic fatigue, I thought wow, people that have that must be miserable, because I am always tired and I cannot imagine what it would feel like if it were worse.

Spoiler alert, if you've been tired for a decade, it's probably chronic fatigue.

Once I figured that out though, I thought of my energy as the same as everyone else's, just smaller in quantity. And that might be true for some people, but I've figured out recently that it absolutely isn't true for me.

I used to be like wow I have so much energy today I can do this whole list for sure! And then I'd do the dishes and have to lay down for 2 hours. Then I'd think I must gave misjudged that, I didn't have as much energy as I thought.

But the thing is - I did have enough energy for more tasks, I just didn't go about them properly.

With chronic fatigue, your maximum energy is obviously much smaller than the average person's. Doing the dishes for you might use up the same percentage of energy that it takes to do all the daily chores for someone else.

If someone without chronic fatigue was to do all the daily chores, they would take breaks. Because otherwise, they're sprinting a marathon for no reason and it would take way more energy than necessary. We have to do the same.

Put the cups in the dishwasher, take a break. Put the bowls in, take a break. So on and so forth. This may mean taking breaks every 2-5 minutes but afterwards, you get to not feel like you've run a marathon while carrying 4 people on your back.

Today, I had a moderate amount of energy. Under my old system of go till you drop, I probably could have done most of the dishes and wiped off the counter and then been dead to the world for the rest of the day.

Under the new system, I scooped litter boxes, cleaned out the fridge, took the trash out, cleaned the stove, and wiped off the counter and did all the dishes. And after all that, I still had it in me to make a simple dinner, unload the dishwasher, and tidy the kitchen.

It was complete and utter insanity. Just because I sat down whenever I felt myself getting more tired than I already was.

All this to say, take fucking breaks. It's time to unlearn the ceaseless productivity bullshit that capitalism has shoved down our throats. Its actively counterproductive. Just sit down. Drink some water. Rest your body when it needs to rest.

There will still be days where there is nothing to do but rest, and days where half a load of dishes is absolutely the most I can do. But this method has really helped me minimize those, which is so incredibly relieving.

#chronic illness #chronic fatigue #chronic pain

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dalishthunder · 9 months ago

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Committed a social faux pas today and I hate it

#i have 2 licenses bc i just haven't gotten around to destroying my old one yet #i have them both in my wallet #i accidentally had the old one on top of the new one when i went to but cider out of state #they were like this one's expired so we can't sell it to you #but I'm 30 let me get you the one that's not expired #so i dropped the correct license on the counter while i fished out my credit card #and they were like 'okay but next time don't throw your license'#but like??? i dropped it on the counter for them so i could get my card???#and they were like 'we're nice people' don't be so rude and idk they made me feel weird and bad #anyways as much as i like traveling i don't like feeling so... out of my depth #in ny that's just like a normal thing i think? like here have my license while i get you money #idk I'm tired and i was driving all day and i feel weird and bad for committing this faux pas #then they started saying like 'use this machine if your license is expired to print out an id' like... what?#idk i wanted to crawl in a hole and die #thanks rsd #it's been... it's been a long week #and I'm tired #on Tuesday though I'm calling up the apartment places I'm looking at to set up tours for while I'm in OR in June #people were like 'well why not Nashville since your bro lives there' fuck no Tennessee is the worst like yes it's ecologically beautiful #but i like having rights to things like trans healthcare and abortions #there are only a couple of places in comfortable living in the us and that's the northeast minus Maine and the West Coast #odt #it's actually been a long month tbh #i feel like i forgot something at work #and i don't have my work laptop and I'm nervous now #oh well

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bagofshinyrocks · 1 year ago

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Government name vs Military callsign

Prompt: What scares them worse? Addressing them by their full government name, or addressing them by their military callsign?

Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Warnings: none

John Price

Government name.

Calling him Captain or Skipper just ends with him sauntering to where ever you are and ask (in an obnoxiously self-satisfied voice) what you wanted. Like a cat pretending it can’t hear the urgency in your tone when you say to get off the counter.

“If you want me to ‘shake a leg’, call my name, luvie.”

Now if you holler “Jonathan Price”, he’ll drop something. Either the newspaper in his hands, or his heart into his stomach. He sure as hell moves his ass with a purpose, and he’s peering into the room with an apology on his lips.

“Yes, luv? What’s wrong, poppet?”

“Lift the other end of the couch, would you?”

He does, and you shimmy it further back in the room. “Anything else I can do, love o’ my life?” He’s hovering, and gently coaxing you into his arms. Gauging how mad you were at him. You curled into him and kissed his chin. Then stepped away with a pat to his chest.

“No, sweetheart, just wanted you to shake a leg is all.”

When he remembers your previous conversation, he groans and tells you to fuck off.

Simon Riley

Military callsign.

When you two are alone, and he’s already given you permission to call him Simon, don’t call him Ghost. When you say that word, he assumes one of his mates are at the door or on the phone, and goes from Simon to Ghost. Stalks into the room with narrowed eyes, only to find you in the kitchen. By yourself.

“Ghost, you want a sandwich too? Turkey and cheese.”

“Fuck you callin’ me that for?”

Once he sees you’re alone, he swoops in and wraps around you like a hoodie. A firm kiss to your ear, then your cheek, then spun you around. Back pressed to the counter top. Settles his face right close to yours.

“We playin’ games now?” You didn’t want to upset him, so you pressed a kiss to his nose. His grumpy look faded a bit.

“Sorry, baby.” Arms wrapped carefully around his shoulders. And your fingers scratch his scalp. Another kiss to his nose. “I’m sorry for playing games with you. Simon Riley.”

Hearing his name on your lips finally cracked, and he gave you a smile. A little scar on the upper lip. You gave it a kiss, and then pressed a kiss to his lips.

A quick surge forward, and you only just had time to shove aside the things behind you before you found yourself on the countertop.

Kyle Garrick

Government name.

He doesn’t mind being called Gaz, and you’ll use Kyle and Gaz interchangeably. Doesn’t even mind if you use “Kyle” or “honey” in front of his squadmates. Though “Kylie” he does have some displeasure with.

“I’ll have you know, Soap is still calling me Kylie, you asshole.”

Call him ‘Garrick’, and he knows that you are pretending to be mad at him. He slinks over and rubs his face against your cheek. He’s too cute for you to stay mad.

If you shout “Kyle Garrick”, he comes running. He could have sworn that he put his clothes in the hamper. And did the dishes. And taken out the recycling. Damn, what was it that he forgot?

“Kyle Ga-”

“Yes, dear!” Shit, he didn’t mean to ‘yes, dear’ you. “Yes, my dear, I’m right here.”

You pause your laundry folding and summon him with a crook of your finger. Once he’s close enough, you tap your lip with the same finger. “I need a kiss.”

He blinked once. Then twice. “God damn you.” He squishes your face in his hands and gave you a quick, firm kiss. “Don’t stress me out like that. Thought you were mad.”

“Give me another kiss, or I will be.”

He rapid fire kissed your mouth, chin, and cheeks, then gave you a smack on the ass before returning to the living room.

“In my own fucking home,” he muttered.

John MacTavish

Military callsign.

He’s got some thick skin. And he’s had his name shouted angrily many a time. He would all but skip into the room with a big smile on his face. The only people who shouted that name (and wore out the scare-factor on it) were his family members. Shouting “John MacTavish” meant you loved him. You were also mad at him, but you loved him. That was more important. Even with your scowl and the gross pile of garbage he kept forgetting to take out. You loved him.

Now shouting his callsign reminded him of his superior officers.

“SOAP!”

Shit shit shit. He put down his beer and ran from the garage to the backyard. Leg brace over his sweats, low cut muscle shirt that you also wolf-whistle at when he wears. You were only weeding the garden boxes.

“JOHNNY!”

“I’m here, bonnie,” he hollered, rounding the corner. You were sitting in the dirt, a tidy pile of weeds and dead plant bits next to you.

“C’mere, c’mere.”

He leaned down next to you, hand on your shoulder and good knee on the ground. “Wassit?”

You pointed to the leaf in your hand. “A caterpillar, Johnny. An itsy-bitsy caterpillar.”

He sighed heavily and kissed your shoulder. “Bonnie, I thought something was wrong.”

“Hm?” You spared him a glance. “What are you talking about, bubba?”

“You called me Soap.”

“Did I? Didn’t mean to spook you, loverboy.” You gave him an apologetic kiss on the lips. “Just wanted you to see the caterpillar before he wiggled off.”

Posted: 2023 Dec 10

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seonghwaddict · 11 months ago

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save a horse, ride your best friend — song mingi

in which your best friend can’t believe you’ve never ridden a dick before, so he takes it upon himself to teach you.

best friend!song mingi x fem!reader. requested by anon. genre. slight fluff. smut. best friends to friends with benefits. warnings. explicit sexual content mdni, inexperienced!reader, thigh riding, fingering, use of a dildo, big dick!mingi, multiple orgasms, unprotected, creampie, swearing, nicknames (baby, angel, pretty). wc. 4k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. this was requested a while ago but i’ve been putting it off because… i’ve never written anything about toys being used so uh, i was worried about the pacing and stuff. i wasn’t sure if you meant for them to be in an established relationship, so i went for the fwb route. IMPORTANT!!!! i lost access to my google account bc of a stupid mistake, if you sent in a request through my google form and would still like me to see it, please send it as an ask <33 i remember a few of them, but do send yours in just in case!!

listening to. need to know, doja cat // if u think i’m pretty, artemas // moonlight, kali uchis

masterlist.

it was a regular saturday evening. you were on a video call with your best friend, mingi, talking about anything that came to mind as you each ate a bowl of ramen as if you were really in the same room. he really only lived a couple buildings away, a two minute walk at most, but actually joining you in your apartment didn’t cross his mind until something interesting was brought up.

you weren’t sure what led to the conversation, but somehow it steered into the direction of something less innocent as you found yourself talking about an embarrassing date you’d gone on a while ago. recounting the story, laughing together, soon turned into a conversation about what each of you like in bed.

“oh, it’s just amazing,” mingi laughed as he gulped down a mouthful of water, momentarily pausing his rambling about how much he loves it when someone rides his dick. he ran a his hand through his short, washed-out pink hair, “honestly, my favourite thing ever since it probably feels just as good for whoever is, y’know, riding.”

based on everything he’s said so far, you came to the conclusion that he was more into giving than receiving, that he got off on seeing all the pleasure he can give his partner. so, it made sense he’d choose to mention the fact that riding him would feel good. not that you would know.

“can i admit something?”

he looked up from his bowl, sharp eyes looking almost hopeful as he nodded.

you looked around your kitchen jokingly, pretending to make sure no one sense was listened as you leaned closer a whispered, your hand cupping the side of your mouth.

“i’ve never done that before.”

his jaw dropped at that, letting out a small laugh. “you’re kidding.”

“no, really,” you insisted, going back to eating casually as if you were having the most normal conversation in the world with your best friend, “i really haven’t done… much, so i can’t confirm or deny your theory.”

“huh.” he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he thought for a moment. his head tilted and it was then that you felt how warm your cheeks felt, how your thighs were pressed together under the counter. of course, he was well aware of the fact that you had much less experience than him, only knowing about two people you had slept with. but damn. he clicked his tongue and shook his head ever so slightly. “that won’t do.”

furrowing your eyebrows, you opened your mouth to ask him what he had meant by that. he beat you to it before you could get a word out.

“i can… teach you, if you want?”

you blinked at your screen, resting your wrist on your countertop and gripping your chopsticks a little too hard. a silence followed his offer, though it wasn’t awkward. in fact, he could see you genuinely considering it as you thought it over. eventually, you gave him a tiny nod.

“i mean,” you shrugged, shifting your eyes away shyly, “sure, i guess. why not?”

he grinned, trying to hide it as he shoved a mouthful of noodles into his mouth and shoved his bowl aside. he chewed, swallowed then got up and made sure to bring his phone with him. you recognised his hallways then bedroom as he walked through his apartment. “i’ll be there in like 15, i need to buy something on the way. just wait there, and where something comfortable and… um, accessible.”

you nodded, despite your confusion, and he hung up. accessible? you looked down at your clothing—or rather, lack thereof. since you were home and not expecting anyone, you’d settled on wearing just a shirt you stole from mingi that was too large for him and much larger for you, and panties. you lifted the hem of the worn shirt, assessing how much of your dignity you’d lose if he saw your pink hello kitty undergarments that you only wore if you were doing laundry.

you could already hear him giggling at the sight.

groaning and cursing under your breath, you dropped the shirt and sped to your bedroom to dig through your closet in hopes of finding something a little more appealing. after making a mess of one of your closet’s drawers, you finally pulled out a pair of less offensive panties. they were made of soft cotton; a muted light blue with thin white lace trim, the cut shaped more like a bikini than what you call your grandma underwear.

deciding they were flattering enough, you slipped off your hello kitty pair—ignoring the embarrassing amount of wetness creating a wet patch right where it was pressed against your core—and replaced it with the new pair. as you untwisted the waistband and adjusted it to fit properly, your doorbell rang and you froze on the spot before pulling yourself together and heading to open the door.

the walk to the door felt abnormally long as you stumbled over on wobbly knees. admittedly, you were a little nervous. sure, there have been times where you wanted to do some more than friendly activities with mingi, but you never actually thought it was happen. yet here you were, opening the door for him so he could come in and show you what being a cowgirl feels like.

“hey,” he greeted you softly, stepping into your home and closing the door behind him. you noticed a small plastic bag in his hand, eying it curiously as you watched him kick off his shoes and hang up his coat. once that was of the way, he took one of your hands in your free one and pulled you to where he knew your bedroom was.

once there, he set the bag down on your bedside table and dragged you to stand between his knees as he took a seat on the edge of your bed. he looked you over, lingering on the familiar t-shirt.

“so you’re the one that took this shirt, huh?” he quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at you as he released your hand and brought both of his to your hips. his thumbs caressed the curve of your waist over the shirt. “it was my favourite.”

you laughed softly, “clearly you didn’t care enough if i was able to keep it for three years without you noticing.”

“you little thief.” his nose scrunched as he glared at you jokingly, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“if you really want it back, you can always take it.”

“nah, it’s fine, keep it. it looks cuter on you anyway.” he took a breath and gave you another once over, humming appreciatively when he moved his hands up higher, dragging the shirt with it until he caught a glimpse of your panties. you tensed, caught off guard by how close he felt. “i need you to relax a little, how about i help you loosen up, yeah?”

you nodded, averting your gaze but returning it to him when you felt him pull you onto his lap. he slotted one of his legs between yours, easing you down to straddle his thigh. his hands ran up and down your sides and few times before resting on your bare thighs, your breath stuttered and he held back a smile.

“are you still okay with this?” he asked quietly, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his your shirt. “if i do anything that makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and i’ll stop immediately and we can just watch a movie or something, okay?” when you only nodded, he continued, “i need you to say it, please.”

“i’m okay with this,” you muttered in return, resting you hands on his biceps, “and i’ll let you know if i need you to stop.”

“good, now…” without waiting any longer, he leaned forward to attach his lips to your neck, his hands slowly beginning to rock you back and forth on his lap.

you sucked in a sharp breath and clung into his arms a little tighter, your stomach fluttering at the feeling of your clothed cunt on his firm thigh, your panties dragging against your clit with ease thanks to how wet you already were. he lifted you slightly as he pulled you towards him, pushing you down as he pushed, the varying pressure making your lips part in a soft whimper. he nearly groaned at the sound, moving his lips right below your ear.

“you know,” he rasped between the licks and kisses, “i can’t deny that i’ve wanted to fuck you for a long, long time now.”

“r-really?”

mingi chuckled as he pulled back to look at your face, half surprised and half needy. he noticed that if he relaxed his hands, you’d continue grinding against his thigh.

“yeah, really. i mean, look at you,” he glanced down, one of his hands lifting the hem of your shirt to watch you ride his thigh slowly, a dark wet patch forming right where your leaking pussy sat. he bit his lip, “you look so perfect… and i bet you’d feel perfect, too.”

you nearly whined at that, fucking yourself on his thigh just a little faster as he sucked a dark mark right above your collarbone before returning to mutter dirty words into your ear.

“i know practically everything about you and your cute little body, you know. better than anyone else,” one of his hands inched it’s way up your thighs, brushing against the edge of your panties, “i’ll make you feel so good, angel, i promise.”

“mingi?” you whimpered, prompting him to lean back a little to look at you with a curious tilt of his head and a raised brow. “if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now, i might lose my mind so… please.”

his beautifully plump lips stretched into a smile as he wasted no time in practically pouncing forward and smashing his lips against yours. it started a little slow as you got acquainted with each other, despite the fact you could feel a nearing orgasm as a knot in your stomach drew tighter with each roll of your hips, but soon the kiss turned hungry.

he groaned into your mouth as you let his tongue explore, making you let out a quiet moan. mingi knew he wouldn’t be able to kiss anyone ever again. you, his best friend of all people, had the most inviting lips he’s ever felt. so inviting, so perfect and so soft. he thought everything about was soft. his hand slipped just under the edge of your panties as his other one made your grinds slow down.

you didn’t mind the slow pace, knowing just a few more rocks of your hips would have you tipping over the edge. but he evidently had other plans as he finally made your hips still completely. you pulled away from his lips with a pout. if you were trying to make him feel bad, it backfired terribly.

all he could think of as he looks at your swollen, red, wet, pouty lips is how much prettier they’d look wrapped around his cock. but he could save that for another time.

“there’s no need to rush, baby,” he chuckled, wiping some saliva away from your bottom lip.

eventually, when he was sure you had calmed down enough, he lifted you off his lap a little and turned to lay you down on your back, pressed against the comfortable mattress as he kneeled on the edge. he gripped your knees and bent them, pushing them closer to your chest with his eyes zeroed in on where your slick was leaking through your panties.

with one hand keeping your knees together and elevated, he ran his other over the fabric, pressing down on where he knew your clot would be and elicit a sweet little moan as you squirmed beneath him. he thought you were so cute like this, you looked so flustered as he gave you nothing but featherlight touches where you needed him most. for now.

“don’t get all shy on me now,” he cooed as he glanced up and noticed you covering your face with your hands, “let me see you, pretty.”

he didn’t continue his touches until you finally removed your hands, giving him a nice view of your abused lips and round eyes, pupils blown wide with lust in a way that had something stirring in his abdomen. and his pants.

he let down your knees for a moment so both of his hands could slip under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. he actually moaned when he saw the strings of arousal clutching onto the fabric as he dragged it away, snapping when he got too far.

“you’re so pretty, baby,” he murmured, watching your entrance squeeze around nothing, making more slick drip out.

after tossing it aside, he wasted no time in getting your knees back to the previous position and running his fingers through your folds.

“oh, fuck,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as you let out a moan when he tapped against your clit, “you’re soaked.”

he glanced up at you, wanting to see your face as he slowly pushed in too fingers and catching a glimpse of your hard nipples poking through your shirt. your face contorted for s fraction of s second before relaxing, your head tipping back against the mattress as you let out a whine.

he choked back a moan at the tight walls around his middle and ring fingers, the fingers of his other hand digging into your thighs. “sh-shit… you’re so tight. i’m gonna have to stretch you out first, okay?”

you nodded mindlessly, too distracted by his fingers prodding at your sweet spot to care about any words he may have said. but you furrowed your eyebrows and lifted your head when you felt both his hands leave you, finding him reaching for the bag. your curiosity outweighed your disappointment as he pulled something out.

it was a dildo. about as thick and long as the biggest person you had before, and made of what looked to be transparent silicon. your insides tightened at the sight, somehow the thought of him seemingly buying this just for you turning you on even more.

he returned to kneeling at the edge of your bed, leaning down to loop his arm around your waist and lift you up to place a pillow under your hips before letting lay back down.

“couldn’t find one my size, but this should be fine,” he held the dildo and ran the tip through your pussy, collecting wetness as you shuddered, “my cock will just have to stretch you the rest of the way.”

you breath hitched at the implication of his words. so he was bigger than that? your thighs pressed together at the thought of being completely stuffed by him. he chuckled, separating your knees enough for him to have a clear view of your pussy, pulsing and dripping and begging for his attention.

he began slipping the toy into you, filling you up inch by inch and watching your needy hole stretch around it and swallow it up. the sight had him choking back a moan, biting down on his bottom lip.

the stretch had your back arching and pushing yourself against it desperately, feeling like that alone could get you to finish. it only took a few deep strokes for your pussy to get used to the size, squeezing and writhing around it until you couldn’t handle it anymore. your arousal coated it quickly and seeped out with each stroke, squelching sounds filling the room that shot straight to his dick.

when you finally came, your toes curled and your body twitched as you let out a string of and whines and moans, little curses slipping between. he watched with fascination as you came undone right beneath him, not wanting to wait any longer to be inside you. he shoved the toy deep inside you, leaving it there as he leaned back for a moment to discard his clothes, slipping his hoodie and sweatpants off.

when you were brought back to your senses, you found yourself on his lap again, straddling his hips this time as he sat with his back against your headboard. you felt his erectile straining against his boxers and pressing against your core. you couldn’t help but rock your hips against his slowly.

“do you ever ride your pillow?” he asked suddenly, voice dropped what felt like two octaves lower than his regular tone. your eyes widened at the question but you nodded. he nodded too, his hands finding your ass and helping you grind against his clothes length. “this is a lot like that, except you have something in you… and it’s more of an up and down movement… and i’m obviously not a pillow… still, there’s really no right way to do it, just go slow and you’ll figure out what works and what doesn’t. plus, i’m here to guide you.”

he gave your ass a squeeze as if to punctuate his sentence, massaging the soft flesh in his palms. when you felt ready, you dropped your hands from his shoulders to his boxers, palming his length a few times before hooking your fingers into the fabric and dragging it down until his cock sprung out.

he definitely wasn’t lying when he said it would stretch you more than the already-big dildo. he was definitely a lot bigger than anyone else you’ve been with, well over average. you nearly dropped at the sight, wrapping your hand around him and jerking him off, eyes fixated on the angry red tip leaking precum as you passed your thumb over it.

the muscles of his abs rippled and squeezed as your worked your hands on his cock, his head thrown back against the headboard and letting out stuttering moans. all the sounds he made encourage you to sit up on your knees, guiding him through your folds and whimpering as you finally sank down on him carefully.

the two of you moaned at the same time, him at how well you squeezed around him and you at how well he stretched you. you stopped when you reached just halfway, unsure whether or not you’d be able to fit more. his hips jerked slightly as his hands squeezed your hips.

“come on, baby,” he moaned softly, looking up at you with encouraging eyes, “just a little more… we can make it fit, right? just breathe.”

you nodded and as you took a deep breath, he used his hold on your to sink you further down until he finally bottomed out. he cursed silently, the back of his head finding the headboard again as you whined and dropped yours onto his shoulder.

you felt his tip pushing against your cervix, the new feeling making a lump form in your throat as you blinked back tears. this time it took a while to get used to the stretch before you tried grinding back and forth. it was slow, almost painfully so. he was amazed that despite stretching you with two different things, you were still so unbelievably tight, hugging him in a death grip as your raised your hips an inch before dropping down again.

your soft noises were muffled by his shoulder as your hands rested on his biceps, panting and squeezing gently as every inch of him dragged against the sensitive spongy patch in your walls every time you grinded on him. soon enough you were able to lift yourself to his tip and drop all the way down, your wetness letting him slip in and out with ease.

still, you kept the pace torturously slow, savouring each bounce and grind. his hands had left your hips at some point, exploring your body under your shirt, massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples. he lifted the fabric but kept it on your as he watched your tits bounce temptingly, your puffy pink nipples making his mouth water as he pushed himself forward to take one into his mouth.

your hips stuttered as he sucked and nibbled at your nipples, throwing your head back and arching into his touch as your grinds grew sloppy. he felt your decreasing pace, using the hand that wasn’t teasing your other breast to guide your hips once more. he angled you slightly differently in a way that made your clit press against his pelvis each time he bottomed out, the speed of your grinds picking up quickly as his hips bucked up to meet yours.

his lips detached from your bruised breasts with a popping sound as he leaned up to capture your lips in his once again. it wasn’t much of a kiss, more teeth and tongue and moans and groans than anything else as you swallowed each other’s sounds.

you finished first, pushing yourself down hard and stilling, filling yourself with his throbbing cock and pressing your clit against him. he held you tightly, burying his face in your neck to suck at all the spot he knew would get your to writhe. many tickling fights contributed to his knowledge on all your sensitive spots.

your body twitched as you returned to bouncing on his length, your juices looking at his base. the overstimulation burned a little, making your thighs and knees quiver, but you were determined to get him to finish too. and by the looks of it, it shouldn’t take much longer.

“shit, baby,” he said, halfway between a whimper and a moan, fingertips digging into your hips as he threw his head back in bliss, “‘m so close— fuck, you feel s-so good.”

his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, bottom lip caught between his teeth. his cheeks and the tip of his ears flushed a deep red, his plush lips a few shades darker and coated in your mixed saliva from your kisses. as you adjusted the angle of your hips, something in him snapped, grabbing your hips tighter and taking over. he took over your movements, thrusting his hips up desperately as you fell forward onto his chest with the sudden change in intensity. his tip pushed itself against your g-spot continually, another knot tightening in your stomach.

the wet sounds of your cunt and your skin slapping against his egged him on until finally he felt like he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“baby, p-please— fuck— please, can i cum i-inside you?” he begged through a groan, “i— please, angel, i-i can’t wait any longer.”

you nodded against his chest with a whine, you were on the pill anyway. not a second later, he released into you, filling you up with stuttering hips. he pulled you down, flush against him and keeping you there as he emptied himself with softly muttered curses, his head dropping to press open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder.

it felt new to you, the warmth making you squirm until you came again without warning. it was much weaker this time but still enough to make you shake in his arms, panting softly after letting out a strangled moan against his skin.

after a few long moments of trying to recover from the shared orgasm, he lifted his head, one of his hands cupping your chin to tilt your head to look at him.

“so,” he started, lips stretched into a smile, “how’d that feel?”

“fucking amazing.” you rolled your eyes at how smug he looked after your confession, not protesting as he leaned forward to kiss you.

this one was much softer than the previous kisses you shared, much more tender. it was a lot shorter too, he pulled away first to rest his forehead against yours.

“yeah?” he whispered, kissing the corner of your lips, “just wait until i hit it from the back.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

#cromernet #wonderlandnet #cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #ateez #ateez x reader #song mingi smut #mingi x reader #mingi reactions #mingi imagines #mingi smut #mingi fluff #mingi angst #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez smut

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neferaskingdom · 3 months ago

Text

♡ Vegas Baby | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: After winning his fourth world championship, Max Verstappen stuns the world with a live radio proposal.

A/N: This was inspired by this post by @altxanna idea so good it made me get over my writer's block and write this 4.2k monstrosity.

MAX VERSTAPPEN MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Max Verstappen crossed the finish line in fifth place, but that didn’t matter. The entire world was fixated on the fact that he had just won his fourth World Championship.

“AND MAX VERSTAPPEN DOES IT AGAIN! FOUR WORLD TITLES!” David Croft shouted, his voice teetering on the edge of hysteria. The Las Vegas skyline lit up like a fireworks display on overdrive, the crowd roaring in approval.

“Forget where he finished—he’s a four-time world champion!” Martin Brundle yelled, equally excited. “This is history!”

Max, however, barely seemed to notice he’d crossed the line in fifth. He was just… Max. Calm. Collected. His voice came through the radio, steady as always, but with a hint of amusement.

“Thanks, guys. It’s been an incredible season. I’m so proud of the team. Huge thanks to GP, Christian, everyone.”

“You’ve done it, Max! Four-time champion, man!” GP screamed, clearly unable to keep the excitement in. “This is massive, mate! You’ve earned this!”

“Yeah, I know,” Max said, his voice deadpan. “But listen, there’s one more thing.”

The radio went quiet for a second.

“Uh… What’s that, Max?” GP asked, his tone suddenly cautious.

Max didn’t respond right away. Then, he casually dropped the bomb.

“Y/n, a bet’s a bet. We’re getting married tonight.”

“WHAT?!” GP exploded. “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY?”

Max’s tone didn’t change. “We’re getting married. Vegas chapel. Tonight.”

The entire Red Bull garage froze. Even the other engineers looked around in total confusion.

Max continued, his voice as if he were discussing the weather. “It’s been planned. I won the fourth title, she agreed to the bet, so… wedding time.”

GP sputtered. “Max, you—WHAT? No, no, no. You can’t just say that on the radio! You can’t just—”

“I’m doing it,” Max said, already tired of the conversation. “It’s happening. Vegas. Tonight.”

The radio was dead silent for a long moment, then GP finally spoke, his voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and dread. “Max, I—What in the world did I just hear? Are you seriously making your wedding announcement over the team radio?”

“Of course, I’m serious,” Max replied. “She said if I won my fourth title in Vegas, I could pick the wedding date. So, I picked tonight.”

“Max, you can’t—you—what the hell is wrong with you?!” GP spluttered.

Back in the commentary booth, David Croft could barely hold it together. “Did Max Verstappen just announce his wedding on live radio after winning his fourth world championship? Is that what I just heard?!”

“I think that’s exactly what you heard, Crofty,” Martin Brundle said, voice dripping with astonishment. “This is pure, unfiltered Verstappen.”

David Crofty just stared at the screen, blinking in disbelief. “Honestly, I can’t even process this. We’ve seen some wild moments in F1, but this... this might just take the cake.”

“Yeah,” Brundle said with a chuckle. “You can’t script this stuff. Not even in Vegas.”

Meanwhile, in Red Bull’s hospitality area, Y/n was standing stock-still, her eyes wide as she stared at the screen. The radio call still blaring in her ears.

“Did—did he just announce our wedding? Like… right now?!” she hissed, her hand gripping the counter in disbelief.

A Red Bull mechanic standing nearby looked just as stunned. “Uh, I think he did, yeah.”

“He’s lost it,” one engineer muttered under his breath, his face pale.

“I don’t even know what’s happening anymore,” another whispered.

The others weren’t any better off, most of them looking like they might faint. A PR rep came over, trying to maintain professionalism but clearly in shock. “Y/n, um… Max just… did he just announce your wedding?”

“Don’t look at me,” Y/n groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I can’t even… He’s the worst.”

“Vegas, baby!” another joked, only to get smacked in the arm by Y/n as she stormed past.

Back on the track, Max, utterly relaxed, parked his car in parc fermé and stepped out, throwing his helmet in the air before catching it like it was no big deal.

“So, yeah,” Max said, grinning at the cameras. “Got my fourth title, and now I get to marry my girl. Vegas chapel, let’s go!”

The reporters and photographers surrounding him stared at him in utter confusion.

“Wait, what? You’re—what?!” one reporter stammered.

Max smirked. “Yep, Vegas. I won, she lost, and now we’re getting married.”

He tossed a thumbs-up to the camera as if it were a completely normal thing to say.

“Max,” one reporter finally managed, “you’re serious about this, right? You’re really getting married in Vegas?”

Max’s grin widened. “I’m serious. A bet’s a bet. No turning back.”

Back in the Red Bull garage, chaos had officially set in. Christian Horner, who had been pacing for the last five minutes, finally stopped and glared at a nearby mechanic. “What am I supposed to do with this now?!”

“I don’t know, Christian,” the mechanic said, holding up his hands in defeat. “Maybe we start picking out flowers?”

“Someone get me a drink,” Christian muttered, walking off, leaving a sea of confusion behind him.

Y/n stormed through the paddock like a woman possessed, her face a mix of disbelief, panic, and barely contained rage.

She spotted Max leaning casually against a barrier in parc fermé, looking like he had no care in the world—despite having just announced their impending Vegas wedding to the entire world. He was surrounded by Lewis, Fernando, George, and Carlos, who were all still there congratulating him and clearly trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“MAX!” Y/n screeched as she closed the distance.

Max turned, his smug grin stretching even wider. “Oh, there she is! The future Mrs. Verstappen. Took you long enough.”

Y/n planted herself directly in front of him, glaring. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

Max blinked, his expression far too innocent. “What? I kept my promise.”

“Your promise?” Y/n echoed, incredulous. “You hijacked the championship celebration to announce a fake wedding! On LIVE TELEVISION!”

“It’s not fake,” Max said matter-of-factly. “A bet is a bet.”

Carlos, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow. “Wait, wait, wait. You bet your wedding on the championship?”

“Of course,” Max said with a shrug, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m a man of my word.”

George choked on air. “You’re a menace.”

“Exactly,” Y/n said, throwing her hands in the air. “Max, this is insane! You can’t just—”

“Relax, schatje,” Max interrupted, his tone annoyingly casual. “It’s Vegas. This is what people do here.”

“Not normal people!” Y/n snapped.

Lewis, still dabbing at his face with a towel, gave a bewildered laugh. “I’m sorry, are we actually talking about a real wedding right now?”

“Yes,” Max said confidently. “Tonight.”

“No,” Y/n shot back.

“Yes.”

“MAX!”

“Yes, Y/n,” Max said, leaning forward slightly. “We are getting married tonight, and that’s final.”

“Final?!” she spluttered. “How is this final? There’s no plan, no venue, no—”

“Vegas has plenty of chapels,” Max interrupted smoothly.

“I don’t have a dress!”

“You’ll look great in anything,” Max countered.

Y/n groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t even have someone to walk me down the aisle!”

Max tilted his head, clearly unbothered. “Oh, that’s easy.” He turned to his left, where Lewis stood mid-sip from his water bottle. “Lewis! Can you walk Y/n down the aisle tonight?”

Lewis froze, the bottle halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“Can you walk her down the aisle?” Max repeated, as if this were a completely reasonable request.

“I—” Lewis blinked, looking between Max and Y/n. “Uh… sure?”

“What?! No!” Y/n shouted.

“Why me?” Lewis asked, baffled.

Max shrugged. “You’re a world champion. She deserves someone of high status.”

Before Y/n could combust, Fernando Alonso stepped forward, a sly grin on his face. “Hold on,” he said, raising a hand. “If anyone is walking her down the aisle, it should be me. I’m the most appropriate for the role.”

Lewis turned to him, visibly confused. “How do you figure that?”

Fernando gave a dramatic shrug. “Experience. I’m wiser, more distinguished. A father figure, if you will.”

Y/n groaned, “Oh my God, Fernando—”

Lewis snorted. “Father figure? Please. More like grandfather figure.”

The group exploded into laughter. George doubled over, wheezing, while Carlos clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his own cackles.

“You wound me, Hamilton,” Fernando said, his tone mock-offended.

“Yeah, but I’m not wrong,” Lewis quipped, smirking.

“This is not happening,” Y/n muttered, covering her face with her hands.

Max leaned closer to her, his grin pure mischief. “See? Problem solved. You have two excellent candidates to walk you down the aisle.”

“This is NOT solved!” Y/n screeched.

George finally spoke up, still chuckling. “You know, for the record, this is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen”

“Agreed,” Carlos said, shaking his head with a grin. “But I can’t look away.”

Max clapped his hands together. “Alright, then. We’re all set! Lewis or Fernando—it’s Y/n’s choice.”

“I CHOOSE NEITHER!” she yelled, clearly on the verge of a breakdown.

Max leaned back, entirely unfazed. “Suit yourself. But one way or another, schatje, we’re getting married tonight.”

Y/n turned to the other drivers, her eyes pleading. “Can someone PLEASE talk some sense into him?”

Lewis shrugged. “I don’t know, Y/n. He seems pretty set on it. You might just have to roll with it.”

Fernando smirked. “And let me know when you decide. I’ll be practicing my ‘giving away the bride’ speech.”

George buried his face in his hands again, mumbling, “This is a fever dream.”

Y/n, meanwhile, was contemplating her life choices as Max grinned at her, utterly pleased with himself. This was going to be a nightmare—and she was the star attraction.

Suddenly, Lando came sprinting out of nowhere, practically skidding to a stop in front of Max. His curls were a chaotic mess, and his face was split into an ear-to-ear grin that made him look like an overexcited puppy.

“MAX!” Lando yelled, throwing his arms up. “FOUR-TIME WORLD CHAMPION! YOU LEGEND! Also mate, what the hell?! Are you really getting married?!”

Max turned, his ever-present grin widening. “Obviously.”

“I thought it was just a rumor!” Lando said, flinging his helmet onto a nearby table. “I mean, come on, you say insane stuff on the radio all the time! I figured this was one of those things.”

“Nope.” Max popped the “p” for emphasis. “It’s happening. Tonight.”

Y/n, who had been pacing nearby in a futile attempt to process her life choices, groaned audibly. “I hate all of you. All of you.”

Lando glanced at her, then back at Max. “Wait, so this is real? Like… actually real?”

“As real as it gets,” Max replied, clapping Lando on the shoulder. “And since you’re here…”

Lando squinted. “Since I’m here, what?”

Max’s grin turned sly, his hand still on Lando’s shoulder. “How do you feel about being my best man tonight?”

Lando froze, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me,” Max said, still looking far too pleased with himself.

“Me?!” Lando gestured wildly at himself, his voice rising an octave. “Why me?!”

“Why not you?” Max countered smoothly.

“I don’t know!” Lando threw up his hands. “You could ask your trainer, your engineer—anyone! We’ve been rivals this entire year!”

Max tilted his head, his expression softening slightly. “Exactly. We’ve had a lot of ups and downs this year, yeah? Fighting for the championship and everything. But at the end of the day…” He paused, his grin shifting to something more genuine. “You’re a good friend, Lando. One of the best. And I’d like us to bury the hatchet. Tonight.”

The sudden sincerity hit Lando like a truck. His eyes widened, his lip quivering just a little as he stared at Max. “Max…”

The group went quiet—well, as quiet as it could be with the chaos of the paddock swirling around them. Even Y/n stopped pacing to stare, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You really mean that?” Lando asked, his voice thick with emotion.

“Of course,” Max said, giving Lando a firm pat on the back. “You’ve been there through all of it, mate. Who else would I want standing next to me tonight?”

Lando’s hand flew to his face, his bottom lip wobbling. “Oh my God. I think I’m gonna cry.”

“Don’t cry,” George mumbled, clearly trying to stifle a laugh. “This is ridiculous enough already.”

“Shut up, George!” Lando snapped, though it lacked any real venom. He sniffled, blinking rapidly. “Max, you big idiot. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Max smirked. “Well, don’t get used to it.”

Y/n, watching this entire exchange with her arms crossed, muttered under her breath, “I cannot believe this is my life right now.”

Carlos, standing nearby, leaned over to George and whispered, “Do you think Lando will actually cry at the altar?”

“Oh, 100%,” George replied without hesitation.

“I’M NOT CRYING!” Lando shouted, wiping furiously at his eyes.

“Sure, mate,” Carlos said, grinning.

“Shut up!” Lando whirled back to Max, pointing a slightly wobbly finger at him. “Fine! I’ll do it. I’ll be your best man. But only because that was the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Good.” Max nodded approvingly. “We’re gonna have a great time. Bring tissues, though. You’ll need them.”

Lando groaned. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re emotional,” Max teased, clapping him on the back again.

“Can I leave now?” Y/n interjected, looking thoroughly exasperated.

“Nope,” Max said cheerfully. “We’ve still got wedding planning to do. And Lando needs to rehearse his speech.”

“Speech?!” Lando exclaimed, his face paling. “No one said anything about a speech!”

“Oh, come on,” Carlos said, grinning. “Just wing it.”

“This is a nightmare,” Y/n muttered.

“See, schatje?” Max said, turning to her with a mischievous smile. “Everything’s settled”

“Kill me now,” she groaned, dragging her hands down her face.

“Not before the wedding,” Max quipped. “I need my bride alive, schatje.”

Carlos, grinning, nudged George. “Do you think she’ll kill him before they even make it to the altar?”

“I actually might” Y/n snapped, making everyone laugh—except her.

Max clapped his hands together, cutting through the lingering laughter. “Alright, boys, fun’s over. See you after the podium, yeah?”

Carlos snorted, throwing an arm around George. “Come on, hombre. Let’s get out of here before they decide to do something crazier.”

Max turned to Carlos, his grin turning devious. “Speaking of you, Carlos, I need another groomsman. What do you say?”

Carlos blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Me? Really?”

“Obviously,” Max said, rolling his eyes. “You’re good at standing around looking pretty. Perfect for the job.”

“I’m honored,” Carlos said, puffing out his chest dramatically.

Y/n, standing a few feet away, raised her hand. “Dibs on George for my side, then.”

George’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, what?”

“I called dibs,” Y/n said firmly, crossing her arms.

“That’s not how this works!” Max exclaimed, glaring at her.

“It is now,” she shot back, grinning.

Max groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You are impossible.”

“You’re marrying me,” she said sweetly. “This is your problem now.”

Before Max could argue further, he grabbed her hand, tugging her away from the group. “We need to pick more people. Properly.”

As they walked through the paddock, Max started listing names under his breath. “Alright, I want Charles on my side.”

“No way,” Y/n said immediately.

Max frowned. “Why not?”

“Because I’m picking him,” Y/n declared, speeding up her pace as soon as she spotted Charles standing by his car.

Max groaned. “You can’t just steal all the good ones!”

“Watch me.”

By the time they reached Charles, Y/n was already stepping in front of Max, her grin wicked. “Charles! You’re going to be my maid of honor.”

Charles looked up, his face blank with confusion. “Wait, what?”

Max shoved Y/n aside, scowling. “Ignore her, Charles. You’re going to be one of my groomsmen.”

“No, he’s not!” Y/n snapped, stepping back in front of Max.

“Yes, he is!” Max shot back, sidestepping her.

Charles blinked between them, his brows furrowing. “What is happening right now?”

“You’re gonna help me with my wedding,” Y/n said, grinning like she’d just won the lottery. “It’s happening tonight.”

Charles just stared at her, still not sure if he was in a dream or being pranked. “Uh… are you serious?”

“Charles, listen to me,” Y/n said, grabbing his hands dramatically. “I need you on my side. You’re the only one who understands how insane Max is.”

Max pulled her back by the shoulder. “He does not understand that! He’s my friend, not yours.”

Charles raised a hand. “Guys, what—”

“Do you really want to stand next to Max?” Y/n asked, cutting him off.

Max glared at her. “Do you really want to be stuck with her?”

“I feel like I don’t want to be stuck with either of you,” Charles said cautiously, his confusion growing.

“Charles,” Y/n pleaded, gripping his arm. “Please. You’ll get to wear something cool”

Charles blinked, still completely befuddled. “I… I don’t know what’s happening. Am I even invited to this wedding? Because you’re asking me to do a lot without any context.”

“Don’t listen to her!” Max interjected, gesturing wildly. “You’ll have more fun on my side. I’ll let you hold the rings.”

“No we’re letting Yuki hold the rings!” Y/n shouted.

Charles blinked again, looking between them like they’d both lost their minds. “Are you two seriously fighting over me right now?”

“Yes!” they yelled in unison.

Charles sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Say yes to me, Charles,” Y/n said, batting her eyelashes.

“No, say yes to me,” Max countered, practically growling.

Charles threw his hands up. “Fine! I’ll be on Y/n’s side. But only because she asked first.”

Y/n cheered, sticking her tongue out at Max. “Suck it!”

“I feel like I should be insulted,” Max muttered as Charles smirked at him.

The wedding was somehow happening. In the span of a few hours—thanks to an intense series of last-minute phone calls, frantic text messages, and a team of Red Bull employees being worked to the bone—the ceremony was set to begin. And despite the fact that no one really knew how they’d gotten here, the whole thing had turned into the weirdest Formula 1 event in history.

Y/n stood in the back, adjusting her dress, eyeing the people around her in disbelief. Max had somehow managed to throw together an entire wedding in record time, which was somehow both impressive and terrifying. She was walking down the aisle with Lewis and Fernando—two of the most iconic figures in F1. She couldn’t decide between them, so she’d invited both to walk her down the aisle. Because, why not?

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Lewis asked, smoothing out his jacket. His suit was impeccable, of course. He was an icon of style, so a last-minute wedding wasn’t going to stop him from looking good.

“I’m just trying to survive this,” Y/n muttered

“We’re in Vegas. Anything goes,” Fernando quipped, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips. “At least the wedding's got personality."

“You both know I’ll never live this down, right?” Y/n said, shaking her head. "This whole thing is so Max, I feel like I should apologize to everyone for being part of it."

“You’ll be fine,” Fernando added with a smile, adjusting his cufflinks. “It’s Max. You know he doesn’t do anything half-heartedly. He’s probably already planned the honeymoon.”

Y/n laughed nervously. “I’m pretty sure he has. You’ve both seen what happens when Max gets an idea in his head. And somehow... this is actually happening.”

“You’ve got this,” Lewis said. “We’re here for you.”

Before Y/n could respond, the doors swung open, signaling that it was time. The aisle was a bit too short for a proper procession, and the whole thing had a sense of hurried chaos as they started walking down toward the altar.

At the front, Max stood there waiting, looking like he was about to burst with excitement. His best man, Lando, had been fighting tears all night and was now sniffling into a tissue. "I swear this is the happiest day of my life," Lando muttered to Carlos, wiping his eyes.

Carlos, looking slightly concerned, just shook his head. “It’s their wedding Lando, not even your own. stop bawling.”

“Yeah, but it’s their wedding,” Lando said, eyes still damp. “There’s too much love in the air.”

Max had his hands tucked in his pockets, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. When he spotted Y/n, he gave her an exaggerated wink, as if to say, “We made it.”

“You good?” Fernando asked, glancing at Y/n as they reached the front.

“I’m questioning every life choice I’ve made,” Y/n muttered under her breath, feeling the full weight of the absurdity of the situation.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Max said, grinning.

At the back of the room, Oscar and Franco stood with baskets of flowers, both looking thoroughly confused in their roles as flower boys. Oscar had been dragged into this because of his unwillingness to protest. Franco, on the other hand, was too amused to care about the situation and just went along with it.

“Oscar, why are we doing this again?” Franco whispered, furrowing his brows as he sprinkled petals on the floor.

“Because Yuki said we had to. And I’m not arguing with him,” Oscar muttered, holding his basket as if it were a grenade about to go off.

“Who cares? It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience! Attending Max Vertsappen’s wedding?,” Franco said with stars in his eyes, “I’ll tell my grandkids about this.”

Yuki, holding the rings, couldn’t contain his excitement as he gave them instructions. “Guys, you’re doing great. Just, uh, try not to look confused. I need this to look professional. Oscar throw the petals properly! more passion! more energy! more footwork!”

“I’m already questioning my entire existence,” Oscar said, looking at Franco for solidarity. Franco just smiled and threw a handful of petals into the air.

The Elvis officiating the wedding was already in full swing, not entirely sure of the gravity of the moment but having a blast nonetheless.

"Y’all ready to get hitched?" Elvis said, his voice more vibrant than Y/n could’ve imagined.

Max, barely containing his excitement, looked over at Y/n. “Ready for this, love?” he asked, his voice low, though it carried a hint of playfulness.

Y/n smiled, glancing at him for a moment. “More than ever.”

Then, in front of everyone, they exchanged their vows.

Max spoke first, his voice unwavering, but there was an undeniable tenderness in his words. “Y/n, you’ve turned my world upside down. You’ve made every race, every moment, better just by being there. I promise to keep being the person you’ve decided to stand at an altar with, the person you love—even when I’m an absolute nightmare. I’ll always fight for us, for this. I love you.”

Y/n could feel her heart in her throat as she spoke. “Max, you’ve always been… Max. But you’ve shown me that you are a person with the biggest heart. You’ve made me laugh, cry, and love harder than I thought I could. You’re my best friend, and I can’t wait for the next chapter of this crazy life with you. I love you.”

There were no grand gestures or over-the-top theatrics; instead, it was just them—raw, honest, and completely present in this moment.

Max smiled at her, the kind of smile that made everything feel right, before turning to the officiant.

“Elvis, hit me with that ‘you may kiss the bride’ line,” Max said, giving a wink.

And so, amidst the madness, they kissed, sealing their vows with a moment that felt right in all its simplicity. The crowd cheered, some clapping and others, like Lando, wiping away happy tears. It wasn’t the wedding anyone had expected, but it was exactly what Max and Y/n had needed.

As they pulled away, Y/n’s gaze met Max’s, and for a brief moment, it was just the two of them, everything else fading away.

As the ceremony ended and the newlyweds turned to leave, the crowd of friends and teammates erupted into applause, some of them still trying to process what had just happened.

Lando was grinning, wiping his eyes. “This is so perfect. I’m still not sure how we managed to get here in two hours, but it’s amazing.”

Charles was smiling too, giving Y/n a thumbs up. “Congrats, both of you. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Max is married now.”

Lewis patted Max on the back. “She’s got you now. Good luck with that.”

Y/n smiled at him, a little breathless. “So, are you planning to annoy me for the rest of our lives?”

Max grinned back, a playful gleam in his eyes. “Absolutely. You’ve signed up for it, so no turning back now.”

Everyone laughed, but there was a deep sincerity in the air. This was their moment—imperfect and hurried, but beautiful in its own way.

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 7 months ago

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Sex in the suit (Wolverine)

Description: Y/N wants Logan to fuck her in the Wolverine suit

Warning: Smut, Wade

Word Count: 1,123k

Logan looked so hot in his suit. Y/N couldn’t keep her eyes off him. So much so that Wade teases her about it anytime he sees her staring at him. “Ya know I don’t blame you, Peanut looks hot af in that suit.” Wade says, making Y/N giggle. Logan looks over and sees her giggling. He walks over to them, “You making my girl laugh?” He asked jokingly. Wade raises his eyebrows under his mask, “Listen Friendo you have no reason to be jealous. Little Y/N over here has a mask kink.” Y/N’s jaw dropped at that and looked over at her friend shocked. Logan didn’t really have a reaction which worried her even though they were dating. She looked at him worried but he didn’t even look mad or upset. “Wow, are you turning her down? I’ll take you up on that, cupcake.” Logan glared at him.

“So the suit turns you on?” He asked them as she ate dinner. She chewed slowly and looked at him. “Wrong time to ask, don't ya think?” She asked. He shrugged, “You’re almost done.” He had a point but she was thinking about food not him fucking her in the suit….well shit now she was. “But yeah, especially the mask.” She says. He raises his brows, “really?” He asked.

She can’t think straight when thinking about it. He looked so sexy in it and all she wanted to do was fuck him. She finished her last bite and quickly took the plate from her. She looked at him as he set it on the table. He came over to her and picked her up, making her giggle. “You keep giggling like that, I’ll fuck you right here on the table babygirl.” He growls. “As long as you wear the suit I don’t care where you fuck me.” She purred. He set her on the counter, “stay right here.” He runs out of the room leaving her in her thoughts. She bit her lip just thinking about what was in store.

She decided to help him out by taking off her sweats leaving her in her shirt and panties. Her panties were lace and yellow fitting the vibe. Her panties were nearly soaked. It wasn’t too much longer that he walked in the kitchen in the suit and he had the mask on as well. Her jaw dropped as if it was the first time seeing him in the suit. He walked up to her and she wrapped her legs around him pulling him closer, “You look so hot baby.” She said and kissed him. The mask made it a little harder but it was still enjoyable. His large hands moved up her thighs to her wet panties.

She gasped in the kiss as he rubbed over her clothed clit. “Fuck you’re wet.” He groaned. She moaned and threw her head back. His finger sped up the pace and his other hand gripped her hip hard, probably leaving a mark. She tried to move her hips but he stopped her, making her whine. “Relax baby. I want to fuck you on my cock.” His deep voice said. She whimpered at his words and he stopped rubbing her. He pulled down her panties and threw them somewhere in the kitchen. He picked her up and turned her around so her ass was up in the air.

“This beautiful ass is just begging for it.” He said, slapping it. She moaned and shook her ass for him. He pulled down his pants and stroked himself a few times before lining up with her wet hole. He rubbed himself against her a few times before sliding in. He was bigger than anyone she’s had sex with prior but so she still was getting used to his size. It took him a minute to fully be inside of her. Her gasps as she got used to him always got him. Once he was in her, he let her adjust before gripping her hips. His grip was tight as he fucked her back on his cock. He wasn’t joking when he said he was gonna fuck her on his cock.

It was long before she was making the loudest noise possible. Luckily Wade wasn’t staying over like he usually would so they both could be as loud as they wanted. “Fuck Wolvy your dick hits all the right spots.” She whines. Never had she called him that before. But by the speed of him slamming her onto his dick increasing, she knew he liked it. “Fuck sweetheart your pussy is so warm and made for me.” He groaned. Her hands had nothing to grip onto, so her fingers dug into the table.

“Right where we eat letting me take you like the dirty whore you are.” She moaned at that and clenched around him. “Fuck baby girl if you do that again I might cum.” He moaned. He rarely ever moaned, just grunts and groans so she almost fell over the edge hearing that sound. “I’m close.” She whined and he grunted. His pace was inhuman fast as he had her fucking him and basically rearranging her organs. He twitched inside of her and they both knew that words didn’t and couldn’t be said. Her eyes rolled back and she nearly screamed his name as she came all over his cock.

He slowed the pace to let her ride out her orgasm. Little breathy moans left her mouth. He picked up the pace again making her whine out of sensitivity. “I know, baby. Daddy’s almost there.” He grunted. His hands squeezed her hips hard and he came inside of her not caring about protection. She gasped feeling his cum fill her up for the first time. He pulled out of her and watched as his cum spilled out of her. He took his hand and swirled her hole and pushed some of it back in her. She whimpered and he chuckled, “Be kinda hot to see you pregnant with my baby.” He said.

“Yeah that would be hot, Peanut.” They both turned to see Wade in his Deadpool suit sitting on the window. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Logan growled. Y/N hid her body the best that she could from Wade. “Relax. I nearly missed the climax.” Logan growled and stormed up to him after pulling up his pants. “Why are you mad, Peanut? You at least got some action.” He said in defense. “Wade go home.” Y/N whined, annoyed that he saw them like that. “Not the kind of whining I want to hear.” He said and Wolverine’s claws came out. “Leave.” He growled at Wade and he sighed. “Fine. But next time invite me will ya?” “WADE!”

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miabebe · 8 months ago

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Too Many Beds (Choi Seungcheol)

Reverse Trope Series Installment 1

Choi Seungcheol may be your parent's best friend's son, your next door neighbour for 20 odd years and the one face you saw every damn time, every damn where but that didn't mean the two of you wanted anything to do with each other. But a business trip - one room, three nights, and seven beds - might just be what it takes to change it all....

Pairing - Choi Seungcheol x afab! Reader

Word Count- 13k (don't ask me how I thought I could do this in 5k)

Genre - Rivals to lovers? Frenemies to lovers? Lovers to lovers? Idk man, these two are idiots, that's all. Oh and smut.

Warnings - one mention of blood cause of intense make out wew, other smut warnings under the cut!

Smut warnings - oral (m and f receiving), fingering, brief face fucking, thick dick cheol lol, slight choking, allusions to a breeding kink, unprotected sex (these two are digustingly in love, extremely horny and highly irresponsible, please don't be like them), creampie, mention of the word slut like once, and I'm hoping that's all?

“Absolutely not.”

“No way in hell.”

Seungcheol glared at you as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I’m not sharing a room with him.”

“I refuse to even breathe in her vicinity.”

“Then maybe I should do mankind a service by being around you more.”

“The only way you can help mankind is by shutting your mouth.” Seungcheol leaned closer, his voice dropping. “You’re not pretty enough for all the stupidity that comes out of it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Rich coming from you. If I had a face like yours, I’d sue my parents.”

“Aw, fifth graders can insult better than you, sweetheart.”

“That was a fact, darling.”

“Ah” The two of you turned to the receptionist, finally remembering her presence as her eyes flickered between you and Seungcheol. “So, the two of you are dating?”

Looking at her incredulously and with unadulterated disgust, the two of you immediately took a step back.

“No!”

“I’d rather stub my pinky toe on furniture everyday than date her-”

“And I’d rather choke on my own spit everyday than date him-”

“Oh baby, I knew you were a desperate one. I can give you something better to choke on-”

“Honey, are you sure? I heard you can stack fruit loops on that skinny thing-”

“Enough!” The old woman behind the counter got to her feet, putting her hands on her hips, the never-ending squabbling finally getting to her. “If either of you say another word, I will personally put you both in the tiniest broom closet I can find and trust me, the ones in this lodge are devastatingly small.”

You immediately shut up, dreading that idea more than anything. Seungcheol too became uncharacteristically and thankfully, quiet.

“Now, as far as your room is concerned, your company booked only one room, number-” She glanced at the paper in her hand and pulled out a pair of keys from the drawer. “- 68. If you can bear each other for 4 nights, well and good, get moving. If not, then take your things and get out of here. Good luck finding another lodge in this miserable weather.”

And as though on cue, a bright light, followed by a loud thunder flooded the room, taking all three of its inhabitants aback.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Seungcheol visibly gulp, well aware of his fear of thunder. Seungcheol too heard the way you sniffled, knowing that your rhinitis would only get worse with the humidity rising outside.

Sighing with the realization that there was no way out of this, both of you reached for the keys at the same time, making the old woman snatch it faster than the damn lightning to avoid yet another fight from breaking out. Ringing for the bellboy, she handed him the keys before he took your suitcase and Seungcheol’s bag in each hand, leading the way to your despair of the night.

Seungcheol followed quietly behind you, hands tucked in his pocket, his large headphones perched on his head as he swayed to the music, blatantly ignoring you. You were thankful for that. Since you were little children, you had always craved moments where you could pretend like this man didn’t exist. Why wouldn’t you? Everything about him was a pain in your ass.

You first met Seungcheol when you were five. Your fathers were college mates turned business partners and coincidentally, your mothers were best friends since high school. Naturally, everyone expected the children of both families to be just as close as their parents but alas, even at the age of five, you could not bear him for more than five minutes. He was so aggressive and unruly, always messing up your dolls, always pulling your hair, never giving you a second of peace when he was around. Albeit that behaviour got milder over the years but there were other things now.

Like the fact that your father always preferred to have a boy, a son who could be his heir, someone like Seungcheol. It wasn’t like he didn’t love you but a different side of him came out every time Seungcheol was around, a side not even you could bring out. He would laugh louder, his eyes would shine more, he would seem so carefree. Seungcheol too never missed the chance to rub that on your face, constantly sneering and claiming that your father would be happier if he was a part of the family.

Over the years, your displeasure and annoyance at Seungcheol only grew into a deep dislike. As though it wasn’t enough that the two of you did your entire schooling together (yes, all twelve years of it), he was always present anywhere and everywhere you went - the debate club, the swim team, the dance academy, the cafes, the libraries, the movies - there was no place you were free of him. Ever since you were young, you had longed to escape to a place far away from home just to be carefree and explore and reinvent yourself without the constant looming of a figment of your past. You had hoped that at least after school you’d have the chance to go away from him but as your luck would have it, the two of you were accepted into the same business school, were interning in the same company, were working on the same project, and had come out of town for the same three-day conference together. It was one thing to have to bear this man’s presence all day, now you had to do it all night as well, thanks to your cheapskate company.

As you got in the lift Seungcheol held the doors open for you before settling in the corner opposite yours, keeping as much distance in between as possible. The bell boy looked at both of you confused.

“I thought the two of you are dating?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes, and fished out your phone, scrolling through it instead.

Seungcheol glanced at you before scoffing at the absurd idea of dating you. He wasn’t foreign to that doubt though – people often wondered if they were together and Seungcheol wondered what on earth they saw between them that even resembled a speck of liking or even tolerance for one another.

Seungcheol had honestly not met anyone as stuck up as you. He never understood why his parents constantly considered you as the ideal role model for their son - ‘Look Cheol, she joined debate, you should too’, ‘She got selected in the swim team, you should try Cheol.’, ‘What do you think about dancing Cheol? She’s really good at it.’. Seungcheol was sick of being dragged into everything you were in, only to always be second. He hated debates, he would rather play football than swim, and though he liked to dance, ever since he joined the academy with you, even dancing was not giving him any solace.

Yet he gave his best all the time. He tried and tried and tried but he was always second to you who was evidently a natural at everything. For example, back in the school days, Seungcheol would almost get the same grades as you but at the cost of sacrificing nights of sleep and putting hours and hours into teaching himself. Meanwhile, you would breeze through the notes a day before the test, get a full 8-hour sleep and still score higher than him. As if that wasn’t enough, you’d invite him home, offering to “tutor” him only to constantly berate him about his ignorance, drop snide comments about how you were better, subtly challenge him in a battle that the both of you were well aware he could not win.

No wonder you had no friends while Seungcheol was as popular as could be - who would even want to be friends with you when you were always so cold and condescending towards anything that moved or breathed. If your parents weren’t joined at the hip, forcing Seungcheol to be a constant presence in your life, he wondered who would ever even talk to you? You should have been thankful for him, that he was the one human presence in your life who was always there despite it all, yet you treated him like he was beneath you. He had hoped that at least after graduating the two of you could part ways but the universe apparently loved playing cosmic jokes, putting the two of you together yet again, at the same workplace. And completely up in each other’s space for the next few days as well.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t ever shared a room before - whenever your parents would meet up at each other’s house to drink and talk all night, the two of you had no choice but to crash in the same room, sharing the same bed even but thank God it was usually queen size, allowing the both of you to take two opposite ends, not even your breaths mingling. It had been years since that though…..Seungcheol felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back. He had no idea how he was to spend tonight in this room. Or the next few ones.

Neither did you.

As all three of you stood before the door and the bellboy fumbled with the keys, you glanced at Seungcheol. He looked unbothered as one could be. Perhaps you were overthinking this whole thing. It was a matter of four nights, surely the two of you could at least try to be courteous right?

“What in the...?”

Seungcheol’s voice rang in the empty corridor and you leaned to see what had him so shocked. Your own jaw dropped in a strange mixture of surprise, confusion, and relief.

Room 68 was no average hotel room. It was as big as the entire lobby, 7 heavily pillowed and blanketed single beds aligned from one end to the other almost military barrack style, only small bedside tables putting space between them.

“Room 68 is uh our bachelorette party suite.” The bellboy clarified. “For, you know, those big groups of girls who are hell bent on partying all night together?” He looked away like he was recalling a horrifying memory. “Since it’s holiday season, the lodge is booked out, this was the only room we had left. Is... is it not good?”

Seungcheol looked at you and for the first time in nearly 25 years, the two of you could finally agree on something.

“No.” You stepped in. “It’s perfect.”

It had been years since you had seen Seungcheol half-naked.

Well, you frequently saw him during swim practice in those tight speedo shorts of his, ass all plump and taut but you were not talking about that. You were referring to the sight before you right now, him with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his wet hair falling into his eyes as he searched for something in his bag frantically – most likely his aftershave. You knew he must have cleaned up given the conference was starting tomorrow and also that his cheeks were burning because you couldn’t smell the subtle cinnamon spice aftershave that usually followed in his routine.

Seungcheol strangely felt a pair of eyes on him as he rummaged through his things and suddenly remembered he was not alone in the room. He quickly turned, looking for you, finding you curled up in your bed, writing in what he guessed was your journal, unbothered by his presence. You were wearing that cute nightgown with little tomatoes drawn all over it which Seungcheol found funny given how much you hated tomatoes with all your heart and soul. Realising he had been looking for too long, Seungcheol gulped, quickly grabbing the aftershave he finally found and rushed back into the bathroom.

You flinched as you heard the door of the bathroom slam shut, looking up from your journal. Shaking your head exasperated, you returned to your writing. Seungcheol always handled things around him roughly like he was just not built to be gentle - slamming doors hard, breaking at least one coffee mug a month, causing rips in most of his clothes when he would gym because he was so big…. And muscular…. And built…..You bit the back of your pen thinking about how good he looked in his gym wear but if you were being honest, he looked best in a suit.

He’s going to be wearing one tomorrow.

You snapped out of your thoughts realizing you were entering dangerous waters and turned your attention back to your writing. Seungcheol made that process slightly harder as he walked out, furiously rubbing his towel against the back of his head, dressed in a black t-shirt and grey sweats.

As he sat down on his bed, he looked at you sitting six beds across, all the way in the other end of the room, right by the window. The moment the two of you entered the room, he took bed 1, the one against the wall and you took bed 7, the one against the opposite wall, putting the maximum possible distance between the two of you. He let you use the bathroom first, not because he knew you preferred using it when it is dry but because he thought this was the best time for him to call his parents and wish them goodnight….. even though it was still 7:30.

He showered after you did but even now, despite being so far from you, he could still smell your bodywash, the fragrance of lilies, the mildest kind because strong fragrances irritated your sensitive nose. Throwing his towel on the chair he kicked his legs off the floor and lied on the bed, turning to the wall, hearing the faint annoyed click of a tongue. Seungcheol knew exactly what triggered it - you hated it when he tossed damp towels like that. But honestly, he couldn't care less right now, not when there were more important things to deal with tomorrow, not when he was so tired already.

You shut your journal, irritated by his behaviour remembering exactly why being in the same vicinity as this man infuriated you. Flipping the lights off and pulling the covers over your shivering body, you realigned your thoughts towards your goal - Tomorrow’s conference was crucial. You had to look your best and do your best so clocking in 8 hours of sleep was the priority, Choi Seungcheol's character development be damned.

But as you lied down turning towards the window, lightning flashed across the sky, a loud thunder following. You turned to see Seungcheol and his back was facing you, the outline of his figure moving up and down rhythmically like he was already in a deep sleep. Slightly relieved yet still unconvinced, you turned towards him before the sleep and tiredness took you away.

Seungcheol simply stared at the wall all night.

Seungcheol most definitely did not sleep all night.

You could tell by the fact that one, he was up without you waking him and two, he was not there in the room right now. That meant he was out for a run which in turn meant his face must have been all swollen which definitely meant he didn’t get enough sleep. You did notice though that his bedding had shifted from bed 1 to bed 2 and guessed it was because of the coldness of the wall - Seungcheol had the habit of tossing and turning at night and there was nothing he hated more than his bare skin accidentally brushing the cold walls. Considering you were still five beds away from him, you ignored it as you went to wash up and prepare for the day.

When he saw the time on his watch as he finished his last lap, Seungcheol realised he was way behind schedule and that you probably were already at breakfast, sitting with a dozen snide remarks, waiting for him. True enough, as he quickly showered, dressed, and headed down to the buffet, you were there already, going through the proposal, the plate beside you nearly empty. Quickly grabbing a piece of toast and stuffing it in his mouth he walked over, putting on his suit jacket in a hurry. As you saw him approach, you shut your laptop, looking at him top to down in an ensemble that fit him all too well. Seungcheol’s eyes wandered over the pretty way you did your hair, and the plunging neckline of your blouse, a sliver of your pink bra peeking from underneath the fabric-

Both of you cleared your throats and looked away.

“We should leave, the cab should be here in-” He glanced at his watch. “-should have been here ten minutes ago, fuck.”

“It’ll be here in ten.” You pushed a cup of coffee towards him, looking at him pointedly to take a seat. Seungcheol glanced at it then back at you.

“You changed the time on my watch.” He huffed annoyed. “Again.”

“Glad to know you are still capable of basic comprehension.”

“You vile woman.” Seungcheol gritted between his teeth, sitting down. “I showered so fast I thought I was going to pass out.”

“But you didn’t.” You shrugged. “And learn to be grateful Seungcheol, you’re only ever on time when I meddle, so say thanks to me.”

“I’d rather die before I thank you.” He took a sip of the coffee before the extreme bitterness hit his tongue, making him spit it out right back into the cup. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“You did say you’d rather die.”

“Fuck you.”

“I know ten minutes is more than enough for you but personally, I prefer longer.”

Every single time. Every single time you flashed him that sweet, mocking smile and every single time it pushed his buttons like no other. One day he swore to put you in your place but right now he was too low on energy for that.

Well aware that you loved strawberries more than anything, he grabbed the last one on your plate and walked off to the taxi stand, ignoring the way you whined behind him.

“Oh, real mature of you Choi Seungcheol!”

You knew in your stress about perfecting the proposal early in the morning you had forgotten something important and the moment you stepped into the room that night, you knew exactly what that was.

To close the windows.

Thanks to the pouring rain, the water had drenched your entire bed, not to forget, your bag full of your clothes which was conveniently placed right on the mattress, soaking nearly every piece of clothing you owned. Thank God the laundry in the lodge said they would handle it for you so you still had an outfit for tomorrow’s conference but there were still two major concerns - one, what to wear tonight and two, where to sleep tonight.

You solved the first problem (almost) by grabbing your umbrella and heading to the nearest clothing store as instructed by the receptionist only to find out it sold barely any ‘cloth’ at all. It was an adult shop, filled majorly with lingerie of all kinds which were aiming to cover as little as possible. Groaning inwardly, knowing you didn’t have a phone on you to go any further in this weather, you grabbed the most decent nightgown you could find and rushed back.

A hot shower, a change of clothes and a quick meal later you decided to deal with your second problem, moving your things from bed 7 to 6, not too displeased considering there were still three beds between the two of you. You glanced at Seungcheol’s empty bed and then at the time - it was well past 10. Sighing, you settled under the covers pulling out your journal to write but got lost in your thoughts instead.

You were pretty proud of what you presented today - people praised you, congratulated you for a well drafted proposal and even went so far as to offer you jobs in their company. Yet you were not satisfied. Somehow, the one thing constantly running in your mind was the swarm of women who had flocked around Seungcheol the moment the conference was done, ‘mindlessly’ touching his arms, ‘casually’ brushing their chests against his, ‘genuinely’ laughing too hard at whatever bullshit came out of his mouth.

This was not new to you, Choi Seungcheol being the centre of attention wherever he went. He enjoyed it, basked in it, and chose to make a show of it whenever he got a chance. It was all so fake and superficial; you could not bear to stand it. That’s why even though everyone decided to go out for dinner and drinks tonight, yes, all twenty-seven of them, you politely said goodbye citing a headache and took a cab back. You were not interested in casual conversation and definitely not interested in seeing Seungcheol’s pathetic flirting.

Just as you begin to relish his absence and the beautiful silence that came with it, a loud knocking on the door and his voice screaming your name ended your perfect night. Grumbling, you opened the door to a fully drenched Seungcheol looking absolutely frazzled.

“What the hell-”

He stopped when his eyes fell on you dressed in a white floor length satin gown, the material seductively clinging to the curves of your body, your leg slightly visible between the slit. You crossed your arms to cover yourself up, feeling conscious under his gaze as he gulped audibly.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He met your eyes, a slight worry flashing behind the anger. “You just disappeared without letting me know-”

“I told you I was leaving.” You walked into the room rolling your eyes. “Maybe if you could see something beyond all that pathetic fangirling you’d have heard.”

“Fangirling?” He looked genuinely confused, following you in as he stripped off his jacket. You tried your best to not stare at the way his pecs were so perfectly outlined under the wet shirt sticking to his body but Seungcheol caught you peering, his features lighting up with amusement.

“Would you look at that?” He smirked. “Someone is jealous.”

“Please.” You scoffed. “I wouldn’t be jealous even if we were the last people on Earth.”

“Obviously, if we were the last people, who would you even be jealous of?”

You sighed. “You know what I mean.”

“I actually don't, sweetheart. If a little action is all you want, you can just ask for it you know?”

“Funny coming from a guy who kissed me just because another man was talking to me.”

The first tea break of the conference had led to an introduction that was surprising to you considering people did not really tend to approach you on their own. It was even more shocking that this man chose to speak to you in the lunch break as well, completely unprompted. He was sweet, not egging you too much with conversation, simply limiting it to work and the conference and then Choi Seungcheol appeared out of nowhere, snaking an arm around your waist, uninvited. Before you could glare at him and send him away, he planted a soft kiss on your cheek, excused himself and led you away from there, only to abandon you the very next second without an explanation.

“You call that a kiss?” Seungcheol scoffed. “You were so swept off your feet, you were this close to spilling details on our quotation for the project. That was actually me shutting you up.”

“Oh yeah?” You raised an eyebrow. “If you really wanted to shut me up, then you should have kissed me on the mouth.”

Seungcheol stared at you wordlessly.

As you began to walk away, he pulled you by the elbow, putting you against the wall, trapping you between his hands on either side.

“Is that how?” He leaned closer, the scent of his cologne taking over your senses. “Because there is nothing I’d love to do more than shut you up.” He cocked his head with a small smile. “And maybe also show you what a kiss really is.”

You tried not to gulp the phantom lump in your throat, cheeks suddenly hot under his gaze. Somehow, as though it had a mind of its own, your hand traced his exposed collar bone, trailing down his chest slowly, eyes following. Seungcheol held his breath under your touch. You stopped your tracks at his hard pecs, right above his heart beating just as fast as yours and looked up at him.

And then twisted his nipple.

Shrieking in pain, Seungcheol stumbled back, clutching his chest.

“What the hell mate?”

You walked towards your bed, grabbing your matching satin night robe and slipping it on. “It's ridiculous that you even think you of all people could show me a real kiss.”

“You forget sweetheart, I was your first one.”

You turned to Seungcheol as he brought up a memory you had actually done a great job forgetting. It was during your senior year - your parents had forced you to accompany Seungcheol to a house party so you could “get more involved in the social scene” instead of holing yourself up in your room all the time. It was a classic game of truth or dare and the worst dare of your life - to kiss Seungcheol for a minute.

Now the last thing you wanted to hear was him teasing you every day about how you were too scared to kiss him so you held him by the collar and pulled yourself into his lap straddling him, your mouth meeting his in a frenzy. If you were being honest, something about that kiss served as your sexual awakening - maybe it was the way he moaned into your mouth, or his hands gripped your ass, or hands entangled in his soft hair or your chest pressed up against his. Whatever it was, there was a video of it that your classmates took circulating somewhere out there, timed around five and a half minutes as opposed to the one minute it was supposed to be.

“Don’t take too much pride in yourself Cheol.” You sat on the bed, leaning back on your hands planted in the mattress. “Only I know how many other guys I had to kiss after that to know what kissing truly is.”

Seungcheol felt his jaw tighten.

Something in you had changed in junior year. Yes, you were still the same antisocial, inhospitable, unapproachable person you always were but somehow every other day, he found you in a new location with a new guy's tongue shoved down your throat. They were not boyfriends, Seungcheol knew that much, and it was the fact that they weren't that made his blood boil with anger.

“You shouldn’t take pride in yourself either sweetheart.” He looked at you with a strange mixture of anger and pity. “There's nothing to feel accomplished about not forming a single real bond in your life.”

The moment the words left his mouth Seungcheol regretted it, knowing he had hit a soft spot. It was too late now; the damage was done - pain was flashing in your eyes.

You looked at the insensitive man before you and laughed at him sadly, mirroring his hurtful words.

“No real bond? I’m afraid you filled that void Seungcheol. Hate forms really strong bonds too.”

And with that you turned away from him, tucking yourself under the sheets, turning off the lights on your side of the room. Grabbing his towel and a change of clothes, Seungcheol locked himself up in the bathroom, your words piercing his heart like no other. Over the years yes, the two of you argued and fought and annoyed each other and couldn’t stand one another but hate? He didn’t ever think that’s what you felt for him. Perhaps he deserved it - he had after all crossed a line with that comment.

He knew you had always struggled around people. He knew that even though you detested taking his help for anything, in every social setting, you would always choose to hide behind him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to interact, you just couldn’t. You were a sick child since birth, constantly brought down by various illnesses that often confined you to your room - you didn’t go out to play with the other children, you didn’t join the kids on their trips to the ice cream shop, you didn’t go late night camping with your classmates, you didn’t do a lot of what kids your age did.

And when you were old enough, when you were healthy enough to step out into the world, you didn’t know how to anymore. Hence you continued to stay in your own shell, closing yourself off from everyone, wary of any and all interactions. Seungcheol knew all this, that’s why when he couldn't lay his eyes on you in the crowd of the conference, the panic he felt was like no other. He never thought he would ever feel his heart stop but Seungcheol felt it twice today - once when he lost you and the other when you said that. I’m afraid you filled that void Seungcheol. Hate forms really strong bonds too.

You stared out of the window, mildly annoyed by all the light falling in your face, Seungcheol’s words ringing in your ears. It might have sounded harsh but he was right. You never formed real bonds with anyone, you could never bring yourself to. Having spent years all by yourself, you didn’t know what it was like to let another person into a space that was entirely yours. That’s why, though you engaged in all sorts of flings and hookups, you never let it go beyond that - you never let yourself lose your heart to someone, walking away from them before they could walk away from you.

In that sense, Seungcheol was indeed the realest bond you had - just a constantly present, mildly irritating, oddly comforting white noise in your life. It was easy with him - you never had to think in his presence, you never had to wonder whether anything would drive him away, never had to worry about keeping him by your side unconditionally - he was always there. Somehow what you felt for Seungcheol was liberating in a way you hadn’t even realized. Hate could hardly define that; you were unnecessarily harsh earlier.

Seungcheol stepped out of the bathroom, eyes falling on your unmoving figure which he just realized was on bed 6 instead of 7. Noticing the damp sheets and piecing it together, he didn’t think too much of it as he switched off the lights and crawled into his bed.

Hearing the sounds of him shuffling, you turned towards him.

“Are you not going for the dinner?”

“It’s too late now. I would have eaten there if I didn’t have to run back here to check up on you.”

“You could have just called me.”

“I did.” He turned to you, looking at just your silhouette in the darkness. “A few hundred times.”

You checked your phone immediately and it wasn’t a hundred times but there were some fifty odd calls from him and two dozen messages.

“I put my phone on silent during the conference and forgot to take it off.” You mumbled, just a little guilty that he was missing out on a gathering because of you. “Did you at least eat?”

“I’m not hungry, thanks to all the Americanos you kept feeding me all day.”

“If not for that, you would have been snoring in the conference barely an hour after it began.” You turned to lie on your back, facing the ceiling. “And I wouldn’t have had to do that if you’d just obediently drank that double shot espresso in the morning.”

Seungcheol remembered you sliding the coffee cup to him and smiled to himself in the dark.

“Then maybe you should also listen to me and stop munching on those strawberries every chance you get, especially when you know they flare your allergies.”

You remembered Seungcheol gobbling up the last berry and smiled to yourself in the dark.

“Goodnight, you obnoxious prick.”

“Goodnight, you insufferable fiend."

When you woke up in the morning, two things had changed - one, Seungcheol had moved from bed 2 to bed 3 in the middle of the night and two, his shirt was gone, discarded somewhere in the mess on the floor. He was lying sprawled on his bare stomach, his back covered in a thin sheet of sweat, his tattoo shining as the light hit it. Ignoring the sight before you with much difficulty, you shook him awake.

“Get up Cheol, we’re going to be late.”

He groaned, rolling over, eyes slowly blinking open, falling on you first thing in the morning. Even though you were dressed in the sultriest thing he had ever seen on you, Seungcheol controlled himself and tore his eyes away.

“The radiator is right across the other bed; I was literally burning all night.” He mumbled, stretching awake, justifying his move.

You turned towards it noticing how it was in fact between bed two and three, closer to three than two to be honest. Considering Seungcheol was still drenched in sweat, his move in the middle of the night was actually quite pointless, but you chose not to say anything about it. Quickly washing up, the two of you rushed for breakfast, skimming over the presentation notes one last time. Today, neither of you noticed but Seungcheol drank the coffee and you didn’t eat the strawberries.

Day two went by in a flash much like day one. Only this time, you didn’t talk to the gentleman from yesterday, choosing to sit quietly by Seungcheol in the break and he didn’t leave your side either, regardless of all the ladies calling him to join them. In the evening, as the team headed to the city’s best karaoke bar, inviting you and Seungcheol again, Seungcheol brushed them off claiming the two of you had a little more work to do on the proposal. To his surprise, you shot him down, agreeing to join everyone, looking at him with a small smile.

“Don’t be such a killjoy darling.”

Seungcheol knew you were compensating for last night so he followed, well aware that you would most likely want to leave the moment the singing started. Well, he was almost right - you actually wanted to leave the moment you stepped foot into the room, turning to him with pleading eyes. Seungcheol turned you by your shoulder, laughing as he led you in.

“Don’t be such a killjoy sweetheart.”

You sat patiently as the beers poured in and people around you fought for the photobooth props. Seungcheol was sitting right beside you, his thigh a comforting weight against yours, laughing with everyone. As the night progressed, you had downed a beer or two, a slight buzz taking over, not noticing the way Seungcheol had his arm around you now or that you were warmly cuddled against his torso. Soon, one by one, everyone settled on the couches, tired from all the screaming, resorting to chatter instead and deciding on an old-fashioned game of truth or dare. Seungcheol smirked at you and you turned his face away with a soft push.

“So Seungcheol,” The man beside him spoke. “Truth or dare?”

“Neither actually. We should leave now.” He stood, pulling you up, stumbling slightly. “I’ve had too much to drink and it's late, Y/n needs to sleep.”

“Didn’t realize wacky wallflower here also had the bedtime of a toddler.” One of Seungcheol’s many fangirls piqued, jealousy stark on her face. “We can book her a cab, why don’t you stay a little longer, Cheolie?”

You raised an eyebrow, amused at the nickname, and at her jealousy but Seungcheol did not find anything about her words even remotely funny.

“No thanks, I go where she goes.”

“I thought you guys weren’t dating? Then why-”

“That doesn’t change what I said.” His voice dropped an octave. “I go where she goes.”

“Cheol.” You placed a hand on his chest, sensing his anger rising. “It’s fine, let’s stay for a few rounds, yeah?”

Seungcheol looked at you frowning as you sat down, pulling him with you. The girl you already disliked but quite vehemently hate now, spun the bottle with a giggle.

“We don’t have to stay.” Seungcheol whispered as the guy beside you excitedly asked the one across him a question. “You stayed long enough, you need sleep-”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m not.” He spoke between gritted teeth. “Just looking at that foul woman makes me mad. I already said I wasn’t interested in her, she had no reason to be a bitch.”

“Well then don’t you want to put the bitch in her place Cheol?”

You looked at him with big doe eyes which terrified Seungcheol even more. What on Earth were you up to?

“Y/n, you get to ask Yuri!”

You looked at the bottle to see it pointing between you and your little conquest of the night. Hook.

“Truth or dare?” Line.

“Dare.” And Sinker.

“Okay Yuri, then I dare you to not take your eyes off.”

You pulled Seungcheol by the collar, smashing your lips on his, swallowing his audible moan. His hands immediately found your waist, pulling you closer, up against his body, teeth roughly tugging your lower lip. Hand sliding up his neck and across his jaw, you entangled your fingers in his hair, drawing him even closer denying even air the right to come between the two of you. Yes, it was all a show for Yuri or whatever her name was, but at a point, she stomped her foot and got up, running out of the room. Perhaps the two of you should have stopped then or at least when you were running out of breath. But you only broke apart when someone dropped a beer bottle, smashing the glass loudly on the floor. Seungcheol and you looked at it, faces flushed, lips swollen. A low whistle echoed in the room.

“We-” Seungcheol cleared his throat, trying to get his voice back. “We should get going.”

“Y-yeah.” You agreed, getting up and grabbing your things as Seungcheol smoothened his hair with his hand, muttering a small goodbye to everyone. As the two of you stepped out of the room, you found Yuri crying at the entrance, her friend trying her best to console her. Not sparing her another glance, you walked away, Seungcheol following you close behind. As the cold air hit you when you reached the taxi stand, you felt a painful sting on your lower lip, making you hiss. Hand cupping your face, Seungcheol wiped the trickle of blood with his thumb.

“Guess you desperately did need a real kiss huh?”

“Shut up.” You smacked his hand away. “I had to help the poor girl get over her pathetic taste in men.”

“By getting a taste of me?” Seungcheol smirked as you rolled your eyes. Before you could say anything, his stomach let out a loud growl making you laugh and look around, spotting a burger joint.

“Let’s get you a taste of that big boy.”

“Sometimes I wonder-” You stared out of the window at the large clouds rolling in. “-considering our parents are best friends and we are not, do you think our children would be good friends or enemies?”

“Wow, children.” Seungcheol munched on his burger furiously. “I never thought that far.”

“Then think about it now.”

“I don’t know.” He hummed. He hated thinking when he was tipsy. “Siblings tend to have a love-hate relationship.”

“I was talking about our children Seungcheol.”

“So was I.”

“No, I mean, my own children and your own children.”

“Yeah, same thing.”

You looked at him exasperatedly.

“Let’s be honest here Y/n. Who else out there can put up with us for long enough to start a family?”

“We can barely put up with each other-”

“But we have, for almost 25 years.” He slurped on his drink. “There’s a reason why you have never been in a relationship and I have never been in one that lasts. Because whatever it is we share, it’s you and I, till the end.”

“Till the end.” You muttered, reaching for his burger, taking a bite from it. Judging by your expression, Seungcheol could tell you liked his better, like you always do. That’s why he made sure to get it without the tomatoes he usually loved and settled to eat your meal instead. He was just about to ask why exactly you were so lost in thought when a loud thunder boomed across the sky sending a shiver running down Seungcheol’s spine.

Shoving the last of the burger down your throat quickly washing it down with some soda, you began gathering your things.

“We should go before the rain starts.”

Seungcheol nodded, finishing up his meal as you threw the trash in the nearby can. As the two of you left, muttering your thank yous to the waitresses, you laced your fingers with Seungcheol’s, gripping him tight as another lightning flashed across the sky. Thank God it wasn’t too hard to flag down a cab because the moment the two of you sat inside, rain began pouring like there was no tomorrow. As you glanced at the obscurity outside the window, Seungcheol stared at his hand, the one that you hadn’t left in all this time.

There were times when he used to stay over in your room, unable to sleep due to all the thundering while you dozed away oblivious to his presence. Those days, you’d turn around, reaching for his hand, holding it in your sleep. Seungcheol now wondered if that might have been a conscious effort to comfort him.

Perhaps not he thought as you began to nonchalantly hum his favourite song. He wondered if you knew he loved that piece because of how beautiful you looked when you danced to it. He wondered if you knew that the reason he was always around you was to make sure you were alright. He wondered if you knew he always carried an extra inhaler for you, that he had written a long list of your allergies in order from ‘can handle’ to ‘keep away from at all times’, that he was constantly alert about everything you ate, smelt and touched. He wondered if you knew, deep down how much he cared about you…..but sleep dragged him away before he could wonder anymore.

Sensing Seungcheol had fallen asleep, you stopped humming, turning to him, smiling at his half open mouth. Scooting closer, you slowly pulled his head to rest against your shoulder, and he groaned softly, nuzzling into it. The driver looked at the two of you through the rear-view mirror, making your cheeks go red as you looked away.

“Is your boyfriend afraid of thunderstorms?”

You nodded, ignoring the title. “Since he was a child. I don’t think he’s been sleeping too well the last few days.”

“The forecast shows it’s going to be worse today.” The driver sighed. “Look out for him.”

You nodded again. You did look out for him. In your own ways you always did - you always challenged him knowing that was what pushed him to do better. You always made sure to wake him up or at least meddle with his clocks so he was always on time. You always made sure he ate and slept enough, knowing how it threw him off whenever he was deprived of either. Even now you were humming his favourite song knowing it calmed him down. You wondered if Seungcheol knew, that deep down you really cared about him…..perhaps more than anything.

When the taxi reached the lodge, you softly shook him awake after paying, dragging his sleepy self through the lobby. The receptionist's eyes followed the two of you, stumbling away hand in hand, mouth curling into a small smile as you disappeared. You only let his hand go when you reached the room and that’s what jolted him awake.

The silence that descended the room today was different. It wasn’t because the two of you were too tired to say anything to each other, rather neither of you knew what exactly to say given there was so much to. So instead, you resorted to washing up and filling in your journal for the day while Seungcheol worked on a few changes in the proposal for the final pitch tomorrow. Just as he shut the laptop and you shut your diary, the two of you looked at each other before quickly looking away, settling in your own beds, for the night.

You were almost ready to drift off to sleep, before the driver’s words rang in your mind - the forecast shows it’s going to be worse today. Without thinking much, you moved your things from bed 6 to bed 5, muttering that the light from the streetlamps was falling in your face there. Seungcheol did not point out that you could just close the curtains instead and curled up in his own bed, glad you were closer to him now.

He looked at you across the one bed that was in between and suddenly you felt too far, like the distance was too much.

You looked at him as his eyes fluttered shut, thunder rumbling across the sky, wondering if he could hear you across all this space, humming louder than usual, lulling the two of you to sleep.

When you woke up, Seungcheol was surprisingly awake and fully dressed, trying to knot his tie unsuccessfully in front of the mirror, expression focused with a small pout. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you stared at his reflection, eyes skimming over the beautiful features of his face which you never really consciously admired - his thick hair, thicker eyebrows, plump, pillowy lips, his jawline sharp and chiselled. He was indeed handsome, in a way you really liked….a lot.

You wondered why you always looked at him like he was the bane of your existence. Was it because it was easier to bury the unresolved tension under pointless banter? Or did you wantonly show him your worst side, hoping it wouldn’t scare him away, hoping he would stay despite every flaw, every shortcoming. What did it mean if in 25 years, he didn’t leave even once?

Seungcheol groaned, annoyed at his futile attempts, eyes finally meeting yours in the mirror. You slid off your bed, walking up to him as he turned to you. Yawning, you took his tie in your hands, tying it for him. Seungcheol’s eyes drifted over the features of your face as he held his breath.

He could get used to this, the sight of waking up to a sleepy you, your hair all over the place, your eyes slightly droopy, nose red. God you were so beautiful - he knew that, but why didn’t he ever think about it? Why did he choose to fight every remote thought about you with irritating banter? Was he scared that the tension would remain unresolved? And what did it mean if you were still here, right by his side, helping him out in everything big and small, always making sure he was going the right way and doing the right thing, every single day for the last 25 years?

You pushed the knot up to his neck, smoothening the material, patting his chest with a proud smile. Seungcheol gulped as you walked away to wash up, trying to get his breath under control.

When the two of you came down for breakfast, you pointedly avoided the receptionist's gaze. There was no time to deal with more thoughts.

The rest of the day went like that, thoughtlessly. It was a little awkward at the conference considering the little show you two put up last night, so the moment it ended for good in the evening, you bid everyone goodbye, citing you had an early flight and had to leave soon. It was true though, you did have to travel in the wee hours of the morning, but leaving from the conference so soon also meant having to spend longer with Seungcheol, all alone. He agreed with you though, stating his social battery was at an all-time low and that he just wanted to go back.

Today the two of you were somehow sitting on two ends of the car backseat, bodies pressing against the door, in complete contrast to last night. It was a silent ride, a silent walk to the room and a silent session of packing up. Suddenly there were very conscious efforts to not brush hands, or accidentally walk into each other or catch the other person randomly staring, lost in thought. It was only when you were finally done that you asked Seungcheol if he wanted to order dinner. He agreed, leading to a very small and very efficient discussion about what dishes to eat and then silence descended upon the room again. While waiting for the food to arrive, Seungcheol muttered that he was going for a quick run, leaving you alone with the thoughts you could no longer stop from plaguing your mind.

Something had changed over the last 3 days. It wasn’t you or Seungcheol - he was still throwing his damp towels on dry clothes and you were still meddling with his clocks. No, the two of you hadn’t changed. Neither did the arguing, neither did the banter, neither did the subtle flirting, neither did the silent support. No…. nothing had changed. It was all the same. It was all the exact same except now, you were finally willing to acknowledge something you hadn’t even admitted to yourself since the age of five, that-

“I’m in love with him.” You whispered, smiling to yourself.

Seungcheol on the other hand thought running around the lodge would mean those thoughts wouldn’t run in his mind anymore. He was wrong - even though you were not there, like always you were on his mind, in his every thought, in his every breath. Seungcheol didn’t know of a life without you. He also knew that you would be there with him for the rest of his life but for the first time in 25 years, he finally found himself owning up to it - that he truly wanted you be a part of his future, that he could not bear to think of one without you in it, that-

“I’m in love with her.” He whispered, smiling to himself.

By the time Seungcheol had returned, dinner had arrived. Between each bite you searched for the right words to say, noticing that Seungcheol was trying the same. Somehow, neither of you could bring yourself to say anything.

You couldn’t peacefully finish up your journal and Seungcheol couldn’t take a relaxing shower, both muttering under your breaths, practicing long speeches, determined to confess everything before sleeping tonight.

But when all was done for the night, both of you laid down on your respective beds, staring at the ceiling, unable to talk, unable to sleep.

Seungcheol turned his head as you did towards him, making his heart clench a little.

Sighing, he grabbed his pillow and put it on bed 4, lying down, facing you.

You looked at him blinking slowly.

Seungcheol held his breath.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your duvet and joined him on the fourth bed, throwing it over the two of you, lying down, facing him.

Seungcheol slid his hand over your waist, pulling you closer.

You gripped the material of his shirt, snuggling into the warmth of his neck.

Nothing was said that night.

Nothing had to be said as the two of you drifted off to sleep.

It was the harsh morning sun and the annoying chirping of the birds that woke you up.

You stared out of the window surprised at the bright light given the last few days were as gloomy as it could be. Seungcheol’s soft breaths tickled your shoulder as his arms held you tight, your back against his chest. Smiling you wiggled in his grip turning towards him, taking in how much more stunning he looked in the morning light-

Morning?

“Cheol.”

He hummed softly.

“Cheol!”

“What?”

“It’s bright outside.”

“That’s how mornings are Y/n.”

“Oh thank you for enlightening me.” You rolled your eyes. “Might I return the favour by reminding you that we had a flight at 5am?”

Seungcheol’s eyes flew open.

He quickly grabbed his phone from the nightstand, 11am flashing on the screen.

“Fuck.” He muttered, running his hand through his hair. “Fuck fuck fuck, I can’t believe we missed the flight!”

You took the phone from him and scrolled through the app. “The next flight out is tomorrow morning, same time, 5am.”

“But the company hasn’t paid for the room tonight, where will we stay?” Seungcheol groaned. “How could you not wake me up?”

You frowned at him. “And why is it my job to?”

“Because, you don’t like it when I put alarms on my phone.”

“Uh no, I don’t like it when you continue to sleep through the dozen alarms you put on your phone.”

“Whatever your reasons are, I think its been established that you are the one who's supposed to wake us both up.”

“Yeah well thanks to you I forgot to set an alarm.”

“Thanks to me?” He looked at you bewildered. “What did I do?”

“Who asked you to..” You pointed at everything around with the wave of a hand, the two of you only just registering the situation you were in.

“You were the one who came to my bed.” Seungcheol shrugged. “This is on you because you were desperate.”

“Says the one who’s boner poking into my back woke me up.”

Seungcheol gawked at you, stuttering. “M-morning wood is a scientific phenomenon, okay? I can’t help it-”

“I could have.” You muttered, slipping out of the bed.

Seungcheol pulled you back under him, half hovering over you.

“Oh yeah?” He bit his lower lip with a small smile. “How exactly?”

You hummed, “I happen to know some good meditation techniques-”, running a finger down his abdomen, tracing a random design.

Seungcheol grabbed your hand and pinned it to the mattress by your face, leaning close.

“Think of a better way, baby.”

The nickname sent a delightful chill down your spine as you slightly squirmed under him, smiling.

“How about I get you some ice-”

“That’s not what I want right now.”

“Then what do you want right now?”

His eyes ran along the features of your face.

“I want to kiss you.” He whispered. “So bad.”

“And what are you waiting for?”

Seungcheol groaned, immediately pressing his lips onto yours, needy and ravenous, like he had been waiting eons for this. Well, so had you.

Pushing him off you and onto his back, you straddled his hips, kissing him again, rolling your tongue over his. Seungcheol moaned into your mouth, one hand wrapping around your waist, the other holding you by the nape of your neck, taking back control. When you ran your hand over his thick pecs, he pulled away with a dreamy sigh, planting a trail of kisses along your jaw, down your throat.

“Strip for me.”

Sitting up immediately, you lifted your hips a little letting Seungcheol push the material of your nightdress up your thighs and you pulled it over your head, tossing it somewhere. In the ten seconds it took you to do that, Seungcheol was a changed man. The old him wanted to take his time unravelling you slowly, pushing you to the edge but the new Seungcheol felt the animal in him come alive with a throbbing, insatiable desire. It became exponentially worse when you pulled your hair up, tying it with the hair tie on your wrist, baring your neck, perfect breasts, soft stomach….unable to reign it in anymore, Seungcheol lunged forward, hungrily sucking a tit into his mouth, making you lose your balance over him a little, grabbing his bicep half laughing.

“Huh, I really thought you were more of an ass guy.”

Seungcheol let go with a wet pop, looking up at you from between his thick lashes. Oh wasn’t that a sight.

“For you, I’m an everything guy.” His hands gripped your ass hard. “Your derriere does take the cake though.”

You laughed, “Who even uses that word?”

“I don’t know, I have no idea what is coming out of my mouth right now.” He confessed, his tongue running up the gap between your boobs, the sweet and salty taste of your skin driving him insane. “I just know what I want in it.”

“Yeah?” You sighed, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him back with a harsh grip, before he latched onto your other tit. “I have better things to put in it.”

Seungcheol grinned like he couldn’t wait, flashing his canines, biting his lower lip.

God he was going to be the end of you.

But you’ll beat him to it.

Palms planted behind you, you slid yourself back off his thighs and sat between his legs, lifting your own up for him. Seungcheol’s eyes darkened in an instant and the moment he saw the wet spot in the middle of your pink panties, he could not hold himself back anymore. With a swift movement he was up on his knees before you, hooking his fingers in the elastic by your waist and slowly dragging your underwear along your legs. Like a man starving he crumpled it in his hand, breathing it deeply, eyes fluttering shut like he was intoxicated by your scent.

“I’m going to be borrowing this, for whenever you’re not there.”

“Pervert.” You whispered as he tucked it in the back pocket of his tracks. “But I’m never not going to be there. I’m afraid you’re stuck for life now.”

Seungcheol fisted the material at the back of his neck and pulled it over his head, flinging it somewhere before he put his hands between your knees and spread your legs apart, groaning at the sight before him. You were quite literally hiding his paradise between your legs.

“Trust me,” He reached for a pillow behind him, throwing it to you. “I want to be stuck here.”

The moment you tucked it under your head lying back, Seungcheol wasted no time in crawling between your legs, tossing them over his shoulder, descending on your sex. You felt your back arch off the mattress as he devoured, his tongue, mouth, lips all showing you stars in daytime.

“Fuck Cheol.” You whimpered as his tongue slipped into your hole, his moan sending a wild vibration against it. Bringing your hands to his head, your fingers gripped his hair, pushing your hips up against him “Give me more.”

Seungcheol smirked, pressing your hips down, continuing his ministrations in a way that made your toes curl. Damn he knew what he was doing. For a split second you wondered how he knew so much and an ugly jealousy began coursing through you but it was lost almost immediately, when he began to suck on your clit.

“Cheol….” You moaned, the sudden stimulation too intense for you, a tightness growing deep inside. “F-fuck that’s good.”

Seungcheol knew he was good. Not because he was experienced, not exactly - more because he was desperate to taste every inch of you. If he thought the taste of your arousal was heavenly, the moment your legs trembled and your breaths got harsher and you came against his mouth, Seungcheol knew he’d cast aside the heavens for it. This wasn’t enough.

This was probably the fastest orgasm you ever had, waves of the buzz washing over as your jaw fell slack. You rode it out against his mouth, tense shivers running down your body as his nose grazed your clit before falling limp into the softness of the bed, chest heaving.

Seungcheol was so noisily devoted to making you fall apart on his tongue, he wasn't sure if you didn't moan his name or if he was too entranced to hear it. Either way, he had to go again, keeping in mind to put his eyes on you this time. When he looked up at you, your face was flushed, lips curled into a blissful smile and Seungcheol thought he fell more in love with you, if that was even possible.

“We're gonna have to talk about why you're so good at that.” You half laughed, trying to sit up. Seungcheol pushed you back down, throwing another pillow at you, humming.

“How good was I exactly?”

“Nice try big boy,” You stacked the pillow over the previous one, leaning back against it. “I'm not going to feed your ego.”

“I'll feed myself then.” He smirked before licking a long strip between your folds making you tremble with over stimulation.

“Cheol not yet-”

“If I don't hear you I'm not going to stop.”

And he descended upon you like a mad man again, making you gasp in surprise. You did not think he'd go through with it.

“Cheol I really can't-”

but Seungcheol did not stop.

When he didn’t listen, you reached to pull him off you but Seungcheol was quicker as he grabbed both your wrists in a flash and held them against your heaving chest, continuing to eat the life out of you.

“Seungcheol please.” You couldn’t even squirm if you tried to, held down hard by his brute strength. “I really can’t-”

He looked up, his mouth wet with his spit and your arousal as he licked his lips. Fuck you really loved this man.

“Do you actually want me to stop?”

He was taunting you but there's a slight concern laced in his voice.

You shook your head slowly.

“I thought so.” He chuckled before continuing his act of wolfing down on you.

Your second orgasm began to rush in with an unreal speed and you don't know how Seungcheol could read your body so well already but the little bitch backed out before you could cum again.

“Cheol…”

You whined, frustrated at the feeling ebbing away, desperately clenching to hold on to it.

“I said I wanted to hear you.”

You glared at him, not used to him having the upper hand. He knew he's got you under control when he finally loosened his bruising grip on your thigh to sit up and you opened your mouth on your own accord to let him slip his fingers into them.

“What a pretty little girl.” He sighed as you sucked on his digits. “My pretty girl.”

“Yes yours.” You moaned, as he pulled them out of your mouth and pushed them into his, wetting them more as you practically panted below him.

“I'll do what you want, just put them in me Cheol.”

“You're quite demanding baby.” He leaned over you looking amused. “I hope you deliver as well as you talk.”

“I'll suck the life out of your dick after this I swear, just let me cum again.”

Enticed by the idea, Seungcheol captured your mouth in another one of his messy kisses, his fingers slowly slipping into your heat. You gasped into his mouth, surprised by how thick his fingers were. Oh his dick would probably make you pass out and god were you ready for it.

“Say my name baby.” Seungcheol pressed his forehead against yours, still holding your wrists between both your bodies with his other hand. “Tell me who's making you feel so good.”

“You.” You moaned as he pumped his fingers, slowly stretching you open, your arousal dripping down between your thighs. “Fuck Cheol, faster.”

He obeyed, picking up the pace as you babbled a string of curses, legs squeezing his hand desperate to feel more. Seungcheol sucked on your neck, enjoying the way you were crumbling apart for him. How was he ever going to be away from you after this?

“Oh god yes.” You sighed, as his fingers curled hitting the spot, eyes rolling back. Seungcheol looked at you in awe.

“I apologise if I ever told you that it was annoying when you rolled your eyes.” He continued to push you over. “That was the hottest thing I've ever seen.”

“Yes yes yes.” You chanted not hearing him, too lost in your own pleasure building. Pleased with himself, Seungcheol finally put his thumb over your clit and that was all it took for you to cum all over his fingers with yet another silent scream.

Seungcheol let your hands go and sat back on his heels, admiring his artwork. Your chest heaved erratically like you had forgotten how to breathe, squeezing your tits, hands desperate to claw something. Hair sticking to your forehead, sweat running down your neck next to the bruises he marked, you were a vision to behold.

Seungcheol sucked his fingers clean, relishing the taste of you yet again. You stared at him wide eyed, curious.

“Have you never tasted yourself?”

You shook your head.

“Oh sweetheart.”

Seungcheol pushed his tracks down just a bit, enough to pull his dick out. It's not the longest you've seen but God was it thick, a stark vein running down the length which looked painfully hard. The thought of having him fill your mouth and choking around it literally made you drool.

He pumped it a few times before hooking his hands under your thighs and pulling you towards him with unsurprising ease. You scrambled to raise yourself up on your elbows, watching as he ran it up and down your slit, gathering your release on it.

“Come taste.”

You blinked at the man holding out his dick to you like it was a treat, like he expected you to crawl to him, stunned at just how cocky he had gotten in 20 minutes. Hell no.

You shook your head, tilting it in challenge.

“Come fuck my mouth.”

If Choi Seungcheol had a fatal flaw it was how much he desired control but right now, there was nothing he desired and craved more than you.

Moving over not so gracefully he aligned himself by your mouth, knees planted on either sides of your waist, looming over you.

You immediately wrapped your lips around his tip, humming at the weight on your tongue as he pushed your hair off your face softly.

“I know baby, you taste fucking divine.”

Giving him a half nod, running your tongue over his slit before hollowing your cheeks around him. The mix of your and his arousal indeed tasted….right, like they belonged together.

You tried to take in more of him but you might have underestimated his girth and overestimated your ability. Pulling back with a pop, you licked your lips.

“You're too thick.” Mumbling you tried to push him off you, onto his back. “Let me move over-”

“Oh no no.” Seungcheol clicked his tongue, grabbing the back of you neck, forcing you to look up at him. “It can't be that bad, someone claimed they could stack fruit loops on it.”

You rolled your eyes realising he was a bit too proud of himself. “I still can. I just don't have the cereal to prove it.”

“I'll buy some on the way back and when we go home that's the first thing you're going to do.” He wiped the spit leaking around the corner of your mouth with his free hand. “And if you don't manage to prove your point, that's grounds for punishment.”

You grinned at him.

“Oh you like that.” He hummed, guiding your head back to his cock. “We'll see how much of it you can take baby.”

A lot apparently.

Seungcheol should have known. You were like him - you didn't like to be challenged. That's why the moment he thrusted himself into your mouth, you held onto the back of his thighs with both hands, pushing it in a lot more than Seungcheol had thought you were capable of. Throwing his head back with a satisfied moan, he began moving his hips ever so little, slowly fucking your face, but you had other ideas, taking him as far back as you could, your throat constricting around his dick.

“Alright that's it.” Seungcheol pulled you off him, staring at your confused face. Somehow you had no gag reflex and Seungcheol suddenly had the endurance of a teenager. “Want to actually fuck you.”

He muttered drawing back, kicking off the remaining of his clothes and sitting up, trying to hide his breathlessness.

“Aw Cheol, was I right again?” You laughed, getting up and clambering onto his lap. “Is ten minutes really enough for you?”

“You'll see.” He pulled you into a deep kiss before abruptly breaking away, leaving you confused yet again. “Or not.”

“What?”

“I just realised… I don't have a condom.”

You waited for him to tell you he was kidding but he looked serious.

“Cheol….” He looked at you apologetically. “Ugh Choi Seungcheol, why not?!”

“One, don't call me that and two, I don't know, maybe because this was a work trip and the conference dress code didn't mention dick envelopes.”

You sighed annoyed. “I just always thought you'd carry one on you, xl sized.” You shot his overconfidence down before it even grew on him. “you know, for your head.”

“Oh because I'm a dick?” He rolled his eyes at the comment you had used on him too many times already. “Well, wouldn't that make you a little slut? Since you’ve been in love with me for so many years.”

“Who said I was in love with you?”

Seungcheol looked at you with the biggest, fucking cutest eyes. “Are you not?”

You smiled, surprisingly shy despite all that transpired so far. Honestly, you didn't have to answer that question. What you felt for each other was clear as day.

Putting a finger on his mouth, you whispered. “Less talking, more fucking please.”

Seungcheol groaned. “What do you want me to do? Go buy them now?”

“No…” You hated the thought of him leaving.

“Or…. I could pull out?”

“The last thing I trust in this world is your timing.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Besides, don't you want to be inside me when you cum? Squeezing you tight? Milking you dry?”

“Kinky.” Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, secretly delighted. “And shoot me if I ever say no to that, but you're not on birth control are you?”

“No…” You drawled. “But I can get plan b?”

“Baby, you realize how reckless this is-”

“I know.”

“-we've barely just-”

“I'm aware.”

“-plus your health-”

“Choi Seungcheol.” You pushed him back into the bed, annoyed. “Are you gonna fuck me or not? Because if you don't then I'm gonna do it myself and all you get is to watch-”

Seungcheol, tucked his arm under his head, looking like he liked that idea a little too much.

“-while I cum taking someone else's name.”

His eyes darkened as his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you down to his eye level, “Try me sweetheart.”

“You know how I feel about challenges.”

“And you know how I feel about sharing what’s mine.”

“Then fuck me like I’m yours.”

Seungcheol smiled, dropping a soft kiss on your mouth, much in contrast to what followed. “Remember, you asked for this.”

One arm wrapped around your waist, he flipped you over, putting you below him once again, the hunger in his eyes burning a lot more now. As he shifted to push your legs apart, hand leaving your neck, a soft whine left you and Seungcheol caught it immediately.

“You’re into that too?” Seungcheol smirked as you frowned at him, annoyed.

“Apparently. I just found out as well.”

“I wonder what else you’re into.”

“You can wonder all you want, after you put that dick into me.”

Seungcheol clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I don’t like how you think I’d listen.”

Yet before you could talk back, he slid his cock along your folds, the tip slightly dipping into your hole, pulling out the most exquisite moan from you.

“Now that’s something I’d listen to.” He pushed himself a little further, your hands immediately coming to grip his biceps, gasping again at just how big he was. Seungcheol had been dying to listen to you sound like this and god was it so worth it.

You attempted to relax, adjusting around his girth as he eased himself in, but gave up even trying to maintain the facade of composure when he bottomed out, pressing all the way in.

“Fuck yes Cheol.”

He hissed softly, feeling your soft walls flutter around him. He had never fucked anyone raw and after this, how was he expected to just not spend his whole life buried in you?

“Please, move.” You begged, and he folded immediately, his hips slowly picking up pace as he kissed you along your neck.

“We should have done this years ago.” He groaned, wrapping your legs around his hips, pounding faster, harder. “We should have been doing this for years now.”

You nodded half listening, half submerged in your pleasure, nails running down his back. “Let’s just never get out of this bed.”

Seungcheol chuckled, absolutely agreeing with that idea, snapping his hips faster, delighted by the way you were reacting under him.

He wanted to flip you around and take you from the back, mark your ass with the red prints of his hand. He wanted you sitting on him, fucking yourself on his dick while he watched, your head thrown back in pleasure. He wanted to eat you out till you cried, fuck your throat and make you swallow, pull every moan and every whine and ever chant of his name out of you. God he wanted so much but Seungcheol wasn't capable of any of those right now - he had been hard for almost an hour now and your grip around him was like a vice.

“Seungcheol more.” You whined, despite him already railing into you like there was no tomorrow. He still listened though, sliding his hand down between your bodies and finding you clit, well aware that you would probably go unbelievably tight the moment he touched it, rendering him absolutely helpless. Sure enough, you keened, clamping down on him hard the moment he began rubbing circles, a string of curses leaving your mouth.

“Cum for me.” He whispered, hips rutting against yours harshly, holding his own release back desperately. “Cum all over me.”

And you did, the pleasure washing over you in waves, legs tightening around him before they finally went slack, exhausted. Seungcheol pulled them off him, gripping your thighs instead, shifting from an erratic rhythm to quick, deep strokes as he finally came inside you, collapsing on top.

He was careful enough not to crush you under his weight, holding himself up a little so you could regain your breath, watching your eyes flutter tiredly.

“We need to get you cleaned up.” He tucked your hair behind your ear, glancing at your mixed arousals dripping out of you. “I don’t know how long the statute of limitations for ejaculate is….”

For the first time in your life, Choi Seungcheol had managed to turn you dumb, as you nodded mindlessly, not having registered the stupidity that just came out of him.

He chuckled, rolling off you, but you dragged him back by the wrist, wrapping your arms around him.

“Hold me.”

And as though the universe hated you, a sharp knock on the door made you two jump apart. Seungcheol still proceeded to hold you but the knocking only repeated, louder this time. He huffed annoyed, sliding off the bed, grabbing his shirt from the floor and threw it on. Opening the door just a little, half hiding behind it, lower half specifically, he peaked out but his plan was foiled when the receptionist pushed the door fully open and came barging in, throwing her hands around.

“Check out time was 12! You’re late-”

She froze as Seuncheol quickly covered himself with a towel from nearby and you scrambled in a hurry, hiding under the sheets, squirming in embarrassment.

The old woman slowly, still shocked to the core, muttered an apology and walked out of the room as Seungcheol smacked his head against the wall, regretting not wearing his pants.

“You…” She cleared her throat from the other side of the door. “You have till 2. Get it together and get out of my lodge.” She then walked away, the sound of her footsteps fading, before they suddenly got louder again. “I would also like to add that I knew this was going to happen from the moment you two stepped foot in here!”

You covered your face trying not to pass out from the embarrassment as Seungcheol locked the door laughing.

"Why does she sound so happy?"

“I cannot believe she saw us." You groaned. "Who walks in like that-”

“Who cares?” Seungcheol walked over to you. “I cannot believe we still have two more hours.”

“You’re not even ready to go again.” You looked pointedly at the softened dick in his hand that he was pumping lazily. “Besides, we're going to have to book the room again, for tonight.”

“2 hours isn’t enough for you? Oh baby-”

“Our flight is at 5am tomorrow you idiot, we still need a place for the night.”

“Right.” Seungcheol recalled, “I forgot we had to go… that this had to come to an end.”

“Nothing’s ending.” You clarified, putting a rest to his worries. “Didn’t you say, you and I, till the end?”

Seungcheol nodded as you held your hand out to him. He walked over taking it, dropping a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“Say.” And you knew an unholy thought was brewing in that head of his. “We have all this time and there are seven beds here.”

“I don’t care how many there are.” You laughed, pulling him into the softness of the sheets. “I only want one to share with you.”

A/n - this was supposed to be out a few hours ago but tumblr was being a bitch to me. Im adding the tags in the comments! Reblogs with tags, comments and asks are much appreciated, thank you for reading :)

#svthub #choi seungcheol #seungcheol #choi seungcheol smut #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seungcheol x reader #scoups × reader #seungcheol fluff #scoups fluff #seungcheol angst #scoups angst #seungcheol fic #seventeen fic #seventeen smut #seventeen #reverse trope prompt #one bed #too many beds

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