#i could just imagine the crowd erupting in cheers at that line

[qveenpoppy]

the "i won't/birthday party" mashup is awesome but i almost kinda wish the guys had sung "birthday party" in its entirety bc the line "i bet i'll see a female president" would have gone really hard after this week

[reveriebae]

Unveiled temptation

pairing(s) : Song Mingi x reader

word count : 5731

summary : You swore you’d never meet an online friend in person—until Mingi. One secret visit to his performance, one photo sent without a word, and now he’s found you. And tonight, he’s going to ruin you.

genre : smut

warning(s) : dominance, obsession, mild possessiveness, public teasing, and explicit language. Expect manhandling, desperate pacing, and overwhelming pleasure. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N : this fic is my favorite one this far. I hope you guys like it🥺🫶

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut 🪐

You had always been careful. Always drawn lines you refused to cross.

The internet was a playground, a place to connect, but it was never supposed to be real. You had rules—clear, solid ones that kept you safe. No meeting people you knew online. No getting too attached. No blurring the lines between fantasy and reality.

And yet…

Mingi.

It started with a simple follow. Then the occasional like on your posts. Then came the conversations—long, winding ones that stretched across midnight and bled into early mornings. His words were addictive, pulling you in deeper than you should’ve allowed. He was confident, but never pushy. Smooth, but not rehearsed. He made you laugh, made your stomach flutter with the way he spoke so easily, so casually, yet always with just enough bite to make you wonder if there was more behind his words.

And there was.

You knew it when he sent you a video of him playing guitar late one night.

"I play here every Saturday," he had texted once, sending you a picture of a dimly lit stage. "You should come watch me sometime."

Your answer had been immediate. "I don’t meet people from online."

His reply had come just as fast. "One day, you will."

It sent a shiver down your spine, the kind that came not from fear, but from the way your pulse picked up at the thought.

And now, here you were.

Breaking your own rule.

The bar was warm, filled with the hum of conversation and the deep strum of a bass vibrating through the air. Dim lights bathed the wooden floors in a soft glow, casting long shadows against the walls. The scent of alcohol and faint traces of cigarette smoke lingered, mixing with something earthy and familiar—something that smelled like leather and musk.

Your eyes flickered to the stage.

And there he was.

Mingi.

You had seen him in photos, watched his videos, but nothing compared to seeing him in person. He was taller than you had imagined, broader. The loose fit of his black tee did nothing to hide the way it stretched over his shoulders, his sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the veins trailing down his forearms.

But it was his presence that stole your breath.

He wasn’t just playing. He was feeling the music. Fingers dancing over the guitar strings with practiced ease, head tilted slightly as if he were lost in the rhythm. His lips parted, brows furrowing slightly in concentration, his body moving with every note. He wasn’t just good—he was mesmerizing.

Your grip tightened on your phone.

You shouldn’t.

You really shouldn’t.

But you did.

Lifting the device, you snapped a picture of him mid-performance.

His fingers curled around the neck of the guitar, his head tilted back slightly, a sheen of sweat on his jawline catching the light. He looked unreal.

Your heart pounded as you typed out the message.

"You look good up there, rockstar."

You hit send before you could overthink it.

And then, you waited.

The song ended. The bar erupted into cheers and applause. You watched as Mingi pulled out his phone, his sharp gaze dropping to the screen. His thumb hovered over the message.

Then, his head lifted.

And he looked directly at you.

Your stomach dropped.

You knew the moment he recognized you.

His eyes darkened, his lips pressing into a firm line as he shoved his phone into his pocket without replying.

And then he moved.

Fast.

Your breath hitched as he pushed through the crowd, weaving between bodies with laser focus. People tried to stop him, patting his shoulder, talking to him, but he ignored them all.

You panicked.

Your heart hammered as you scrambled to stand, but it was too late.

Mingi was in front of you.

Tall. Intimidating. Gorgeous.

He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you. Long and hard. As if he were seeing right through you, as if every conversation, every teasing text, every moment you had shared online had been leading to this very second.

“You just had to break your own rule, huh?”

His voice was deeper in person. It sent a shiver down your spine, something dangerous curling in your stomach.

“I—”

“Come with me.”

It wasn’t a request.

Before you could process what was happening, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, warm and firm. He didn’t give you a chance to argue, guiding you through the bar with a grip that wasn’t rough, but commanding.

You should’ve pulled away. You should’ve protested.

But you didn’t.

Because deep down, you had wanted this.

The drive to his apartment was silent, tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Mingi’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw clenched. You stole glances at him, at the way his fingers tapped against the leather, at the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed hard.

He was holding back.

And you weren’t sure if you wanted him to.

When he finally pulled into the parking lot, neither of you moved. The air inside the car was heavy, thick with anticipation.

Then, Mingi exhaled slowly and turned to you.

“You’re really here.” His voice was quieter now, almost disbelieving. His eyes dragged over your features, slow and deliberate, memorizing you in person.

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

Silence stretched between you.

Then, something in him snapped.

In an instant, he was on you.

His lips crashed against yours—hot, demanding, desperate.

You barely had time to gasp before he was kissing you deeper, tongue sliding against yours with a hunger that made your head spin. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you onto his lap, and you melted against him, fingers tangling in his hair.

“You have no idea,” he growled against your lips, “how long I’ve wanted this.”

His fingers dug into your skin, possessive, needy.

You whimpered.

And then, he devoured you whole.

The heat of his body seeped into yours, his large hands gripping your waist as you straddled him in the dimly lit car. His lips moved against yours with raw hunger, as if he had been holding back for far too long. Every brush of his tongue, every nip of his teeth sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

Mingi was possessive.

Not just in the way he kissed you, but in the way he touched you—like he was claiming you.

His hands roamed over your thighs, gripping the flesh beneath your dress, kneading, teasing. His breath was hot against your mouth when he pulled back, his gaze dark and unreadable.

“I should take you inside,” he muttered, his voice rough, strained.

You nodded, swallowing hard, but didn’t move.

Neither did he.

You could feel the hard press of his length beneath you, the way his fingers flexed against your hips, holding himself back.

“Mingi…” you breathed, your hands still fisted in his shirt.

He exhaled sharply, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “If you say my name like that again, I might just take you right here.”

Your breath hitched.

The idea of him not waiting, of him losing control right here in the car, sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

But then he groaned, tilting his head back against the seat. “No. Not like this. Not in a damn car.”

Before you could say anything, he tightened his grip on your waist, lifting you effortlessly off his lap. Your legs wobbled when your feet hit the ground, but he was already out of the car, grabbing your wrist again.

The walk to his apartment was a blur.

Your heart hammered against your ribs as he led you down the hallway, his long strides quick and purposeful. He was tense—like he was forcing himself to keep a leash on his desire.

And the moment the door shut behind you, that leash snapped.

You barely had time to take in the dimly lit apartment before you were pinned against the wall.

Mingi’s hands were on you in an instant—gripping your hips, your waist, sliding up to your throat. His chest pressed against yours, his breath heavy, ragged.

“Do you have any idea,” he murmured, voice dangerously low, “how long I’ve wanted to get my hands on you?”

Your breath came out in a shaky gasp. “Then do it.”

His pupils dilated. His lips parted.

And then, he did.

His mouth was on yours again, but this time, it was different.

Slower. Deeper.

He wasn’t rushing anymore. He was savoring.

The kiss was a drug, intoxicating and thorough. His tongue teased, exploring you with a patience that made you ache. He pulled away just enough to nip at your lower lip, smirking when you whimpered.

“You taste just as sweet as I imagined,” he muttered, voice husky.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and he let out a low groan.

“You like teasing me?” he mused, pressing his thigh between your legs, applying just enough pressure to make you shudder.

You bit your lip, trying not to moan, but he noticed.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, amusement laced in his tone. “You need me to ruin you, don’t you?”

Your body burned at his words, the sheer dominance in his voice making you tremble.

Mingi leaned in, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Then let me.”

And that was all the warning you got before he lifted you into his arms and carried you to his bedroom.

Mingi’s bedroom was dimly lit, the warm glow of a single bedside lamp casting long shadows across the space. The moment he set you down, you barely had time to register your surroundings before he was on you again.

His hands found your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you feel small under his touch. His lips hovered over yours, teasing—so close, yet refusing to give in completely.

You whimpered, tilting your head up, trying to close the distance.

He smirked.

"That desperate already?" His voice was a low drawl, dripping with amusement.

Your cheeks burned, but you refused to back down. "You're the one who dragged me here."

Mingi hummed, tilting his head slightly. His silver chain glinted under the low light, drawing your attention to the sharp cut of his collarbone. You swallowed hard, resisting the urge to reach out and run your fingers along it.

But he saw where your eyes landed.

And he used it against you.

His fingers reached up, wrapping around the cool metal of his necklace, tugging it slightly as he let out a thoughtful hum. "You like this?" he mused, rolling the chain between his fingers before letting it dangle loose again.

Your throat went dry. "I—"

He didn’t let you answer.

Instead, he leaned in until his lips brushed against your ear. His breath was warm, teasing. "Say it," he murmured. "Say you like it, baby."

Your pulse pounded. You hated how easily he could unravel you with just a few words.

"... I like it," you admitted softly.

Mingi chuckled, the deep sound vibrating against your skin. "Yeah? You like my silver chain?"

His hand suddenly grabbed yours, guiding it up until your fingers wrapped around it. The cool metal pressed against your palm, stark against the warmth of his skin.

"Then hold onto it," he whispered. "While I ruin you."

Your breath hitched.

Before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed into yours again—but this time, it was hungry. Deep. Possessive.

You gasped against his mouth, and he took advantage of it, his tongue slipping past your lips, claiming you without hesitation. The kiss was messy, all heat and need, his hands roaming down your back before gripping your ass, pulling you flush against him.

The bulge in his jeans pressed into your core, making you whimper.

He growled, nipping at your bottom lip. "So fucking soft," he muttered, dragging his hands up your body. His thumbs brushed over your hardened nipples through the fabric of your dress, and you shuddered.

Mingi smirked against your mouth. "That sensitive, baby?"

You bit your lip, trying to hold back a whine, but he caught your chin between his fingers. His eyes darkened.

"Don't you dare hold back on me."

Your heart stuttered.

Mingi was playing with you. Teasing you, drawing it out just to watch you fall apart. And it was working.

His hand moved to the straps of your dress, slowly sliding one down your shoulder. Then the other.

The fabric pooled at your waist, exposing your bare chest to the cool air.

Mingi inhaled sharply, his gaze devouring you.

"Fuck," he muttered, almost to himself. "You're even prettier than I imagined."

His fingers trailed down, ghosting over your nipple—but not touching. Not yet. Just enough to make you squirm.

You whined softly, arching into him, and that was exactly what he wanted.

His lips curled into a smirk.

"Needy little thing," he murmured. "I should make you beg for it, shouldn’t I?"

Your eyes widened. "Mingi—"

His thumb finally brushed over your nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

You gasped.

He chuckled darkly. "I’ll take my time, baby. Don’t worry."

His mouth lowered, lips hovering just above your skin. You could feel his breath, so close, but he still didn’t touch.

The anticipation was torture.

"Mingi, please—"

His teeth grazed your nipple, just barely, and your whole body jolted.

He groaned. "Shit. You're so fucking sensitive."

Your fingers tightened around his silver chain, and he felt it.

His head snapped up, eyes burning into yours.

"You like that, huh?" His voice was darker now, rougher.

Your breath came out shaky. "Y-Yeah."

Mingi exhaled sharply, his restraint hanging by a thread. "Then let me see how much you can take."

And with that, his mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking hard.

A strangled moan left your lips, your back arching as heat shot straight to your core.

Mingi growled against your skin, his hands gripping your thighs, pressing you down onto his lap where his cock was already hard against you.

Your fingers pulled on his chain, making the silver dig into his throat.

Mingi groaned.

"Oh, baby," he rasped. "You keep doing that, and I’m not gonna last long."

But that was a lie.

Because Mingi wasn’t anywhere close to being finished with you.

Mingi's grip on your thighs tightened as he continued to devour your skin, his mouth moving from your nipple to the soft expanse of your chest. He was taking his time, teasing you, making sure you felt every brush of his lips, every graze of his teeth.

But it wasn’t enough.

Not for him. Not for you.

The way your fingers clenched around his silver chain sent a shudder down his spine, a deep groan escaping his lips. He loved it—loved the way you pulled at it, the way you held onto him like you needed him to keep you steady.

“You like playing with my chain, baby?” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

You nodded, your breath shaky. “Yeah…”

Mingi smirked, his eyes burning into yours. “Then keep holding onto it. I wanna feel you pull when you can’t take it anymore.”

Before you could process his words, his teeth sank into the soft skin of your breast, just enough to make you gasp.

The sting melted into pleasure as he soothed the bite with his tongue, lapping over the mark he’d just left.

Your body arched into him, desperate for more, but he wasn’t done teasing you yet.

His hands trailed down, gripping your thighs before suddenly flipping you onto your stomach.

You barely had time to react before he was behind you, pressing you into the mattress. His chest was hot against your back, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his hands sliding down your sides. “So eager… so fucking desperate for me.”

Your cheeks burned at his words, but you couldn’t deny it.

You needed him.

Mingi knew it too.

His fingers trailed lower, just barely brushing over the damp fabric between your legs. You jolted, a choked whimper slipping past your lips.

He chuckled darkly. “You’re already soaked, baby?”

You bit your lip, trying not to beg, but Mingi wasn’t having it.

His free hand wrapped around his chain, pulling it taut against your throat as he leaned in close. “Use your words, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips grazing your ear. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

Your fingers tightened around the cool metal, your body trembling beneath him.

“Mingi… please.”

His grip on the chain loosened just enough to let you breathe, but his fingers slipped beneath your underwear, dragging over your soaked folds.

He groaned. “Fuck. You’re dripping for me.”

A broken moan escaped you as he slid one long finger inside, slowly, teasing you, curling just enough to make your stomach tighten.

Your grip on his necklace tightened.

Mingi smirked.

“Oh, baby,” he purred, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “We’re just getting started.”

Mingi’s breath was hot against your skin as his fingers moved achingly slow between your legs, dragging through your wetness just to tease you. His touch was barely there, like he wanted to see you squirm before he gave you what you wanted.

And you were squirming.

Your hips rocked against his hand, silently begging for more, but he only chuckled.

“So desperate, baby.” His voice was deep, smug. “I barely touched you, and you’re already this wet?”

Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t deny it. You couldn’t.

Because he was right.

The way he was controlling you, the way he was dragging this out, made your body pulse with need.

He brought his lips to your ear, his silver chain brushing against your skin as he whispered, “You like being teased, don’t you?”

You whimpered. “Mingi, please—”

His fingers pushed in deeper, curling inside you just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “So fucking tight.”

You gasped, your grip on his necklace tightening, making the cool metal press into his throat.

Mingi felt it.

And it made him lose control.

His other hand yanked your hips up, pressing your ass against his clothed cock. You could feel how hard he was—throbbing against you, barely held back by the fabric of his jeans.

“Feel that, baby?” He grinded against you, his breath shaky. “That’s what you do to me.”

Your body shuddered at the sensation. The thick length of him pressing against your soaked heat was torture, but he still wasn’t giving you what you needed.

And he knew it.

Mingi chuckled darkly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as his fingers continued to fuck you slowly. “You’re so cute when you beg.”

His lips trailed down your spine, his pace never changing, just keeping you on the edge, making you ache for more.

Then, suddenly—his fingers were gone.

A desperate whimper slipped past your lips as you turned your head, ready to protest, but the words died on your tongue when you felt his hands on his belt.

The sound of metal clinking filled the room.

Mingi smirked. “You’re gonna take all of me, right, baby?”

Your heart stopped.

Then raced.

You swallowed hard, nodding.

Mingi chuckled, reaching for his silver chain again, rolling it between his fingers before grabbing your wrist and wrapping it around your palm.

"Hold onto it," he murmured. "And don't let go until I'm done with you."

And then—

He pushed in.

The stretch was intense—a delicious, burning sensation that had your lips parting in a silent gasp. Mingi groaned low in his throat, feeling how tight you were around him as he buried himself inside you, inch by inch.

"Shit," he muttered, his fingers gripping your hips with a bruising force. "You feel that, baby?"

Your nails dug into his silver chain, the cool metal pressed against your burning skin as you gasped, trying to adjust to the sheer size of him.

"Mingi—"

He pulled out just enough before slamming back in, making you cry out.

He grinned.

"That's it," he murmured, rolling his hips deeper, making sure you felt every inch. "Let me hear you."

His pace was slow, almost torturous, dragging out every sensation, every pulse of pleasure until you were whimpering beneath him. He loved it—loved how your body clenched around him, loved how you held onto his chain like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his fingers trailing up your spine. "Taking me so well, baby."

You tried to move your hips, desperate for more, but his hands held you down.

"Uh-uh," he clicked his tongue, amusement lacing his voice. "You don’t get to rush this."

He leaned down, his body pressing against yours, his silver chain cool against your heated skin. His lips brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"I'm gonna fuck you slow," he whispered, thrusting deep. "Until you're begging for me to ruin you."

Your breath hitched.

Mingi chuckled darkly. "And baby?"

His pace suddenly snapped.

"You will beg."

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as he fucked you harder, the slow tease replaced with deep, merciless thrusts that had you gasping for air.

Your fingers clenched around his chain tightly, the metal digging into his throat, making his groans deeper, rougher.

"Fuck," he growled, his hips snapping forward. "You love this, don’t you?"

You couldn’t even speak—all you could do was moan, your body completely at his mercy.

Mingi grabbed your chin, turning your head so his lips brushed against yours. "Say it," he demanded, his eyes dark with lust. "Tell me you love it."

Your voice was shaky, breathless. "I—I love it."

Mingi groaned, his lips crashing against yours in a bruising kiss as he drove into you harder, his silver chain dangling between you, cool against your sweat-slicked skin.

"You better," he muttered against your lips. "Because I'm not stopping until you’re ruined."

Mingi’s hand was still gripping your chin, forcing you to look back at him as he thrust deep inside you, each stroke hitting the spot that had your toes curling. His silver chain dangled in front of your lips, glinting under the dim lights of his apartment, teasing you like he knew how much it turned you on.

“You keep pulling on it,” he murmured, voice dark, teasing. “You like my chain that much, baby?”

You whimpered, unable to form a proper response with the way he was fucking you senseless.

Mingi’s grip tightened. “Open your mouth.”

Your lips parted without hesitation, your breath shaky.

A slow smirk spread across his face. He took the chain between his fingers and dragged the cool metal across your tongue, making you taste the mix of sweat and heat from where it had been pressed against his skin.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thrusts never faltering. “Suck on it.”

Your eyes rolled back as you closed your lips around the chain, the taste of metal and him flooding your senses while he slammed into you from behind.

Mingi groaned, his head falling back. “Fuck, you’re so filthy for me.”

His hand slid lower, wrapping around your throat, tightening just enough to make your breath hitch. His grip wasn’t harsh, just enough to make you feel lightheaded—drunk off him, off the way he was completely owning you.

“You like being used like this?” he rasped, his pace merciless. “Being my little toy to fuck however I want?”

The way your body clenched around him told him everything he needed to know.

Mingi growled. “God, you’re so fucking dirty.”

One of his hands slid down, slipping between your legs, rubbing you in tight circles that had your entire body trembling.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” he taunted, his voice dripping with pure sin. “Gonna cum while sucking on my chain like a filthy little thing?”

Your whimpers turned into cries, the mix of his cock, his hand, his chain pushing you right to the edge.

Mingi felt it.

“Fuck—do it,” he groaned, his hand tightening around your throat. “Cum for me, baby. Make a mess all over my cock.”

And with one final snap of his hips—

You shattered.

Your entire body convulsed, your vision going white as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Mingi cursed, feeling you clench so tight around him, and before he could even pull out, he was right behind you, spilling inside you with a deep, guttural groan.

For a moment, all you could hear was heavy breathing, the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Mingi leaned over you, pressing a slow, possessive kiss to your shoulder before whispering,

“Next time, baby… you’re gonna swallow something else.”

Mingi barely gave you time to recover. Your body was still trembling, your breath uneven, your skin slick with sweat—but he wasn’t done with you. Not even close.

He pulled out slowly, watching with dark, hooded eyes as his cum dripped out of you, coating your thighs.

His tongue clicked. “Look at that,” he murmured, dragging his fingers through the mess he made. “You’re leaking all over yourself, baby.”

You whimpered, your body over-sensitive, but Mingi didn’t care.

He brought his fingers to your lips.

“Clean it up.”

Your breath hitched as you stared at him, dazed, but when his brows lifted in expectation, you obeyed—your lips parting, your tongue flicking out to lick his fingers clean.

Mingi groaned, his cock already hard again.

"Fuck, you’re so filthy," he muttered, his silver chain swinging as he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"You want more?" he taunted, pressing his cock against your entrance, rubbing it against your aching heat. "You think you can handle another round?"

You nodded quickly, desperate.

But Mingi wasn’t convinced.

“Beg for it.”

Your breath shuddered.

"Mingi… please," you whimpered, shifting your hips to try and push against him. "I need it. I need you."

His smirk was ruthless.

"That’s my girl," he murmured, and before you could brace yourself—

He slammed into you.

A sharp cry left your lips as he bottomed out in one thrust, stretching you all over again, but this time—there was no slow build-up.

No teasing.

Just pure, raw, animalistic fucking.

Mingi's hands gripped your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts as he fucked into you with no restraint. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, the headboard banging against the wall with each brutal stroke.

His silver chain dangled over your face, brushing against your parted lips.

"You take me so fucking well," he gritted out, watching how your body shuddered beneath him. "You're just made for me, aren’t you?"

Your moans were incoherent, your body pushed past its limits, but you didn’t care.

You wanted more.

Mingi’s hand snaked around your throat, forcing you to arch your back as he pounded into you harder, his cock hitting deep, bruising places that had you screaming.

"You wanna be ruined, baby?" he growled. "Then take it. Take every fucking inch."

Tears pricked your eyes, the pleasure too much, too overwhelming, and yet—you still wanted more.

"God, you’re squeezing me so fucking tight," Mingi groaned, his voice strained. "Gonna cum again, huh?"

His fingers slid down to your swollen clit, rubbing you relentlessly.

"Cum for me," he ordered. "Scream my fucking name when you do."

Your vision blurred, your body seizing up as you came violently, your entire form shaking beneath him.

Mingi followed right after, groaning deep in his throat as he filled you up again, making sure you felt every hot drop.

And just when you thought he was finally done—

He smirked.

"Hope you’re not tired yet, baby," he murmured. "Because I’m still not finished with you."

Mingi barely gave you time to breathe. Your body was still twitching, completely spent from the last orgasm, but he wasn’t finished.

Not until you were soaked.

Not until you were dripping down your thighs.

"You’re shaking, baby," he teased, dragging his fingers down your spine as you collapsed against the mattress, your legs weak, your body wrecked.

But that didn’t stop him.

He grabbed you by the hips and flipped you onto your back, his silver chain dangling over your face as he leaned in close.

"You got one more for me?" he murmured, voice deep, low, dripping with sinful promise.

Your eyes fluttered open, dazed, lips trembling. "Mingi—"

He smirked, his fingers trailing lower, parting your thighs as he spread you wide open for him.

"Yeah," he murmured, watching you, eyes filled with pure lust. "You do."

And then—

His mouth was on you.

A loud, shattered moan tore from your lips as Mingi's tongue flicked over your swollen clit, the sensation sending a violent shudder through your body.

But he didn’t stop there.

No, he was hungry.

Desperate.

His tongue was relentless, licking, sucking, his lips wrapping around your clit as two thick fingers slid into your dripping entrance.

"Fuck—Mingi!" you gasped, your hands fisting the sheets, your legs trembling as he pumped his fingers into you, stretching you open all over again.

His pace was brutal—each thrust of his fingers curling against that sweet, devastating spot deep inside you.

You screamed.

Mingi groaned against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core. His silver chain brushed against your inner thigh, cool against your burning hot skin, adding to the overwhelming sensation.

"You gonna cum again?" he murmured, his voice filthy, his fingers slamming into you even harder. "Gonna make a mess for me, baby?"

Your entire body locked up, the pressure building so intensely that you could barely breathe.

Mingi chuckled darkly, sensing it.

He pulled away for just a second, his fingers still moving ruthlessly as his eyes locked onto yours.

"Cum for me," he demanded, his voice like pure sin. "Fucking soak my fingers."

And then—

You snapped.

Your back arched off the bed, a broken scream ripping from your throat as hot liquid gushed from your body, completely drenching his hand, his wrist, the sheets below you.

Mingi groaned, watching it happen, watching the way you squirted uncontrollably, your body convulsing beneath him.

"Fuck, baby," he rasped, his fingers still working you, dragging out every last drop until you were begging for mercy.

But he just grinned.

"You’re so fucking dirty," he murmured, bringing his soaked fingers to his lips, licking them clean. "And I love it."

Your entire body shuddered, completely wrecked, but Mingi wasn’t done.

He climbed over you, his cock achingly hard again, pressing against your soaked, sensitive heat.

"You think you can handle one more?" he murmured, his silver chain dangling over your lips, his eyes dark, hungry.

Your breath was still shaky, but you nodded.

Mingi smirked.

"Good."

Your body was wrecked. Your thighs trembled, your breath came in ragged pants, and the sheets beneath you were completely soaked from what Mingi had done to you.

But he wasn’t done.

Not yet.

Not until you were crying for him.

Mingi sat back, his silver chain glistening with sweat as he ran his tongue across his lips, watching you struggle to catch your breath. His cock was hard and throbbing, still slick from your release, and the way his eyes darkened sent a shiver through your already-sensitive body.

"You did so well for me, baby," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, the kind of voice that made you drip even when you were spent.

"But," he continued, gripping his cock and dragging the thick tip through your soaked folds, teasing you until you whimpered, "I’m not done until I’ve ruined you completely."

And before you could even brace yourself—

Mingi slammed into you.

Your scream echoed through the room as he bottomed out in one brutal thrust, stretching you all over again. Your walls were already achingly sensitive, but Mingi didn't care.

He wanted more.

His hands gripped your thighs, pushing your legs back until your knees nearly touched your chest, folding you in half as he fucked you deep.

"Look at you," he groaned, his silver chain dangling over your face, brushing against your lips. "So fucking wet for me. You love being used like this, don’t you?"

Your answer was a broken whimper, your body already on fire.

Mingi’s grip tightened, his pace brutal, unforgiving, his cock hitting spots so deep it made your vision blur.

"You’re gonna take every inch," he growled, his voice pure dominance. "Gonna cum on my cock one more time before I fill you up, baby."

Your mind shattered.

Mingi’s hands slid down, one wrapping around your throat while the other slipped between your legs, his fingers rubbing tight, ruthless circles on your swollen clit.

"Come on, baby," he taunted, his silver chain brushing against your skin as he pounded into you. "I want to feel you lose control. I want you to scream my name."

You were so close.

Your body tensed, your breath caught—

Mingi smirked.

"Cum for me, baby. Soak my cock."

And then—

You snapped.

Your body convulsed, pleasure exploding through you as your orgasm hit you with a force so strong you screamed his name, your walls clenching, trembling, your entire body writhing beneath him.

Mingi groaned loudly, feeling you squeeze around him, and before he could hold back, his grip on your hips tightened and he spilled deep inside you, filling you up with hot, thick cum.

His thrusts slowed, his breaths ragged, his silver chain swinging as he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours.

"Fuck," he panted, his voice wrecked, his lips brushing against yours. "That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen."

Your entire body shuddered, overwhelmed, wrecked, but completely satisfied.

Mingi smirked, pressing a slow, filthy kiss to your lips before whispering,

"Hope you weren’t planning to walk tomorrow, baby. Because you’re not leaving this bed."

[himbo-kuto]

idol!reader x pilot!caleb 

plot: your performing a song with some suggestive lyrics to hundreds and thousands of people 👀

caleb | rafayel | zayne | sylus | xavier 

“linkon stadium!” 

the sudden eruption of cheers from thousands of people in front of you made your heart warm. you had just finished your costume change for your secret stage that you switched up at every location and you were giddy with anticipation. it was a frilly green two piece that didn’t leave much room for imagination. 

caleb had asked you a billion times on what the song was since you told him all the others but you kept it under lock and key knowing that you were essentially dedicating this stage to him. 

“for the last time, no caleb! i’m not telling you!” you scolded as you propped your phone up on the bathroom mirror during your routine video call. you finished off your skin care routine with a lip mask, cleaning up the corners with your finger before looking right at the camera.   “but just know, that stage is dedicated to you.” he groaned in response, covering his now blushing cheeks with his hand.  “you’re going to be the death of me, pipsqueak.”

you knew it was rough on him as you were traveling the world and even though he was a pilot, you two rarely found yourselves in the same place but today you knew that caleb was coming and you couldn’t wait to be in his arms once again. 

you looked out to the audience to the section that your management had blocked off for your friends and family and if your eyes were correct, you could see him right in the middle wearing some light up headband with your name on it. 

“i feel blessed to be able to finish out my tour in my home town with my friends, family and partner out here in the audience tonight” another wave of cheers came through from your fans, and maybe you were crazy, but you thought you heard caleb’s scream as clear as day. you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips as you began to get into places for the beginning of the song.

“you have all have given me so much of your time and energy– i want to make sure we keep it up until the very end, what do you say?” you held your hand up to ear, and the microphone out to the audience.

“if you know the words to this song, i want you to sing them as loud as you can with me alright?” the lights dimmed, the crowd once again screamed at the top of their lungs in anticipation before the first few notes from sabrina carpenter’s nonsense started playing over the speakers. you read the conspiracies on what your fans thought your stage was going to be. you were proud in knowing that none of them guessed this song, leaving everyone in shock. especially the person whose reaction you anticipated the most. you secretly texted tara before heading on stage, asking her to record caleb’s reaction and she quickly obliged.

only a few lines into the first verse, you and your dancers could feel the energy of the audience as the lyrics could be heard loud and clear. you wanted to give them a good send off before you took a long break to recuperate and you were glad they were vibing along with you. 

I'm talkin' all around clock I'm talkin' hope nobody knocks I'm talkin' opposite of soft I'm talkin' wild, wild thoughts

on caleb’s end he was thankful to whatever god above that the venue was dimly lit because his whole neck and face were bright red. there you were, looking right at the camera that plastered your face on the big screens with your hair perfectly done and your makeup all sparkly. you looked immaculate and he was blown away. sure, he’s seen you perform– heck he’s watched every single one of your performances even the more suggestive ones. but he knew you chose this song with those lyrics intentionally and the fact that he could only stand there and watch from afar is what killed him. he didn’t even notice tara laughing out loud as she captured his reaction to the chorus, flashing back and forth from the big screens with your face to your tomato of a boyfriend.

he was rendered speechless and all he could do was absent mindedly clap along to the song, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. a sudden burst of screams broke caleb out of his trance. he watched as you reached out to a fan that was close to the stage and put on a pilot’s hat. you couldn’t even contain yourself at how perfect the timing was and laughed as you continued to sing the lyrics.

that man was done for. he loved seeing you in his uniform, whether it was his hat or jacket he would go weak at the knees, wanting to take as many pictures as possible (he was definitely going on to social media later and download all your concert pics) he couldn’t help but laugh as well seeing how much fun you were having up there. yeah it was hard being away from you for extended periods of time, but seeing you perform was always worth it. he was planning on giving you an ear full but maybe now there wasn’t going to be much talking. you were nearing the end of the song where different adlibs could be sung depending on the situation.

This song catchier than chickenpox is I bet your house is where my other sock is

you held the brim of your hat, with a flirty look on your face as you tried to hold your composure as you sang your practiced adlibs. 

He’s my pilot, i’ll meet him in the cockpit Mile High Club, can you keep a secret?

you gave a salute as your ending fairy, giving a knowing laugh as your boyfriend has most likely passed out on the floor. 

“thank you linkon, i’ll keep this night in my heart forever!” 

—

bonus:

“babe that’s literally the 20th time you’ve watched that clip– i’m right here” he couldn’t hear you as he kept replaying a video a fan took of the ending adlibs. he had surely given you a stern “talking to” when you were able to make it back to your house. he laid there freshly showered after doing all the things that were listed out in that song– you might add. smiling like an idiot at his phone as you made your way back into his embrace. you watched as he continued to scroll through more videos from your concert.

he put his phone down as he held you closer. you buried your face into his neck, closing your eyes as you inhaled deeply. you missed him dearly and it was good to be back. 

“we haven’t even had sex in my plane– are you trying to tell me something?” your eyes shot open as you landed a square slap right on his chest. 

“CALEB–” he laughed out loud as he held his hands up in defense. 

“you’re the one who said it pipsqueak, not me!” you bit his arm before making your way back into his neck. 

“would you rather have me say ‘that autopilot got me boun–’” the rest of your sentence was muffled as he covered your mouth. 

“shhh…. the world doesn’t need to know that much.”

[rik0shii]

gdragon with a bubbly!reader who's always so entertaining and energetic. reader is a solo artist from YG company along with bigbang and 2NE1. when the company held a YG family concert, we could see gdragon basically just playing around with reader and fans take notice of this, some even makes an edit of them from the concert.

YG’S WEIRDOS

At the YG Family Concert, G-Dragon couldn’t stop teasing you, from playful banter to dragging you into an unexpected dance break. Fans quickly took notice, and by the next day, viral clips had everyone convinced—he definitely had a soft spot for you.

hiii tysm for requesting❤️❤️❤️ i hope you like this!reposts and comments are appreciated!

The YG Family Concert was always a highlight of the year, bringing together all the artists in one massive, unforgettable event. As expected, you were your usual high-energy, chaotic self, always moving, always hyping up the crowd, and making sure everyone was having fun.

It didn’t take long for fans to notice that G-Dragon seemed especially entertained by you.

From the very beginning, he gravitated toward you, whether it was standing beside you during introductions or laughing at your antics from across the stage. It wasn’t unusual for Jiyong to be playful, but tonight, it felt like he had made it his personal mission to mess with you.

When it was your turn to introduce yourself, you stepped forward with an exaggerated bow, extending your arms dramatically. “Good evening, everyone! I am Y/N, the greatest performer to ever exist—”

Jiyong let out a loud laugh beside you, shaking his head as he took the mic. “I didn’t realize we were doing theatrical introductions tonight.”

Without missing a beat, you turned to him. “Oh? You wanna do one too? Go ahead, make it dramatic.”

Raising an eyebrow, he smirked and gave an overly elegant bow. “G-Dragon. Fashion icon. Genius. Your favorite artist’s favorite artist.”

You clapped, pretending to wipe away a tear. “Beautiful. That was inspiring.”

The playful exchange earned laughter from the crowd, and it was only the beginning.

Later in the night, during BIGBANG’s performance, you were standing at the side of the stage, dancing along like a proper hype person. Jiyong caught sight of you from the middle of the stage, and before you could react, he ran over and grabbed your wrist, pulling you forward.

“Y/N, dance break!” he announced into his mic, giving you absolutely no time to prepare.

The beat dropped, and instinct took over. You committed fully, breaking into the most absurd dance moves imaginable—over-the-top body waves, uncoordinated moonwalks, and random high kicks that made no sense while 2NE1’s CL and Daesung cheered you on.The audience erupted with laughter, and Jiyong was laughing so hard he nearly missed his next line.

When the music finally moved on, you doubled over, catching your breath. He nudged your shoulder, grinning. “I didn’t think you’d actually go for it.”

You crossed your arms and raised your eyebrow dramatically. “Embarrassing myself is my superpower.”

By the next morning, the internet was flooded with clips of your interactions.

One video of Jiyong laughing at your dance break had already hit over two million views. Another edit compiled every moment the two of you shared on stage—him nudging you, laughing at your antics, and literally dragging you into the spotlight. The title? “GD can’t hide his soft spot for Y/N.”

Even your fellow YG artists had started teasing.

“Jiyong, why do you always mess with Y/N?” Taeyang asked during an interview the next day.

Jiyong shrugged, barely holding back a smile. “They’re just… hard to ignore.”

Your phone buzzed not long after.

Jiyong: We’re going viral, troublemaker.

You: I take full responsibility. You’re welcome.

Jiyong: You’re gonna pay for this.

You: Oh? What are you gonna do? Challenge me to another dance battle?

Jiyong: …Don’t tempt me.

If this concert was anything to go by, the next one was going to be even more chaotic.

[chelseaknoo]

Imagine this: Eminem gets into a rap feud with your rapper boyfriend, and amidst all the drama, you end up cheating on your boyfriend with Eminem. Then, when Eminem releases a new track, he takes a shot at your boyfriend by hinting at your hookup, adding fuel to the fire with a line about sleeping with you.

Eminem x reader

Caution: sexual content ♡

it���s the night of the MTV Music Awards, and you’ve been given the honor of calling out the winner and presenting the award. Your boyfriend, a rising star in the rap game, is nominated in the same category as his rival—none other than Eminem. For weeks, the two have been trading shots, dropping diss tracks, and stirring up a fierce rap feud.

The tension is palpable as the nominees flash on the screen, and the crowd buzzes with anticipation. You can feel your boyfriend’s eyes on you from his seat, his expression radiating certainty. He’s convinced tonight will end in his victory, a public validation of his skills and his place in the industry

But you know the stakes: if Eminem wins, it would be a crushing defeat for your boyfriend—a public blow that could turn the tide in their feud and become the talk of the music world. Yet, there’s a strange electricity in the air as you take the stage, gripping the award envelope, your heart pounding. Whether it’s a win or loss, this moment is about to make headlines.

"Eminem!" you announce, your voice echoing through the venue as the crowd erupts in wild cheers, celebrating his victory.

Eminem strides onto the stage, his expression a mix of pride and that unmistakable cockiness he’s known for. As he reaches you, he takes the award with one hand and, to your surprise, pulls you into a tight hug with the other. The embrace lingers just a moment too long, his hand slipping lower with each second—a subtle but unmistakable taunt meant to rile up your already furious boyfriend, who’s watching from his seat with narrowed eyes.

The audience catches onto the tension, gasping and laughing as Eminem’s playful smirk widens. He whispers a low “Thank you” in your ear, glancing briefly over at your boyfriend, whose jaw is clenched, his confidence shattered by the public loss and the blatant show of disrespect. Eminem lets you go, stepping up to the mic, but you can still feel the charged energy radiating from your boyfriend’s glare. The feud has just reached a new level, and you know tonight will be one for the headlines.

At the after-party, your boyfriend was sulking, stewing over his loss. His confidence from earlier in the night had dissolved into a grumpy silence, and he barely spoke to you, responding with short, cold remarks every time you tried to break the ice. His attention was laser-focused on Eminem, who was mingling across the room, clearly enjoying his win. Your boyfriend’s glare never wavered; he was practically daring Eminem to look his way.

Finally, you had enough. The atmosphere was suffocating, and you weren’t going to spend the night with someone who refused to move past the loss. Frustrated, you excused yourself from the table, deciding you needed a drink just to shake off the tension.

As you walked toward the bar, you sensed someone fall in step beside you. Glancing over, you saw it was Eminem, giving you that familiar smirk. “Rough night?” he asked, his tone a mix of teasing and genuine curiosity. There was something in his eyes that made it clear he’d noticed the icy atmosphere between you and your boyfriend. For the first time all evening, you found yourself relaxing, even smiling, as you felt the weight of the night start to lift.

You leaned against the bar, letting out a sigh, and turned to Eminem with a half-smile. “Yeah, you could say that,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “He’s taking this loss… well, let’s just say he’s not handling it well.”

Eminem chuckled, ordering a drink as he leaned beside you. “Can’t say I blame him,” he shrugged, “but hey, it’s all part of the game, right?” His voice was light, but there was a knowing look in his eyes, as if he understood the cost of ego in the industry.

You nodded, grateful for the change in atmosphere. “True. But it doesn’t mean I have to be dragged down by it,” you said, looking across the room to see your boyfriend still seated, jaw clenched, watching the two of you like a hawk. The icy, simmering tension in his stare made your stomach tighten, but you ignored it.

Eminem followed your gaze, then raised an eyebrow. “Well, if he’s going to sit there and sulk, that’s on him. You don’t deserve the silent treatment.”

There was something disarming about Eminem’s attitude. He wasn’t pushing anything, just being unexpectedly down-to-earth and understanding. As the drinks arrived, he clinked his glass lightly against yours. “Here’s to enjoying the night,” he said, eyes flickering with a mischievous glint.

You took a sip, the warmth of the drink helping you shake off the tension. “Thanks,” you murmured, feeling a rush of relief. Eminem leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to a private tone. “Honestly, you look like you could use a good distraction.”

Before you could respond, the DJ switched to one of Eminem’s tracks, and the crowd went wild. He shot you a grin. “Dance with me?” he asked, extending his hand.

You hesitated, knowing full well how your boyfriend would take it. But in that moment, the thought of breaking free from his cold demeanor and just having fun felt too tempting to resist. You placed your hand in Eminem’s, feeling a spark shoot up your arm.

As you danced with the Detroit rapper, your boyfriend’s absence was the only confirmation you needed—he had already stormed off, leaving you alone with Eminem. The music thumped around you, and you felt the heat of the moment take over, your frustrations melting into the rhythm of the song and the intensity of Eminem’s gaze.

Eminem leaned in, his face coming closer, and before you realized it, his lips were on yours, catching you off guard yet feeling almost inevitable. The kiss was electric, a mix of passion and defiance, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The tension of the night, the rivalry, your boyfriend’s coldness—it all vanished in that single connection.

As he pulled back, a hint of a smirk played on his lips. “Want to get out of here?” he murmured, his voice low, barely audible over the music but clear enough to send a thrill through you.

You met his gaze, feeling a rush of excitement and a sense of freedom you hadn’t felt all night. “Yes,” you replied, nodding without hesitation. With a final glance back at the room you were leaving behind, you let him take your hand, leading you out of the club and into the night, where the evening’s tension was about to unfold into something entirely new.

The ride to the hotel was a blur of city lights and pulsing beats from the car stereo. Eminem’s hand rested comfortably on your thigh, and every time you looked at him, that smirk grew a little wider. You knew you were crossing a line, but in that moment, you didn’t care about the consequences—you just wanted to live in the present, to feel alive.

Once inside the plush hotel suite, the reality of what was happening hit you like a sledgehammer. The room was dimly lit, with candles flickering around the edges, creating an atmosphere that was both intimate and slightly overwhelming. The smell of his cologne filled the air. Eminem led you to the bed, his hand never leaving your waist, and the weight of his touch sent shivers down your spine.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he kissed you again, his hands exploring the curves of your body with a confidence that was both thrilling and terrifying. The world outside the hotel room felt a million miles away, and all you could focus on was the heat of his breath, the taste of his lips, and the way your body responded to his every touch.

Eminem's strong arms pulled you closer, his hands deftly unbuttoning your dress, which slid to the floor in a whisper of fabric. You stood before him in nothing but your lingerie, feeling exposed yet empowered by the raw desire in his eyes. His own shirt and jacket followed suit, revealing a sculpted physique that seemed almost too perfect to be real.

The air grew thick with anticipation as he kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands moved to unhook your bra. It fell away, leaving your breasts bare to the cool air and the warmth of his palms. You could feel his heart beating against your chest, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.

He led you to the bed, the softness of the mattress enveloping you as he laid you down. His touch was gentle yet firm, his hands skimming over your skin like a warm summer breeze, igniting a trail of fire wherever they went. You could feel the weight of his body on top of you, and it was a feeling of both safety and exhilaration.

Eminem’s kisses grew more urgent, his tongue dancing with yours as he traced a line of passion down your neck and to your breasts. His teeth grazed your sensitive skin, sending a shiver through your body, and your breath hitched in your throat. His hands moved with purpose, removing every last piece of clothing that stood between you. The sensation of his bare chest against yours was electric, a stark contrast to the coolness of the room.

He paused, looking down at you with a hunger that was almost feral. Without a word, he slid his hand down the curve of your waist and over the band of your panties, slipping them off with a gentle yet firm motion. Your body reacted instinctively, arching towards him, craving more of his touch. The anticipation was almost too much to bear as he positioned himself above you, his eyes never leaving yours.

Eminem kissed you deeply as he entered you, the sensation of his hardness filling you completely, making you gasp into his mouth. The initial shock of his size quickly gave way to a building pleasure, and you wrapped your legs around him, urging him deeper. His rhythm was slow and deliberate, his hips rolling into yours with a mastery that left you feeling utterly consumed by him.

You could feel every inch of him as he moved, his muscles flexing with each thrust. The sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, punctuated by the occasional groan or whimper escaping from both of you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as if he were conducting a symphony of passion. The kiss grew more intense, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, and you moaned in response, your nails digging into his back.

The bed sheets tangled around your legs as the pace grew faster, more frenzied. The headboard banging against the wall matched the tempo of your hearts beating in sync. You could see the desire in his eyes, the way they darkened with every stroke, and it only spurred you on. Your own eyes closed as the pleasure built, your breaths coming in gasps, your body tightening like a coil ready to spring.

Eminem's fingers found their way into your hair, gently tugging your head back as he kissed along your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. His other hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the contour of your cheekbone as he whispered dirty sweet nothings into your ear, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your hands roamed over his back, feeling the sweat bead and the tension in his muscles as he moved within you. His thrusts grew more powerful, each one hitting that perfect spot, making you quiver with pleasure. The sound of skin on skin, the faint rustle of the bed sheets, and the muffled moans of ecstasy filled the air—a symphony of lust that seemed to resonate through the very walls of the suite.

As the intensity grew, Eminem’s grip on your hips tightened, his breaths turning ragged. You could feel him getting closer to the brink, his movements more urgent, and the desperate need reflected in the taut lines of his face. You met his gaze, the electricity between you crackling like a live wire. You whispered his name, and that was all it took for him to let go, his body tensing as he reached climax, his eyes squeezed shut, and his teeth bared in a silent roar.

The aftermath was a gentle cascade of shared breaths and lingering kisses. He rolled onto his side, pulling you with him, your bodies still intertwined. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the candles, casting a warm light over the rumpled sheets and the sweat-drenched skin. You laid there, your heart racing, feeling a sense of disbelief at what had just transpired. It had been explosive, a whirlwind of passion that had taken you completely by surprise.

Eminem looked at you, his eyes searching your face, as if looking for any signs of regret or doubt. You met his gaze and smiled, your cheeks flushed with satisfaction and a hint of mischief. The night had taken an unexpected turn, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty. Instead, you felt alive, invigorated by the rush of adrenaline that still coursed through your veins.

He leaned in, kissing you softly, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips before delving into your mouth once more. You tasted a mix of whiskey and victory on his breath, a potent cocktail that only made you want him more. His hand slid down to caress your naked body, his fingertips gliding over your skin like a musician playing a favorite tune. The touch sent shivers down your spine, and you arched into him, eager for the symphony of pleasure to begin again.

After a few weeks of sleeping with Marshall your boyfriend once again dropped another diss track on Marshall, stilled pissed about losing to music MTV awards to him.

A few weeks had passed since things began between you and Marshall, each encounter becoming a carefully hidden secret amidst the chaos of the ongoing feud. Despite the thrill of it all, your boyfriend remained oblivious, though his frustration toward Eminem hadn’t faded. In fact, he seemed more fired up than ever.

Still bitter over the loss at the MTV Music Awards, your boyfriend dropped yet another diss track aimed squarely at Marshall. The lyrics were sharper, more personal, each line dripping with resentment. It was clear that his defeat had stung deeply, and he wasn’t ready to let it go. The diss track hit every outlet, riling up fans and adding fresh fuel to the rivalry. You listened to the track, knowing the words were aimed at Marshall, yet they felt uncomfortably close to home, a reminder of the tangled mess you were in.

Marshall’s reaction, however, was anything but anger. When you mentioned the diss track, he just smirked, as though he found the whole thing amusing.

Two weeks later, Marshall released a new song that sent the internet into an absolute frenzy. The lyrics included lines that would leave no one guessing.The following lines said:

Yo, check it,

You think you flexin’, but you just a clown,

Got your girl in my sheets, ass up, face down,

While you out thrivin’, ballin’ like a thug,

I'm the one givin' her that late-night love.

You a motherfuckin’ joke, man, I’m the real deal,

She whispered my name, now she can’t conceal,

You think you got her locked, but I broke that chain,

She loves my style, man, it drives you insane.

After Eminem released the diss track exposing your affair, it sent shockwaves through the music world. Everyone was talking about it, and the excitement was palpable. The lyrics ignited a frenzy, with fans buzzing about the revelations and the implications of the feud.

A few days after Eminem released the diss track, he showed up at your house, looking more serious than you had ever seen him. The buzz from the song had settled, but the aftermath still hung heavy in the air. As you opened the door, you could see concern etched on his face. “Hey, I just wanted to check in on you,” he said softly, stepping inside.

You led him to the living room, feeling a mix of emotions. “Honestly, it’s been tough,” you admitted, running a hand through your hair. “My boyfriend has been really distant since all this happened. I’m starting to think that maybe it’s time to end the relationship.”

Marshall’s expression shifted as he processed your words. There was a flicker of something—hope, maybe—in his eyes. “I hate to hear that. You deserve to be with someone who truly cares about you,” he said, stepping closer. The tension in the room thickened, and you could feel the pull between you intensifying.

Suddenly, without warning, he leaned in and kissed you. The moment his lips touched yours, all your doubts and fears seemed to evaporate. It was a kiss filled with passion and urgency, a silent confession that spoke louder than words. When he pulled back, his gaze locked onto yours, filled with sincerity. “I love you,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want you to break up with him for me.”

You hesitated, a whirlwind of emotions churning inside you. Your heart raced, caught between the thrill of his confession and the reality of the situation you were in. It was a leap, one that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. But as you looked into his eyes, you felt a spark of something undeniable.

After a moment of contemplation, you reached for your phone. The decision felt monumental as you typed the message: “It’s over.” With a deep breath, you pressed send and immediately turned off your phone, cutting off any chance of a reply from your boyfriend.

Marshall, sensing the shift, pulled you in for another kiss, more enchanting than the first. This kiss was filled with promise and desire, a powerful affirmation of what you both wanted. In that moment, everything else faded away—the drama, the heartbreak, and the uncertainty. It was just you and him, wrapped in each other’s arms, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of clarity. <3

[charlesslut16]

-New Year's Eve-

summary : you and charles celebrate into the new year

PAIRINGS : charles leclerc x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : i hope that you start good into the new year and have a great next year with your loves ❤️❤️

DECEMBER MASTERLIST 24’ ; masterlist

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The night air in Monaco was crisp and cool, the city twinkling with the lights of countless celebrations as the clock ticked closer to midnight. The harbor was lined with extravagant yachts, their lights reflecting off the shimmering water.

The sound of laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses filled the streets as the world prepared for the arrival of a brand new year. And amidst it all, there was a sense of magic in the air that seemed to surround you and Charles.

You stood on the balcony of a lavish penthouse overlooking the city, a glass of champagne in hand, Charles by your side. His arm was wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him as the two of you gazed at the scene below. The night felt perfect, everything aligning just as it should.

"I still can't believe we're here," you said, your voice quiet, as you leaned against his chest.

Charles smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Me neither. But I'm so happy we are. It feels like the start of something incredible, doesn't it?"

You nodded, turning in his arms to face him. The warmth of his gaze melted the coolness of the evening. Charles’ hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing along your skin as he looked down at you. There was a quiet certainty in his eyes, an unspoken promise that made your heart swell. You had been together for a while now, and everything about your relationship with him felt so effortless, so right.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” Charles continued, his voice soft but full of emotion. “To be here, with you, starting a new year together.”

You smiled, your heart racing as you reached up to cup his face. “I feel the same way,” you whispered. “You make everything feel like it’s meant to be.”

The crowd below began to get louder as the final minutes of the year ticked away. The countdown was near. You could feel the excitement building, the anticipation of the moment when everything would change, when the calendar would turn, and the world would begin anew.

But for you, nothing felt as significant as the moment right now—standing with Charles, in his arms, with the promise of the future ahead of you.

“Five... four...” the voice of the host echoed from the party inside. The crowd joined in, their voices rising in excitement.

Charles looked at you, his hand still resting gently on your cheek, and his thumb brushed your lips. "This time last year, I would never have imagined I'd be here with you, in this moment."

You chuckled softly. "Neither would I," you admitted. “But now that we're here, it feels perfect.”

“Three... two... one..."

The crowd erupted into cheers as the new year arrived, and in that instant, Charles leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that felt like it was meant for the very first moment of the year. It was tender, sweet, and full of all the love that had been quietly growing between the two of you. The world around you faded, and in that kiss, it was just you and Charles. No more waiting, no more wondering if things would fall into place. Everything was exactly where it needed to be.

When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his, and you both laughed softly, the sound of fireworks bursting overhead filling the night.

“Happy New Year, mon amour,” Charles whispered, his voice filled with warmth.

“Happy New Year, Charles,” you replied, your heart full as you looked into his eyes.

The night carried on with laughter, dancing, and moments of quiet connection between the two of you. But no matter what happened, no matter how many people came and went, you knew that this moment—this perfect, beautiful moment with Charles—would be the one you carried with you into the new year.

And with him by your side, you knew that whatever the future held, it would be nothing short of extraordinary.

[bennyboyfics]

U ATE THE ANGST FIC UPPPPPP. pls do more angst i beg!!

Doubles drama || Ben Shelton x gf!reader

A/n: Ty for the request!

Warnings: angst

Wc: 876

MASTERLIST

-

The sun was relentless, beating down on the court as you sat stiffly in Ben’s player box, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. The match had only just begun, but already, the weight in your stomach felt unbearable. It wasn’t about Ben playing doubles—he’d played with plenty of different partners before.

But her? His current partner, a rising star on the circuit, had made it abundantly clear how she felt about Ben. The lingering touches, the way she laughed at everything he said, the way she leaned into him between points, always finding an excuse to whisper something in his ear.

And worst of all? He wasn’t pushing her away. Your nails dug into your arm as you watched them, the easy way they moved together on the court, their synchronisation effortless. It was like they shared some unspoken connection, understanding each other without a single word. The kind of connection you were supposed to have with him.

The camera cut to you at just the right—or wrong—moment, capturing your expression in stark contrast to the energy on the court. Your jaw was locked tight, lips pressed into a firm line, eyes narrowed as you watched Ben and his partner interact with far too much ease. The commentators’ voices hummed through the broadcast.

“Shelton and his partner are really in sync today. Look at that smile—he’s clearly enjoying himself. His girlfriend, though… doesn’t seem too thrilled about the partnership.” Everyone was watching. You glance up seeing yourself on the big screen before looking away. You knew what they were seeing. A jealous girlfriend, sitting silently while her boyfriend played alongside another woman.

You could already imagine the headlines, the social media chatter. But none of that compared to the burning in your chest as you watched her touch him again, playful, teasing—just enough to make it clear that she could. The match ended in a victory, and as the crowd erupted in cheers, she threw her arms around Ben, pressing her body flush against his.

Your entire body went rigid. She was holding him. Right there, in front of thousands of people. And he didn’t pull away. He laughed—actually laughed—patting her back before finally stepping out of the embrace. But the damage was done. The way she looked up at him, beaming, her eyes full of admiration and something else—you knew what she wanted.

And the worst part? She wasn’t afraid to make it obvious. By the time you made it to the players’ lounge, your emotions were barely contained beneath the surface. The moment you spotted Ben, standing there with his towel draped around his neck, his curls damp from sweat, it all boiled over. His smile faded the second he saw you. “You’re pissed.”

You let out a sharp laugh. “Wow, you’re so observant.” Ben sighed, tossing his bag onto a nearby bench. “Come on, what is this about? Because if it’s about my match, I really don’t wanna hear it.” “Oh, you don’t wanna hear it?” you snapped. “That’s too bad, because I spent the last two hours watching your partner throw herself at you while you just stood there and let it happen.”

His brows furrowed, his expression shifting from exasperation to irritation. “She wasn’t throwing herself at me.” You scoffed. “Are you serious right now? She was all over you, Ben.” He rolled his eyes, running a hand through his curls. “Jesus, you’re being dramatic. She’s my partner. That’s it.”

“Oh, really? Then why does she look at you like you’re the only guy in the world?” Your voice was sharp, edged with something dangerously close to hurt. Ben let out a frustrated breath. “I can’t control how she looks at me.” “But you can control how you react,” you fired back. “And you didn’t do anything to shut it down.”

His jaw tensed. “I was focused on the match, not whatever jealous scenario you’ve got playing in your head.” Your stomach twisted. He was brushing it off—like it was nothing, like you were the problem. “The cameras were on me, Ben. The whole world saw me sitting there like an idiot while she clung to you. And you just let it happen.”

Ben let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “So this is about the cameras now?” His voice was incredulous, laced with irritation. “You’re mad because people saw you being jealous?” “It’s not about the cameras,” you snapped. “It’s about respect. It’s about the fact that you let her think she had a chance.”

That hit something. You saw it in the way his expression flickered, the way his lips parted slightly like he was about to say something—only to stop himself. For a second, you thought he was actually going to listen. But then his walls shot back up, his frustration winning out over everything else. “That’s not on me,” he said, his voice cold. “I can’t help how she feels.”

You exhaled, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. “No. But you didn’t do a damn thing to stop it, either.” Ben stared at you, his jaw tight, his eyes stormy with frustration, hurt, something unreadable swirling beneath the surface. But he didn’t say anything. And somehow, that silence hurt more than anything else.

[yyaktayak]

His Tattoos

Avani x Jey

tags : tags ! : 🏷️ @uceyliyahh @charmed-dreamssss @amandairene88 @duhitzkay380 @prettypink-princesss @bluestrawberrypatch @mjonthetrack 🏷️lmk if you’d like to be tagged ! I’ll add u!!🏷️.

Avani

In the bustling backstage area of Monday Night Raw, the atmosphere was electric, charged with the anticipation of the upcoming show. Avani, a renowned journalist known for her sharp wit and unyielding criticism, was deep in thought, preparing her notes. Her longstanding feud with Jey, one of WWE's top wrestlers, had always been intense, fueled by years of verbal sparring and on-screen confrontations. Tonight, however, something felt different.

As Jey made his grand entrance, the crowd erupted in cheers. His usual confident stride was amplified by a new air of mystery. As he turned to face the camera, Avani's breath caught in her throat. Jey's neck, once bare, was now adorned with a striking tattoo that snaked up from his collarbone, disappearing beneath his hairline. The intricate design was both alluring and provocative, and it sent a jolt of unexpected desire coursing through Avani's veins.

She tried to focus on her work, but her mind kept drifting back to Jey's tattoo. The sight of it, combined with his commanding presence, ignited a fire within her that she couldn't ignore. Her heart raced, her cheeks flushed, and a warmth spread through her body, settling in the most intimate of places. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to suppress the growing arousal.

Jey, ever the perceptive wrestler, noticed Avani's flushed cheeks and restless movements. During a brief intermission, he made his way backstage, finding her alone in her makeshift office. The door was slightly ajar, and he pushed it open, leaning against the doorway with a smug grin.

"Enjoying the show, Avani?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

Avani looked up, her eyes meeting his. "What do you want, Josh?" she snapped, trying to hide her embarrassment.

Jey took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. "I think you know exactly what I want. And I think you want it too."

Avani's breath hitched as Jey's words sent a shiver down her spine. "You're delusional, Jey, very." she whispered, but her voice lacked conviction.

Jey reached out, his fingers gently tracing the line of her jaw. "Am I?" he murmured, his thumb brushing against her lips. "Because from the looks of it , it looks like you're having a hard time focusing."

Avani's eyes fluttered closed, and she leaned into his touch. "You're imagining things," she lied, her body betraying her.

Jey's lips curved into a smirk. "Really? Because your cheeks are flushed, and you can't seem to sit still. What's got you all worked up, Avani?"

Avani's eyes snapped open, her gaze locking onto Jey's tattoo. "It's nothing," she muttered, but the heat in her voice gave her away.

Jey's smirk widened. "It's the tattoo, isn't it?" he said, his fingers tracing the lines of the ink on his neck. "You like it."

Avani's breath hitched, but she refused to admit it. "I think you should leave," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jey took another step closer, his body pressing against hers. "Is that what you really want?" he murmured, his lips hovering just inches from hers.

Avani's heart pounded in her chest, her body aching with desire. "mm.. n-no," she admitted shyly .

Jey's lips crashed down on hers, the years of tension and animosity melting away in an instant. Their kiss was fierce and passionate, all the pent-up frustration and desire exploding in that single moment. Avani's hands roamed over Jey's chest, her fingers tracing the edges of his new tattoo. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her touch, matching the rhythm of her own.

Jey's hands explored her curves, his touch sending waves of pleasure through her body. Avani's breath came in ragged gasps as she fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, eager to feel his skin against hers. Their clothes were quickly discarded, leaving them bare and vulnerable to each other.

Avani's eyes feasted on Jey's tattoo, the sight of it driving her wild with desire. "it’s so sexy.." she murmured, her fingers tracing the intricate design.

Jey's lips curved into a smug smile. "I'm glad you like it mama." he said, his voice low and husky.

Avani's hands moved lower, her fingers wrapping around his hardened desire. Jey's breath hissed through his teeth, his body shuddering at her touch. "stop playing with me mama." he warned, but his voice was laced with desire.

Avani's eyes met his, her gaze unyielding. "I’m not josh, I know exactly what I’m doing ." she said, her voice steady and sure.

Jey's hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer. Their bodies pressed tightly together, the heat between them almost unbearable. Jey's lips trailed down her neck, his tongue flicking against her sensitive skin, making her moan softly. "You like that mama?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Avani's head fell back, her body arching against his. "m-mhm." she admitted, her voice breathless.

Jey's lips curved into a satisfied smirk as he continued his torment, his tongue and teeth exploring every inch of her skin. Avani's hands fisted in his hair, her hips grinding against his as he brought her to the brink of ecstasy.

"Jey" she gasped, her body trembling with need. "Please."

Jey's eyes met hers, his gaze intense and hungry. "Please what mama?" he teased, his fingers tracing the edge of her lace panties.

Avani's hips bucked against his touch, her body begging for more. "I- you know what I want please .." she panted, her voice desperate.

Jey's lips curved into a wicked smile. "I want to hear you say it baby" he demanded, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her panties.

Avani's eyes never left his as she whispered, "I want you to touch me."

Jey's fingers slowly pulled her panties down, his eyes never leaving hers. "Like this?" he murmured, his fingers teasing the edge of her most intimate place.

Avani's body shuddered, her hips bucking against his touch. “y-yes!" she gasped, her voice breathless.

Jey's fingers explored her, his touch sending waves of pleasure through her body. Avani's moans filled the room, her body arching against his as he brought her to the brink of orgasm. Just as she was about to tumble over the edge, Jey pulled back, leaving her panting and desperate for more.

"mm w-wait." she pleaded, her body trembling with need. "Don't stop."

Jey's lips curved into a satisfied smile as he knelt before her, his tongue replacing his fingers. Avani's body convulsed, her orgasm ripping through her with an intensity that left her breathless. She collapsed onto the couch, her body slick with sweat, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Jey stood up, his eyes locked on hers. He quickly shed the rest of his clothes, revealing his hardened desire. Avani's eyes widened at the sight of him, her body already craving more. Jey's hands gripped her hips, pulling her to the edge of the couch. He entered her in one swift thrust, their bodies joining in a primal, desperate rhythm.

Avani's nails dug into Jey's shoulders as he pounded into her, their bodies slick with sweat. The room was filled with the sound of their flesh meeting, their moans and gasps growing louder with each passing second. Jey's hand snaked between their bodies, his fingers finding her most sensitive spot. Avani's body convulsed around him, her orgasm ripping through her with an intensity that left her breathless.

"she gasped, her body trembling with pleasure. "w-wait daddy im gonna cum."

Jey's eyes met hers, his gaze intense and hungry. " cumfor me, mama." he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

Avani's body obeyed, her orgasm crashing over her in waves of pleasure. Jey's own release followed soon after, his body shuddering as he found his pleasure. They collapsed onto the couch, their bodies entwined, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Avani's head rested on Jey's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "mm I still hate you" she murmured, her voice soft and sated.

Jey's fingers traced lazy circles on her back, his voice low and content. "I'm glad you do" he said, a satisfied chuckle .

Avani propped herself up on one elbow, her eyes meeting Jey's. "what does this mean now?" she asked, her voice hesitant.

Jey's gaze was steady and sure. "Now, we keep this our little secret," he said, his voice firm. "We go back out there and do our jobs, just like nothing happened."

Avani's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of deceit. But all she saw was honesty and determination. She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "our little secret then ." she said, her voice soft.

As they reluctantly pulled away from each other and began to dress, the reality of their situation sank in. They shared a knowing look, acknowledging the unspoken truth that this encounter would remain a secret, a stolen moment of passion between enemies. And as they stepped back out into the chaos of Monday Night Raw, they carried with them the memory of their forbidden tryst, a secret flame burning brightly in the darkness.

A/N: what yall think??

[elryuse]

It would be lovely to have more yandere Rami

Since you asked for it. Here you go.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Don't Go Away

Yandere Rami X Male Reader

Tags : Yandere Love, Obsessed, Obsessive, Idol X Fan, Fan Male Reader, Affection, Dangerous Love, Romance, Emotional, Angsty

Words : 7,016 Words

Seoul was alive tonight. The city buzzed with electric energy, as if it knew something extraordinary was about to happen. For you, this wasn’t just another night. It was the night—the long-awaited concert of Babymonster.

You’d been a fan since the very beginning, following every pre-debut video, every teaser, and every behind-the-scenes clip. They weren’t just idols to you; they were inspiration, motivation, and joy wrapped in captivating performances and heartfelt songs.

But there was one member who stood out from the rest—Rami.

Rami wasn’t the most spotlighted member, and that was part of what made her special to you. Her subtle charm, quiet confidence, and genuine warmth felt different, more real. She was everything you admired but could never imagine approaching.

Of course, it was just an idol crush. You knew that. People like you didn’t get to be close to someone like her. But that didn’t stop the excitement bubbling inside you as you stood in line outside the concert venue, clutching your ticket like it was a golden key to another world.

The lights of Seoul Tower glimmered in the distance, and the faint murmur of fans filled the air. Everyone around you was dressed in Babymonster merchandise—hoodies, light sticks, hats. You were no different, wearing a black hoodie with their debut logo and holding the custom light stick that had cost you a good chunk of your paycheck.

The gates opened, and the crowd surged forward. Your heart raced as you entered the venue, the sheer size of the arena overwhelming you. Rows of seats stretched into the distance, the stage standing proud and massive at the center.

You found your seat quickly, grateful for the hours you’d spent refreshing the ticketing site to snag a spot with a decent view. As the lights dimmed and the opening VCR played on the massive screens, the collective cheer of the crowd shook the air.

And then they appeared.

Babymonster stepped onto the stage, their silhouettes illuminated by dazzling lights. The opening beats of their hit song filled the venue, and you couldn’t help but join in the deafening cheers.

There she was—Rami.

She was even more beautiful in person, her every movement graceful and precise. Her voice, though often overlooked in favor of the main vocalists, carried a unique sweetness that resonated with you. She seemed to shine in her own way, distinct from the others yet still perfectly in sync.

The concert was a whirlwind of energy, lights, and music. You sang along to every song, your voice blending with thousands of others. But your eyes never strayed far from Rami. You noticed the small things—the way she smiled at the fans, the way she interacted with the members, the way her expression softened during heartfelt moments.

When the group took a break to address the fans, Rami stepped forward, holding the mic with both hands.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” she said, her voice steady but soft. “It means the world to us. I hope our music gives you as much strength as your support gives us.”

You felt a lump in your throat. Somehow, her words felt personal, as if they were meant just for you.

The night continued with more songs, dance breaks, and even a fun segment where the members played games on stage. By the time the encore rolled around, you were hoarse from cheering but still buzzing with adrenaline.

As the concert came to an end, the members lined up to bow, thanking the fans once again. The crowd erupted into applause, and you waved your light stick one last time, wishing this moment could last forever.

But like all good things, it had to end. The lights brightened, signaling that it was time to leave. You lingered for a moment, taking in the stage one last time before joining the stream of fans heading toward the exits.

The streets of Seoul were chilly, but the warmth of the concert lingered in your chest. You walked slowly, replaying every moment in your mind, a silly grin plastered on your face.

As you reached a quieter part of the street, your phone buzzed. Pulling it out, you saw a notification from Babymonster’s official fan app.

“Thank you for tonight, Seoul! You were amazing. 💖 - Rami”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was probably pre-scheduled, but it still felt special seeing her name pop up on your screen.

You were about to tuck your phone away when you heard a voice behind you.

“Excuse me?”

You turned, your heart nearly stopping when you saw her—Rami, standing just a few feet away.

She looked different from how she did on stage. Her makeup was softer, her hair tied back in a simple ponytail, and she wore an oversized hoodie that made her look surprisingly ordinary. But there was no mistaking her.

“I think you dropped this,” she said, holding out a small pin. It was one of the Babymonster collectibles you’d attached to your bag.

Your mind raced, struggling to process what was happening.

“Uh... t-thank you,” you stammered, stepping forward to take the pin from her hand.

She smiled—a small, genuine smile that made your knees feel weak. “No problem. Did you enjoy the concert?”

“Yeah,” you blurted out, feeling your face heat up. “It was amazing. You were amazing.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she looked down, fiddling with the strap of her bag. “I’m glad. We work really hard, so it means a lot to hear that.”

For a moment, you both stood there in silence, the bustling noise of the city fading into the background.

“I should probably get going,” she said, glancing toward the car waiting at the curb. “But... thanks for supporting us. It really does mean everything.”

Before you could respond, she gave you one last smile and walked away, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding and your mind spinning.

You looked down at the pin in your hand, now feeling like the most precious thing you owned.

There was no way you’d ever forget this night.

The days after the concert felt surreal. You replayed every moment in your head, but one memory stood out above all—the brief interaction with Rami. It was a fleeting moment, yet it left a lasting impression. You hadn’t dared to hope for anything more.

Then came the text.

It was a week after the concert. You were sitting at your desk, scrolling aimlessly through social media when your phone buzzed. At first, you assumed it was just another notification from Babymonster’s official fan app. But when you checked, you froze.

The sender wasn’t the fan app. It was a private number. And the message read:

“Hi! It’s Rami. I hope this is okay... I just wanted to say thank you again for supporting us. 😊”

You stared at the screen, your heart pounding. Was this real? How did she even have your number? It had to be a mistake, right? But before you could spiral further, another message came through:

“It’s me, from the other night. I hope I’m not bothering you!”

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling as you typed back:

“No, not at all! I wasn’t expecting this, but it’s really nice to hear from you.”

She responded almost immediately.

“I’m glad! I wasn’t sure if I should reach out, but you seemed really genuine. It’s not often we get to meet fans like you.”

From that moment, the messages began to flow. At first, they were casual—short exchanges about the concert, the group’s music, and her experiences as an idol. But as days turned into weeks, the conversations grew deeper.

You learned things about her that you’d never seen in interviews or fan content. She talked about the pressure of being in the spotlight, her dreams before joining Babymonster, and her insecurities about being overlooked. She even joked about how she envied the more popular members sometimes, though she always followed it with a laugh to downplay it.

In turn, you opened up about your own life. You told her about your job, your hobbies, and your love for music. She seemed genuinely interested, asking thoughtful questions and encouraging you when you talked about your struggles.

It felt unreal—like you were living in a dream.

One evening, after a particularly long chat, you couldn’t help but ask the question that had been gnawing at you since the first text.

“How did you get my number?”

Her reply came after a brief pause:

“I hope it doesn’t freak you out... but I remembered your name from the fanclub list. I asked one of the staff members if they could help me find you. I know it’s kind of weird, but I just felt like I had to say thank you properly.”

You stared at the message, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. It was strange, sure, but also... flattering. She’d gone out of her way to reach out to you.

“I’m not freaked out,” you replied honestly. “I’m just surprised. But I’m really glad you did.”

Her response was immediate:

“Me too. 😊”

The connection between you grew stronger with every passing day. You started to notice subtle changes in her messages. She began sharing more personal details—what she was doing during the day, the songs she was practicing, even little complaints about early rehearsals or strict dieting schedules.

It was as if she trusted you, and you felt honored to be someone she could confide in.

But as the weeks turned into months, a part of you couldn’t shake the nagging doubt. Was this okay? Was it normal for an idol to be this close to a fan? You didn’t want to overstep, but it was hard to draw boundaries when she kept texting you first.

One evening, as you lay in bed staring at your phone, her message came through:

“What are you doing right now?”

“Just lying down, thinking about stuff,” you replied. “What about you?”

“Same. Sometimes I feel like my brain won’t turn off, you know?”

You hesitated before typing your next message:

“What are you thinking about?”

There was a long pause before her reply came through.

“You.”

Your breath caught. You reread the message several times, wondering if you’d misunderstood. But no—it was clear as day.

“Me?” you typed back, unsure of what else to say.

“Yeah. I don’t know... I just feel like I can talk to you about anything. It’s kind of scary, but in a good way. Does that make sense?”

Your heart raced as you stared at her words. This was no longer the innocent fan-idol relationship you’d always assumed it was. There was something deeper here, something you weren’t sure how to navigate.

“It makes sense,” you replied carefully. “I feel the same way.”

The conversation continued late into the night, but the dynamic between you had shifted. Her words were more personal, more vulnerable, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were crossing a line you’d never thought you’d approach.

And yet, you didn’t want to stop.

As you finally drifted off to sleep, her last message lingered in your mind:

“Goodnight. Sweet dreams. 😊”

For the first time in years, you felt like they might actually come true.

Days turned into weeks, and your phone had become a lifeline to an impossible reality. Rami wasn’t just an idol anymore—she was a friend. The two of you texted nearly every day, sharing your thoughts, frustrations, and little joys.

At first, it had been surreal, like living in a dream you were afraid to wake up from. But now, it felt natural. Her texts would pop up at random hours, sometimes during her rehearsals, sometimes late at night when she couldn’t sleep. You’d grown used to her name lighting up your screen, to the comfort her words brought.

But nothing could have prepared you for the message she sent one ordinary Tuesday afternoon.

“Hey, I was thinking... do you want to meet up?”

You blinked at your phone, rereading the text several times. Your heart started to race, a mixture of excitement and dread flooding your chest.

“Are you serious?” you typed back. “Don’t you think that’s... risky?”

Her reply was almost instant.

“I’ve thought about it a lot. I trust you. And I really want to see you in person.”

You put your phone down and ran a hand through your hair, anxiety bubbling up. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to meet her. The idea of seeing her face-to-face again, of talking to her without a screen between you, was intoxicating. But you couldn’t ignore the risks.

She was a rising star, and you were just a regular guy. If anyone found out, her career could be jeopardized. The thought of her facing backlash or scandals because of you was unbearable.

“Rami, I don’t know,” you texted after a long pause. “What if someone sees us? What if the media finds out?”

Her response was firm:

“I’ll be careful. We’ll pick somewhere quiet. Please? I need this.”

Those three words hit you harder than you expected. She needed this? The vulnerability in her message made it impossible to say no.

“Okay,” you typed reluctantly. “But we have to be really careful.”

Her reply came with a smiling emoji:

“Thank you. I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

The day of the meetup arrived, and your nerves were in overdrive. She’d chosen a small, out-of-the-way café tucked into one of Seoul’s quieter neighborhoods. It was the kind of place where people came to relax with a book, not to spot celebrities.

You arrived early, scanning the area for any signs of paparazzi or fans. The coast seemed clear, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched.

Then she walked in.

Rami was dressed casually, in a simple hoodie and jeans, her hair tucked under a baseball cap. Even with the low-key outfit, she was stunning. She looked around the café until her eyes landed on you, and a smile broke across her face.

You stood up awkwardly, unsure of how to greet her. She solved the problem by pulling you into a quick hug.

“It’s good to see you,” she said, her voice soft but warm.

“You too,” you managed to reply, your heart pounding.

The two of you found a quiet corner table, away from prying eyes. She pulled down her mask slightly to sip her coffee, her expression lighting up as she took her first sip.

“So,” she began, leaning forward with a smile, “is this weird for you?”

You chuckled nervously. “A little. I mean, it’s not every day you meet your favorite idol like this.”

Her cheeks turned pink, and she looked down at her cup. “I’m just a person, you know. I don’t want you to think of me as... unreachable or something.”

“It’s hard not to,” you admitted. “You’re part of Babymonster. You’re living a dream life.”

She shook her head. “It’s not as dreamy as it looks. There’s a lot of pressure, a lot of loneliness. That’s why I wanted to meet you. You make me feel normal.”

Her words hit you like a freight train. You’d always admired her from a distance, but hearing her speak so candidly made you realize just how human she was.

The conversation flowed easily after that. She talked about her training days, her struggles with confidence, and the challenges of balancing fame with her personal life. You shared your own stories, your dreams, and even your insecurities.

Time seemed to blur, the hours slipping away as you lost yourselves in each other’s company.

As the café began to empty, you realized how late it had gotten. “We should probably go,” you said reluctantly.

Rami nodded but didn’t move right away. Instead, she looked at you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For being someone I can trust.”

You felt a lump in your throat as you nodded. “Always.”

She pulled her mask back up and stood, her hoodie obscuring her face as she prepared to leave. “I’ll text you later,” she said, her eyes crinkling with a smile.

As she walked out of the café, you couldn’t help but feel like your life had just taken a turn you never could have predicted.

The dynamic between you and Rami began to change subtly at first. After your first meetup, the conversations over text became even more frequent, almost incessant. You didn’t mind at first—it was still surreal that the girl you’d admired for years wanted to be so close to you.

But then, the meetups became more frequent too. Once a week turned into twice a week. Then she wanted to see you almost every other day. She always chose secluded places, far from the public eye, but her insistence on spending time together started to feel... odd.

It all came to a head one evening when she showed up at your apartment unannounced.

You opened the door to find her standing there, holding a bag in one hand and a bright smile on her face.

“Rami? What are you doing here?” you asked, glancing nervously down the hall to see if anyone had noticed her.

“I brought you something!” she said, brushing past you into your apartment.

You sighed and closed the door, watching as she set the bag on your coffee table. She pulled out a neatly wrapped box and handed it to you, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“What is this?” you asked, taking the box hesitantly.

“Open it!”

You unwrapped the gift to reveal a shirt—a designer one, by the look of it. But what caught your attention was that it looked eerily familiar.

“Wait,” you said, holding it up. “This is just like the one you wore in that photoshoot last month.”

She grinned. “It’s the same brand. I thought we could match!”

Your stomach turned uneasily. “Rami, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” she said firmly. “You’re important to me.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine. There was a strange intensity in her gaze that you couldn’t quite place.

The gifts didn’t stop there. Over the next few weeks, she started showering you with presents—expensive cologne, limited-edition sneakers, even a high-end watch. You tried to protest, but she always brushed off your concerns.

“It’s just my way of showing you how much I care,” she would say with a dismissive wave of her hand.

But it wasn’t just the gifts. She started texting you at all hours, asking where you were, what you were doing, and who you were with. If you didn’t reply within minutes, she would send follow-up messages.

“Are you okay?”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Please answer me.”

Her behavior grew even more erratic when she started showing up at places uninvited. Once, you were out with some friends at a quiet bar when you spotted her sitting at a table across the room, watching you.

You confronted her afterward.

“Rami, what are you doing here?” you asked, trying to keep your voice calm.

“I just wanted to see you,” she said, her tone defensive. “Is that so bad?”

“It’s not bad, but... you can’t just show up like this. People might recognize you.”

She crossed her arms, her expression hardening. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”

“What? No, of course not!” you said quickly. “I’m just worried about you. If someone finds out—”

“Then let them,” she snapped. “I don’t care what anyone thinks. I only care about you.”

Her words left you stunned. This wasn’t the same Rami you’d met weeks ago. The sweet, down-to-earth girl you’d gotten to know was gone, replaced by someone far more intense, far more possessive.

The breaking point came when she showed up at your workplace.

You were in the middle of a meeting when your phone buzzed. You ignored it at first, but the messages kept coming.

“I’m here.”

“Come outside.”

“Please, I need to see you.”

You excused yourself and stepped outside, only to find her waiting by the entrance.

“Rami, what are you doing here?” you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was watching.

“I missed you,” she said simply, as if that justified everything.

“This has to stop,” you said, your frustration finally bubbling over. “You can’t keep doing this. It’s too much.”

Her expression crumbled, and for a moment, she looked like the vulnerable girl you’d first met.

“Too much?” she repeated, her voice trembling. “I thought... I thought you cared about me.”

“I do,” you said, trying to soften your tone. “But this isn’t healthy, Rami. You’re putting yourself—and me—at risk.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but instead of backing down, she took a step closer.

“I don’t care about the risk,” she said quietly. “I can’t lose you.”

The intensity in her voice sent a chill down your spine. You realized then that this wasn’t just a harmless crush. This was something far deeper, far darker.

That night, you lay awake, your mind racing. You didn’t know what to do. You cared about Rami, but her behavior was spiraling out of control. You didn’t want to hurt her, but you also couldn’t let this continue.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, and you picked it up reluctantly. It was another message from her.

“Goodnight. I love you.”

You stared at the words, a sinking feeling settling in your chest. You had no idea how to respond.

The loud, insistent knocks on your door startled you out of your mid-morning routine. You checked the time—12 PM sharp. Your stomach twisted uneasily.

When you opened the door, there she was: Rami, her face a mask of anger and hurt. She wore an oversized hoodie with the hood down, her hair framing her face in a way that only emphasized how upset she looked.

“You didn’t respond to my text,” she said, her tone sharp. Her eyes bore into yours, demanding an explanation.

You froze for a second, guilt and unease wrestling in your chest. “I’m sorry. I—”

She didn’t let you finish. Rami pushed past you into the apartment, her presence dominating the small space.

“Do you know how worried I was?” she continued, her voice trembling with barely contained emotion. “I thought something had happened to you!”

“I... I was just busy,” you stammered, watching as she started walking through your apartment like she owned it. She looked into the kitchen, the living room, and even peeked into the bathroom.

“Rami, what are you doing?” you asked, following her around.

“Checking,” she said flatly. “Making sure no one else is here.”

Your blood ran cold at the implication. “Why would anyone else be here?”

She turned to you, her gaze piercing. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with accusation. You opened your mouth to respond, but she didn’t give you the chance.

“I’ve already decided,” she announced, brushing past you to grab a small duffel bag she’d left outside your door. She hoisted it onto her shoulder and looked at you with a determined expression. “I’m staying here tonight.”

“What?” You stared at her in disbelief. “Rami, you can’t just—”

“Yes, I can,” she interrupted, her tone firm. “I packed everything I need. You didn’t answer me last night, and I couldn’t sleep. So I’m staying here. End of discussion.”

You gulped, your mind racing. This was crossing a line—no, it was obliterating it. You wanted to protest, to tell her this wasn’t a good idea, but the intensity in her eyes stopped you.

“Rami,” you began carefully, “don’t you think this is a little... extreme? What if someone finds out? What if—”

“Who’s going to find out?” she shot back, her voice rising slightly. “I trust you. Don’t you trust me?”

Her question caught you off guard. You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. “It’s not about trust. It’s about boundaries.”

She took a step closer, her expression softening just enough to make your heart ache. “I just want to be with you. Please. Just for one night.”

You hesitated, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Every rational part of your brain screamed that this was a terrible idea, but the vulnerability in her eyes was impossible to ignore.

“Fine,” you relented, your voice barely above a whisper. “But just for tonight.”

Her face lit up with a smile that almost made you forget how unsettling her behavior had been. Almost.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of tension. Rami made herself at home, unpacking her things in your living room and exploring every corner of your apartment.

“This place is so you,” she said at one point, running her fingers over a stack of books on your coffee table. “It’s cozy.”

You tried to keep yourself busy, doing your best to act normal despite the growing unease in your chest. But it was hard to ignore the way she watched you, her eyes following your every move like a hawk.

When evening came, she insisted on cooking dinner.

“You’ve been so kind to me,” she said, tying an apron around her waist. “Let me take care of you for a change.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue, so you let her take over the kitchen. The smell of sizzling garlic and soy sauce soon filled the air, and you couldn’t deny that the meal she prepared was delicious.

As the two of you sat down to eat, Rami seemed to relax. She talked about her day, her plans for the future, and even made you laugh a few times. For a moment, it almost felt normal.

But that sense of normalcy shattered when she casually said, “I could get used to this.”

You froze, your chopsticks hovering mid-air. “Used to what?”

“This,” she said, gesturing around the room. “Being here with you. Cooking for you. Taking care of you.”

Her words sent a chill down your spine. You forced a smile, trying to brush it off. “That’s sweet, Rami, but—”

“No buts,” she interrupted, her tone light but her eyes serious. “This is what I want.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you stayed silent, focusing on your food instead.

After dinner, you offered to clean up, but Rami insisted on doing it herself.

“Go relax,” she said, flashing you a bright smile. “I’ll take care of everything.”

You retreated to the living room, your mind racing. This was spiraling out of control. You needed to set boundaries, but how could you do that without hurting her?

As you sat there, lost in thought, you heard her humming softly in the kitchen. The sound was hauntingly beautiful, but it only added to your unease.

When she finally finished, she joined you on the couch, sitting closer than you were comfortable with.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” she said, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I feel safe here.”

You forced a smile, your heart pounding. “You’re welcome.”

But deep down, you knew this wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning.

It began subtly, a few things here and there. At first, you didn’t think much of it.

One morning, you walked into the bathroom and found a pastel-pink toothbrush sitting next to yours in the holder. It was a minor addition, but it caught you off guard.

“Rami?” you called out, stepping into the living room where she was lounging on your couch.

She looked up with an innocent smile. “What’s up?”

“Did you leave this here?” you asked, holding up the toothbrush.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, sitting up straighter. “Yeah, I thought I’d get one for myself. You know, for when I’m here.”

You frowned, unsure how to respond. “But you said you were only staying for one night.”

She tilted her head, her smile unwavering. “Plans change.”

By the end of the week, your once-neutral apartment started to look... different. It began with small items: a throw blanket in soft pastel hues draped over the couch, a vase of fresh flowers on the dining table, a collection of scented candles scattered around the living room.

Then came the more noticeable changes. One day, you came home from work to find that your bedroom had been “upgraded.”

The plain gray bedsheets you’d always used were replaced with an ornate floral design. There were matching pillows, a pink throw blanket at the foot of the bed, and even a small heart-shaped cushion in the center.

“What the hell is this?” you asked, staring at the transformation in disbelief.

Rami appeared behind you, her arms crossed and a satisfied smile on her face. “Do you like it? I thought your room could use a little... personality.”

“This isn’t your place,” you said, your voice sharp.

Her expression faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered. “No, but I’m here so often, I thought it’d be nice to make it more... comfortable. For both of us.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Rami, you can’t just do things like this without asking.”

She stepped closer, her smile growing softer. “I was only trying to help. Don’t you like it?”

The vulnerability in her voice made you hesitate. You didn’t want to hurt her, but this was getting out of hand.

“It’s not about whether I like it,” you said carefully. “It’s about boundaries. This is my home, Rami.”

Her smile faded completely, replaced by a look of hurt and confusion. “I thought you’d be happy,” she whispered.

The weight of her disappointment hung in the air, suffocating you.

Over the next few days, her behavior became even more erratic. She started buying couple-themed items—matching mugs, matching slippers, even matching pajamas.

One evening, she presented you with a custom photo frame. Inside was a picture of the two of you that she must have taken at some point without you noticing. The frame itself was inscribed with the words: You and Me Forever.

You stared at it, your stomach churning. “Rami, this is too much.”

“Why?” she asked, her tone defensive.

“Because we’re not... we’re not a couple,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked genuinely shocked. Then her expression hardened, and she crossed her arms.

“Why are you acting like this?” she demanded. “I’ve done nothing but care for you, and you’re pushing me away.”

“I’m not pushing you away,” you said, struggling to keep your voice calm. “But you’re crossing boundaries, Rami. You can’t just decide these things on your own.”

Her lips trembled, but she didn’t back down. “I thought you cared about me.”

“I do,” you said, feeling trapped. “But not like this.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but instead of breaking down, she turned and stormed out of the room.

The next morning, you woke up to find your fridge stocked with groceries you didn’t buy—fresh produce, neatly packed containers of kimchi, and an assortment of snacks you vaguely remembered mentioning you liked.

There was also a handwritten note stuck to the fridge door:

I’m sorry if I upset you. I just want to make you happy.

Your chest tightened as you read the note. You wanted to feel grateful, but all you felt was dread.

Over the following weeks, her presence in your life became inescapable. She stopped asking for permission to visit; she simply showed up. She brought more things into your apartment—a stuffed animal for your bed, a pair of fuzzy slippers “just for you,” even a set of curtains to replace the ones in your living room.

Whenever you tried to confront her, she would deflect with excuses or turn the conversation back on you.

“I’m just trying to help,” she would say. “Why can’t you appreciate what I’m doing for you?”

It was exhausting. You felt like a stranger in your own home, surrounded by things that didn’t feel like yours anymore.

But the worst part was the way she looked at you. Her eyes were always filled with an unsettling mix of adoration and possessiveness, like she couldn’t imagine a world where you weren’t hers.

You knew you needed to do something before it was too late. But how do you tell someone like Rami to let go when she’s already convinced you’re her entire world?

Rami’s obsession with you grew to an uncontrollable level. It was no longer just about her spending time at your apartment or filling it with “couple” items. She started skipping schedules, missing rehearsals, and showing up late to group activities.

It didn’t take long for fans to notice. Online forums buzzed with speculation: “What’s going on with Rami?” “She doesn’t look like herself anymore.” “Is she dating someone?”

You felt a pang of guilt every time you saw these comments. Rami was so talented, so full of potential, and now her career was unraveling because of her fixation on you.

One evening, after another confrontation about her behavior, you decided to address the situation head-on.

“Rami,” you said as she sat on your couch, scrolling through her phone.

She looked up, her expression softening as she met your gaze. “Yes?”

“We need to talk.”

Her face immediately darkened, her fingers tightening around her phone. “About what?”

“This,” you said, gesturing to the apartment, which was now practically unrecognizable from how it used to be. “About us. About how this is affecting your career.”

She frowned, her tone defensive. “What about my career? I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. “You’ve been missing schedules, and the fans are noticing. You’re not the same Rami they fell in love with.”

She stood up abruptly, her eyes blazing. “I don’t care about that! I only care about you!”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Rami, you’ve worked so hard to get where you are. You’re throwing it all away for... for this.”

“For you,” she corrected, stepping closer. “I’m doing this for you. Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve sacrificed—it’s all for you.”

“Rami,” you said softly, trying to stay calm. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but instead of softening, her expression turned angry. “You don’t respect me,” she snapped. “You don’t appreciate everything I’ve done for you. Do you even care about me at all?”

“Of course I care about you,” you said, your voice breaking. “But this isn’t healthy. For either of us.”

Her face crumpled, and she sank onto the couch, burying her face in her hands.

The next day, you received an unexpected call from YG Entertainment. The voice on the other end was cold and professional.

“We need to talk. In person.”

When you arrived at the YG building, you were ushered into a conference room where the other members of Babymonster were waiting. Their expressions ranged from frustration to outright anger.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to her?” one of them demanded as soon as you walked in.

“She’s falling apart,” another added. “She’s not the Rami we know anymore.”

“We’ve tried to talk to her,” said Ahyeon, her voice softer but no less serious. “But she won’t listen. She’s convinced you’re the only one who understands her.”

You felt the weight of their words like a physical blow.

“We’re not here to argue,” the manager interjected. “We’re here to tell you this has to stop. Cut her off before it’s too late—for her sake and yours.”

“I care about her,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Then prove it,” the manager said. “Let her go.”

That evening, you sat in your apartment, staring at your phone. You wanted to call her, to end things cleanly, but every time you tried, the thought of her face—her tears, her anger—stopped you.

When she showed up unannounced, her eyes red and puffy from crying, you knew she’d sensed something was wrong.

“You talked to them, didn’t you?” she said, her voice trembling.

“Rami—”

“They told you to leave me,” she interrupted, stepping closer. “Didn’t they?”

You couldn’t deny it, so you nodded.

Her face twisted in anger and despair. “How could you listen to them? They don’t know anything about us!”

“They’re worried about you,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm. “And so am I.”

“I don’t need them,” she said, her voice rising. “I don’t need anyone but you!”

“Rami, this isn’t love,” you said, your heart breaking as you spoke. “This is obsession. It’s not healthy.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head. “No. You’re wrong. I love you. I need you.”

“I care about you,” you said, your voice cracking. “But I can’t do this anymore.”

She stared at you for a long moment, her face pale and her hands trembling. Then she turned and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

You collapsed onto the couch, your chest aching. You hoped she would find her way back to herself, even if it meant you couldn’t be part of her life anymore.

But deep down, you knew this wasn’t the end. For Rami, it would never be over.

The days after Rami stormed out of your apartment were eerily quiet. You hadn’t heard from her, but you knew something was brewing. The guilt of everything—the missed schedules, the rumors online, the tension in her group—was weighing heavily on both of you. You tried to push her out of your mind, but you couldn’t help but wonder what she was going through.

One night, as you sat in your apartment scrolling absentmindedly through your phone, a sudden knock startled you. Opening the door, you found Ahyeon and Chiquita, two of Rami’s bandmates, standing there.

“We need to talk,” Ahyeon said curtly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

Chiquita’s face was kinder but still serious. “It’s about Rami.”

You closed the door and gestured for them to sit, though you felt like the ground was slipping from beneath you.

“She’s being put under immense pressure,” Ahyeon started, crossing her arms. “The company has had enough of her behavior. The missed schedules, the decline in performance—it’s all because of her obsession with you.”

Your stomach dropped, but you kept quiet as Chiquita continued.

“They’re forcing her to make a decision,” she said gently. “Either she stays in Babymonster and commits fully to her career, or... she chooses you and leaves everything behind.”

“What?” you whispered, your voice cracking.

Ahyeon leaned forward, her tone sharp. “You might think you’re helping her, but you’re not. This relationship is ruining her. She can’t focus on anything else, and the company is at its breaking point.”

You wanted to defend yourself, to say this wasn’t all your fault, but deep down, you knew they weren’t wrong.

“She doesn’t have a choice,” Chiquita said softly, her eyes filled with sympathy. “The company won’t let her throw away everything she’s worked for.”

The next day, Rami called you. Her voice was shaky, as if she’d been crying.

“Can we meet?” she asked.

You agreed, and this time, it was Rami who chose the location—a quiet park on the outskirts of the city. When you arrived, she was sitting on a bench, bundled up against the winter chill.

As you approached, she looked up, her eyes red and swollen.

“Hey,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey,” you replied, sitting down beside her.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy, filled with everything left unsaid.

“I have to choose,” she said finally, her voice trembling. “They’re making me choose—my career or... you.”

You stared at her, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “Rami, I—”

“They told me there’s no middle ground,” she interrupted, her voice breaking. “If I stay with you, I lose everything. My career, my fans, my group—it’ll all be gone.”

Your heart ached as you saw the pain in her eyes. You wanted to tell her to fight, to stand up for herself, but you knew how the industry worked. There was no fighting this.

“What are you going to do?” you asked quietly.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t have a choice,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “I have to choose my career. I can’t abandon everything I’ve worked for, everything my members have worked for.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I understand.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “But I can’t lose them either. I just... I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re making the right choice,” you said, forcing the words out even though they felt like they were tearing you apart. “Your dreams, your group—they’re too important to give up.”

She looked at you, her expression filled with anguish. “I don’t want this to end.”

“Neither do I,” you admitted. “But sometimes... sometimes love isn’t enough.”

She let out a broken sob, and you pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly as she cried into your shoulder.

A week later, you saw the official statement from YG Entertainment:

"Rami will be focusing fully on her career with Babymonster. We appreciate the support and understanding of our fans."

There was no mention of you, no hint of the relationship that had briefly turned both your lives upside down. It was as if you had never existed in her world.

You tried to move on, but the memories lingered—the sound of her laughter, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her dreams, the bittersweet warmth of her presence.

As for Rami, she returned to the spotlight, her performances sharper and more passionate than ever. But whenever you saw her on stage, you couldn’t help but wonder if she was truly happy—or if a part of her heart would always belong to you.

The End.

[kathlare]

the alchemy

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie returns to the F1 paddock during the Miami Grand Prix, where emotions run high on and off the track.

Wordcount: 2.6 k

Warnings: fluff, smau, kinda suggestive content

full masterlist // request over here!

May 5th, 2024 - Miami, FL

liked by drivetouamour, landoislife, and others

amelienation: Amelie has arrived at the paddock for the Miami Grand Prix alongside a friend and her sister, Stella! 💕 She’s here to support Checo, marking her first race appearance of the season. Looking stunning as always, can’t wait to see more of her this weekend! 🏎✨

View all 1,584 comments

fan1: She really said, "Let me slay Miami while casually supporting my bro-in-law." 🔥 → fan2: @fan1 Bro, imagine being this iconic.

f1fanatic32: She’s back in the paddock, and all is right in the world 🌎✨

latinaf1love: Supporting Checo like the queen she is! 🫶 → drivetoamour: @latinaf1love She’s the real MVP. Forget the drivers, I’m here for her.

amieobsessed: Imagine if she dates a driver… I’d die. 😭 → landoislife: @amieobsessed Bestie she’s too good for any of them. Let’s be real.

pinktarmac: Miami AND Amelie?? We’re eating good this week 🥵 → fastfamfan: @pinktarmac Forget the race, this is the main event.

lanmilsupremacy: She’s here supporting Checo... but you KNOW she’s gonna end up in Lando’s garage somehow 👀💅 → amelieupdates: @lanmilsupremacy Friends supporting friends, right? Totally innocent... 👀

landoobsessed: Imagine if Lando and Amelie were actually dating though... that would break the internet fr. 😍 → f1shipperzzz: @landoobsessed Literally waiting for that soft launch any day now 💀

miamilover99: If I see one picture of her and Lando together this weekend, I’m DONE. My heart can’t take it. 💔 → oscarfan45: @miamilover99 Same, but also... I’m refreshing Twitter every five seconds. 😭

oscarfan101: Y’all KNOW Lando’s gonna act suspicious all weekend now that she’s here. 😂 → landosimp23: @oscarfan101 The man’s gonna stutter through every interview, bet. 💀

hatersgonnahate: She’s only here for attention. Like, we get it, you’re famous.

landoismyman: She better not end up with anyone else on the grid. I’m still holding out for my otp. 🥹

--------------

The Miami sun was blazing, the roar of engines echoing through the circuit. Amelie stood in the Red Bull garage with her sister Stella, who was animatedly chatting with Checo's engineer. Amelie’s attention, however, was firmly fixed on the big screen in front of her, where the final laps of the race played out. Her heart was pounding in sync with the commentator's excited voice.

Lando was leading.

The McLaren driver, her Lando, was within grasp of his first-ever Grand Prix victory. She could barely breathe as she watched him expertly navigate the track, holding off Max Verstappen with a precision and calm that had the crowd on their feet.

She wasn’t supposed to be here, not this close to the action. Being in the McLaren garage would’ve raised suspicions, so she’d accepted Stella’s invitation to watch with Red Bull. But now, standing among strangers, the idea of keeping her emotions in check felt impossible.

When Lando crossed the finish line, the world seemed to stand still for a moment before erupting into chaos. The commentator’s voice cracked as he shouted, “Lando Norris takes his first-ever Formula 1 victory in Miami!”

Amelie’s knees buckled, tears streaming down her face before she even realized it. She brought her hands to her mouth, trying to stifle a sob, but the dam had broken.

—Oh my God,— she whispered, voice trembling.

Stella turned to her, a knowing smile on her lips. —Go.—

Amelie hesitated for only a second before bolting out of the garage. Her mind was a blur, her body moving on pure instinct as she weaved through the crowds and dodged security personnel. She barely registered the cheers or the sea of orange-clad fans.

She reached the pit lane just as Lando pulled into the designated spot, his car stopping amid a swarm of jubilant McLaren team members. Without thinking, she pushed her way through the cluster of orange uniforms, earning a few startled looks but no resistance.

The adrenaline of the moment was buzzing in her veins, her chest tight with excitement and raw emotion. Amelie didn’t think. She couldn’t think. All she could see was Lando, his helmet still on, his body emerging from the car as the pit crew celebrated around him.

Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest, it drowned out the noise of the cheers from the crowd. She could feel the warmth of the Miami sun on her skin, but it all faded into the background as she pushed forward, her eyes locked on Lando. He was laughing, his face lit up with joy, but it was when he looked over and saw her that the world seemed to stop.

Lando’s expression shifted instantly from celebration to something softer, something intensely familiar. His eyes widened for just a second, and before anyone could stop him, he was pushing through the crowd, sprinting toward her.

Amelie couldn’t breathe. She didn’t know what she was doing, didn’t know why she was crying or why she’d run here, but the second his arms wrapped around her, the tears didn’t stop.

Lando’s voice broke through the buzzing in her ears. —Ames, baby— he murmured, his hands cupping her face as he pulled her into him. His lips crashed into hers, not soft, but frantic, hungry, like he’d been waiting for this moment, just like her.

The kiss was everything. His lips were warm and familiar, tasting of the salt from sweat and the intense excitement of his victory. His arms were strong around her, his hands threading through her hair, holding her in place as if he couldn’t bear to let go. And, for a moment, neither of them cared who was watching.

The cameras were already there, catching every second, every desperate kiss, and the crowd erupted in cheers. But for Amelie and Lando, it was just the two of them in the middle of everything. She forgot the world around them entirely as she lost herself in the kiss, her hands trailing up his chest, pressing him closer.

When they pulled back, panting for air, their foreheads rested together, and Lando’s breath was unsteady. —Fuck, Ames, I thought you’d never do that.— He laughed, breathless, eyes wide with disbelief and joy.

Amelie laughed too, wiping the last of her tears away. She could hear the commotion behind them, the pit crew still cheering, but it felt distant. The only thing that mattered was this moment with him. —I didn’t plan this, Lan,— she admitted with a slight chuckle, her hands still resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

Lando grinned, eyes soft but intense, and kissed her again, this time gentler. —Guess we’re out of the secret club now, huh?—

Before Amelie could respond, she was swept up in a wave of McLaren team members, all clapping him on the back, lifting him into the air in celebration.

Amelie watched, still caught up in the whirlwind of emotion, as Lando was carried by his team, laughter and cheers filling the air. The reality of the moment hit her again. He’d won. He’d really won. And now, everyone knew they were together.

She wiped away another tear, trying to steady herself as she made her way toward the podium area, keeping her eyes on Lando the whole time. She couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe she was watching him, the man who’d been her best friend and then something more, up there on the top step, holding the trophy with the biggest smile on his face.

When Lando finally stood on the podium, her heart swelled with pride. The champagne sprayed, the crowd screamed, and he held the trophy high above his head, looking out at the fans. But all Amelie could see was him, her Lando, standing there, shining in the spotlight. And her tears didn’t stop.

She couldn’t hold back anymore.

Her hands shook as she watched him, the sound of the crowd fading into the background. This was real. This moment, this victory, it was everything they’d both been working for, even if it wasn’t the way they’d planned it. She was crying now, openly, the tears streaming down her face as she clapped and cheered, completely unable to stop the wave of emotion flooding over her.

When the ceremony ended, Amelie stayed back, her heart still racing. She didn’t want to crowd him, not yet, not when he was still caught up in the media frenzy.

She waited outside the McLaren Team Hub, pacing anxiously as the minutes stretched into what felt like hours. The cool evening air of Miami was a welcome relief after the scorching heat of the day, but Amelie couldn’t bring herself to relax.

Her phone buzzed in her purse, but she ignored it, not wanting to be distracted. All she could think about was Lando, and how she’d kissed him, and how this moment—his first win, their first kiss in front of everyone—would change everything.

Finally, she saw him. The door to the team hub opened, and there he was, looking fresh and clean, dressed in a McLaren team shirt, his hair still damp from the shower but that familiar cocky grin on his face.

Amelie felt her heart skip a beat as he caught sight of her. His grin softened instantly, and he walked toward her, his strides long and confident.

—Hey, Ames,— Lando said with a teasing smile, his voice still thick with emotion from the day. —You look stunning. But are you okay? You’ve been crying like a little baby.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across her face. —Shut up, Lan. You won your first race. Of course, I’m emotional.—

He pulled her into his arms, his lips finding hers in a sweet kiss. The world seemed to disappear as she kissed him back, her hands trailing up to cup his face.

When they pulled away, Lando rested his forehead against hers. —Let’s get to the hotel, yeah? I’m ready to celebrate properly.—

—Are you now?— she teased, but the grin on her face was wide.

As they made their way to the hotel, Amelie’s mind couldn’t help but drift to the after-party. They were both ecstatic, both a little tipsy from the excitement and the lingering effects of the champagne. But when they arrived at the party, the energy shifted.

Lando was surrounded by people congratulating him, and Amelie found herself sticking close to him. She hated the way some of the other girls kept throwing flirtatious glances his way, their fingers brushing his arm just a little too long, trying to get his attention.

But it didn’t bother her as much as it would have in the past. Because the second those girls leaned in, Lando would turn to her, his eyes only on her.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him closer, her lips pressing against his ear. —You’re not going anywhere, Lan.—

He chuckled, nipping at her ear in return. —Never, Ames.—

As the night wore on, the party’s energy seemed to intensify. The music was loud, and the lights were flashing in every direction. But amidst the crowd, Lando and Amelie were like a little world of their own. They danced together, laughing and teasing, their bodies moving in sync to the beat. It was one of those nights where everything felt perfect, where the connection between them felt so natural, so easy.

Amelie felt the warmth of Lando's hand on her back as they danced, his touch sending electricity through her. The alcohol had loosened them both up, and their playful teasing grew a little bolder. Every time she laughed, Lando's eyes would light up, and every time she brushed her lips against his, his hands would find their way to her waist, pulling her even closer.

But she could feel the tension between them building—an energy that had been simmering under the surface for months, maybe longer. She could see it in the way he looked at her, the way his hands lingered on her body, the way their kisses had become more urgent as the night wore on.

At one point, Lando leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, his voice thick with desire. —You’re driving me crazy, Ames.—

Amelie shivered at the sound of his voice, her hands tracing the outline of his chest before sliding up to his neck. —Is that so?— she teased, her breath catching in her throat. She couldn’t deny the way he made her feel—the way his touch seemed to light her up from the inside out.

He smiled against her skin, pressing a kiss to her neck that made her pulse quicken. —Yeah,— he murmured, his lips brushing her jaw. —You’ve been killing me with those looks all night.—

Amelie laughed softly, but the sound was shaky, the heat in her chest turning into something more. She felt her heart race as she tilted her head back, giving him more access to her neck. —You’re such a flirt, Lan,— she whispered.

He chuckled against her skin, the sound vibrating through her. —Only for you, Ames,— he said, his voice low and raspy.

But as the night went on, Amelie couldn’t ignore the way her body responded to his closeness, the way every touch, every kiss felt more urgent, more desperate. There was a tension building, a hunger that neither of them had been able to ignore for too long.

Eventually, they found their way to a quieter corner of the venue, far from the noise of the party. Lando backed her up against a wall, his body pressing into hers as his lips crashed against hers once more. The kiss was heated, urgent, as though neither of them could wait any longer.

Amelie felt the heat of his hands on her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in his damp hair, tugging him closer. Every inch of her body seemed to crave him, and she could feel the same hunger in his every movement.

—Fuck, Ames…— Lando groaned against her lips, his hands sliding down to her hips, gripping her tightly as though he couldn’t get enough. Amelie’s breath hitched in her throat, and she pressed her body even closer to his, feeling the hard heat of him against her.

She pulled away just slightly, her eyes meeting his, her lips swollen from the kisses. —Lando,— she breathed, her voice trembling with the need building inside her. —I think we need to get out of here.—

He nodded without hesitation, his gaze dark and intense. —Yeah,— he said, his voice rough. —Let’s go.—

They didn’t even look back as they made their way out of the party, their hands intertwined, hearts pounding in their chests. Neither of them said anything, but the silence between them was filled with anticipation.

Once they reached his hotel room, the door slammed shut behind them, and it was as if the world outside didn’t exist anymore. Lando didn’t waste a second, pulling her toward him, his lips claiming hers again, more desperately this time. Amelie’s hands found the buttons of his shirt, tugging at them as she kissed him back with equal urgency.

Her heart raced as she felt his hands slip under her skirt, his touch sending shocks of desire through her. —Fuck, you feel amazing,— he whispered, his voice hoarse as his lips trailed down her neck.

Amelie moaned softly, tilting her head back to give him better access, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. She could feel the heat of his body against hers, the intensity of the moment, and she wanted more. She wanted all of him.

—Lando…— she breathed, her hands trembling as they explored his chest, her nails grazing his skin.

He looked down at her, his eyes dark with desire, before he pulled her top and skirt over her head in one swift motion. The moment she was in just her underwear, he lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the bed as if she weighed nothing. His hands were everywhere, caressing her skin, as though he couldn’t get enough of her.

Amelie’s breath caught in her throat as Lando hovered over her, his lips kissing a trail down her body. She arched into him, her hands threading through his hair, urging him on.

—Fuck, you’re beautiful,— he murmured, his lips brushing over her stomach.

Her body responded to his every touch, every kiss, and she pulled him back up to her lips, kissing him fiercely. Their hands were frantic, pulling at each other’s clothes, desperate to feel skin on skin.

When they finally came together, it was electric. Every inch of their bodies connected, every kiss, every touch, every sigh filled with the tension and desire that had been building for so long. It was messy and intense, the need for each other overwhelming.

And when it was over, they lay tangled together in the sheets, breathless, their bodies pressed close. Amelie’s head rested against Lando’s chest, and he kissed the top of her head, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on her back.

She smiled softly, her heart still racing. —That was… holy shit.—

Lando chuckled, his chest vibrating beneath her. —Told you I’d make you feel good, Ames.—

--------------

liked by maxfewtrell, ameliedayman, and others

landonorris: WWE FUCKIJG DID IT. P1 🏆

View all 8,588 comments

ameliedayman: Finally, I get to kiss a winner. 🏆😏 Proud of you, champ. → landonorris: @ameliedayman Oh, I’m winning more than races tonight 👀.

fanspeedy: BRO FINALLY DID IT 🔥😭 WE BEEN WAITING SINCE 2019. → landofanboy69: @fanspeedy King secured the bag ON and OFF the track, no cap. 👀

minniemills: Tears in my eyes! Lando, you absolute legend. P1! 🏆 → landonorris: @minniemills Minnie, don’t cry, I’m barely holding it together myself. 😅

mclaren: And we said it: He’s built different. 🏆

taylorf1fan: Tears are streaming down my face 😭😭 LANDO REALLY DID IT. → lanmelie_endgame: @taylorf1fan He deserves it and we deserve this relationship reveal. 🙌👀

charles_leclerc: About time, mate. Just don’t think you’re catching me in Monaco 🥱 → landonorris: @charles_leclerc Watch me 😉

madisonbeer: KING SH*T 👑 So proud, Lando! → ameliedayman: @madisonbeer Right? I trained him well. 😉 → landoeditz_: @ameliedayman Girl, don’t play with us like that!

landohater69: Great, now his ego will be even bigger. 🙄

hayesgrier: Okay, Lando. We see you, trophy boy 🏆 Don’t forget who was rooting for you before you were cool. → ameliedayman: @hayesgrier Bro, you didn’t even watch F1 until like a year ago 💀 → hayesgrier: @ameliedayman Details.

maxverstappen1: Guess I’ll let you have this one 😉 Congrats, bro! Enjoy the moment. → landonorris: @maxverstappen1 Appreciate it, Max.

landosbiggestfan_: HE’S BEEN IN LOVE WITH HER FOR AGES AND NOW THIS?! I’M LOSING IT

amelieupdates_: Soft launch? Babes, this was a HARD LAUNCH.

racefan4ever: I KNOW we’re all vibing with the idea of them, but let’s just be real: THEY HAVE BEEN DATING, so don’t act surprised, ppl! → ln4nation: @racefan4ever Like seriously. We’ve BEEN rooting for them, and now it’s just a public affair! 🔥

beachbabealex: Lando’s been simping for Ames since 2020 and now he’s living the dream. Honestly, same. 👀

laneliefoever: I KNEW IT!! Lando's been OBSESSED with her since 2020 and now he’s finally living his dream. I CAN’T BREATHE!! 😭🔥 → lanosupporter92: @laneliefover SAME! He used to be all shy and now? A WHOLE DIFFERENT MAN.

ammyf1fan: Anyone else still in shock she kissed him in front of EVERYONE? Like, talk about setting the world on fire. 💥 → lanoloversunite: @ammyf1fan SHE HAD TO.

[blackcoldcrackedheart]

Part 1. Part 2 Part 3

Ngl, watching Lou's character on hymym look so down after his failed proposal basically inspired this.

Tommy was thankful that the weather was nice and cool on Catalina Island.

Tommy and Evan were enjoying a nice dinner on the beach, complete with a blanket, a shared bottle of red wine, and a lovely seafood dinner.

Tommy had successfully set the mood and setting, granted they weren't alone at the beach. It was still crowded with folks still swimming or enjoying the sun starting to set on the horizon.

The two had gotten to the island yesterday and had spent day one relaxing and taking in the water and enjoying a long stroll with no aim or direction. Just casually getting lost in Avalon.

Today was a little more hectic, Tommy had planned for them to go zip lining and then take a hike through the moutains.

They even went surfing for a bit and enjoyed lazily basking in the sun till they decided to take a nap and shower back at their hotel room.

Tommy couldn't believe how it was only two days in and was already thinking of their honeymoon.

....

But first...

"Hey Evan." Tommy forced himself to sound unwavering and made sure to keep his hands on his knees since he could already feel the nerves turn into adrenaline.

"Hmm."

Tommy moved to get up, Evan had been using his shoulder to rest his head. He grabbed the younger man and pulled him up as well.

"You ready to go already?" Evan asked, frowning a bit since they had decided to stay to watch the sunset.

"Uh no. Not just yet." Tommy rubbed his hands down his pants, he couldn't look at Evan directly. He knew one look at Evan and he would unravel and just blurt out the question he had been wanting to ask for months now.

"You know I love you, like I -" He couldn't help it, he felt himself giggle as he watched Evan's face light up at that, hearing Evan laugh along made Tommy's heart jump. "Like I can't imagine loving anyone else like I love you. You came into my life and I- I don't want to go back to a life where you're not right besides me, where we aren't right besides each other for the long haul."

He felt along his pocket and got down on one knee.

If he hadn't been so focused on watching Evan and controlling his nerves, he would have realized he had garnered an audience. The crowd around them started to gasp and a few let out a shouts in excitement.

"So Evan Buckley, will you do me the honor of marrying me?" He pulled out the box and was surprised when he heard Evan nearly shouted ecstatically. "No way!"

Tommy froze.

And his heart cracked.

He figured, despite what others have said, that there was a possibility that Evan would say no or not yet.

He just didn't think the "No" would hurt like this, the way Evan had shouted it felt like the idea of a proposal was way too left field for Evan.

"Uh. Oh -"

Evan covered Tommy's hands with his, a bashful and excited smile on his face. "Not like "No way" like "no" I- I just mean, just- just hold on! Give me like 10 minutes! Don't move!" Evan started to jump hop into a run towards their hotel, "Just don't move! I'll be right back!" Evan shouted behind him.

Tommy could feel his face heat up and his eyes begin to sting as he slowly got up, he could hear the whispers around him now.

Some folks were looking at him with confusion while some others looked weirdly excited.

"He said he would be back!" One woman with curly hair yelled out, her blond friend giving Tommy a hopeful grin and thumbs up.

Another person yelled out, "You got this dude!"

Tommy was unsure what to do. Or how to feel.

Evan hadn't said no.

Right?

He saw Evan running back towards him now, a even more excited smile on his face.

But Tommys nerves were too frayed, he stumbled to get the words out as he tried to stuff the ring box back into his pocket. "Evan, I'm so-"

"You moved!" Evan pointed out, nearly buzzing with excitement. "I said not to move!"

"You said-"

"I said I'll be right back so I could do this."

The crowd erupted into cheers and wolf whistles as Evan got down on one knee.

"Oh my God." Tommy huffed out a wet laugh as he covered his face, he knew he was shaking- partly in relief and mostly in shock. "Oh God."

Evan reach for his hand and pulled towards him, "Tommy, I love you and I refuse to believe that there is anyone else for me. I know you're it for me and I've known that since the first time you kissed me." Tommy spluttered a relief laugh as he saw Evan’s eyes become watery as well. "You've been the person I've wanted and waited for, Tommy. And while I did plan to ask this tomorrow morning during a breakfast at sunrise- Tommy Kinard, will you marry me?"

"You brat! I asked first!" Tommy laughed, not missing Evan’s devious grin. "You hijacked my proposal!"

"You can go first with our vows " Evan chuckled, opening the ring box to expose a two tone gold and platinum ring. Tommy felt his breath hitch as he realized the ring was the perfect match to the ring he bought Evan.

Despite the audience around them, Tommy felt as though it was just them at the beach as Evan kissed the back of his hand. "What do you say? Marry me?"

Seeing all the love in Evan's eyes, how Evan's thumb brushed the spot on the back of Tommy's hand where he was just kissed, and having their future right in front of them made Tommy feel overwhelmed with emotions.

While he knew he had always wanted to be in a relationship and to be loved, there was a part of him that felt like he didn't deserve it. That he was risking his heart breaking into pieces by even daring to propose to Evan

Beautiful sweet, charming, and kind Evan who was now proposing to him.

Evan picked him to love.

Tommy let out a choked sob as he nodded yes. "Yes. Yes. Yes." He cried, pulling in Evan for a kiss as the crowc erupted into cheers and loud wolf whistles yet again. "Yes." He repeated for good measure as Evan slipped the ring on his finger. They both laughed as Tommy finally opened the ring box meant for Evan, showing Evan the two tone gold and platinum ring he got for Evan. There were obvious differences between the rings but they complimented each other, much like the newly engaged couple.

It was later when they realized that Maddie had been made aware of their plans to propose to each other.

"So what are the chances that your sister didn't already tell everyone that we somehow planned to propose to each other?" Tommy asked as the two curled around each other in bed, holding each others left hand and sharing soft kisses.

Tommy shivered as Evan kissed his temple and neck. "Knowing them, they probably already have a pool going on who asked first." Evan chuckled, brushing back Tommy's curl as he kissed his chin this time.

"They wouldn't!"

Evan raised a brow, only giving his fiance a haughty smile before going back to kissing Tommy's neck.

Tommy rolled his eyes, "What am I saying, of course they would." He shook his head and rolled towards Evan, they could talk about the betting pool later.

He wanted to celebrate their engagement now.

Part 5

[loveesiren]

✍🏻 -> seung-hyun + just thinking about falling in love with you. i'd do it all over again and again.

btw I love your work, whenever I get a notification I literally hold my breath 💖😅 love u ~

Thank you so much for your love and support babe! I love you too <3

Vali's 1500 Calebration

warnings: none! just fluff <3

wc: 600

You sat with your bandmates at a separate table, halfway across the glittering ballroom, the low hum of conversation mingling with the music and speeches echoing from the stage. The award ceremony was in full swing, but you found it nearly impossible to focus. Your gaze kept drifting—no, pulling—toward the table across the room.

Seunghyun.

Every time your eyes searched for him, you found his already locked on you. That soft, knowing smirk on his lips, like he could feel your heartbeat from across the floor.

Keeping your relationship a secret had become more exhausting than either of you had imagined. With both your groups constantly in the public eye—attending the same events, working side by side—the line between professionalism and desire blurred more with each passing day. Pretending like he wasn’t yours when all you wanted was to be tangled in his arms, his lips on yours, his fingers tracing slow circles on your back… it was maddening.

And yet, there he was. Eyes burning into you with quiet devotion. The kind of look that made your breath hitch and your cheeks flush no matter how many times you’d seen it.

You glanced down at your phone, unable to help the grin forming on your face. With quick fingers, you typed out a message.

Stop staring at me like that.

And before you could even lock your screen, his reply lit it up:

Can’t help it. You’re the only thing in this room worth looking at.

You smiled down at the screen, fingers dancing over the keyboard as a boldness crept in—fueled by the way Seunghyun had been looking at you all night. Feeling a little flirty, you typed:

What are you thinking about?

But before the message could even be marked as "read," your band’s name was called.

Your breath caught in your throat. Cheers erupted across the ballroom as you stood up, your heart pounding—not just from the win, but from the sudden spotlight. You followed the girls toward the stage, your steps a little shy, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your dress. These moments never came easy to you. You were the quiet one, the one who preferred to let the others speak while you offered polite smiles and deep bows.

The lights were blinding, and the crowd a blur, but even in the chaos, your eyes found him.

He was standing, clapping, his gaze fixed solely on you. There was pride in his expression—pure, undiluted admiration that made your heart swell. He looked at you like you were the only person in the room. Like nothing else mattered. Utterly starstruck.

Your confidence bloomed under his gaze. You bit your lip to hide the grin that threatened to break free and turned your attention back to your group. You tried to focus on your leader’s words, but the warmth in your chest told you your mind was somewhere else—someone else.

After the final bow, you followed your bandmates back to your table, applause still ringing in your ears. You slid into your seat, sneaking a glance across the room. Seunghyun was still watching you, but now his features had softened. His smile wasn’t just proud—it was tender. His eyes were drenched in something deeper. Love.

You blinked, overwhelmed for a moment by how full your chest felt. How seen you felt.

You looked back down at your phone, and your breath caught again when you saw his response had come through while you were still on stage.

Just thinking about falling in love with you. I’d do it all over again and again.

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

[abswrites]

sweat, chapter one - spencer reid

summary: (musician!spencer) spencer reid wants two things in this world. number one: to be a world-famous musician. number two: to kiss his childhood best friend. but the price of fame is higher than either of them expected.

✧˖° author's note: this is part one in what i imagine to be a loooooonggg fic, so buckle up. i write in vignettes, so the story (most likely) won't go chronologically. also, get ready for ANGSTTTT in the later parts.

✧˖° contents/tw: substance abuse, addiction (fame has not been kind to spencer), fem!reader, high school!spencer, high school! reader, lowkey a prologue but shhhhh, not proofread.

✧˖° words: 3.7k

October 12th, 2016 - New York, New York

Sweat.

Slick, salty, sticky sweat.

Spencer couldn’t get his mind off of it if he tried; how it clung to his aching, sluggish body as he moved. It was like he was drowning with every drop that dripped off hollowed cheeks.

He couldn’t focus on anything else. 

Well, that, and scoring some more coke after the show.

Every step was built into his muscle memory at this point. Where he stood on stage, how high he’d raise his hands after the guitar solo, how loud the massive crowd would scream like banshees.

It was getting old. He was getting old.

Physically, he was in the best shape of his life, if you exclude the drinking, the smoking, the snorting, the unprotected fucking. 

He didn’t even need an alarm clock anymore. The pounding in his head worked just fine. But with every puff or snort or swallow, that feeling of light and exuberance faded away that much more. 

So he started drinking doubles.

And look where it got him: lip-syncing in front of 20,000 of his devoted fans.

This was never what he had in mind.

He figured he’d be in his last year of college, studying music with a small gaggle of nerds and a sweet, brown-eyed girl by his side. Mornings spent reading in bed, afternoons spent studying at a coffee shop, and nights filled with laughter and Dungeons and Dragons. Maybe a beer or two if he was feeling wild.

“Thank you all so much for coming out tonight, I love each and every one of you.” He lied, his voice echoing through the entirety of Madison Square Garden, a venue he used to dream of playing with his buddies.

The banshees erupted once more. He tried to ignore his splitting headache.

Just pick a spot and smile. 

His eyes darted along the barricade, a plastic smile etched on his face. He waved, he mouthed “thank you,” he even winked to a particularly perky redhead. 

But as soon as his eyes landed on the private section in the corner, his smile faltered, but never fell. Not completely, anyways.

A few of his buddies, a few girls he’d fucked, a few more he planned to. All of them clapped and cheered, though, not nearly as enthusiastically as a “best friend” should. Especially on his birthday.

His eyes glanced over to the security guard standing with a clipboard and list of VIPs. Nobody else was in line to get in. 

He wasn’t sure if it was the coke, the heavy bass, the blinding spotlights, or maybe all three. But his heart stopped beating. 

She didn’t come. 

His first thought was anger, like an involuntary reflex. She’s a bitch, anyways. Always holding me back.

But it didn’t take more than a few seconds for him to rethink. When was the last time he’d shown up for her birthday?

When was the last time he’d called?

When was the last time he’d seen her?

When was the last time he knew anything about her life?

A wave of guilt flooded his senses, making his already-erratic heartbeat quicken. He couldn’t believe she never showed. This was the gig he always dreamed about as a kid. A dream he dreamed with her. 

But could he really blame her?

August 2nd, 2007 - Las Vegas, Nevada

“I’m telling you, y/n, it’s gonna happen.” He said, his voice squeaking in a mixture of determination and 16-year-old  excitement. The Vegas sun beat down on him, leaving his lean frame covered in a fine sheen of sweat. His sunglasses slid down the bridge of his glistening nose.

“Well, I’ll be sure to get tickets when it does.” I said, lazily fanning my own sweat-streaked face with my hand. My t-shirt clung to my torso, parts of the white fabric turning grey and translucent from my wet bathing suit underneath.

The left side of Spencer’s mouth curved upward.

“Promise?”

My expression mimicked his. 

“Promise. But I should at least get discounted tickets,” I chuckled. “You know, some kind of longest-running fan sale.”

Spencer smiled, leaning back against the shitty, cheap, plastic pool chair. A few drops of water clung to the small smattering of chest hair he’d grown over the last six months. I could remember the night he called me about it, excited at the prospect of finally becoming a ‘real man.’

“Please, you’re gonna get a whole VIP section to yourself.” He said. “Well, maybe you’ll have to share it with whoever Avery’s hooking up with at the time.”

A soft snort escaped my nostrils.

“He’s such a horndog.” 

Spencer nodded and shrugged. “Can you blame him?”

I rolled onto my side, facing Spencer as I rested my hand on my palm. 

“Yes, I can.” I teased. “Avery’s got the whole douchebag drummer act down to a science. I just don’t get why so many girls like it.”

“Girls like douchebags.” Spencer said, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“No, we don’t.” I retorted.

“Avery’s track record begs to differ.”

I narrowed my eyes at Spencer, sitting up from the plastic poolside lounger. 

“That’s because Avery’s idea of dating involves flirting, fucking, and running away as soon as there’s an inkling of something serious. 

Spencer chuckled. I wasn’t wrong, after all.

Aside from me, Avery was Spencer’s oldest childhood friend. Born in the same town in the same year, growing up on the same street with the same interests… it was destined to happen. It wasn’t long until they started playing music together in Spencer’s garage or Avery’s basement.

 But while Spencer retreated within himself, embarrassed by the trials and tribulations of puberty, Avery thrived. Every weekend there was another girl, another party, another wild story to share.

He knew that I couldn’t stand him, but it didn’t stop him from idolizing everything he did. Spencer wanted to be cool, just like him.

“Oh come on, he’s not that bad once you get to know him.” Spencer said coyly.

I slid my sunglasses on, turning to sit up and take off my water-stained t-shirt before lying back down on my stomach, letting the intense August sun warm my skin like a heat lamp.

“You’re right. He’s worse.” I said before nuzzling my head against my arms.

Spencer’s eyes dropped from behind his sunglasses, tracing every inch of my exposed back. Every pore, every divot, every curve caught his eye. He felt his heart skip a beat at the sight, trying to ignore the fact that the only thing between him and my breasts was a small string bikini loosely tied atop my shoulder blades.

“He’s just not a relationship kind of guy,” Spencer coughed, forcing himself to look away from my skin, grateful for his polarized sunglasses. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” I mumbled, my head buried beneath my crossed arms. “But the way he does it… it’s sleazy. He gets these girls to ignore their better judgement enough to trust him, gets into their pants, and then shuts them out after.”

Spencer’s smile faded as he registered my words.

“Okay, yeah, that’s not great.” He admitted, rubbing some sweat from the back of his neck.

“It’s hurtful,” I replied. “Which is why I don’t understand why you idolize him so much. You’ve got such a big heart.” 

“I do not.” Spencer protested, as if it was a bad thing to be a gentleman. Ah, teenage masculinity. 

“You called me in tears when you turned Rebecca Flores down.” I quipped back, peeking my head out from behind my arms with a toothy smile. 

Spencer grimaced, his face scrunching up. 

“God, don’t remind me of that,” He said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I still feel bad.”

I laughed, lifting my head up more. Spencer’s eyes darted across the smattering of freckles across my cheeks - a trademark of a fun summer.

“First of all, she’s gay now,” I giggled. “Second, you cared about her enough to want to avoid hurting her feelings. Sure, I’m sure it sucked for her in the moment, but you did the right thing. The kind thing.  That’s not something you should be embarrassed about.”

Spencer scrunched his mouth up again.

“I guess.”

“I know,” I responded, sitting up to face him, patting him gently on the shoulder. “That's why I like you way more than Avery.”

Spencer’s heartbeat quickened at the touch as he looked into my eyes. He hoped the blush forming on his cheeks could pass for a sunburn.

“Yeah, well,” he started, his lips curving into a bashful smile. “I like you more than Avery, too.”

March 20th, 2009 - Las Vegas, Nevada

To say the waiting was killing us would be the understatement of the century.

For 4 months, Spencer and I had spent every moment dreaming about UCLA. The research programs, the music school, and the idea of getting to explore LA together… it was everything we wanted. It seemed so close yet so far out of reach.

“You gotten anything yet?” Spencer asked, his voice ringing out over the phone. It was shaky and giddy.

“Not yet. We’ve still got 4 minutes.” I said, my voice even shakier. My eyes were glued to the computer screen as I waited for the email to pop up. There was a beat of silence, the dull crackle of the phone filling the void.

“I don’t think I’m gonna get in.” I said, trying to mask the dejection in my voice.

Spencer’s eyes widened as he held the phone closer to his ear. 

“What? Why wouldn’t you?” He asked. 

“Because I’m nowhere near as smart as you.” I mumbled. 

Another beat of silence.

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. Don’t lie to me, Spence.”

“I’m not lyin-”

“Yes, you are.”

There was another beat. 

“I’m coming over.” He said quickly.

“Wait, Spence, don’t-”

The dull buzz of the dead line rang out from the plastic landline on my nightstand. I sighed, setting the phone back on the receiver with a click. 

The silence was maddening. I pulled my knees to my chest, resting my head on them, finding no comfort from the soft fleece of my pajama pants. 

Despite the fact that it was only in the mid-40s outside, I could feel the sticky sheen of sweat clinging to my palms and the back of my neck. My heart was hammering in my chest as I prayed to any god that would listen.

Please let me get in. I don’t want to say goodbye yet. 

Since we were 6 years old and Spencer’s family moved in a few streets over, we’d been inseparable. We played in sprinklers, we rode our bikes, we wrestled for the last bomb pop from the ice cream truck. 

We snickered to one another about the throes of puberty; our first zits, our first armpit hairs. We shushed one another excitedly as we recalled the details of our first kisses. Both were sloppy, wet, and disastrous. But we didn’t care. 

We helped one another get ready for our first and last school dances. I tied his tie and pinned his boutonniere , he slid the corsage on my wrist and zipped up my dress. Our mothers must have snapped a thousand photos of us. We spent the whole night dancing (poorly, I might add) and the early hours of the morning laughing and throwing popcorn into one anothers mouths.

It was that night, hours after the junior prom ended,  that I realized that I may like Spencer. Like, like him. 

At first, the thought mortified me. I cannot like him! He’s like my brother!

But I found myself doodling hearts on the margins of my physics homework every time he’d walk me through the problems. It was hard to focus on calculating velocities when he sat just inches away. Especially when he finally ditched the Axe body spray and started wearing real cologne. 

But now, a little less than a year later, the thought didn’t embarrass me anymore. If anything, it made me sad. I was too chicken-shit to ever make a move, too terrified at the prospect of ruining over a decade of friendship. It was better to bite my tongue until it bled. It was better to fill locked diaries with pages and pages of how nice his hair looked or how handsome his smile was. It was better to think of him late at night, letting my heart race and eyelids flutter as my hand dipped below the loose elastic of my waistband. It was better to imagine the feeling of his lips on my cheek, my neck, my-

No. Enough. Snap out of it. It’s not going to happen. 

I let out a deep sigh, my shoulders slouching as I rubbed my eyes to try and knock some sense into myself. I need to focus on what’s right in front of me. 

Even if it means I won’t see him much after graduation… that this could be the beginning of the end.

The idea of losing him stung worse than any wasp ever could. 

Plink. Plink. Plink.

The sound of small pebbles hitting the window pulled me out of my episode of teenage angst. 

“You know, I’ve got a front door. You should try it some time.” I scoffed, sliding up the windowpane as his long and lanky form bent over to crawl inside.

“This is more fun.” He responded, his dirty converse leaving behind some specks of Nevadan dust as he stepped into my room, his clunky, sticker-covered laptop tucked under his arm. 

I rolled my eyes, eyeing him knowingly. He slipped his shoes off.

“You heard anything yet?” He asked, plopping down on my quilted comforter, resting his laptop on his stomach as he opened it. 

“It’s not 8 yet.” 

“God,” he groaned, clearly impatient. “Can they just hurry up already?”

I sat down next to him, albeit a little timid. Spencer was a genius. He was guaranteed acceptance at any school he wanted. Me, on the other hand…

“Are you still nervous?” He asked, sitting up to face me. His eyes were a little tired, but still warm and kind like always. As I glanced into them, I couldn’t help but think about how much I’d miss seeing them everyday if I didn’t get in. I nodded sheepishly, letting my eyes drop back down to my clasped fingers in my lap. 

“Look at me.” He instructed, his voice firm but quiet.

I did as I was told.

“You’re gonna get in.” 

I started to protest, letting my eyes drop back down to my lap. He pulled my chin, turning my head to face his.

“Look at me.” He repeated. As his long fingers grazed my chin, I felt my heart skip a beat and another sheen of sweat start to form on the back of my neck. I did my best not to gulp nervously like a cartoon character. 

Spencer wasn’t normally one for much physical contact, but I seemed to be the exception. He didn’t ever say anything when I’d hold onto his arm to steady myself on the bus, or when I’d tuck a particularly curly and wild strand of his hair behind his ear. It was this contradiction that left my head spinning when I wracked my brain to figure out if he might like like me back. 

“You’re the smartest girl I know. If they don’t let you in, it’s their loss, not yours. You hear me?”

Still completely dumbfounded by his fingers - which still lingered on my chin - I nodded silently. For a moment, I let my eyes flick down to his lips. His perfect, pink lips. My whole body screamed at me to throw caution to the wind and shove mine against his. But I didn’t let my gaze linger. I couldn’t.

I bit the inside of my cheek.

“Thanks, Spence.”

Before he could say anything else, the sound of the small cuckoo clock on my dresser filled the room. 

“You ready?” He asked, stifling a nervous, toothy grin. As I turned my head back from the clock, I saw his eyes flick up ever so slightly. 

What had he been looking at?

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I sighed. 

Without another word, Spencer took my hand in his own, squeezing tightly as he opened his laptop and refreshed the page. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

My world blurred as Spencer cheered at the sight of his acceptance letter. He was going. He was really going. With or without me. 

“I’m in!” He laughed, still holding onto my hand tightly. “I’m going to LA!”  

I smiled despite the agonizing feeling of panic building in my chest. 

“I’m so happy for you, Spence.” 

He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing. 

“What does yours say?” He laughed, still holding onto my hand tightly. 

I pursed my lips uncomfortably.

“I don’t think I can open it.”

He stared at me, his expression falling ever so slightly.

“(Y/N), just open it. You’ll feel better just knowin-”

“No, I wont.” I snapped, my voice nervous and icy as I dropped his hand, standing up from the bed. I ran my fingers through my hair. 

His eyes widened as he recoiled from the echo of my voice. I never snapped at him, even when he really deserved it. 

“Why not?” He asked, standing up next to me, trying to force my eyes to meet his.

I bit my tongue, lamenting the building frustration in my veins. 

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” He said before even thinking about it. “Tell me.”

His gaze was microscopic, looking so far inward I fear he could see right through me. I had to turn around just to gather the courage to speak. 

“It’s just,” I mumbled, wracking my brain for the right words to say. It felt like I was writing my college essay all over again. “I’m gonna be sad if I can’t be with you in the fall.”

I stared anxiously at my window, not daring to turn around and face him. It was silent. I bit my lip, hoping he was just trying to think of the right thing to say.

“Well,” he started, his voice quiet. 

Oh god. This can’t be good.

“Good thing you won’t have to.”

What?

“What?” I snapped my head around. 

There he was, sitting with my computer in his lap, the screen facing me.

Congratulations on your admittance into the UCLA class of  2013!

“Oh my god,” I said, my voice breathy as I yanked the laptop out of his hands in disbelief. Was I dreaming? Was this real? “Oh my god!”

I don’t know whose smile was wider, mine or his. In this moment, it felt as if anything was possible, as cheesy and cliche as that sounds. For the first time in my life, it felt like everything was in the right place. It felt like I was in the right place.

Especially as he wrapped his long arms around me and squeezed. 

“I told you!” He chuckled into my ear, squeezing me tightly. “You can’t get rid of me that eas-”

For the first time in my life, I did something without thinking.

I kissed him.

Almost immediately, he pulled back, his eyes wide and his lips smeared with some of my lip gloss. He stared at me in disbelief, as if my face was a text in a foreign language that he was trying to decipher. I felt my heart sink. 

The shame and embarrassment followed shortly thereafter.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking,” I stuttered out, covering my mouth as if it would undo the massive mess I’d just created. Involuntarily, my eyes darted towards the floor. I couldn’t stand the sight of his face as I imagined the horrified expression contorting his delicate features.

“I don’t know why I did that, I’m-”

I didn’t even get a chance to look into his eyes before it happened.

My senses went into overdrive as I felt his lips smash against mine. 

Needy. Hungry. Desperate. 

Without so much as a thought, my hands found their way into his hair, each finger intertwining with one of his shaggy curls. I pressed my chest against his, allowing myself to stop thinking and just feel. 

His hands snaked their way onto my hips, pulling me closer against him as he leaned back against the bed, almost losing his balance. Each one of his fingers had electricity in it, sending fiery jolts of excitement and pleasure into my stomach. My lips pulled back just enough for a breathy gasp to escape my lips.

His eyes widened ever so slightly.

That was all it took.

Before I even registered the movement, he’d pulled me onto the bed, our heads resting on my pillows as we stared into one another’s eyes before locking our lips together once more.

Maybe it was the teenage hormones, or maybe it was the fact that I was convinced I was dreaming, but I felt like I couldn’t stop myself. His lips felt like velvet against mine; soft and lush. The smell of his cologne - sort of a musky teakwood - fluttered into my nostrils, causing the butterflies in my stomach to flap their wings even harder. 

As I let my senses guide me, the kiss slowed, fading from a fiery fervor to something tender, deep, and loving. A sweet kiss from a sweet boy. 

For a moment, he pulled back his lips, resting his forehead against mine. His wide brown eyes stared into mine, a mixture of excitement, relief, and understanding splayed across his face.  It was the most intimate thing I’d ever experienced. 

“Wait,” He sighed out, clearly a little out of breath. His cheeks were flushed and warm under my fingers. 

“What is it?” I asked, worried I’d done something wrong or that he’d say this was all a huge mistake.

“Are you just kissing me because you got into college?”

My brows furrowed. He mimicked my reaction.

“You know, for a certified genius, you’re kind of an idiot, Spence.” I said, my lips contorting into a wide, toothy grin. I couldn’t help but laugh.

After a moment, he did, too.

“Good,” He chuckled in relief. “Because I don’t think I could keep myself from kissing you again if I tried.”

He pressed his lips against mine again.

Maybe I was right.

Maybe everything is right in the world.

Maybe - no, not maybe… 

I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

so this is quite literally the first fic i've ever posted on this hellsite (but defo not the first one i've written lol) so if you like it pls let me know! also, i'm taking requests. fire away, friends. <333

[ringoffiction]

Happier than Ever - Part 2

Summary: You and Jeff were endgame. The two of you have been together since childhood and now you both have achieved your dream of working in WWE. But what happens when personal life events affect the on-screen narrative and a straight edge superstar enters the mix? Will your childhood dream scenario be your happy ever after or your life would turn upside down? Pairings: Jeff Hardy x Fem Reader x CM Punk Warnings: angst, drug used, mention of driving under influence, +18 Notes: I will add other warnings as the history develops Word Count: 437

That incident cost Jeff way more than he could imagine and his career was on the line. One more mistake and they would fire him and even if you didn't have anything to do with this, his mistakes were backfiring at you. 

Even though his image behind the scenes was shattered, he continued to be loved by the audience, and that’s the reason why the company decided to give him one more chance and one more title run, now for the World Heavyweight Championship.

...

And here you are, Jeff’s entrance music blasting over the large avenue while fans scream his name and some even booing him. Both of you were waiting for the right time to walk down the ramp when Jeff stole a kiss from your lips, “I love the high I get from this” he says before doing his dance in front of everyone. You just follow right behind doing your moves and throwing kisses to the audience.  

He jumps into the ring and helps you pass the ropes, as you stand in the middle of the ring with a smirk and a fierce look in your eyes, Jeff walks to the end of the ring to grab a microphone. 

“I know you all missed me” he says to the crowd and walk around the ring “It’s good to be back here” he pauses as the people cheer his name, when the chants loose power he return to his promo “I know I let some of you down and I’m sorry for this” the crowd erupts with Thank you Jeff chants and his eyes fill with tears. “Thank you for your support, and as a way to thank you I will honor you by becoming the new World Heavyweight Champion!”

When he finishes his promo the crowd goes insane, everyone is cheering on him and screaming his name, you share a kiss in the ring and you raise his hand in victory before both leave the center stage. 

In the ring things were great and it seemed like he was getting a big push, but backstage this was far from the truth, the whole locker room side-eyed him when he passed them. All of this because the wrestlers didn’t think it was fair that after everything he was still getting chances at title runs, and if you were being honest, you didn’t think it was fair either. 

Thankfully, no one was mad at you for being his in-ring partner and his real life girlfriend, everyone still talked to you and were friendly, especially the loud mouthed, straight edge superstar, and your closest friend Cm Punk.

[whitexwolfxx310]

Hi. Request. A bucky or sebastian x fem reader. Soft wedding smut. Fluff. NO daddy or mommy kinks, for the love of God. NO! Thank you

Yes!!! I have been so excited to write something like this! I couldn't help but dive right into it! I hope you enjoy ♥️

||You're My Home||

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: Your wedding night!

Warnings: Spicy content! 18+ only! Oral sex F receiving, unprotected penetration, praise kink, FLUFFFFFFF!

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: This isn't a part of the BBWWS, but let me know what you think!

Spending the last year planning the intricate details of a wedding had you completely drained. Centerpieces, invitations, flowers… it sounds fun in theory, but was utterly exhausting.

Bucky did everything he could to be by your side every step of the way. Even the late nights when he came home from a mission to find you crying in the middle of the floor- that was littered with glue, glitter, ribbons, and card stock that was going to somehow come together to make the seating chart you had imagined in your head. He had this magic about him that would take the stress away, reminding you that the very core of all of this was your love for one another. He’d offer to help, and seeing him in all black leather covered with glitter was a sight to behold. You teased your fiancé, saying he should pitch that idea as a new uniform.

You held onto those little moments to help push you through the craziness of wedding planning. After all, the endgame was becoming Mrs. Barnes. And even though the big day got closer and closer, you never got over the sight of Bucky’s mothers ring on your finger.

But it all came together on a beautiful fall evening as you each stood at the end of a plush grass isle. That had been his one and only request- to be married outdoors in a wide open space. Bucky didn’t look when you first appeared, he was afraid. It wasn’t until the music played and Steve gave him a reassuring grip on his shoulder, did he brave a look.

He didn’t smile at first. His eyes took in every small detail; The bold white sheath dress that hugged your curves, the plunging sweetheart neckline that accented your breasts, the floral patterned lace that disappeared the further it fluttered down the dress. No, he didn’t smile. Not yet. Instead his teeth clenched and his lips slightly twitched as you started to walk towards him. Bucky’s ocean blue eyes now had a watery sheen to them, conveying just one simple word: ‘mine’.

When you were only just a few feet away from the sunflower and marigold decorated alter, he stepped forward to meet you. To hold your hand in his as you both take your last steps as each others fiancé. Standing face to face in front of a large group of people that suddenly seemed to disappear, you could only focus on the man in front of you. His pearly white teeth that gleamed as he now smiled, his eyes as bright as you’ve ever seen them, his infamous nose scrunch in excitement that made you fall in love with him in the first place, and that tanned, God-like skin that practically glowed under his all black suit. Every feature was enhanced from the too perfect watercolor sun as it started to set during your vows.

The minister hadn’t even finished the conclusion of the ceremony by saying ‘you may now kiss the bride’ before Bucky gently cupped both sides of your face and gave you the sweetest, heartfelt kiss. The beaming smiles on both of your faces almost made it impossible to press your lips together. Cheers and clapping erupted from the crowd, causing him to take you into his arms, dipping you down low as he maintained the kiss for show.

The evening was full of clinking utensils against glasses, music that had everyone dancing (even Bucky), and the ever so slightly guilty conscience you had from wasting such an amazing tasting cake by smushing it into his face. It went by so fast that it was practically a blur, and over far too soon.

Everyone sent you off in the picture perfect way; people lined up on both sides of the main entrance and held sparklers that just felt as though they were illuminating the newly married glow coming off of you both.

Driving back to the rented cabin for your wedding night was painfully slow. Bucky’s hand rested on your thigh as he drove, giving the occasional squeeze when his thumb wasn’t grazing against the soft white fabric.

Pulling into the drive, you can feel that the night has cooled. He quickly turns off the car and slightly fumbles as he runs around to open the car door for you. Holding out his hand, you take it into yours and allow him to help you out. After all, wedding dresses aren’t well known for their ability to move with you. Bucky picks you up, now holding you in traditional bridal style to bring you through the threshold. He kicks the door lightly, opening it and walking through, making you giggle as you held onto him.

“Thank you, husband.” You enunciate. He smirks, gently placing you back into your feet.

“You’re welcome, wife.” He reiterates the title also. You both laugh.

His eyes find yours, portraying the same look of adoration he has given you through the entire day, making you feel like the happiest and luckiest woman in the world. Your smile mirrored his own- but one side of your lip tugged into a smirk as you slowly started stepping backwards towards the bedroom. The faint clicking of your heels against the floor being your silent invitation.

Those sky blue eyes set ablaze, and without hesitation, he pulled at his black tie, shimmying the knot down until it was undone and fell to the floor. Bucky’s midnight black tuxedo jacket followed suit, starting to leave a trail of his clothes as he followed you into the bedroom.

He places his hands on each side of your waist and encourages you to turn around. Now with your back to him, he steps in close- the front of his body now pressing into yours. As you expose your neck, Bucky's lips kiss your collarbone, almost making you visibly shiver under his touch. He inhales deeply, as if somehow your scent has changed now that you're officially his. His lips leave small, butterfly soft kisses that trace up to your ear. Instinctively, warm fingertips trace along the lace seam on your lower back.

"You looked... so beautiful today," he breathed, as his fingers clasped the tiny zipper. "But, I would be lying if I said that I haven't been thinking about getting you out of this dress, all day." Your hips impulsively press back against his at the words. The fabric became less taut the more he pulled the zipper down.

That familiar combination of his warm and cool touch started to line your curves. Turning in Bucky's arms to face him, the dress pooled around your feet on the floor. After helping you out of the mesh layers, Bucky drops to his knees in front of you as he admires your new revealed outfit- a strapless, shortened, white flower patterned corset with a matching lace thong and garter belt to hold up thigh high stockings. Placing a firm kiss on your stomach, his head tilts up so he can look at you through hooded eyes- his lower lip still tugged down against your belly slightly.

"God, you're gorgeous. Just...perfect. And mine." The last word changed his tone from admiration to instant primal. He was back on his feet, hands already starting to roam your body. In return, you grip the collar of his dress shirt, pulling his face down closer to yours. Even in heels, you're significantly shorter than him.

"I love you, Bucky. You're everything I've ever wanted, needed, and more." You say, in a small voice- your lips so close to his that they just barely touched with each word you spoke. Not even waiting for a response, you purse your lips to his as you start to fumble with the buttons of his dress shirt.

His warm tongue skims against yours- and now you're even more impatient that his naked body isn't already on top of yours. Taking a fist full of the shirt from both sides, you pull as hard as you could- buttons flying, leaving his chest bare. Bucky's lips didn't leave yours as you pushed the shirt down his arms, letting it drop to the floor.

Stepping forward, he supports your body- laying you down on the bed. His hips press firmly between your legs, and even through his dress pants you could feel that he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him; Causing the recognizable throbbing in your lower core to make it's first appearance. His palm presses flat against your upper chest, feeling your heart as it starts to beat faster, for him.

Using his palm as guidance, his lips now trail behind his hand as it coasts lower on your body. Your sternum, beneath your ribs, your belly button, and just above your underwear. While his lips left creamy, soft kisses- the small amount of stubble on his chin tickles, causes you to wriggle slightly under his touch. You exhale all of the air out of your lungs as he plants one faint kiss on top of the thin fabric between your legs. The warmth from his breath has your body completely in his control; your back arching off the bed, aching for more of his touch.

Moving the fabric to the side, he gives one more exposed, tongue filled kiss- causing your breath to hitch. You force yourself to look down, taking the upmost gratification of seeing this man's, your man's, face between your thighs. Bucky ran his warm pointer finger through your folds, grinning with approval of how wet you already are. His ribbed tongue swirls as he licks and sucks smoothly- your hips grind softly, working with his motions.

At first your moans are sigh like and gradually turn into small whimpers. It's a small game Bucky likes to play- teasing and edging almost to the point it will drive you insane. But the orgasms that snowball through you over and over again make it so worth it. He glides over that one sweet spot that makes your entire body tense.

"Don't stop," You sigh, struggling to maintain breathing as your nails start grabbing into his full head of hair. He gives a small 'Mmm' in response, the hum from his throat practically echoing in your rib cage.

Keeping the gradual brushing of his tongue, your entire body starts to come off of the bed. Your toes point downward as you fail in remembering how to breathe- Bucky's arms tense around your thighs as you start to wriggle, holding you in place as you ride through the wave of pent up tension.

A combination of his name delicately wrapped in moans escape your mouth. Even after what seems like relentless energy waves rolling through your body, his tongue doesn't stop- but instead becomes softer and silky, twirling so gently around your extremely sensitive and swollen clit. Only once does your body shudder at each pass of his tongue does he stop.

The coolness of the air replaces where his mouth was as he kneels on the bed. Bucky pulls on his belt buckle, the metal rattling as it comes undone and gets thrown onto the floor. At some point, your thong had been ripped off. Being the skilled lover that he is, his pants are already being tugged off as he moves to hover over you. His sweet- yet salty, lips are on yours; his tongue massaging your own as you both taste yourself through the kiss.

Reaching down between your legs, you grasp and start to stroke him slowly. He breathes into the kiss at your touch and as you adjust your body underneath him. You guide the tip of him to your entrance, rubbing it maliciously slow up and down your folds to lubricate him, with you. The most delicious sound reverberates in his throat as his hips gently press forward, his silent plead. Not being able to resist much longer yourself, you start to guide him inside of you.

A unanimous moan is breathed out between the two of you as he presses in. In an attempt to make himself slick, Bucky pushes in, and then pulls out- repeating this movement until the majority of his length is inside of you. You're so tight that he can't fit in all the way just yet.

His hips rock gingerly against your own, starting off gradually as your internal walls expand to adjust around his intimidating size. The abdominal throbbing didn't stay dormant for long once Bucky found his rhythm. He breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead into your own. His breathing becomes heavier as your whimpers morph into moans- moans transform into broken 'oh's'.

This being your second orgasm makes it more intense; and Bucky knows well enough to keep his pace. Changing anything in the moment could cause him to start over again. Not that he would mind.

"Just like that," he breathes, and gently strokes your cheek. And you start to crumble all over again at the smoothness of his words. Your nails dig into his slick and muscled back for stability- your stomach re-living that rollercoaster drop feeling. The sounds coming from you are becoming shaky and high pitched. Bucky presses his lips back into yours, swallowing your sharp whines of pleasure.

He doesn't allow you time to come back down from this high; instead he repositions you both. Bucky is now slightly leaned back on his knees with you straddled on top of him, nice and close.

"One more?" He asks with a smug smile, already taking on the challenge regardless.

Your throat is so dry, your vision still semi blurred- and yet, how can I say no?

His hands grip onto your hips- your bodies forming a V. No movement involved, you can feel the incline of him in this position- with every tiny motion, his tip is going to caress against your G-spot in this alignment.

The first, slow grind makes Bucky hiss. He's deeper, you feel tighter. This isn't going to take long at all... for either of you.

Allowing his hands to guide your hips, you move along to his pattern. The combination of both internal and external stimulation already has you unable to think straight. Your body shudders a little more fiercely this time- Bucky's fingers dig into your skin more as he grunts through his breath. You can feel the pulsing, warm sensation inside as he comes- making him feel even more slick. His body convulses slightly until all that is left is excessive breathing and sticky, sweaty skin between you both.

Bucky's hands cup your face- the cold from his metal hand being more than welcome. "God, I love you." He says, then presses his lips against yours. And in this moment, you realize that every night for the rest of your lives could be like this. This intense, this passionate- forever.

If you enjoyed this, please check out my Masterlist! Requests are open!

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[semisgroupie]

these kisses ain’t free (you gotta pay with your body)

guitarist!sukuna x groupie!fem. reader

wc: 2.9k

warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, slight dubcon, light choking, biting, fingering (f!receiving), light praise, risky sex, almost caught, sukuna keeps your panties, sukuna calls reader “pretty”

synopsis: meeting your favorite guitarist backstage comes at a cost

a/n: if you recognize the title then I’m smooching you so hard. the banner is from Pink Heart Jam and the colors are from sukuna’s manga cover from vol. 14!!

This was never originally part of the plan. You came to the concert solely focused on seeing and enjoying your favorite band perform in person. Then, your plans shifted and here you were plotting a way to sneak backstage.

When the announcement first came out about The Cursed going on tour in your city, you jumped at the opportunity to get the best seats possible. You also wanted to get the VIP tickets as well but they were just too expensive.

The day of the concert finally came and you were beyond excited. You couldn’t wait to see them in action, especially Sukuna, the band’s lead guitarist. The moment you laid your eyes on him, you fell for him. Then watching his interviews, live performances, and seeing parts of his personality just made you fall for him more. What wasn’t there to love about him? And to finally see him in person? You couldn’t wait.

While you were waiting on line to enter the venue, you heard a group of people ahead of you talking about what the VIP experience was like. Hearing about how you could take photos with the members, get whatever you wanted signed by them, talk to them for a little bit and what really got your attention was when they started talking about Sukuna. Talking about the cologne he had on, how messy his hair looked, how his muscles looked with the sleeveless shirt he had on, you just wanted to see it all for yourself. That’s when the gears really started turning in your head.

You had been to the venue plenty of times for other concerts and you used to date a guy who used to be a security guard for the venue so he showed you some little secret routes and passageways. You had forgotten most of the specific routes but you were sure you could figure them out.

You were finally inside and made your way to your section and row, it gave you a perfect view of the stage and you felt the adrenaline rush through your body. You could finally see Sukuna. After 20 minutes the lights finally shut off and you heard a very familiar voice booming through the speakers, “who’s ready for a hell of a show tonight? The moment you’ve all been waiting for is finally here and I want to hear you all scream!” Cheers, cries and screams erupted as the lights came back on and all the members of the band were on stage. You looked at each of the members, Suguru at the drums, Mahito on bass, Satoru at the head of the stage with the microphone in his hand and finally, Sukuna.

He had a black sleeveless shirt that outlined his abs and jeans that hugged his legs in all the right places. Your eyes traveled along the tattoos on his arms, they were perfect just like him. You screamed his name loudly and for a moment it seemed like he acknowledged you, throwing a wink your way before he started playing.

You don’t think you had ever screamed that much in your life. You sang along with every song and your eyes never left Sukuna. You watched as his skin got damp with sweat and pink strands of his hair stuck to his forehead. As they finished their last song, you felt a wave of sadness. You enjoyed yourself so much and the concert was better than you imagined it would be. “Alright! You guys were fucking amazing! I think you guys have been the best crowd we’ve had so far! Thank you!” Satoru set the mic back on the stand and stepped back while Sukuna stepped closer to his mic.

“Thank you for an amazing show, now you all know what time it is.” He reached into his pocket and held up a couple guitar picks. At the end of every show he always threw some guitar picks at the audience for some lucky fans to keep. Your heart started beating as he walked along the stage and started tossing them. You watched each one go in different directions and none of them made their way towards you. You lost all hope of receiving one as he tossed the last one and sighed as he made his way back to his mic. “Now, I’m doing something a little different tonight,” he reached into his pocket again and pulled out another pick, holding it up, “this is the pick I normally use for practice and it is signed. Don’t kill each other for it.” He started walking along the stage and stood close to where your section was before tossing it. Your eyes widened as you lifted your arms up to catch it and felt it hit your hand. You closed your fist and brought it close to your chest and screamed loudly as you looked at it.

“Goodnight! Stay safe. We love you!” Suguru’s voice echoed throughout the venue and everyone started moving out. You heard mumbles and complaints about the pick and about you getting it but you were just on cloud nine. You started walking out with everyone and you looked around. There had to be a door somewhere where there wasn’t security and somewhere no one was really paying attention to. You continued walking and then you found it, there was a black door that was just a crack open. If you weren’t looking for it then you definitely wouldn’t have found it. You looked around before slowly drifting away from the crowd of fans to the door. You grabbed the knob and opened it a little more to slip through before closing it behind you.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you started walking. It was dimly lit and you were completely disoriented but you continued to walk. After a few minutes of walking you saw a curtain and you moved closer and pushed it aside to look around. There you saw some stage hands moving a lot of the equipment. Your eyes widened as you continued to look around and saw the back of Satoru’s head as he walked into a room. “Holy shit” you muttered to yourself as you continued to watch everyone.

You should have been more aware, especially since you weren’t allowed there but you were just so caught up in the moment. “I didn’t think anyone knew about this entrance.” The voice was low and then you felt a hand on your shoulder. Your eyes widened and you gasped as you turned to look around and see who the voice belonged to. When you finally saw him, another gasp left you.

“Got lost?” A smirk was on his face as he looked at your shocked expression. You couldn’t believe that you were standing in front of Sukuna. You were completely starstruck as you looked at him while he stepped from behind you to the backstage area, in better lighting. At this distance you could see the smudged eyeliner at his eyes and his skin was still a little damp. “Hey, I asked you something so I would like an answer, or are you mute?”

You stumbled over your words for a moment before you regained your composure and stepped away from the curtain, closer to him. “I was just trying to find my way to the VIP event. I must have gone through the wrong door.” It was a poorly thought out lie and you knew that he saw right through it. “Really? Last time I checked, the VIP event was right before the concert and I definitely would’ve remembered someone like you.” His eyes scanned your body, focusing on how your skirt hugged your hips and thighs and how your shirt accentuated your chest. “Wanna try to answer my question again?”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as he shamelessly checked you out. You swallowed thickly and looked up at him, “I couldn’t afford the VIP tickets and I thought I could sneak in backstage and meet you guys. Well, mainly meet you, you’ve been my favorite member since you released your first single.” The smug smile on his face grew as he stepped closer to you and took your hand in his. “Well, come into my dressing room with me. You want the VIP experience so I’ll give it to you.” You held onto his hand tighter as he led you to the room with the door that had his name labeled on it. He opened the door and let you walk inside then followed behind you, locking it for extra measure.

He nodded his head at the small sofa that was there and then sat down once you were seated. You didn’t know how to react, one second you thought that you were going to get dragged out by security and the next second you’re with the sexiest man you’ve ever seen. “So, tell me a little about yourself. Well besides the fact that you’re a horrible liar and you like to sneak backstage after concerts.” You felt the heat rise to your cheeks again and started telling him about yourself. As you spoke, he continued to check you out and you watched as he tapped his freshly manicured fingers against the back of the sofa. You explained how you just graduated college and how you were working at a local office to just make some money until you could find something better and he nodded along but you could tell his mind was elsewhere.

“Interesting. Smart and beautiful, good thing I was the one that found you and not security. But what was the real reason you wanted to sneak back here? Not just for a little chat and some pictures right? I mean, look at that outfit, you got all dolled up and we can’t let that go to waste.” He moved closer to you and placed a hand on your thigh, you watched his tattooed hand move up and under your skirt, close enough to your pussy. He leaned in close and looked into your eyes as he finally pressed his fingers against your covered slit. You sucked in a breath and he leaned in to kiss you as he pulled your panties to the side and moved his fingers up and down your folds to collect your wetness on them before he pushed two fingers inside you. You moaned against his lips and lifted your hands up to hold onto his shoulders.

You dug your nails into his skin making him groan and he broke the kiss to start trailing open mouthed kisses along your neck. Moans and whimpers of his name left your lips as he pumped his fingers. He heard his name being yelled every night he was on tour but hearing it fall from your lips sounded so much sweeter. He bit down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder and licked over the spot before pulling his fingers out of you. He looked at his fingers before bringing them to his mouth, sucking on them with a groan. He pulled his fingers out of his mouth and then brought them to yours, pushing them inside and thrusted them for a moment before pulling them out.

“You taste so sweet f’me.” He leaned in to peck your lips and gently pushed you back so you could lay against the sofa. He flipped up your skirt and pulled your panties down then kneeled between your legs and pulled his cock out. Your eyes widened at the sight of it, it was huge, a lot bigger than your little dildo hidden away in your nightstand drawer. He spit on his hand and stroked it, chuckling at your reaction. “Don’t look so surprised, pretty. I’ll make sure it fits just right.” He leaned in and pressed his cock against your lips and started thrusting, giving himself a pussyjob.

He groaned and threw his head back at the feeling and you started to move your hips to grind against him. Little mewls and whines left your lips. You had to try to restrain yourself because you were sure that the walls weren’t soundproof and you were sure that some of the other band members were still in their rooms. You didn’t want to risk getting caught. He continued to thrust against your folds then he gripped the base of his cock and aimed it at your dripping entrance. He bit his bottom lip as he started pushing the tip in and you arched your back. He moved his hands down to your thighs and kept them spread as he continued to push his cock into you. “Keep your legs open f’me pretty, I’m gonna make you feel real good and I wanna see how this pretty pussy stretches around my cock.”

He continued to push into you, stretching you more and more as he filled you. It hurt so good and the moans didn’t stop leaving you. He kept going slow until he was about halfway inside you, that was when he slammed the rest of his length inside you. A loud cry left you and he quickly moved his hands, moving one hand around your throat and moved the other to rub your clit while he leaned in to press his lips against yours. He stilled his hips as you began to relax around him. He pulled away and squeezed the sides of your throat. “You can’t be so loud, if the rest of the guys found out that I snuck you in here, I’m sure they’ll want a piece of you too. I’m not the sharing type, especially with a pretty piece of ass like you. So be quiet f’me and enjoy the feeling of this fat cock in your tight pussy.”

He groaned as he started thrusting and he kept his hand at your throat. The feeling was overwhelming, you couldn’t believe it. You were getting fucked by your favorite guitarist. Choked out moans left you each time he bottomed out and he hit your sweet spot expertly. His muscles tensed and his hair started sticking to his forehead as he picked up the pace of his thrust. You were in the throes of pleasure when there was a sudden knock at the door.

Your eyes widened and your heart started racing. “Hey, we’re gonna grab something to eat and head to the hotel, gonna join us?” It was Mahito at the door, you could recognize his voice from anywhere. “Nah, I have some things to wrap up here but just pick something up for me. Get me a burger and fries and I’ll pick it up from you later.” He replied effortlessly as if he wasn’t fucking you, as if his cock wasn’t bullying its way into your cock with each thrust. “Got it, see ya!” You faintly heard the footsteps go away and Sukuna leaned down, squeezing your throat again.

“What a sweet little slut you are, clenching around me even tighter at the risk of being caught. Maybe I should share you with the rest of the guys.” He groaned by your ear as his cock hit your g spot repeatedly. You brought one hand up and held onto his arm while your legs started to tremble. Your impending orgasm kept building each second, “Sukuna, I’m so close.” He continued to thrust into you and rubbed your clit as he continued to pound into you. The sounds of your skin slapping and the slick sounds of your pussy filled the dressing room, “I know you’re close, pretty. Your pussy is just telling me how good she feels, I can hear it.”

You clenched around him tighter at his words and he started thrusting faster and harder. It wasn’t long before you came undone underneath him, you let out a strangled cry of his name and he thrusted a few more times before filling you with cum. He removed his hand from your throat and panted as he held onto the cushions of the sofa by your head. His eyes scanned your face and he leaned down to peck your lips before slowly pulling out of you. He walked over to grab some tissues and helped clean you off then helped you to your feet. He tucked himself back into his pants and you looked around for your panties. You finally grabbed them and you were about to put them on until they were snatched from your hands, “I’ll be keeping this. You got my practice pick as a souvenir, so I’ll be keeping this.” He shoved them into his pocket and winked at you.

“This is one of my favorite cities so the band and I will be staying here for a few more days before hitting the road for our next show��� he trailed off as he went to rummage through some papers and started writing something down on one of them. He looked over the paper then handed it over to you, “here’s where we’re staying and there’s my phone number. Ring me if you want another round with your favorite rockstar. Maybe I’ll feel generous next time to let the rest of the guys watch but I’ll need a better taste of you.” He pulled you close and kissed you, letting one of his hands roam to your ass to get a firm squeeze of it before pulling away.

“I’ll be expecting you soon, pretty.”

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