#i have been typing this for the last 2 hours?! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iamquiantrelle · 3 days ago

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SO INTO YOU ────── iamquaintrelle

# pairings: aurelien tchouameni x black reader (✨💕) # wc: 5.9k

# tags: @sucredreamer @snowseasonmademe @jessnotwiththemess @rougereds @judectrl @mufasathatniggatho @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbriii @sailurmewn @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro

# summary: you’re a multiple grammy winning artist with a record breaking single based on an embarrassing crush on a footballer & when that single demands visuals who else do you ask to be your video vixen besides said footballer crush? but is he also willing to blow your back out too? ♡ masterlist

You were never drinking tequila again. Ever.

The tequila bottle sat empty on your coffee table like evidence from a crime scene, mocking you with memories of last night's social media bravery. Your Grammy awards caught the morning light, their gold surfaces throwing judgmental sparkles across your living room walls. You'd really done it this time - slid into Aurélien Tchouam��ni's DMs like your verified check mark gave you the right to disturb his peace at 2 AM.

Your manager Carmen sat in the armchair across from you, tablet in hand as she went through tomorrow's flight details to Madrid. But your attention kept drifting to your phone, to that cursed Instagram conversation where you'd actually typed out "hey, random question but would you maybe want to be in my music video? no pressure lol" - asking him to star in your video for "So Into You," a song that lived in that dangerous space between confession and plausible deniability.

“Earth to lovergirl,” Carmen's professional tone carried just a hint of amusement. “You good? Or still having flashbacks to drunk-texting one of football's finest?”

His response still sat there in your DMs, casual as anything: “The song that's breaking records? I'd be down. Though I have to ask - any particular reason you thought of me? 😉”

You'd screamed into three different pillows after reading that.

“I still can't believe he said yes,” you mumbled, sinking deeper into the couch as Carmen scrolled through your embarrassing Instagram activity history with restrained glee. The evidence was damning: every single post liked within seconds, story reactions that probably made you look unhinged, the way you'd set notifications for his account months ago after that first video blessed your FYP.

It had been innocent enough at first - a clip of him in a post-match interview, fresh taper fade catching the stadium lights. Something about the way he carried himself, that quiet confidence wrapped in genuine humility, had you hitting that follow button before the video even finished. The way he'd laugh with his whole chest in interviews, how he could switch from intense focus on the field to the sweetest smile off it - you were gone before you even realized you were falling.

Your best friend had watched your descent with barely contained amusement. “Not you making a whole Tumblr shrine," she'd cackled one wine night, scrolling through @tchouamenithoughts. “Day 43 of manifesting Aurélien Tchouaméni to ruin my life’? Girl...”

“Listen,” you groaned now, watching Carmen pull up the same account on her phone, “we all cope differently.”

“Cope? You wrote a whole chart-topping song about how he 'controls the game like he could control your heart.' That's not coping, that's down catastrophic,” she said, maintaining her composure even as her eyes danced with mirth.

She wasn't wrong. You'd lost hours to The Bridge episodes, team interviews, even compilation videos of his best plays. You'd lost count of how many times you'd woken up hot and bothered from dreams featuring that TCHM chain of his dangling above you, his knowing smile as he�� nope. Not going there. Not when you were about to meet him in person.

Your phone lit up with a text from an unknown Spanish number:

“Looking forward to finally meeting tomorrow. Been keeping those 2AM DMs for motivation during training 😊 - AT”

“Oh my god,” you breathed, showing Carmen the screen. “He saved the messages.”

“Of course he did,” she said, checking something on her tablet. “You really think he didn't notice how you watch every single one of his Instagram lives? Even the 3 AM ones after matches where he's just vibing to Afrobeats in his gym? Those thirst traps?”

The way he moved to those beats had no business living rent-free in your head like it did. Neither did the way his eyes got soft when he talked about his family in interviews, or how that dangerous half-smirk would appear after a particularly clean tackle. You'd documented it all on your Tumblr, built whole theories around his personality based on how he interacted with teammates, analyzed every public appearance like it was your job.

“What if he found it?" The thought hit you suddenly. “The Tumblr account?”

Carmen's composed expression cracked slightly with a knowing smile. “Girl, if he has, he still said yes to the video. What does that tell you?”

You didn't want to think about what that might mean. Couldn't let yourself hope that maybe he'd noticed you too, that perhaps those quick likes on your Instagram stories weren't just courtesy, that the way he'd immediately responded to your drunk DM meant something.

Tomorrow you'd be in Madrid. Tomorrow you'd see if that confidence you'd analyzed in countless videos translated in person, if his smile was really as dangerous as it seemed through a screen.

“Make sure you pack some lingerie,” Carmen said as she gathered her things, a slight smirk playing at her lips. “Just in case those Tumblr manifestations worked.”

You buried your face in a throw pillow, but your heart was already racing at the possibility.

**************************************************

The Madrid morning sun painted the makeup room in ethereal hues, casting everything in a dreamlike glow that did nothing to settle your nerves. You sat still as the artist perfected your look - soft glam that highlighted your warm brown skin, each baby hair laid with precision, curls falling in a carefully crafted cascade. The "effortlessly gorgeous" aesthetic you'd aimed for had, ironically, required a 5 AM start.

“He's here,” your assistant's voice cut through your reverie, and your heart performed a gymnastics routine worthy of Olympic qualification.

Here's the thing about Aurélien Tchouaméni - all the 4K footage in the world, every professional photograph, every high-definition broadcast couldn't capture what he was in person. The way he commanded space wasn't something a camera could translate.

He had to duck slightly entering the room (had he always been that tall?), the morning light catching him like it knew exactly what it was doing. The fitted white tee and designer jeans he wore were deceptively simple, the kind of casual that required serious thought. That signature "TCHM" pendant caught the light as he moved, the diamond Cuban link chain you'd written dissertations about on Tumblr proving worthy of every analysis. You'd watched enough matches to know his height, studied enough footage to know his build, but something about him actually being there, all 6'2" of him absolutely dominating the space, had your carefully constructed composure threatening to crumble.

“So," he said, that dangerous half-smile playing at his lips as he approached, “you're the one who slid in my DMs at 2 AM?”

The ground could swallow you whole any minute now. His French accent in person was a weapon that should be classified as illegal. “Listen, about that–“

“Nah, don't apologize," he laughed, the sound rich enough to drown in. "It was cute. Especially that part about my ball control being 'unfairly hot.'”

"Please tell me you're joking," you groaned, but you couldn't help smiling. His presence was magnetic - that quiet confidence you'd analyzed through screens somehow even more potent in the flesh.

"Three fire emojis and everything," he grinned, and you noticed his taper fade was fresh, clearly done for the shoot. The chain caught the light again as he leaned slightly closer, shortening the considerable distance between you. "But for what it's worth? Your voice is unfairly hot too.”

Your cognitive functions ceased entirely. The proximity brought his cologne into focus - something expensive and intoxicating that absolutely wasn't helping your ability to form coherent thoughts. The height difference hit differently in person, requiring you to tilt your head back to meet his gaze.

“Five minutes to places!” the director's call pierced through your haze, saving you from having to remember basic language skills.

The shoot itself was a study in sweet torture. For the first time in your career, you found yourself flubbing takes - missing cues, getting lost in moments. You, who prided yourself on one-take perfection, needed multiple runs at the simplest scenes. But how could you focus when he kept looking at you like that? The way his eyes would drift slowly down your body between setups, how his hands would rub together - a tell you'd seen in dozens of post-match interviews when something particularly caught his interest. But then again, Aurélien was known for giving everything his complete attention. You'd watched enough footage to know that.

He played his role perfectly - too perfectly, really. Each take had him hitting his marks with the same precision he showed on the field, but there was something else there. Something in the way his hand would linger just a moment too long when helping you up, how his eyes would catch yours in the monitor playback.

“Last setup!” the director announced, and you silently thanked whatever higher power was listening. Your heart could only take so much.

“So," Aurélien said during the lighting adjustment, his voice dropping to a register that did dangerous things to your pussy. “Since you're such a football fan now... maybe you'd want to come to my match this weekend? VIP seats?”

Your heart stuttered. “Yeah? What if someone recognizes me?”

"Let them," he smiled, and that chain glinted again as he shifted closer. "Maybe I want people to know, especially about that DM.”

You couldn't help laughing despite your burning cheeks. "You're never letting that go, are you?”

"Never," he agreed, then added more softly: "But I'm glad you sent it. Been trying to figure out how to slide in your DMs too, especially after seeing all those likes on my gym posts.”

You looked up at him (way up - seriously, the height difference was doing things to you), catching that dangerous glint in his eye. “Oh….”

"Front row seats," he continued, voice dropping lower. "Right behind the bench. That way I'll know exactly where to look after I score.”

Your heart did another full gymnastic routine. “Pretty confident about that goal, huh?”

"I'm confident about a lot of things," he smiled, and that chain caught the light once more as he leaned down slightly. “Like how good those likes looked on my notifications.”

You were going to pass away on the spot. But then his hand found yours, and that smile softened into something more private, more real. “Sure I’ll go.”

Maybe drunk you had known exactly what she was doing after all.

******************************************

Thank god for these VIP seats because the view? Immaculate.

Grandpa Ancelotti finally put Aurélien in his rightful position and oh my god, watching him command the midfield in person hit so different. TV did not prepare you for this. At all.

The way his orange kit stretched across those shoulders when he'd gesture to teammates? Criminal. And those calves? You'd seen them in videos but in person they were actually unreal. The entire package was just unfair - whoever said football kits weren't flattering had never seen Aurélien Tchouaméni in one. His body was sculptural, all lean muscle and perfect proportions, like god really sat down and took extra time crafting him specifically to ruin your life.

You watched him talk tactics with Jude, all authority and focused energy, and the way he carried himself on the field had you feeling some type of way. His whole demeanor shifted during matches - all business and pure power. The intensity in his eyes when he'd call out positions? Yeah, you were definitely going to need a glass of water.

When he made that assist - a perfect pass that had the crowd screaming - you jumped up cheering before remembering you were supposed to be playing it cool. But how could you when he glanced your way during the celebration with that smile?

Every time he'd body someone off the ball, the way his muscles flexed with the effort... Lord have mercy. You'd really thought writing a song about him was peak down bad but watching him work in person? Your brain was absolutely short-circuiting.

During a water break, he caught your eye and adjusted his shirt - a move you'd seen in countless matches but this time it felt deliberate, just for you. The stadium lights hit his dark skin just right, making him look like he was literally glowing. And that jawline? Sharp enough to cut glass.

The final whistle had you watching his post-match routine like you hadn't already memorized it from videos - the handshakes, the quick interviews, the way he'd run his hand over his fresh fade when downplaying how good he was. But then he looked up at your spot again with that private little smile and yeah... you were absolutely screwed.

Because watching Aurélien Tchouaméni absolutely own the soccer pitch? That wasn't just attraction anymore. That was straight up ruination.

You made it to the designated area and only had to wait around 30 minutes before Aurélien showed up, fresh from the shower, dressed casually but still somehow managing to look like a walking problem. A clean black tee stretched across his chest, showing off the definition of his arms, paired with dark jeans that sat just right on his waist. And the way his chain rested against his collarbone? Yeah, this was dangerous.

“You waited long?” he asked, a lazy smile on his lips as he approached, exuding the kind of confidence that came naturally to him.

“Not really,” you said, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

His eyes dragged over you in a way that felt intentional, like he was cataloging every detail. “Good. Would’ve hated to keep you waiting.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, but before you could overthink it, he tilted his head. “You hungry?”

You blinked. “Yeah.”

“Come on, let’s get something to eat,” he said, nodding toward the exit.

You followed him out, keeping pace as he led you to his car — his matte black Lamborghini Urus. Of course. He opened the passenger door for you, stepping back just enough to give you space but still managing to be close, like his presence was a gravitational pull.

“You good?” he asked, one brow lifting as you hesitated before getting in.

You nodded quickly, sliding into the plush seat, inhaling the faint scent of leather and his cologne —clean, expensive, and entirely him. He shut the door gently before walking around to the driver’s side, settling in smoothly before starting the engine. The deep purr of the car filled the quiet, and when he rested one hand on the wheel, the other on the gear shift, your eyes traced the veins in his forearm, the way his fingers flexed slightly.

Yeah, this was setting you off.

Aurélien drove with an effortless confidence, maneuvering through Madrid’s streets like he’d done it a million times — which, of course, he had. As he looped around the Bernabéu, he nodded toward the stadium. “You should come back for a tour.”

Your head turned sharply toward him. “What?”

He glanced at you, amused by your surprise. “You liked watching me play, right?”

Like was an understatement. Watching him on the pitch, commanding the game with precision and strength, was one thing. But now, seeing him here, driving through the city with that same quiet control, his jaw flexing as he focused on the road, his fingers tapping against the wheel — it was too much.

You were obsessed. Fully.

Your crush was sitting mere inches away, effortlessly charming, looking stupid good behind the wheel, and here you were, acting all timid. No. You needed to snap out of it. Because if you didn’t make a move now, when would you?

“You like tacos?” His voice cut through your thoughts as he stopped at a red light, glancing at you with a knowing smirk.

Of course, you liked tacos. But right now? Food was the last thing on your mind.

Because tomorrow night, you’d be on a flight back to LA. Who knew when you’d see him again? Your lives were on different continents. And after everything —after DMing him, after him actually showing up for your video — didn’t you deserve this one night?

Your heart pounded as you turned toward him fully, a slow smile curving your lips. “Tacos can wait.”

Aurélien’s lips curved into a smirk, the kind that sent heat rushing through you. He tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence. “Oh? And what are you in the mood for?”

The way his voice dipped on the last word made your breath hitch. He knew exactly what you meant. And judging by the way his fingers flexed against the steering wheel, he liked where this was going.

“Maybe we can go back to your place?” you suggested, trying to sound casual despite the thrum of anticipation running through you.

He hummed, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip like he was weighing his options. “For something to eat…or?”

“Definitely or,” you giggled, the boldness surprising even yourself.

Aurélien let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he turned onto a quieter road. “Alright. So, UberEats later. Sounds good.”

Your stomach flipped at the ease in his tone, like this was the most natural thing in the world. Then his eyes flicked to you, warm and dark with something unreadable, and he bit his lip. “You’re so beautiful.”

The compliment was soft, unprompted, and it caught you off guard. Your chest tightened, heat creeping up your neck. “Thank you.”

He didn’t rush the drive, taking his time maneuvering through the streets, letting conversation flow easily between you. He asked about your time in Madrid, what you’d done so far, if you liked the city. And the whole time, his voice had that smooth, rich quality that made every word feel like it was meant just for you.

When he finally pulled up to his house — a sleek, modern place with clean lines and warm lighting —you barely had time to take it in before a low bark caught your attention.

Ocho.

The Belgian Malinois trotted toward the door as soon as you stepped inside, his dark eyes locked onto you with curiosity. Aurélien placed a reassuring hand on your lower back, his touch warm and grounding. “Let him sniff you first,” he murmured.

You extended your hand slightly, letting Ocho inspect you. The dog’s ears twitched before he gave a small huff, seemingly satisfied.

Aurélien grinned. “Good boy.” Then, switching to French, he said, “Va dans ta chambre.” (Go to your room.)

Ocho obeyed immediately, padding off toward what you assumed was his designated space.

“He’s well-trained,” you noted, impressed.

Aurélien shrugged, closing the door behind him. “Had to be. He’s my best boy.” Then he turned to you, his gaze softer now. “You want anything to drink?”

The fact that he even asked — so polite, so sweet —made your heart squeeze a little.

You shook your head. “I’m good.”

Still, he grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and a water anyway, tucking them under his arm before reaching for you. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you in just enough to make your breath hitch. “Come on.”

As he guided you upstairs, his lips found the side of your neck, pressing slow, lingering kisses against your skin as you walked. His goatee tickled, the warmth of his mouth sending shivers down your spine.

By the time you made it to his bedroom, you were already gripping his arm, steadying yourself against the dizzying effect of his touch.

Aurélien smirked as he nudged the door shut behind you. “Still thinking about tacos?”

Not even a little bit. “No.”

He placed the Gatorade and water bottle on the bedside table then Aurélien’s hands were warm against your waist, fingers pressing into your skin as he pulled you in. His lips found yours, soft at first, tasting, teasing, savoring. The kiss started slow, a gentle exploration, his lips moving against yours in a way that had your heart thudding in your chest.

But then his hands slid lower, gripping the curve of your hips, and something shifted. The kiss deepened, turning hotter, messier — needy. His tongue met yours, stroking, claiming, pulling soft moans from your lips that he swallowed greedily.

The room was quiet except for the sounds of your mouths working against each other, the wet slide of tongues, the occasional breathless sighs escaping between kisses. His fingers trailed up your back, making you arch into him, pressing your body flush against his. The heat between you was dizzying, his scent — fresh, clean, and something uniquely him —wrapping around you like a drug.

Your hands roamed, exploring the hard planes of his back, the ridges of muscle beneath his skin. He groaned into your mouth when your nails scratched lightly at his nape, the sound vibrating through you and making your thighs clench.

His hands moved with purpose now, sliding under the hem of your top, pushing it up, breaking the kiss only long enough to strip it from you. Then he went for your bottoms, peeling them away, leaving you in just your underwear. His dark eyes roved over you, taking you in, heat flickering in his gaze.

“Fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself, before his hands were back on you, caressing, exploring, like he needed to feel every inch of your skin.

You didn’t hesitate, your fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward. He let you pull it over his head, and your breath hitched when you got a full view of him — his abs looked even better in person, all taut muscle and definition, a masterpiece carved in 4D.

Your fingers traced along the ridges, relishing the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

Aurélien groaned, low and deep, his head tipping back slightly. “You’re really testing my patience, bébé.”

You smiled, dragging your fingertips lower, teasing along the waistband of his jeans. Your fingers worked at the button, then the zipper, easing the denim down his hips. He helped, pushing them the rest of the way until they pooled at his feet, leaving him in just his Aime boxers.

Your breath caught.

He was hard.

The thick outline of his length strained against the fabric, the sight making heat pool low in your belly.

Your hands ghosted over his erection, barely grazing him, but it was enough to make him suck in a sharp breath.

“Shit,” he hissed, his hips jerking slightly at the contact.

You muttered an apology, but he just shook his head, eyes dark with heat. “It’s okay, bébé.”

Then his lips were on yours again, stealing the breath from your lungs, guiding you toward the bed. You barely registered the feel of the mattress beneath you before he was pressing you down, his body hovering over yours, his heat surrounding you.

And from the way he looked at you — like he was about to ruin you — you knew you were in for it.

His hands skimmed down your body to unclasp your bra then his fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down your legs with agonizing slowness. His gaze roved over you, hungry and heated, before he lowered himself between your thighs.

His mouth found your skin, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from your navel downward, making you shiver in anticipation.

And then — oh.

Aurélien’s lips, his tongue, the warmth of his breath against your pussy had you gasping, your fingers tangling in his curls as he worked you over with a skill that had your thighs trembling.

He was deliberate but messy, completely focused on you, his lips wrapping around your clit while his tongue moved in slow, devastating circles. When he slipped two fingers inside, curling them just right, a strangled moan escaped your lips.

“Tu prends si bien, bébé,” he murmured against you, the vibration of his voice making you whimper. His fingers stroked inside you, matching the rhythm of his tongue, and your hips bucked instinctively. He just chuckled, holding you in place as he kept going, kept building you higher, until—

And then he pulled away.

A whimper of protest left your lips before you could stop it, and he smirked at your pout, his thumb swiping at the corner of his mouth like he was savoring the taste of you.

“Be right back,” he said, pressing a final kiss to your inner thigh before moving toward his dresser.

You pushed up on your elbows, watching as he pulled out a condom, then hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down. Your breath hitched at the sight of him — thick, long, and impossibly hard.

Aurélien caught you staring and smirked. “Like what you see?”

You swallowed, your cheeks heating. “Obviously.”

That made him chuckle as he rolled the condom on, then returned to the bed, his hands guiding your legs further apart as he settled between them. One arm reached behind you, grabbing a pillow and tucking it under your lower back, another small but thoughtful gesture that made your chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with arousal.

His lips found your neck as he nudged himself against your entrance, teasing you with shallow strokes, making your body crave him even more.

And as he finally, finally pushed inside, a deep moan left your lips, because — oh. Oh.

This was happening. Your crush, your fantasy, your dream — was now your reality.

His thrusts were slow at first, letting you feel every inch of him stretching you, filling you, but it didn’t take long before the teasing gave way to something deeper, more urgent. He kissed you through it, all tongue and heat, swallowing your moans as his hips found a steady rhythm.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with pleasure. “So wet for me.”

The chain around his neck swung forward with every movement, the cool metal brushing against your skin, dangling just above your face, and god, he looked beautiful like this — face twisted in pleasure, jaw clenched, brows furrowed, dark eyes locked on yours like he never wanted to look away.

“Tu es si belle,” he groaned, dropping his head to your neck, dragging open-mouthed kisses along your throat before moving lower. His tongue flicked over your nipple before he took it into his mouth, sucking just enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. Your back arched off the bed, hands tangling in his curls as you whimpered his name.

Aurélien pulled back slightly, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before he released you with a wet pop. His eyes met yours, dark and full of intent.

“Turn over for me,” he said, voice like gravel, thick with desire.

You swallowed, your body already obeying before your mind could catch up. He sat back, watching you get on all fours, his large hands smoothing over the curve of your ass, squeezing each cheek once before dragging up your spine. The way he looked at you, eyes burning with hunger, sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

“You’re perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself. Then he ran a hand through his curls, exhaling sharply before gripping your hips and lining himself up again.

And when he pushed back inside, deeper than before, a broken moan fell from your lips.

“That’s it, bébé,” he murmured, his fingers digging into your skin as he started to move, slow at first, teasing. “Taking me so well.”

His pace quickened, the sound of skin on skin filling the air, along with the low, guttural groans spilling from his lips. His chain swung again, the rhythmic clink of metal adding to the mix of sensations that had you spiraling.

“Feel me?” he rasped, dragging a hand up your spine to fist your hair gently, pulling just enough to make you arch. “So deep inside you. Fuck.”

You whimpered, barely able to form words, barely able to breathe with how good he felt, how he filled every inch of you like he was made for this.

“Talk to me,” he urged, voice raw. “Let me hear you.”

“I’m—” Your words broke off into a moan as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

“Yeah?” he taunted, a smirk in his voice. “Right there, huh?”

You could only nod frantically, your body trembling as he picked up the pace, chasing both of your releases. His angled his hips once more and that made you let out something primal.

“Damn, yes fuck me back,” he crooned just before you felt his lips touch the middle of spine. You shivered at the sensation, moaning out his name like a prayer.

“Aurélien….”

He rocked into you harder, faster and it made your toes curl. He was relentless and you loved every second of it. The sounds you both were making was the perfect lullaby of lust and pleasure.

“Mm…shit….Aurélien.” You couldn’t stop from moaning his name and judging by the way his hands gripped your hips each time, you could tell that he liked it.

Soon, you both were pushed over that edge, moaning as your orgasm overwhelmed your entire body. After awhile, you felt him slip out of you and then the bed shifted as he moved to throw out the condom.

Your body still hummed with the aftershocks of pleasure, limbs heavy, breath slowly evening out. You were probably a mess — hair wild, lips swollen, body still flushed with heat — but Aurélien? He looked unfairly good.

He was leaning back against the headboard, his chest still rising and falling steadily, dark skin glowing under the dim light. The chain that had been dangling in your face minutes ago now rested against his collarbones, catching the light with each small movement. He reached over to grab his Gatorade, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip before setting it on the bedside table.

Then, he turned to you, dark eyes scanning your face, something soft in his expression. “You want some?”

You shook your head, not because you weren’t thirsty, but because you couldn’t stop staring at him.

His lips quirked slightly. “You must really like me.”

The way he said it wasn’t cocky or teasing — it was knowing, like he’d been piecing it together all night. And maybe he was right, because you couldn’t help the dopey-ass smile that spread across your face.

Aurélien chuckled, shaking his head before exhaling through his nose. “I like you too. Wish you didn’t beat me to sliding in the DMs first, though.”

You lifted a brow. “You really mad about that?”

He made a little face, scrunching his nose slightly, which was unfairly adorable for someone who had just rearranged your insides. “Not that much,” he admitted. “But I would’ve liked the chase.”

You scoffed, rolling onto your side to face him. “The chase? What are you, a lion?”

That made him smile, a real one, warm and lazy, like he was letting his guard down completely. “When a guy likes a girl, he usually asks her out first,” he said simply. “You were in my likes, I was in yours… I was about to slide through, but yeah, you beat me to it.”

Your stomach did a little flip.

He reached out then, running a hand down your arm before linking his fingers loosely with yours. “But I’m gonna do the rest, okay?”

Your breath caught, your heart stumbling in your chest. This was Aurélien Tchouaméni, your crush, your dream, and now, here he was — holding your hand, looking at you like this wasn’t just some one-night thing.

“Okay,” you whispered, squeezing his fingers lightly.

His smile widened, and then he tugged you closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before settling beside you, keeping your hand in his like he wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon.

You couldn’t help but stare at him — at the strong lines of his face, the sharp jaw softened by the faintest hint of stubble, the fullness of his lips, the way his lashes rested against his cheeks when he blinked. He was so beautiful.

“What?” he murmured, catching you staring.

You shrugged, biting your lip. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

How crazy it was that you were here. That this wasn’t a dream. That your crush — the man who dominated the midfield with an effortless cool, the one you’d written lyrics about, the one you’d been too shy to DM for the longest time — was lying next to you, holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“About how wild this is,” you admitted.

Aurélien chuckled, his dimples flashing as he turned onto his side, propping his head up with his free hand. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “I mean, this time yesterday, I was just hoping you’d even notice me at the game. Now I’m in your bed.”

That smirk made a reappearance, but his voice was soft when he said, “I noticed you way before the game, bébé.”

Your stomach flipped. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” he said easily. “You think I wasn’t watching whenever you posted on Instagram? When you DM’d me?”

Your face warmed. “You didn’t answer right away.”

He grinned, teasing. “Had to make you sweat a little.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Wow, so you really are a lion.”

“Gotta keep things interesting,” he mused. Then, more seriously, “But I was always gonna answer.”

Something about the way he said it made your heart squeeze. Like he wasn’t just saying it to make you feel good. Like, in some way, he’d been waiting for this too.

You swallowed. “And now that I’m here?”

Aurélien’s eyes darkened slightly, but there was something tender in his gaze as he squeezed your fingers. “Now,” he murmured, shifting closer, “I’m making sure you come back.”

Your breath caught, and before you could think of a response, he kissed you.

It was slow this time, unhurried, like he wanted to take his time tasting you. His lips moved against yours with an intoxicating rhythm, deepening the kiss little by little until you were completely lost in it. His hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheek as he kissed you like he had all the time in the world.

And maybe he did. Maybe this wasn’t just for tonight.

Maybe, just maybe, this was only the beginning.

Aurélien pulled back just enough to search your face, his lips still brushing against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His fingers traced slow, lazy patterns along your arm as he studied you with that knowing smirk that made your stomach flip.

“That song,” he murmured. “It’s about me, isn’t it?”

Your heart stuttered.

For a second, you thought about playing coy, maybe teasing him a little, but what was the point? He already knew. You could see it in the glint of amusement in his eyes, the confidence in his voice.

You sighed, defeated but grinning. “Yeah,” you admitted softly. “It’s about you.”

Aurélien chuckled, shaking his head like he’d known it all along. “I knew it,” he said, his voice rich with satisfaction. “You should write another one.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Another song?”

“Mm-hmm.” His fingers brushed down your back, tracing the curve of your spine. “One about tonight.”

Your breath hitched at the implication, at the way his voice had dipped lower, rougher.

You bit your lip. “Might have to.”

Aurélien grinned. “Good,” he murmured, kissing you again. “Make it a love song.”

#quainwritings #aurelien tchouameni #quain’s masterlist #aurelien tchouameni x black oc #aurelien tchouameni fanfiction #aurelien tchouameni x black reader #aurelien tchouameni x reader #aurelien tchouameni fanfic #aurelien tchouameni fic #aurelien tchouameni imagine #footballer x reader #real madrid fanfic

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claramelooo · 2 days ago

Text

WOVEN FATES (2/???)

SURPRISE!!!

A little of expectations for you.

Enjoy it <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio X Fem Reader

Summary: When you hand over the Rio blouse, you discover something that maybe fate has different plans from yours.

Attraction

The sound of the keyboard was the only thing breaking the silence in the small apartment. You were hunched over your laptop, your eyes glued to the screen as you frantically searched.

"How to remove coffee stains from white cotton."

It was the tenth time you tried a different combination of words, and the results weren’t very helpful.

Glancing at the impeccably white shirt that Rio had lent you, you let out a nervous sigh. The light brown stain on the fabric seemed to mock you. Rio probably had dozens of other shirts, but you needed to return this one in perfect condition. It was as if your dignity depended on it.

After following the instructions from a dubious blog, you rushed to the nearest market and bought the most expensive liquid detergent you could find, along with a fabric softener whose advertisement promised to make any fabric as soft as a hug. It cost nearly all the money you had left, but it was worth it.

Hours later, the shirt was clean and smelling of lavender with a sophisticated floral touch. Perfect. Now, you just needed to deliver it.

The address on the card led you to one of the most upscale areas of Los Angeles, where the streets were wide, the buildings gleamed in the sun, and every storefront seemed to belong to another world.

You stopped in front of the art gallery bearing Rio’s name on an elegant sign. The large windows revealed a sophisticated and well-lit interior, where only a few people moved silently, contemplating the works on display.

Upon entering, the air was fresh and imbued with a faint scent of paint and polished wood. The first thing that caught your attention was the monumental pieces scattered throughout the space.

Some sculptures were abstract and imposing, others were paintings that seemed to overflow with emotion. There was a raw, hypnotic energy in those works – some wild, others so deeply personal that you felt a knot form in your throat as you looked at them.

You were so absorbed in the paintings that you almost didn’t notice the woman behind the marble counter, typing on her computer. Her neatly tied hair and thin glasses gave her a professional and serious appearance, and the sound of the keys was the only thing breaking the elegant silence of the environment.

“May I help you?” the receptionist asked, without taking her eyes off the screen.

You gripped the paper bag tighter. “I…I need to speak with Rio Vidal.”

This time, she looked up, appraising you for a moment with a neutral expression. “Do you have an appointment?”

You hesitated. “No. But I just need to deliver this”—you lifted the bag slightly in your hand. The woman’s haughty expression made it clear she really didn’t care. “—to her, so… It’s important.”

The woman sighed lightly, picked up the phone, and dialed a number. ��Mrs. Vidal, there’s a young woman here to see you. She says she needs to deliver something.”

There was a pause, and then the woman nodded, hanging up shortly after. “She said you should come upstairs.” The bored tone made it clear that this wasn’t exactly what one imagined doing with their life—or was working for Rio really that difficult?

“And don’t touch anything!” Your heart leaped, as if you’d been caught doing something wrong. You hadn’t even noticed that you were staring at the surrounding artworks with an almost childlike fascination.

Nervousness settled in your stomach as you pressed your lips together and proceeded.

Following the instructions, you walked to the second floor of the gallery, where a corridor with glass doors led to the private offices. When you reached the last door, you hesitated for a moment before lightly knocking and pushing it open.

The space was a spacious studio bathed in natural light coming from the huge windows. The smell of paint was stronger there, mixed with a woody hint. Rio was standing with her back turned, working on an unfinished canvas, and even without seeing her face, her presence dominated the room. When she turned around, her sharp gaze met yours, and a small, amused smile played on her lips.

“Oh. Look who came to grace us. Butterfingers.”

Your face immediately heated up. “I–I came to bring your blouse.” You carefully extended the paper bag, the fabric neatly folded and still perfumed with the expensive softener. “And again, I’m sorry.”

Rio got up with the ease of someone completely in control. She walked over to you, taking the bag with an almost lazy gesture, yet her eyes remained fixed on yours. When she pulled the shirt from inside the bag, one eyebrow arched, noticing the subtle scent that permeated the fabric.

“Lavender?” Her tone carried something indecipherable, a touch of provocation mixed with discreet interest.

You nodded, unsure of what to say. Rio held the shirt between her fingers, examining it for a moment before carefully folding it over the back of a chair.

She took the bag slowly, her eyes still fixed on you. Her smile seemed to analyze, to calculate. “You are so thoughtful, aren’t you?”

You felt your cheeks warm, too shy to admit that it felt like a ritual of personal redemption.

She let out a low laugh, shaking her head. “Thank you, my dear.”

Then, she set the bag aside as if she had no hurry to take it, and took a step toward you.

“You did a good job.” The proximity between you had grown closer now. “And since you’re here…” Her eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement. “What did you think of my works?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the question. You were still trying to catch your breath after walking through the gallery. Each piece seemed to have a life of its own, drawing you into a world of intense shapes, striking textures, and meticulously planned chaos.

Some works were monumental, dominating the room with an overwhelming presence. Others, smaller paintings, carried an emotional depth that you didn’t know how to process.

“They’re… impressive,” you answered hesitantly.

Rio tilted her head slightly, a playful smile on her lips. “Impressive? Is that all?”

You bit your lower lip, feeling her gaze burn into your skin. “I… I really liked that one over there.” You pointed to a painting with dark tones, where violent brushstrokes mixed with almost delicate details.

It was a canvas loaded with shadows and contrasts. A blend of obscurity and a desire hidden somewhere in the depths of the subconscious. Violent brushstrokes clashed in disorder, yet amidst the chaos, there was something almost delicate—subtleties concealed in the details, like secrets buried beneath layers of paint.

Green and brown intertwined as if linking past and present, life and decay, rebirth and oblivion. The green of persistence, of hope, suffocated by the earthy, solid, and inevitable brown. A silent struggle between promise and ruin.

Rio walked up to the painting, fingers gliding along the frame. "Curious. This piece is about desire." Her voice dropped slightly, as if confessing a secret. "The line between control and surrender."

Your stomach twisted at the way she said that, her gaze locking onto yours with calculated interest.

"And this one?" Rio gestured toward a nearby sculpture—a woman with an expression of pain, her form entangled in shapes that grasped and pulled her downward, tense, as if trapped in an eternal dilemma.

You hesitated. "The woman looks... restless."

"Exactly." Rio smirked slightly, as if satisfied with your response. "It’s about the moment before surrender. The hesitation before the inevitable." She stepped closer to you, her eyes fixed on your face. "I like that phase. When everything is just... anticipation."

Your breath hitched. There was something in the way Rio spoke—not just about art, but about you, about the situation unfolding between you two. The tension was almost palpable. Your fingers brushed lightly as you tried to look away, but she didn’t pull back.

And then, the gallery door opened. The sound of heels echoed through the space, a floral perfume mixing with the scent of paint and varnish.

"What a charming scene."

The voice came from behind you, husky and laced with irony. You turned around only to find a woman standing at the entrance, dressed in a flawless dark overcoat, her gaze sharp enough to be impossible to ignore.

Agatha Harkness.

Her eyes slowly swept over you before settling on Rio, a subtle smile playing on her lips.

"I hope I’m not interrupting anything... intimate."

You instinctively turned back, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as you recognized her. "P–Professor Harkness?" you stammered, your voice almost failing from the shock.

Agatha Harkness, with her dark hair impeccably styled and wrapped in a perfectly tailored purple suit, seemed even more imposing outside the classroom. Her eyes—blue and gleaming like ice under the sun—moved from you to Rio, lingering just a second too long on your hands, still close. There was something in that gaze, something that felt like much more than mere curiosity.

"Yes… and what exactly are you doing here with my wife?" The tone was sharp, but carried a veiled amusement, as if Agatha found the scene before her quite entertaining.

The word echoed in your mind like a distant chime, and your stomach dropped. Suddenly, the closeness between you and Rio, the way she looked at you, the condescending way she laughed at your reactions... everything took on a new meaning.

The tension in the room became tangible. It was as if the two women were engaged in a silent conversation, their gazes exchanging meanings far beyond your understanding.

You watched, shrinking into yourself, feeling like an intruder in a moment that seemed private—yet you couldn’t look away. The magnetism between them was undeniable, almost hypnotizing. They are the most beautiful couple I’ve ever seen, you thought, unable to stop yourself.

Rio was the first to break the silence that hung like a storm about to break. Her expression was serious, but there was a glint in her brown eyes that betrayed her usual control. "She just came to return my shirt, my love." Her tone was careless, almost lazy, as if deliberately ignoring the rising tension.

Agatha arched an eyebrow, her smile slightly sarcastic. "Ah, so you..." She tilted her head slightly, glancing sideways at Rio before fixing her gaze on you once more. "Are the one responsible for the coffee stain that ruined her favorite shirt? What a... twist."

You opened your mouth to explain, but Rio interrupted you with an irritatingly superior calm. "It was an accident. It's already taken care of." Her tone was indulgent, as if she were defending a childish mistake. As if you were exactly what she loved making you feel—small, fragile.

Agatha's eyes gleamed with something unreadable, and a soft clicking sound escaped when she pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Interesting."

And in that silent exchange between them, everything became clear: Agatha was not just the feared mentor of your course. She was Rio’s wife. And in that moment, the world seemed to shrink around you.

You realized you had stepped right into the center of something much bigger—something you weren’t sure you could even begin to comprehend.

As silence settled once more, Agatha took a step forward, leaning slightly toward you. "Well, gem, I do hope your disastrous talents are compensated for later, huh? After all, you’re supposed to impress me today, aren’t you?"

You swallowed hard, feeling heat rise through your body. Between the magnetism of Rio’s presence and the overwhelming allure of Agatha, you were completely trapped. And the worst—or best—part was that deep down, you didn’t want to escape.

You cleared your throat, trying to recover some semblance of dignity. "I—I should go. My shift starts in just a few minutes. Sorry again for the shirt, Mrs. Vidal." Your voice trembled, but you tried to sound firm, giving a nearly mechanical nod before hurrying out of the room, feeling Rio and Agatha’s gazes burning into your back. "And see you later, Professor Harkness."

Your heart was still pounding wildly as you left the art gallery, nearly stumbling onto the sidewalk. You tried not to think about the magnetism of those two women—the way their gazes seemed to pierce through you, the tension that pulsed between them.

But it was impossible.

Arriving at work, the chaos was evident before you even crossed the door. The sound of cups clinking, the endless hum of conversations, and the coffee machine steaming away created an uncomfortably familiar backdrop. Behind the counter, America stared at you with a look that mixed irritation and relief.

"Finally!" she muttered, throwing her hands up. "It's hell in here, and we haven't even made it past the first hour. And just so you know, the boss is watching. Better not screw things up again today."

You simply nodded, feeling the weight of her words like a brick on your chest. Since the coffee incident, you had been relegated to the counter, away from the customers. Making drinks was the most you could do now.

Trying to ignore her judging gaze, you adjusted your apron and began working. Cappuccino, latte, black coffee – it was almost automatic. Everything seemed reasonably under control until America came back, her face contorted with even more irritation.

"Hey," she said, pulling you by the arm. "That woman is here again. And guess what? She specifically asked for you to serve her."

You froze. "Rio?"

"The one and only. Soon, the boss is going to overcharge for these famous people," America crossed her arms, lowering her voice. "Does she always seem so grumpy? Seriously, the kind of person you look at and already feel like you've done something wrong."

You followed her gaze to a discreet corner of the room. There she was. Rio Vidal.

The immaculate blazer, dark hair falling over her shoulders with calculated carelessness, and that gaze... the kind of look that seemed to observe and judge everything at once, as if the world around her was just a minor detail. Even sitting down, there was something about her that exuded a commanding presence, something that made the room subtly bow to her will.

Rio Vidal was not just an artist – she was an icon. Critics called her "an eccentric genius," "an untamable mind," "a storm in the shape of a woman." Her exhibitions were exclusive events, her paintings fought over by collectors who paid fortunes for a single piece.

Her temperament, however, was almost as famous as her art. There were stories... so many stories. Assistants who quit in the first month, gallery owners who avoided direct contact, journalists who preferred to interview Agatha rather than deal with Rio's unpredictable mood.

And now, that same woman was here. Waiting for you.

America snapped her fingers in front of your face. "Earth to you. You're not going to make that panic face when you get over there, are you?"

You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the nervousness. "I'm not panicking."

She raised an eyebrow.

You exhaled slowly.

"Maybe a little."

Reaching the table, you tried to keep your posture, even though your heart was racing. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Vidal. It's a pleasure to see you here again. How can I assist you today?"

Rio lifted her eyes from the menu, the same penetrating gaze from before locking onto you. "I thought it would be fair to give you a chance at redemption," she said, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "You owe me a coffee, after all."

You swallowed hard, trying not to show how disarmed her words made you. "Of course, Mrs. Vidal. What would you like?"

She tilted her head slightly, as if studying you. "Surprise me."

Just like that. Without even looking at the menu, without giving any hints. Just the order hanging in the air, a challenge disguised as indifference.

Back at the counter, you focused on the drink, choosing the ingredients as if they were brushstrokes on a canvas. Caramel cappuccino. Sweet, but with a robust undertone, balanced. Like her? No, of course not. But... maybe.

As you prepared the cup with more care than ever, you felt her gaze burning into your back. Rio was watching, silent, her presence as heavy as spilled paint on a blank canvas.

When you returned to the table with the carefully prepared coffee, Rio took the cup but, instead of drinking immediately, spoke in a casual tone:

"Did you know my wife is curious about you?"

The words hit you like lightning. "Professor Harkness?" you asked, almost without thinking.

Rio smiled, but there was something calculated in her expression. "Yes. She mentioned you have... potential. Both in film and in causing trouble."

You didn’t know if it was a compliment or a provocation, but before you could answer, Rio finally took the cup to her lips. After a sip, she nodded, approving.

"How did you know caramel cappuccino was mine?" she asked, sipping a bit more of the sweet drink.

"Excuse me?" you asked, confused.

"Yesterday. I ordered caramel cappuccino and black coffee for Agatha. And today, you bring me a sweet drink. How did you know it was for me?" she asked, intrigued.

You blinked, feeling your heart tighten. You hadn't thought too much about it; you just followed your intuition when preparing the caramel cappuccino, as if you somehow knew it suited her. But now, under Rio's sharp gaze, the question seemed much more laden with meaning.

"I... I don’t know," you replied honestly, your voice low. "I just thought it suited you."

Rio raised an eyebrow, a subtle smile playing at the corners of her lips. "It suits me, does it?"

You immediately blushed, the words slipping out before you could control them. "I mean, uh... the cappuccino is... refined, but sweet. I just thought maybe it was something you’d like."

She tilted her head, her eyes dancing between amusement and curiosity. "Interesting."

The silence that followed was heavy, but somehow comfortable. You felt like Rio was watching you in a different way, as if she were trying to decipher something you didn’t even understand. Finally, she placed the cup on the table, crossing her arms over the wooden surface.

"You are really... rare, aren't you, little gem?" she said, leaning her body toward you, suddenly very interested in occupying the same air as you.

The nickname fell from Rio's mouth like a drop of poisoned honey, soft but loaded with something more. Your stomach twisted, and you felt the heat rise in your cheeks, bursting into a blush you couldn’t hide.

The words echoed, hitting you hard. Not just for the sound, but for the implication – the way she leaned her body, as if she wanted to wrap you in an invisible web.

"It’s an interesting nickname, but I really don’t understand," you said, your voice faltering slightly, gripping the cleaning cloth tightly, trying to keep your hands busy. "Professor Harkness calls me exactly that."

"Oh, I know," Rio replied, her eyes shining with something that seemed dangerous, but fascinating. "A rare, rough gem that needs to be shaped. Sounds exactly like you."

The air between you seemed heavier with each passing second. The silence wasn’t empty—it was filled with something you couldn’t define, but it made your breath feel too loud. You knew you shouldn’t feel this way; you were sure that Rio wasn’t trying to do anything malicious.

But then, why were her eyes so intense? Why did it seem like she wanted to tear away each of your secrets?

Before you could respond, the unmistakable sound of your boss’s voice sliced through the moment like a dull blade. “Ah, Ms. Vidal. Is she bothering you? I’ve told this girl not to get into trouble again...”

The coldness in your spine was immediate, but it didn’t last long. Rio’s sharp laugh pierced the air. Low, almost indulgent, but full of pure disdain. She straightened in her chair, lazily resting an arm over the backrest, like a queen on her throne watching a foolish subject.

“Tell me, do you always speak to your employees this way, or do you save that condescending tone just for women?” Her voice was sharp velvet, and the look she shot the man was enough to make him hesitate.

“I was just... commenting on yesterday’s incident,” he tried to fix, discomfort showing in his fake smile. “You know, with the coffee...”

“Ah, yes.” Rio interrupted, standing with rehearsed calm, her presence dominating the space as if she had always belonged there. “An incident that has already been resolved. And if I remember correctly, I was very clear: this girl,” she gestured vaguely toward you, “should not suffer any kind of reprisal.”

The air grew heavy. Your boss opened and closed his mouth but couldn’t find the words that could save him from Rio’s predator-like stare.

“C-Certainly, Ms. Vidal,” he conceded, averting his eyes like a cornered dog. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“It is now,” Rio declared, already bored with his existence. She slid her wallet out of her coat pocket, pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, and placed it on the counter without even looking at it. Folded with precision, as if every detail were part of a game only she knew.

“For her.” The command came soft, but undeniable.

And then, as if the man no longer existed, Rio turned her gaze back to you. For a moment, the world seemed to shrink until it fit inside the brown of her eyes.

“See you later, little gem,” she murmured, her voice slow, delicious, soaked in that almost lazy tone that made your skin tingle.

Before you could even catch your breath, Rio walked out of the cafe with the same lethal calm as always. The woody scent of her perfume lingered in the air, just like the shiver that ran down your spine—and the unsettling feeling that the game was only just beginning.

[...]

As you crossed the building’s doors, the opulence of the environment seemed to swallow any remnants of confidence you had brought with you. The façade reflected more than your image—it projected your insecurity before the magnitude of the world you had just entered.

This wasn’t just Agatha Harkness’s territory; it was her domain, a space that vibrated with her invisible but overwhelming authority. You were a misplaced piece here, and every step you took seemed to echo that reminder.

The interior was even more intimidating. The wide corridors, lined with black-and-white photos of legendary cinematic moments, and the glass doors revealing immaculate offices, exuded professionalism.

However, it was the dense silence, interrupted only by hurried whispers, that made it impossible to ignore the weight of Agatha’s influence. Her subordinates moved like gears in a perfectly adjusted machine, but every furtive glance they cast toward her office door revealed something else: fear.

When you entered the production room, the tension was almost tangible. The environment buzzed with the energy of busy professionals, but for a brief moment, everything seemed to freeze.

Subtle glances were raised only to assess your presence—there was no curiosity, only a cold, impersonal evaluation, as if they were deciding right then and there whether you belonged in that space.

“This is our new intern,” one of the subordinates announced, his voice carefully neutral. But the hesitation, though minimal, betrayed his discomfort.

Agatha didn’t need to raise her eyes for her presence to dominate the room. Sitting behind the desk, she seemed part of the very scenery—motionless, but in a way that suggested she could take control of everything at any moment. The space around her was too small for the grandeur she exuded.

Her long fingers held a script, which she leafed through with a genuine-seeming interest, though you knew it was just a game. Every gesture was calculated, a veiled display of power. Her silence was a warning.

Then, almost as a whim, Agatha raised her eyes.

The impact was immediate. Her gaze didn’t linger, but in an instant, it pierced you like a cold blade. There was no apparent emotion, only a meticulous examination—impersonal, surgical. You knew you were being analyzed, but you didn’t know what she was looking for. Just enough to understand that she had already made a decision.

And then, without a word, she turned her gaze away.

The ice in your chest spread as Agatha returned to her reading, dismissing your presence as if it were irrelevant. There was no need for orders or threats. Her indifference was the message.

The others returned to work as if nothing had happened. But, from time to time, someone would glance in your direction, almost as a silent reminder: don’t expect anything from her.

Your heart raced, and a feeling of discomfort enveloped you. Feeling invisible in front of her was harder than you’d imagined. Every subordinate who came to explain the procedures seemed to try their best to be as polite as possible, but the furtive glances they exchanged told everything: don’t mess with her, don’t question her, she doesn’t like that.

The tension in the air was suffocating, but also magnetic. Even being ignored, you couldn’t escape her presence. It was as if Agatha was in every corner of the room, shaping everyone’s behavior without needing a single word. Her silence was as eloquent as a direct order, and you realized that, even without looking at you, she was fully aware of your presence.

Suddenly, her voice cut through the silence, low but full of authority.

“I expect excellence. And I have no patience for those who don’t measure up.” Her voice was like a steel thread, elegant but sharp.

“This script should not have made it to my desk in this state.” She raised her eyes again, but not to you—as if you weren’t worthy of that privilege. “Correct it by tomorrow. And please, spare me any more wasted time.”

The room fell into complete silence, the air heavy with tension. Everyone seemed used to this type of order, but the pressure was palpable. Each person quickly returned to work, and you, almost breathless, tried to settle in and understand what was happening.

Agatha was a woman who didn’t waste time, and her team knew that.

It was as if, despite being there, you weren’t really noticed. Agatha, the woman who had made you so nervous during your first meeting, was now completely ignoring your existence. Which left you with a strange feeling. Was she mad about what happened with Rio earlier? Or was this just her way of working?

Throughout the rest of the day, you followed the instructions, trying to focus on the work and the small responsibilities given to you, but your mind couldn’t stop returning to Agatha.

How could she be so distant and, at the same time, so fascinating? The way she kept control, how her presence filled the room effortlessly, was something you had only seen in movies.

You approached, introduced almost automatically, like just another piece in the puzzle. Agatha didn’t deign to look at you more than once, not even when her subordinate introduced you. Her eyes were fixed on papers, uninterested in what you had to offer.

You, in turn, stood there, trying to absorb every bit of information, but the feeling of invisibility was almost suffocating.

You felt humiliation wash over you, but what bothered you the most was how Agatha seemed to put so much effort into ignoring you. As if your presence was an inconvenience, something she simply didn’t want to deal with.

Your body tensed, but you held your posture, forcing your mind to focus on the task at hand. But the question lingered: Why was she treating you this way?

You worked alongside Yelena, helping build the script. The clock ticked slowly, but for her, time seemed to move differently — without hurry, without hesitation, as if she already knew exactly what needed to be done.

Yelena was young like you, but that was where the similarities ended. She had a firm, secure posture that exuded a kind of confidence you didn’t know how to reach. Where you hesitated, she acted. Where you doubted, she asserted. It wasn’t arrogance, it was conviction.

And Agatha saw her.

The director never needed to ask Yelena for anything twice. She didn’t even need to ask. It was as if there was silent communication between them, a tacit understanding that made everything easier. While you tried to prove your worth with every task, Yelena was already an essential piece in that machine.

You wanted to be seen that way.

"Hey, you still here?" Yelena’s voice cut through your thoughts.

You blinked, realizing you had been staring at the woman in a constant daydream.

"Sorry," you murmured, returning to your work.

She chuckled softly, not cruelly, but with a familiarity that made your chest tighten. "Relax. I know what it’s like to want her approval."

You froze for a second.

Yelena sighed, leaning against the table. "Everyone wants to be seen by her. But she doesn’t see just anyone."

The words stayed with you long after work was over.

When you finally said goodbye to the team, the sense of relief was immediate. It was already getting dark, and you walked to the bus stop, trying to process everything you had experienced that day.

But as you passed by the street, something made you stop. The sound of a powerful engine made your body tense automatically. A black Audi A5 parked next to the bus stop. You felt a wave of tension pass through your body, your heart beating faster.

The car window rolled down, revealing Agatha, who was there, as if she had appeared out of nowhere. The way her blue eyes fixed on you was as if she were watching every inch of your soul, as if she were trying to understand what made you different.

"You’re going to wait for the bus here until when, dear?" Agatha asked with the same coldness, but there was something in her tone that made you hesitate. She didn’t seem like she wanted to leave anytime soon.

You looked at her, surprised. The woman of undeniable power was inviting you to something that didn’t seem like just politeness. "I... I’m waiting for the bus, but..."

Before you could finish the sentence, Agatha interrupted with an impatient gesture, her expression still calculated. "Don’t tell me the obvious. Don’t make me repeat myself. Get in the car."

You hesitated for a second, but the invitation was direct, and, as strange as it was, something in the way she spoke made you give in. You got into the car, and the silence between you two stretched until the vehicle started moving.

The smell of leather and the elegant environment of the car enveloped you in an uncomfortably intimidating way. The luxurious interior of the Audi seemed designed to constantly remind you that you didn’t belong there, but at the same time, there was something hypnotizing in Agatha’s presence.

She was so close, but at the same time, so distant, like an unrelenting observer, examining each of your movements. The car’s engine moved smoothly through the streets, but the tension growing between you two made time seem denser, slower.

"Then guide me..." Agatha said, her voice soft, but with an authority that left no room for contestation.

You swallowed hard, the nervousness taking over your body as you recited your address, trying to maintain composure. "You shouldn’t be doing this... You’ll get home late," you said with hesitant concern, as if you were somehow looking out for her.

She scoffed, clearly amused by your audacity, but not letting it show. As much as your posture screamed submission, you couldn’t hide the nervous tremor in your voice, as if simply speaking to her was a challenge to your own sanity.

"And who do you think you are to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do?" Agatha’s tone was low but full of authority that made you shrink.

Her blue eyes, so clear and imposing, gleamed dangerously as they fixed on you.

You choked on your words, but insisted, trying to keep some thread of reasoning. "I-I didn’t mean that... I— I’m just worried about your safety. And Mrs. Vidal... won’t like you getting home so late." You pointed out, as if it were obvious, as if you had found a way to justify your questioning.

Agatha leaned slightly forward, a playful expression dancing on her lips. "Oh. So this is about my wife, little gem?" She whispered, as if she had caught a child eating dessert before dinner. The movement of her body closer to you made your stomach tighten, and the feeling of heat in your belly intensified.

"N-no! That’s not..." You tried to correct, but were interrupted by her response.

And then, for the first time, you heard Agatha laugh. It wasn’t just any laugh; it was a rich, deep laugh, full of a somber strength, but at the same time, wonderfully captivating. It was almost as if she knew exactly the effect she had on you, as if she were laughing at a game you still didn’t fully understand.

"Don’t worry. Rio is organizing a charity event for the gallery. I’ll be alone for the next few hours," she said, her voice softer now, but the tension between you two continued to grow with every word.

The heat in your body didn't subside. You could feel the way the car moved through the streets, but all you could perceive was Agatha. She was in control, not just of the car but of everything around her—and worse, it seemed like she was in control of you too, though you didn’t understand why.

You gripped the leather beneath you, trying to focus, but you couldn’t escape the intensity radiating from her. It was as if, somehow, she knew what was happening inside you, and at the same time, had the power to make you crave more.

The car slowed smoothly as Agatha parked in front of the building where you lived. The engine’s roar ceased, leaving only the distant sound of the city in the background.

You fidgeted nervously with your hands, unsure whether to thank her, leave, or say something to break the silence, which seemed heavier than ever.

Before you could take any action, Agatha leaned slightly against the steering wheel, her eyes fixed on the plain, unremarkable entrance of the building. “Do you and your boyfriend live here?”

The question came in a casual tone, but her gaze, intense as always, was far from indifferent. Your body reacted immediately, a strange heat rising to your face.

It was impossible to tell if she was genuinely curious or just testing you in some way you didn’t yet understand.

“I don’t like them. Men, I mean,” you replied without thinking, trying to sound indifferent, but the almost imperceptible tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Agatha turned her face toward you slowly and deliberately, as if savoring every word she'd just heard. Her blue eyes shone with an intensity that made you feel as though the air inside the car had become thinner.

“Ah,” she murmured, almost as if processing the information, but the way the word escaped her lips suggested something more. She didn’t seem surprised or judgmental—just dangerously intrigued. “I see.”

The silence that followed was overwhelming. You could feel the weight of her gaze on you, as if she could see through your skin, through your soul. You tried to look away, but her proximity, the scent of her perfume mingling with the leather of the car, all conspired to make you even more nervous.

“So, what do you like, then?” Agatha finally asked, her voice softer now, almost a whisper, but laden with a curiosity that didn’t seem rhetorical.

Your heart raced, and your throat felt dry. “I... I like women who are...” The words escaped before you could fully form them, and the way she looked at you, that half-smile on her lips, didn’t help.

“Women who are...?” she prompted, raising an eyebrow. There was something in her tone that made it sound more like a tease than a question.

“Powerful,” you completed, almost choking on the word, feeling your face burn. It was true, but it felt like a pathetically ridiculous answer at that moment.

Agatha tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into an enigmatic smile. “Power. How interesting.” Her tone was almost mocking, yet still soft, as if she were playing with something only she understood.

You knew you should leave, end the conversation, but something about her kept you there. It was the gaze, the way she seemed to control the environment effortlessly, as if she was fully aware of what she was doing to you.

“I…” You began hesitantly, and cursed yourself for starting. “—did I impress you today?” And then you let it slip, completely trapped by the atmosphere.

Agatha raised an eyebrow, her smile widening, but without losing that air of mystery. “Impress?” She repeated, as if savoring the word. “Maybe you should try a little harder, little gem.”

The nickname came like a sharp knife, slicing through the air and leaving you breathless. You felt the heat rise to your neck, but couldn’t look away. There was something in the way she spoke, something that held you, that made you want to prove you could impress her, that you could be worthy of her attention.

“I will,” you replied, your voice firmer than you expected, but still laced with a vulnerability you couldn’t hide.

Agatha didn’t hesitate. “Good girl,” she said, her voice soft, yet filled with approval. There was something in that compliment that made you feel small and, at the same time, powerful, as if she had placed a key in your hands but hadn’t yet told you which door to open.

She leaned in a little closer, and you could smell her—jasmine and something deeper, something that made you feel dizzy. Her blue eyes seemed to pierce your soul, as if reading every thought, every desire you could barely articulate.

“You have potential,” she continued, her voice low, almost a whisper. “But potential is nothing without direction. Without... control.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you couldn’t move. Agatha was so close now that you could feel the heat of her body, and it only made the confusion of emotions inside you grow stronger.

“And what do you want me to do?” you asked, your voice trembling, but full of a courage you didn’t know you had.

Agatha smiled, her lips curving into an expression that was both gentle and perverse, as if she knew a truth but wouldn’t share it. “You’d better get inside before it gets too late. I don’t want to be responsible for... unwanted events tomorrow.”

There was an unspoken weight in her choice of words, something that sent a chill down your spine. You swallowed hard, muttering a hasty thank you before opening the car door.

As you stepped out, you could still feel her eyes on you. When you closed the door and began walking toward the building, the sound of the Audi’s engine roared to life again. But instead of speeding off, the car stayed there for a few more seconds, as if she was making sure you got inside safely—or maybe something more.

As you crossed the building’s door, the tension still weighed on your shoulders, but now there was something else, something you couldn’t name, but you knew it wouldn’t leave you alone anytime soon.

You sighed heavily once you locked the door behind you. Lucky came up to greet you with a sleepy meow, rubbing against your legs as if it knew exactly what kind of day you’d had.

“Hey, my baby,” you murmured, bending down to pet its head. “Today was... intense.” You shook your head, took off your shoes, and went straight to the sofa. “And by intense, I mean absolutely exhausting and confusing.”

Lucky meowed in response, jumping up beside you as you let out a short laugh. "You're the only one in my life who doesn't complicate things. You know that, don't you?" He purred in reply, and you sighed again before getting up and heading to the bedroom.

After changing and turning off the lights, you lay down in bed, trying to finally relax. But as soon as you closed your eyes, your mind began to wander, as it always did.

First came Rio's subtle gaze, the way she watched you, as if trying to unravel every layer of you. The deep timbre of her voice echoed in your head, and you found yourself imagining what it would be like if those words were closer, more intimate.

And then... Agatha. The memory of her behind the wheel, her hands with their prominent blue veins gripping the steering wheel, the way her eyes seemed to pierce your soul effortlessly.

Her scent invaded your memory. You turned over in bed, trying to push these thoughts away, but they only seemed to grow, spreading like an uncontrollable fire. The heat in your belly built unbearably. The pressure was almost palpable, and you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep like this.

Your breathing grew faster, uneven, as your mind flooded with images of Rio and Agatha. They were there, so vivid in your memory that you could almost smell their perfumes—Rio's sweet warmth and Agatha's hypnotic sophistication.

The thought of them being older, experienced, old enough to be your mothers, made your stomach twist in a mix of nervousness and desire.

There was something wrong about this kind of fascination, something that should have repelled you. But instead, it only made everything even more magnetic, more forbidden. The age difference, the contrast between their lives and the power they exuded, made the heat in your belly intensify.

"Fuck me!" you exclaimed, moaning desperately as your hands slid under the blanket. Your fingers found the wet heat between your legs, and you didn't hesitate.

The initial touch was light, just the tips of your fingers sliding over your clit, already swollen and sensitive. You arched your back, a low moan escaping your lips.

Now the movements were frantic, almost torturous, as you explored the growing sensation. Your body reacted on its own, your thighs instinctively tightening as you gave in to the desire burning inside you.

Your mind alternated between the two: Rio, with that provocative smile and piercing gaze, and Agatha, with her low, cutting voice, so full of authority. Both were women who could easily teach you everything you didn't yet know, and that excited you more than it should.

As your mind grew hazy with the approach of orgasm, your subconscious took over, setting your body ablaze with immoral thoughts.

But now it was too late.

You were already falling.

They were no longer just the most important women in Hollywood—they were archetypes. Figures carved from a need you didn’t dare name. Agatha, with her ever-sarcastic laugh and cold eyes, was the mother who set boundaries, who said “no” with a razor-sharp smile. Rio, with her tattoos and raspy laugh, was the mother who spoiled you, who let you eat dessert before dinner just to see you smile. Together, they filled every gap life had carved into you.

A slip of fingers over your skin, trying to mimic the touch you imagined Agatha would have—firm, calculated, intentional. But soon your mind betrayed you, replacing her with Rio, whose hands were warm and impatient, as if they knew exactly where you needed it most. Your body responded before reason could intervene, a moan escaping your lips as your hips pressed into the mattress, seeking relief.

“Little gem,” Agatha’s voice echoed in your mind, as if she were there in the dark, watching. “Do you think this is enough?”

You bit your lip, your fingers moving faster, trying to prove that it was. But it was useless. The image of Rio appeared then, laughing softly, as she always did when you tried to be too strong.

"Mommies..."

Your clit was swollen, sensitive, begging for more, and it pulsed even harder at the word with M. Your hands moved faster, the motions growing more intense, until everything culminated in a moment of pure release.

"Let me help, sweetie," her voice whispered, and you imagined her fingers replacing yours—wider, rougher, better.

It was a dangerous game. The more you tried to focus on one, the more the other intruded. Agatha pulling your hair back, ordering you to "behave," while Rio whispered that "making a mess" was allowed too. Your hand was now drenched, the movements so fast they hurt, but you didn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop.

"Mama will take care of you," Rio murmured in your imaginary ear, and you let out a whine, your legs shaking.

"Naugthy girl," Agatha reprimanded, but there was pride in her voice, as if she were happy you were letting yourself go.

"This is getting out of control," you whispered, your voice low and shaky. But even as the satisfaction still pulsed through your body, the desire for those women—so different and so powerful—continued to echo in your mind, impossible to ignore.

You're not good for me

But baby, I want you

I want you

Rio and Agatha. Two women so different, yet somehow they had pulled you into their orbit. It was as if both had drawn you into the eye of a storm, leaving you ungrounded.

Rio, with her magnetic charisma, had a warmth that was almost unbearably enveloping. Agatha, on the other hand, was the opposite—cold, cutting, but equally irresistible. And both were unattainable, older, married... so far removed from anything you could even imagine for yourself.

You're not good for me

But baby, I want you

I want you

You turned over in bed, hugging the pillow as if it could bring you some sense of comfort. But even that didn't help. The memory of their gazes continued to haunt you.

Rio's playful eyes seemed to fix on you with an intensity that made your stomach churn. And Agatha, always analyzing, always a step ahead, made you feel small and, at the same time, desperate to be seen.

"Why is this happening to me?" you murmured to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut.

Then you understood: it wasn’t just pleasure. It was a ritual.

Every touch was a way of rewriting history—Agatha teaching you how to be loved with discipline, Rio showing you how to be loved with excess. And you, caught in between, were the child who never knew what that meant, now intoxicated by both.

But even in that liberation, there was pain. Because deep down, you knew they weren’t really there. They never would be. They were just projections of a mind that, even at your age, still hoped someone would finally say, “I see you.”

You're not good for me

But baby, I want you

I want you

~*~

Mommies will teach you...

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01

@upsidedowndanvers

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hurtspideyparker · 16 hours ago

Note

For a request how about a fluffy winterhawk doing shopping to refill their first aid kit? I imagine between the two of them it sees a lot of use.

The pair walk at a leisurely pace in the 24 hour CVS.

There's a number of odd characters, including themselves, but that's what they get for shopping at 2 am. There's the goth cashier, a man in an oddly tall cowboy hat, a couple of teenagers messing around in the chip section, and of course the two Avengers with blooming bruises from the fight they just finished. Which is really not their fault. I mean, who does crime after midnight? Bad people, probably.

"Wanna get some ice cream?" Clint asks while tossing some frozen peas into the basket Bucky is carrying.

"I don't think we'll have enough room."

"Come on man, one Ben & Jerry's isn't gonna break the bank."

"One, really? For both of us? You threw a spoon at my head last time I poked in your pint. I just wanted to try the flavour."

Clint thinks on that.

"Hm, you're right, you're right. We'll do a wrap around at the end and I'll just carry it."

They leave the icy doors and head straight for the first aid aisle. They spot the gauze and bandages first, taking a moment to analyze the different brands, sizes, and types, before Clint takes an arm to the shelf and swipes the entire thing into their basket. Bucky nods approvingly before speaking up.

"This is your fault y'know, you procrastinate."

Clint scoffs, "I'll have you know it was your week to do the shopping."

"The first aid kit's been empty since last week, when you sprained your wrist. Remember when you tried using a compression sock as a wrap. Also, you're bleeding on the flyers."

Clint looks down at the paper. That indeed is his blood. Another drop falls from his nose onto the shelf, "oop, my bad." He grabs Bucky's sweatshirt and uses the corner to wipe up the blood.

Bucky rolls his eyes and grabs a box of band-aids off the next shelf.

"Just for that I'm getting you the hello kitty ones," Bucky pulls out an evil looking purple bunny and then tosses the box into the basket.

He peels it open and places the bandage with care over the bridge of the archer's nose.

"Joke's on you, Kuromi fits my colour scheme."

Bucky stares at him blankly for a moment.

"I speak 7 languages and yet I still manage to not understand you in your native one, which is honestly more impressive."

"Why thank you," Clint gives a cocksure smile.

They move along, tossing in some medical tape, 4 types of pain meds in giant bulk containers, and heat packs.

Bucky picks up a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

"Woah man, that stuff isn't right for you anymore. It's all about good ol' soap and water now. Don't you keep up with medical news?"

"No, and I doubt you do." he says with a raised brow.

"Okay fine, Bruce told me, but still."

While Bucky doesn't trust anything Clint finds online, he does trust Bruce Banner, so he puts the bottle down.

"Vaseline's in the beauty aisle, brb."

Clint jogs around the corner and Bucky calls out to his back, "stop saying abbreviations out loud!"

Bucky continues wandering on his own, collecting a few random things into the quickly filling basket.

"Incoming!" Bucky doesn't even react as a jar of Vaseline and some tweezers come flying over the shelving and land perfectly on the pile.

Bucky isn't even in his original spot anymore, how did—nope, not going there. If he asks, he'll just get told "because I'm fucking Hawkeye," with that stupid charming smirk that secretly gives him cuteness aggression.

Bucky Barnes does not get cuteness aggression.

He turns around the corner the same time Clint steps back in front of him.

"Hiya, did you miss me?"

"No," Bucky says, placing a little kiss on Clint's lips.

"Aw, you totally did." Clint fists Bucky's top and pulls him in for another kiss.

The man goes easily, melting into the familiar taste of copper and the sting in his lip from where someone hit him in the face with the butt of their rifle. The stubble is an even more familiar roughness, closer to a tickle. Clint pulls back with a salacious pop, bringing his thumb up to wipe away the spare saliva in the corner of Bucky's mouth.

They hear a strong tone of throat clearing nearby, looking up to see cowboy hat staring at them in disgust with a cart full of dog food.

"Evening sir," Clint waves, then gives a little tip of his imaginary hat. The man just shakes his head then needs moving.

"C'mon, get your ice cream and lets go."

Clint acquiesces, reluctantly pulling away from Bucky's warmth.

After getting the promised ice cream they head straight for the self checkout. The last time they went to a cashier-only pharmacy to restock their first aid they got stared at like they were planning on cutting up the cashier and selling her kidneys (the sewing kit really didn't help), so dumping the pile of gauze away from the employees prying eyes saves them from talking to the cops.

The receipt takes ages to print, Clint grabbing more and more of it like a magician pulling scarves from a hat.

"Babe, will you tie me up with the CVS receipt and do dirty, dirty things to me later?"

Bucky huffs out a laugh and pushes at the other's shoulder, "shut up freak."

Cowboy hat decides to pull up to a nearby checkout just at that very moment, freezing and sending the pair a look like he's personally casting them to the depths of hell.

Clint turns to him, a mischievous smirk that could mean nothing good.

"Sir, would you tie me up with this CVS receipt and—"

Bucky clamps a hand over the man's lips and forcibly drags him out of the building.

#winterhawk #bucky barnes #clint barton #marvel #marvel ficlet #ficlet #hawkguy #ask #anon #im super swamped with school rn but im thinking about the other asks and will get to them on the weekend!#this one was fun to write :D

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suhnflowerstay · 7 hours ago

Text

game night pt 2

taglist: @j-onepostzz @lovesunshinefelix @straykeedz @skzbangchanniee

bang chan x afab!reader, lee minho x afab!reader

wc: 10.9k

tags: toxic situationship vibes, high emotions, light angst, smut, fluff, love triangle

part 1

----------

minho: yo so is your friend single

Your eyes open, and Chan's still not awake. Chan typically wakes up before you do, but your brain was so restless thinking about the text from Minho and what it could mean. Chan being deep in sleep has to be a sign, you tell yourself, and your heart starts racing all over again. A large part of you knows that the man sleeping next to you would purposefully sabotage any potential fling with Minho over the weird possessiveness he feels and the double standards he holds. Luckily, you both know each other’s phone passcodes. While that knowledge typically leads to arguments and broken hearts, this time it can lead to something good. (for you at least)

In a burst of impulsivity, you grab Chan’s phone and unlock it to reply, acknowledging in your heart that there will be a fight that happens as a result of going through Chan’s phone to give your number to someone else. That, however, is a problem for future you to deal with.

chan: yeah, y/n’s single why do you ask

You bite your lip, (im)patiently waiting for him to reply, hoping so desperately that he’s also awake right now. To your surprise, the bubble pops up to show that he’s typing, and you internally squeal, looking over to ensure that Chan is still asleep.

minho: well after last night, i just couldn’t stop thinking about how y/n’s really funny and so insanely pretty it’s crazy

minho: and i figured if you two aren’t dating, why don’t i give it a try?

Fighting the urge to throw the phone across the room, you send Minho your number before setting Chan’s phone back on the nightstand. You already know that when he sees the messages, it’ll start another fight, but by that point, it won’t matter since you just received a text from Minho asking how you’re feeling after last night’s drinking.

Chan wakes up an hour or two later and finds the bed empty. He assumes you’re in the living room and groggily reaches for his phone, squinting while trying to read the notifications on his screen. He sees the group chat has been blowing up, and when he opens his messages app, Chan notices something weird. In his thread with Minho, your phone number is the last text sent. Chan’s positive he’s not the one who sent that, which means you must have, and he feels sick. He tries to suppress the anxiety rising from the pit of his stomach and opens up the group chat. Where everyone is talking about how hot his friend was. Cool cool cool.

hyunjin: bro chan

hyunjin: next time you bring a baddie to game night please give me a heads up

hyunjin: i was in no way ready to talk to someone who was both hot AND funny

changbin: no seriously

changbin: i also held myself back because i really thought you two were dating

changbin: i didn’t realize i missed my chance until minho yelled from across the room asking if you were dating and then whispered dibs

minho: you snooze you lose

minho: y/n is single but not for long

Chan immediately shoots into panic mode, his worst fears realized. Minho is going to ask you out. You’re going to say yes. He’s going to be amazing, and you are going to fall in love with him and get married and have 12 kids and a farm and like puppies and kitties too probably. Okay maybe he’s spiraling but…

How the hell is he supposed to compete with that and what the fuck is he going to do about it?

“You went through my phone and gave Minho your number???” Chan storms into the living room.

“Well, good morning to you too,” you say casually, looking back down at your phone to text Minho like you’ve been doing since you woke up.

“Are you going to respond at all, bro?!” Chan asks, bewildered, “Why would you text him your number from my phone? What happened to ‘I’m never gonna see him again’?”

“Well… that was before he asked if I was single, and like I told you last night, I am,” you say matter-of-factly.

Chan cannot believe what he’s hearing. His ears are ringing and he feels the blood draining from his body, especially from his face. He's sure he’s about to die because he has no idea what to do, but he knows he has to sabotage it somehow. Maybe he’ll tell all of his friends that you and he are secretly dating or maybe he’ll tell them you have an STI or that you torture animals. One way or another he has to make sure that not a single friend of his wants anything to do with you at all. He wishes so badly he never took you to game night and that they had no idea that you existed.

Three of Chan's most attractive and charming friends all want you, and you’re clearly interested in at least one of them. If you knew the rest of his friends all had some sort of interest in you, would you also be interested in them? He’s spiraling and lost in the fear of what could possibly happen that he doesn't even realize you’re calling out his name. He looks up and he’s now sitting on the couch. How did he get here?

“Chan! Channie, are you okay?” your voice slowly fades in. You look so concerned. Have you always looked so beautiful in the mornings? Chan thinks.

“What happened?”

“You didn’t say anything for a bit, and then you straight up looked like you were about to collapse onto the floor! Your face is so pale- are you okay? Do you have alcohol poisoning?”

Chan’s face turns red, and he can’t believe he just almost fainted in front of you at the thought of you going out with Minho. He needs to learn how to hide his feelings better, and he needs to do it fast.

You make sure he’s okay and that he’s eaten before you let him know you have to head out to do homework. This, of course, is a clever lie so that you can text Minho all weekend without an extremely jealous and possessive man peering over your shoulder, watching your every move.

What you don’t know is that Chan knows you’re doing this, or at least assuming you are, which is enough, and it’s making him progressively spiral and further lose his mind. He is overthinking every possible outcome. What if you’re talking about him? What if you don’t actually like how he is in bed and you tell his friend and now his entire friend group thinks he’s bad at sex? What if you say you don’t think he’s funny? What if you send Minho nudes? What if you send Minho nudes that he will never get? Chan doesn’t think he can handle that, and the room starts spinning again.

What if Minho does ask you out, and what if you say yes? The yes feels like a guarantee to Chan. Not for nothing, but Minho is a super good looking guy. He’s super sweet and exactly what you would describe as your type, so there is nothing stopping you from saying yes. What happens next? Will you be Minho’s girlfriend? Will he have to stop sleeping with you and jacking off to your nudes on the nights he doesn’t see you? Will you even still consider him your friend after everything you two have done? Is he going to lose you forever to a man who can’t tell if two people are dating or cousins?

---

You’d been texting Minho all weekend, getting to know each other, and as you walk up to campus on Monday morning, you’re honestly disappointed that he hasn’t alluded to any plan to see you or take you out on a date. As you walk towards your first class, a boy with purple hair suddenly pops up in front of you.

“Hi, beautiful,” he smiles.

“Hi, Minho” you respond, surprised.

“How was your weekend?” he asks, now apparently accompanying you on your walk to class. You find yourself feeling so grateful this is not the class you have with Chan because you aren’t mentally prepared for that drama right now. It is way too early for that.

“It was great. I actually met this really funny guy. He was about yay high,” you say gesturing and putting your hand at his height, “kind of crazy hair and eyes… oh! and says fucko a lot.”

“Oh wow,” he says laughing, “That sounds like a super interesting and hot guy that you should seriously consider asking to marry you. Truly sounds like a keeper,” he kids.

“I don't know that I'm thinking about marriage right now,” you say, playfully rolling your eyes.

“Boo!” he jeers, before asking, “Well if you aren’t thinking about marriage, could I interest you in thinking about a date?”

Your brain shuts down.

“YES!” you say a little too quickly, “Uh yes, yeah. For sureeee, dude. Definitely. That sounds great! I’m so down-” you ramble

“Say yes one more time, and I'll be convinced,” he jokes

“I could change my answer to no,” you warn.

“Fine, fine, fine-” he concedes as you pull up outside your classroom, “I’ll text you the details, yeah?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” you smile.

“Perfect,” he smiles back, leaning in to give you a kiss on the cheek.

Internal screaming ensues

Safe to say that your heart is racing for the rest of the day, and you might as well not have gone to class because you were not mentally present and learned nothing. The only thought in your mind is Minho, Minho, Minho, Minho, Minho-

“Y/N!!!”

Your thoughts are interrupted as you turn around to see Chan jogging up to you.

“Hey, baby,” he says, kissing you.

“Hi,” you reply softly, a little worried that someone (Minho) might be around but melting into his arms anyway.

“How were your classes? Ready to go to the library?”

In the midst of the Minho flash mob going on in your head, you had completely forgotten about your usual study date with Chan on Mondays. How were you supposed to act normal when you were patiently waiting for whatever details Minho was going to send you related to your date?

Chan could sense something was off with you, so he said, “Let’s call off studying for the day and take a drive. What do you think?”

“Sure, sounds fun!” you said thankful to hopefully have more of a distraction than your usual table at the library would give you. You had no clue where he was taking you until you wound up at the beach.

“Hello? What are we doing here?” you laugh.

“Well clearly you’re feeling overwhelmed about something, so I figured a walk on the beach would help since it always does,” he takes your hands into his, looking down shyly. Chan’s behavior is throwing you off, and it feels like it’s coming out of nowhere. It all feels so intimate, making your heart do cartwheels. He knows something’s wrong, so he took you to your favorite place to try to help. You nearly melt.

“Awwwww, Channieeeeee! You love me, how cute,” you softly pinch his cheek, trying to play it off. Instead of joking back, however, he slides his hand to the back of his neck with a little smile and deflects, “Let’s go get you something to eat before we take a walk, and maybe… if you want, you can talk it out, o-only if you want though.”

Talking it out isn’t really an option for you, seeing as your inner turmoil is coming from potentially being in love with Chan and definitely having a crush on Minho. You do, however, feel stress-free spending time with one of your best friends, just listening to the sounds of the ocean and giggling at whatever dumb jokes Chan makes. The familiar feeling comes creeping over you again, as you fall back into comfortable silence alongside Chan.

You are definitely a little bit in love with Chan, and there’s really no doubt now. You’ve been in denial for a very long time because… it’s Chan. He is probably your best friend in the whole wide world, and you refuse to be one of the many people that just fell in love despite him being very clear about his disinterest in relationships. It’s also not something you’re proud of. You were supposed to be totally cool and distant, and it’s entirely too late now. Both of you may have been wrong when you thought it would be simple transitioning from being best friends with someone to having sex with them without some sort of romantic feelings developing.

Even though you know Chan will never want anything other than something casual with you, seeing him in the sunset, smiling and laughing, makes your heart yearn for him even more. You think about how easy it all is and how right it feels. It's him. It just sucks that you are not the one for him... that you aren’t enough. Not enough to get him to want to commit, at least, because otherwise, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.

The sound of your phone buzzing throws you out of your depressive spiral, the screen lighting up with texts from the man you’ve wanted to hear from all day (and the only man who might be able to help you get over Chan).

minho: hi beautiful how was your day?

minho: are you free tomorrow night?

You smile a little at your phone, and Chan takes notice. He does his best to not look suspicious as he peeks over at your phone screen to see what Minho texted you, and his heart sinks.

“Who's that?” he asks, defeated.

“Oh, it’s just Minho,” you say, looking at your phone, unaware of the frown Chan is now wearing.

“What does he want?”

You look up and see Chan clearly not doing so well, and you begin feeling defensive and ready to remind him that he’s the one that doesn’t want to commit.

“He asked me out on a date earlier and texted me just now to see when I’m free,” you reply, waiting for whatever angry or annoyed response you’re about to get.

“Oh…”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, oh…” the boy looks down, “Did you want me to say something else?”

“No...” Yes! I want you to ask me not to go! you think. I want you to tell me you’re in love with me too and that you will never want anyone but me and that no one else could possibly be me. I want you to tell me that you want me just as much as I want you!

The two of you continue your walk in the sand after you let Minho know that you are indeed free. There is far less laughter, and there is no longer a carefree feeling. Chan drops you off at home, and you feel a bit sad over the shift that’s happening with him but hopeful and excited about your date with Minho.

---

Minho does not tell you what you two are doing on the date, so you have absolutely no idea what to wear. You decide to go for something casual enough that you wouldn’t feel too overdressed if you wound up at the movie theater but not so underdressed that you’d feel uncomfortable at a higher end restaurant. At least that’s how your best friend and roommate Haechan tells you to dress. He lends a helping hand by telling you if you look absolutely horrible or like you’re trying too hard. It may seem like it’s harsh, but he is tired of watching you cry over Chan on a weekly basis.

Being your roommate and best friend means that he hears about every fight with Chan and every girl you see Chan with. He sometimes even hears your fights if they happen in your shared apartment. He wants this to go well as much as you do, for your sake. You deserve someone sweet and caring who is serious about you, and from what Haechan has heard so far, Minho seems like he might be all of those things. This sentiment is reinforced when Minho picks you up.

Minho shows up to pick you up, but he picks you up. He doesn’t just text you that he’s outside. This man actually walks up to your door with flowers, and you are completely shocked. He's dressed in a button down shirt and some black pants, so you definitely feel comfortable with your choice of outfit.

“Wow, your place is really nice. It definitely feels like you,” he says, taking time to look at all the pictures of you and your friends, while you put the flowers in a vase. Then, he sees a picture of you with Chan.

“How long have you been friends with Chan?”

Taken aback by his question, you nearly drop the vase.

“Um- a few years. We met while both our families were on vacation, so we had a long distance friendship for a while before we decided to go to the same university,” you say, finally putting the vase down with the flowers arranged nicely.

“Well that’s lucky. I'm glad you did because now I get the pleasure of getting to know you,” he says, grinning as he walks back up to you.

Your cheeks warm, “H-how long have you been friends with Chan?”

“Oh, since childhood, like basically my entire life-“ he laughs, “I was always closer with his cousin Felix because we had similar interests, but Chan was always around as well. It’s actually super lucky that we met because I actually wasn’t going to go to the game night at all, but when I heard Chan was going, I knew I could get him to help me with the homework.”

“Oh wow, so we only met so that you could cheat on your homework?” you fake pout.

“Nooooo! Don’t say it like that! We met because fate wanted us to meet,” he smiles dreamily.

“Whatever you say, Minho,” your cheeks warm as you both make your way out the door to his car.

He opens up the door for you like a true gentleman and slides over to the driver's side.

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?”

“I do not!”

“Okay, perfect!” he responds, as he speeds off.

You chat a bit on the drive, just getting to know each other more. You learn that he’s obsessed with hip-hop dancing, which feels crazy considering his being a STEM major. He tells you about his cats and how in love with them he is and how much he loves his family. The ride to your unknown destination is basically never silent and filled with lots of teasing and giggles.

Finally, you arrive at your destination, and you look up to see you’re at the beach, once again.

“I remember you mentioning in one of the messages that the beach is really relaxing and a safe space for you, so I thought it would be a good idea for a first date to quell any nervousness” he says, looking unsure of whether you are happy with his choice or not.

“Minho… this is so sweet. This is a great idea, thank you-” you hug him and give him a kiss on the cheek. He blushes lightly and leads you on your way.

Minho planned for you two to have dinner at this small restaurant with a perfect view of the sunset. The meal was amazing, and the company you had was even better. Dinner was just an extension of the conversation you were having on the drive over, and after dinner, you then walked around the pier and decided it might be nicer to walk along the beach to avoid the crowds and have a more intimate and private date.

Minho made you feel so secure, and he made you feel so heard and validated. You never ran out of things to talk about. This dynamic isn’t something you’ve experienced before, and it’s a refreshing change of pace. In fact, it’s such a change of pace that it’s kind of making you…

Is basic affection and respect making you horny?

You are suddenly hyper aware of your body and its proximity to Minho’s body. Your hands keep drifting closer to each other as you walk alongside each other, lightly touching but never making that connection. Your eyes move to his lips as he talks, and you can’t believe how gorgeous his smile is. He probably has the softest looking lips you’ve ever seen on a man. He must use a lot of lip balm, you think. Men usually don’t have such moisturized lips. Then, you realize that the lips you’re looking at are no longer moving and neither is the body they’re attached to.

“Can I interest you in anything?” Minho asks smugly once you finally look up at his eyes.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry I can't believe I zoned out like that,” you reply, mortified.

“I’ll forgive you if you tell me what you were thinking about,” he smirks.

“I was thinking about how soft your lips must be,” you say matter-of-factly.

Minho’s facade crumbles a bit as he wasn’t expecting you to be so direct, and he looks down at your lips before looking back up into your eyes.

“Would you like to find out?” he asks and you immediately smash your lips against his. He has no idea where to put his hands. All he knows is he wants them all over you before finally landing on keeping them on your face. You finally part for air, and Minho has a hungry look in his eyes.

“So my place or yours?” you say, chest heaving as you catch your breath.

“Definitely yours.”

Thank God Haechan decided to give you the apartment.

You tumble into your little apartment with Minho, hands grasping at each other, desperately needing to feel each other. One by one, articles of clothing are getting strewn about on your path to the bedroom before you finally land at your final destination, and the two of you are basically naked. He lays you back in bed and leaves kisses as he makes his way down to where you need him most. You haven’t really had sex with anyone but Chan for a while, so having a new set of hands and lips on you is making you more sensitive than you thought you’d be. You shiver at every light touch and Minho notices.

“What’s wrong baby? Been a while?” he smirks. You decide to ignore him and instead say, “Please-”

“Please what, sweetie? I need words.”

“Please touch me-”

“Oh, don’t worry, darling. I will- I’ve been wanting to taste you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

He finally makes it down to where you need him, and he licks a stripe over your underwear, groaning.

“Fuck, you smell and taste so good, and I haven’t even gotten the real thing yet,” he says, more to himself than anything.

He tears off your underwear, needing to get to the real thing immediately and starts messily licking and sucking at your core. Chan never really goes down on you as you usually just skip to the main event, so, it has definitely been a while since you had this. You can’t stop all the noises escaping you, and they only make Minho even more feral. He is obsessed with hearing you, and he thinks he could honestly die like this and feel completely content. You taste that good. He swears he’s never had pussy this tasty, and he’s officially whipped without even being inside you yet.

He doesn’t even have a strategy as he eats you out- he’s more just being selfish. He just wants to get as much of your taste as he possibly can, and if you happen to cum in the process, then that’s a win in his book. His unpredictability in the way he licks and sucks and moans against your cunt is making you quickly approach your high, and the second you mention any word of being close, Minho proceeds to tongue fuck you while his nose rubs against your clit. The combination immediately tips you over as you chant his name. Even after you start to come down from your high, he's desperate to keep going down on you, and you have to pull his hair to get his attention. When you do pull his head up, the look in his eyes is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. He looks starved and desperate to taste more, pupils dilated, his mouth slightly open as he’s panting, waiting for the second your hand gives so he can go back to the task at hand.

“I need you inside me, baby," you say slowly. Minho almost throws a fit but decides there’ll be more time to eat you out later. He peels off his boxer briefs, and his member slaps up against his stomach. You’re shocked to say the least. You didn’t expect him to be so… big. He was definitely bigger than Chan. I should not be thinking about Chan right now. But it’s true! Not that Chan’s small, but he’s definitely not this big. You’re practically drooling watching him stroke it.

“You can have a taste later,” he smirks, reading your mind, “I need to feel that delicious pussy suck me in.”

He rubs the tip up and down your slit, groaning, coating it with every drop of wetness he can get. He thinks he could probably get off on just rubbing up against you with how wet you are.

“Are you ready for me, baby?”

You can only nod in response, since you’re sure you’ll start whining if you open your mouth.

He thrusts in just a little bit, and your body is already overwhelmed in the best way. Your body has to be at peak sensitivity right now because the way his cock feels entering your tight hole is otherworldly, and you’ve barely begun. When he finally fills you completely, his face can’t help but show how amazing you feel. “Fuck,” he gasps, his eyes shut, mouth open, and eyebrows knit. He might’ve been joking when he said you should propose to him, but he feels 100% serious that he would marry you right now.

“God, please move,” you moan, barely able to keep it together.

“Whatever you need, baby.”

As he starts to move, you see stars. Your body is completely overwhelmed, and you're grasping at the sheets, trying to ground yourself. You wrap your legs around him desperate to feel all of him all over you, and he gets the hint, leaning down to kiss you while continuing to plow into you. He starts kissing your neck and groaning in your ear and saying the dirtiest things.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so fucking tight, and you’re taking me so well,” he says, continuing at a brutal pace, “You’re being so loud, too- I bet the neighbors can hear how loud you are. I bet you love that you’re putting on a show for them- probably want them to watch, huh?” he feels you clench and he slows down, lifting himself back up to be able to see your face.

“Oh- you like being watched, huh, baby?”

You shake your head, your face getting hot knowing how turned on you were by the thought of someone seeing how good Minho is fucking you.

“No? Are you sure because that’s not what that slutty pussy is saying, is it? I think you love being watched, and you’d let me take you in front of all my friends, huh? Hyunjin and Changbin wanted a piece of you- maybe I’d let them watch.” You clench again, unable to keep yourself from babbling and moaning. You’re almost at the edge as Minho keeps ramming into you at the same pace, hitting the perfect spot everytime.

“Fuck, baby- you’re squeezing me so fucking tight- just a little slut wanting to get passed around by my group of friends, aren’t you?” he says as he wraps his hand around your throat, “You wanna get fucked over and over, baby? That it? You aren’t satisfied with one dick?”

“Daddy, please,” you whine, feeling yourself nearly over the edge. He leans back down to kiss you, hard. The intimacy of the close proximity, the dirty talk, the new angle he’s hitting inside of you. It’s all getting you closer and closer to your high. Then, he goes and whispers in your ear.

“Just a desperate, needy, little slut-” nibbling on your ear. This light stimulation is enough to send you over the edge, as you cum the hardest you have in a while, leaving scratches all over Minho and practically screaming his name. Minho is rapidly approaching his orgasm as your pussy tries to milk his cock for all it’s worth.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby- where do you want it?” he says, getting ready to pull out. You wrap your legs around him tighter and say, “Inside.”

“Fuck- oh my god. Shit- fuck, oh my god,” he says, releasing inside you, unable to stop himself as he continues to pound his cum deeper into your pussy. Finally, when the overstimulation is too much to bear, he pulls out, watching his cum trickle out of your hole in awe. He cleans you up before lying alongside you and wrapping his arms around you.

“I promise I don’t usually do this on first dates,” he says, kissing you on the cheek.

“Don’t worry- I won’t slut shame you,” you joke.

“I can be a slut,” he admits, “But this is not that. I really had a good time with you today, fully clothed, and I'd like to see you again- if that’s okay with you.

Wow. He fucked you, and he still wants to see you again. In public. On a date. With the intent of something serious developing between you two…

“I would actually love that,” you smile.

---

It's now been over a month with Minho, seeing him nearly every day. You always have a good time, and he always eats you out at the end of the date. He's so into you, and it’s a really refreshing change of pace. (But that hasn’t stopped you from seeing Chan on the days that you aren’t with Minho).

You aren’t exclusively dating Minho yet, but he has made it abundantly clear that he is okay with taking things slow, per your request. He’s so sweet- he even (re)introduces you to his friend group.

“This is Seungmin, who was at the game night,” Minho says as the boy shyly waves. “Then there’s Chan and Felix, who you already know.” Chan gives you a tight lipped smile. “There’s also Jeongin- he couldn’t be at game night because he had a music assignment to do.”

“Nice to meet you, Jeongin,” you say, and Jeongin just smiles in return.

“Then, there’s the troublemakers,” he jokes, and it makes you giggle a little bit which Chan notices. Chan actually notices everything. How Minho has his arm around you like it’s where it belongs. How you’re looking at him with stars in your eyes. How he is introducing you to his group of friends like you’re his girlfriend, which you definitely aren’t because he was deep inside you 2 nights ago, making you beg for his cum.

“There’s Hyunjin who you met,” Minho starts as Hyunjin pulls you in for a hug and whispers just loud enough for Minho to hear, “There’s still time to leave him.”

You giggle as Minho pulls you away and glares at Hyunjin.

“Hey! This is not why I’m doing these introductions… This is Changbin,” he says, turning back to you, “He was at the party, but I don’t think you two spoke.”

“No, we did not, and that was a big mistake on my part,” Changbin says, going in for a shorter hug than Hyunjin. When he pulls away, he keeps his hands on your waist.

“Nice to meet you officially, gorgeous. I second what Hyunjin said- it’s never too late to pick the better member of the friend group.”

You are now officially flustered. Did Minho tell them about the comment he made the first night you slept together? (and several nights after that)

You look around the group and a few of them are looking at you like they’d also like a taste… except for Chan who is glaring at Felix for staring.

“Yah! Stop it! I didn't bring them here for you guys to all stare and latch on. They’re here so that you all can meet the person I'm going to marry,” he jokes. Chan chokes. Why did Minho have to say that while he was drinking water? Now all of the attention is on Chan, everyone trying to figure out what happened. Finally, Chan is able to properly breathe again and Minho says, “Okay, well, moving on. I saved the best for last. This is my best friend Jisung!"

The boy smiles big and gives you a hug, just like the other boys (minus the suggestive comment) and says he’s happy to finally meet you, and apologizes for being so shy previously. The boys go on having independent conversations in small clusters, and you stick by Minho’s side listening to his conversation with Hyunjin and Changbin, that is, until you feel like someone is trying to make your head explode with their stare. You turn and look over to see none other than Chan who is not giving any attention to what his cousin has to say. He is instead trying to make not your head but Minho’s head explode. He thinks that if he hopes and prays enough, Minho’s head will just roll right off his body.

“I’m gonna go catch up with Chan,” you say, and the boys let you go but not without watching you leave. Minho slaps both Changbin and Hyunjin and says, “Hey! Stop it! You’re gonna scare them away!”

“Listen, you might have called dibs, but you aren’t married yet,” Changbin says.

“I have to agree,” Hyunjin adds.

“Guys, this isn’t funny anymore- don't even look at them!” They both immediately turn to look at you and Minho sighs, exasperated.

“Hey Chan,” you say, interrupting Felix’s rant about god knows what, “Can I talk to you about that thing?” You grab Chan’s arm and walk out of earshot before saying:

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“What are you talking about?” Chan asks, knowing all too well what you’re talking about.

“Chan, don’t play dumb- you’re looking at Minho like you want to kill him!”

“Am I not allowed to look at people?” he says, nonchalantly.

“Not when you’re looking at them like you want to kill them!” you whisper-yell.

“It’s just funny to me that he’s introducing you to everyone as if I wasn’t in your guts basically any day you weren’t with him.”

“Shhhhhhut the fuck up,” you hiss, looking back to make sure no one heard you two. “We aren’t official yet, but I like him, Chan- and you’re going to have to be okay with that.”

“Dude, he’s corny like- does he even know how to fuck you right?” he says in a cocky tone.

“You don’t want to know the answer to that, Chris, stop doing this.”

“What I can’t ask about your sex life with one of my friends?”

“No, actually. You can’t. Because you’re just going to start a fight, and look we’ve been on a few dates now. Talks are getting more serious and him introducing me to his friends is serious,” you respond.

“Minho is never serious about anyone-” he deadpans.

Your heart kinda breaks at hearing that, but you won’t let Chan know that so you throw it back on him.

“Okay well, that’s even more of a reason for you to not be concerned and to remember that it’s none of your business. If he’s not serious, then why is it a problem- how does it affect you?”

“It doesn’t- I’m just letting you know,” he mumbles.

“Well, I didn't ask for your input. You are going to have to act normal and not be a dickhead out of spite-”

“It’s not out of spite,” he interjects, “It’s-”

“It’s? It's what, Chan?” you ask, officially heated from this conversation.

“Hey, is everything ok over here?” Minho says, coming to your rescue and wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Yeah, we were done actually,” Chan says before walking away.

You nearly roll your eyes. You look back to Minho, smiling, and wrap your arms around his neck. You stay like that, talking about anything and everything while Chan glares from afar.

---

You've been spending a lot of your days waking up in Chan’s bed and then going to sleep in Minho’s. All this juggling has you feeling all sorts of things, but also, a pro is you have never been fucked so good and consistently. It would almost be worth it if it weren’t for all of the emotional turmoil and distress you’re feeling. Minho is so incredibly sweet and he fucks you so good, but the second you get a text from Chan, you’re down bad all over again.

For example:

3:25pm

minho: are you free tonight, beautiful?

3:25pm

channie: babyyyyy

channie: you’re coming over tonight right?

No! Enough is enough. You decide it’s time that you fully give yourself to Minho. If you’re still sleeping with Chan, there’s no way you’ll ever be fully focusing on Minho.

you: we need to talk

Chan's heart drops to his ass. This can’t be happening. He knows exactly what you’re going to say, and he actually thinks he will collapse this time. Maybe he does have feelings for you, but what’s he supposed to do about it now?

You show up at Chan's door, feeling like you’re going to puke out your heart. It’s just sex, right? You’re just friends who have sex, and so, this will be nothing. This will be a super easy conversation that will go so smoothly, and neither of you will feel any differently. You try to convince yourself all of that’s true and knock on the door.

“Hey, baby,” he greets you, already looking like something’s up.

“Hi Channie, how was your day?” you respond, walking in.

“Oh, it was pretty good. The same old shit. Hyunjin was nagging me about our group project, but it’ll be fine. What did you want to talk about?” he asks, cutting to the chase. You take a seat on the couch right next to him and try not to think about your knees touching and how you desperately want to touch more of him.

“So… as you know… I’ve been seeing Minho, and we’ve been on several dates…” Chan’s jaw clenches, “and things are going really well, honestly…” you smile genuinely. Minho has truly given you butterflies and is constantly making you feel like you’re the most gorgeous person he’s ever met. You have never ending conversations, and you truly have insane sexual chemistry. He's just not…

“Chan… we have to stop sleeping together. We always said if one of us needed to end it, we would- and I really like Minho, and I don't really want to be sleeping with anyone else while he’s trying to start a relationship with me-” you ramble, looking at the ground on that last part. “Is that okay?”

“Oh yeah- of course that’s okay! You know I can always get sex somewhere else, Y/N. It’s not a big deal,” he comments.

Well, that stings.

“Oh- okay. Great! Well… are we still friends?”

“Yeah, of course we’re still friends,” he smiles.

---

THAT WAS A LIE

It has been two weeks since your talk with Chan, he hasn’t so much as looked at you. He hasn’t been around his group of friends, and he’s been ignoring your texts. The only time you see him is at school with his arm around random girls or one time, at a party walking up to his room with- you’ll never guess- a random girl. You try not to let it bother you, but you’re failing miserably. You’re currently at a party glaring at him with a girl sitting on his lap when Minho comes up. Minho who you have been seeing for two months and who you still haven’t let be your boyfriend.

“Hi, baby,” Minho says, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. You turn around and see he’s a little pink. He's definitely drunk.

“Minho- honey, how much have you had to drink?”

“Like- literally nothing? I had like 4 shots of vodka,” he says, holding up 2 fingers. “Oh! And I only had a few hits off Jisung's bong,” He smiles. He's so cute. You can’t believe how cute this grown man can be.

“Okay, maybe we should go home- how does that sound baby?” you say in your sweetest voice because you know the cuteness overload will get him to listen to you.

“Aw- I can’t say no to youuuuu,” he smiles, booping your nose.

You walk him through the crowd as he has both arms wrapped around your shoulders so as to not lose you. He decides he isn’t ready to leave just yet and pulls you in the direction of dancing bodies.

“Minhoooooooo-”

“Come on, baby, just one dance? Please?” he pouts. You may know his weaknesses, but he knows yours too.

“Fineeeeee,” you sigh. “Just one,” you say, holding a finger up to let him know you’re serious.

Chan sees you two dancing and fights every urge to not get up and steal you away from Minho. He hates how happy you look and how close the purple-haired boy is to you. He hates knowing that you’ll be in his bed tonight or maybe he’ll be in yours, but either way you’ll definitely be with Minho and not with him. He wishes once again that he would’ve never taken you to that stupid game night. He thinks about how he lost his chance as he watches you full of joy with a man who is giving you everything you’ve ever asked for.

---

You luckily were able to get Minho home safely and stayed the night at his place to make sure he was taken care of. You wake up to the smell of him making breakfast, and you walk into the kitchen absolutely gobsmacked at how normal and not hungover he seems.

“I don’t understand how you just never suffer the consequences of your actions.”

“Someone up there really wants me to make you breakfast without being hungover- I don’t know what to say,” he laughs before turning to kiss you on the forehead. “How’d you sleep, gorgeous?"

Everything is so domestic with him. It just works. So why does it feel like something’s wrong? All of a sudden you’re hit with so much emotion, and you start crying in Minho’s kitchen.

“Whoa, are you okay? What's wrong? What did I say?” he asks, concerned, pulling you in for a hug.

You start crying harder because it’s not Minho’s fault, and it could never be Minho’s fault. All this time, you’ve been repressing your emotions, and this is how they boil over. Over a forehead kiss from the sweetest, hottest, best man because you know you can never truly belong to him.

“It's Chan, isn’t it?”

“Wha- huh?” you look up and Minho isn’t mad or angry, but he gives you a look of compassion and understanding.

“I mean, it is Chan, right- like it’s not Hyunjin or Changbin or something? I’d be pissed if it was either of them,” he shakes his head, keeping his arms around you.

“Minho, I'm so sorry. I really do like you- I just- I'm a mess, and I thought I was over Chan and being with you made me feel like I could get over him, but it wasn’t fair to you- and it didn’t even help-” you cry a few more tears into his chest before looking back up at him, “How did you know?”

“If I’m being honest… I knew from the day I met you. That’s why I had to double check you two weren’t dating. You looked at each other with stars in your eyes. I'm definitely interested in you, but it was clear to me that something was going on between you two, and that I, more than likely, wouldn't be able to tie you down.”

“I’m sorry, Minho. I’m so sorry. I mean, I know I have feelings for Chan but I doubt he feels that way about me-”

“Oh. He definitely does. He has not been able to stop staring at me like he wants to rip my head off in class. He’s definitely jealous,” he laughs

“Yeah, but jealousy doesn’t need to involve feelings,” you retort.

“Trust me, it does. I've known Chan for a while, and he has never been so upset or jealous over someone. And he has never targeted that jealousy at me. Not to be crass, but… we’ve sort of shared before.”

Your jaw drops. “WHAT? What do you mean shared??”

“Why? Are you interested?” he smirks.

“Minho,” you deadpan (though you definitely are interested, but that’s not the priority right now).

“I mean that we have actually shared… you know, been in the same bed? Tunnel buddies? Crossing streams? But we’ve also found out that we slept with the same people and sort of… compared notes once we realized.”

“Ugh, Minho, ew! Why would you do that?”

“Listen, it was just out of curiosity! In my defense, I am not typically interested in relationships and usually just sleep around. And also to be fair, we only compared like twice, okay?? But regardless, we have shared and also slept with the same people, and he has never had an issue with me going for anyone he’s ever slept with.”

“Okay…” you respond, skeptical.

“Okay. So that means you’re special, duh” he rolls his eyes.

“Minho, I just really don’t think that Christopher Chan Bang likes me the way you think he does.”

“I don’t think he likes you. I know that he loves you, but I think I know a way to help you out and prove it,” he says with a mischievous smile.

“What are you going to do?”

---

Another day, another party. Chan shows up with Felix and looks around the room, not really interested in seeing anyone but you. He's really hoping you’re not near Minho right now- but well, there’s Minho, surrounded by their group of friends, and he looks awfully smug.

“Dude, I can’t believe you’ve been playing them this whole time! It looked so real,” Jeongin looks incredulous.

“Wait, but do you think I have a chance? What was it like?” Changbin asked, desperate to know more.

Minho sees Chan come up and says, “They tasted so good,” provoking the already annoyed older man. “No wonder you kept Y/N around for so long,” he says, now making direct eye contact with Chan, “but they just never. stop. yapping. Like sometimes, I just want to stick my dick in their mouth to get them to shut up.”

Jisung knows that these aren’t Minho’s real feelings at all and is very confused as to why Minho would say these things in front of his friends. He’s ready to stand up for you when he sees the look on Chan’s face and suddenly understands what’s going on.

Chan is fuming. He can’t believe his ears. This is the guy you chose over him? This is the guy that’s going to sleep in your bed every night? He’s fighting every urge to rip Minho’s head off until Minho makes a pointed comment:

“That’s all Y/N’s good for. Am I right, Chan?”

Chan is not in control of his body when he swings at Minho’s face, hitting him square on the nose. Felix and Jisung have to physically pull Chan away as he continues to try to swing at him.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Minho screams.

“Y/N’s too good for you-” he hisses, thrashing against Felix and Jisung.

“Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it?”

“Fucking- let go of me!” he pushes the younger boys off and storms off.

There is only one thing he can focus on right now: finding you. He sees you off in another corner of the frat playing beer pong with Hyunjin by your side and fights the urge to punch another one of his friends for being within 2 feet of you.

“I need to talk to you-” he grabs your arm, dragging you away from the game.

“Wait, I was playinggg,” you whine.

“Don’t care.”

“Where are we going?” you ask, now extremely confused.

You finally make it to one of the bedrooms, looking around at the decor, this must be Felix’s room if the gaming setup is telling you anything.

“I'm with Minho,” you say indignantly as a reminder to Chan, knowing full well you aren't with Minho. His plan must have worked if Chan is in such a fuss over needing to talk to you.

“He’s a bitch, and you need to break it off with him.”

“Um… are you going to elaborate? You being pissed that I’m not fucking you anymore is not a good enough reason to end things with Minho.”

“He doesn’t give a shit about you, Y/N!” he responds, frustrated that you aren’t listening.

“Oh and you do? You haven’t even talked to me since I ended things with you, Chris!”

This is it. He’s going to say it, and it is in fact even scarier than he could have ever imagined.

“Yes, actually, I do- I’m in love with you and I give every shit about you and you’re the only person or thing in the world that I actually give a shit about!” he almost screams.

He sits down on the bed, unable to deal with the silence as you stand there shocked. You heavily doubted but thought maybe he harboured some romantic feelings for you, similar to a crush. Love? That is not what you were prepared for.

“I’m sorry he just- he talked about you like you were a piece of meat… and- and he’s not good enough for you! And I know I'm not either but… please,” he says, not even knowing what he’s asking for, “Just- please. I’m sorry it took me so long and I know it doesn’t seem genuine because of everything that’s happened but-” He stands up and takes your hands in his.

“I promise that I have felt like this the whole time. Since meeting you on that stupid vacation, I have not been able to control how I feel about you, and when we started sleeping together- it was like I was in heaven. But I was scared of losing you. Minho coming into the picture scared my ass into taking action after realizing how close I was to actually losing you. I promise I love you even if you don’t love me… and even if you don’t love me, please don’t be with him because he-” you kiss him to end his little rant.

Having his mouth against you again is better than anything you could’ve imagined. He’s hesitant at first, completely shocked at what’s happening, but immediately, he’s kissing you harder than he ever has. You can feel the desperation and every built up emotion he’s been holding back. Not even fireworks are enough to describe the atomic explosions going on inside you.

“Huh?” he says, completely dazed after you break apart, “Um, what was that? I-uh, I thought you were with Minho.”

“I’m not, actually,” you smile awkwardly.

“Bro, wh- what do you mean?” he asks, completely disoriented.

“Minho and I aren't together, and he was convinced that you had real feelings for me but I didn't believe him, so-”

“So, he said something that would make me want to punch him in the face,” he sighs.

“You punched him in the face??” you stop, your eyes wide.

“He was asking for it, quite literally, if what you’re telling me is true.”

“Oh wow. I really owe him big time.”

“Ummm… I don’t think you owe him anything. In fact, maybe you just never perceive Minho ever again. Sound like a good plan? I sure think so,” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“So… does this mean you have feelings for me? Real feelings?”

“Yes, dummy!” you say, nudging his shoulder, “I thought that would’ve been clear to you- you’re the one that was always out of reach.”

“I know, I know. It was like I was trying to avoid my real feelings for you and ended up self sabotaging.”

“How about now?” you ask softly, “Are you still trying to avoid your feelings?”

“Are you joking? There is absolutely no way to deny it anymore- I just punched my friend! Oh my god, I just punched my friend,” Chan repeats, in shock at the realization of what just happened.

“It’s fine, I'm sure he’ll forgive you. I'll put in a good word for you,” you joke.

“Actually, executive decision- starting now, you can never see any of my friends ever again, you’re too hot.”

“What? They’re literally my friends now!” you argue.

“I don’t care! They think you’re hot, and now after Minho’s little stunt, they know you taste good.”

“They know WHAT?”

“Let's not think about that right now. I'm going to make love to my baby without any interruptions,” he says, tugging your hips to be flush against his.

“Oh? Your baby huh? I don’t remember you asking me to be in a relationship,” you tease.

“Baby, beautiful, love of my life, will you please let me be your boyfriend?”

“I guess,” you sigh, pretending not to care before pushing him on the bed and straddling him. “This has been a long time coming, Channie. I can't believe you made me wait so long,” you say grinding down on him. “That's not very fair to me, huh?”

Chan is unable to think, feeling you rub against him for the first time in a long time. God, he’s missed you.

“Now tell me. Do you have a condom?”

“Wait, why would I need a condom?” he sits up, confused, way too distracted by how good you feel against him.

“Chan, I know you’ve been sleeping with other people,” you stop your maneuvering on his lap, anticipating an argument.

He whines, “No, baby, I haven't.”

He's tried to fuck other people, but he hasn’t been able to follow through with sleeping with anyone since you left.

“I wasn’t able to stop thinking about you. There was no interest for me. I couldn’t fuck someone else even if I tried.”

“But- you had girls on your lap and you’d take girls upstairs?”

“That was like one time, and it was just to make you jealous” he sinks. “I never did anything with her. I couldn't. She wasn’t you…” he trails off, looking embarrassed.

“Look at me, and tell me you didn’t sleep with anyone else.”

“I didn’t sleep with anyone else, my love. I couldn't. I only want you. I have always only wanted you. I love you.”

Finally.

You kiss him, and it’s the explosions all over again, but it’s even more emotion-filled this time. You were ready to experience what you always have: a passion filled desperate kiss. However, that isn’t the kiss you get. You can feel the love through the softness in the way he kisses you. He really wasn’t lying when he said he was going to make love to you. This lovestruck boy is going to make up for lost time.

He gently takes you off his lap, making you stand up, so that he can get you completely naked before laying you down. He moves his lips down to your jaw, kissing down to your neck and shoulder. He removes your shirt and leaves your torso completely bare before continuing to kiss down your body. He’s on his knees when he takes your bottoms off and looks at you in awe.

“God, I’ve missed this.”

He spreads your legs and kitten licks at your slit, immediately groaning at the taste he has craved for weeks. You’re so wet and he’s barely started touching you. You whine, and he realizes that keeping you standing is probably not ideal for what he’s trying to do. He gently lays you down, kissing you softly once again before going back to where you need him most. He doesn’t lick lightly this time, and he immediately captures your clit in his mouth. He begins to eat you like a man starved, as if he’s in a desert, and you are the last glass of water. The man cannot get enough of you, messily making out with your cunt, groaning and making the dirtiest sounds. You can hear how wet you are from the squelching sounds he’s making and if it wasn’t for how insanely good it feels, you might feel embarrassed. Chan has never eaten you out like this- it’s something you didn’t even know was possible from him. He almost never went down on you before, but now it’s like he needs your pussy to survive.

Chris cannot get enough of you. He is so lost in your cunt that he doesn’t realize that you’re telling him you’re close. You start grinding against his face chasing your high, and he decides to help the process by harshly sucking on your clit. You throw your head back and swear you see stars because you’ve never cum so hard from head before. You have to pull on Chan’s hair to get his head away from your core, and when you do, his face is covered in your slick. The way he looks at you is completely animalistic and it takes everything in him to not go right back into eating you out.

“Daddy, I need you- please,” you beg, as he moves his hands up and down your thighs, wanting to feel and caress all of you.

“Sweetheart, I have been thinking for weeks nonstop about how I needed to taste you again. You can give me one more orgasm, right? You’re gonna let me stretch you out on my fingers and tongue fuck that pretty pussy, right?”

You almost whine, but he’s never been so eager to go down on you. As much as you’ve missed his cock, this new side of Chan is turning you on so much. He sees the look on your face and knows you’re giving in, causing him to dive right back in. His digits slide into you with ease, slick from your first orgasm. Your walls are already clenching around his fingers, sensitive and still reeling from cumming so hard. It turns him on so much- he starts moaning into your pussy. Chan is so desperate to rip another orgasm out of you before finally getting to feel you around his cock.

“God, yes, just like that, Daddy,” you writhe underneath him, already close.

“Play with your tits for me, baby-”

You tweak your nipples, arching your back, but Chan presses his hand onto your lower abdomen, making the sensations even more overwhelming. Chan’s fingers curl perfectly against your g-spot and your whole body feels like it’s on fire. This orgasm feels like it’s radiating even more than the last one. He eats you through your high, not stopping until you’re pushing him away.

“How was that?” he checks in, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “Are you okay? Do you still want me inside you, baby?” “Yes, Chris, please- need to feel you,” you pout.

He immediately gets up and gets naked as fast as is physically possible.

“How do you want me?” you ask, still fuzzy from your two intense orgasms. He puts you in missionary, without answering, before lining himself up with your hole.

“I’m not going to last very long, sweetie. Eating you out nearly made me cum untouched.” You almost moan at this admission. “Wanna look at you when I fill you up with my cum,” your boyfriend states.

He thrusts in, filling you to the brim, and both of your mouths fall open into a gasp. The sensation is so overwhelming, you can hardly breathe.

“Baby- please,” you beg, needing him to move.

“Feels so fucking good, pretty,” he grunts.

He begins to slowly thrust in you and bends down to attach his lips to yours. Once your lips smash together, he begins to roughly and desperately ram his hips into yours as he chases his high. Chan keeps his lips on yours, swallowing all your moans. He slightly changes the angle and his tip begins to hit your sweet spot, already bringing you close to cumming again. Chan can tell from the way that you’re sucking him in that you’re going to cum with him, and he needs just one thing from you.

“Tell me you love me,” he pleads, eyebrows scrunched together in pleasure. He’s so close, and he needs these 3 words from you to tip him over the edge.

“I love you, Chan. I love you I love you I love you,” you moan, not stopping. I love yous flow out of your mouth in every breath and soon Chan is filling you up, the sensation ripping one last orgasm out of you.

Chan pulls out of you, not caring about the mess that would definitely be left on his cousin’s bed. The two of you lay there, panting messes. He feels like he’s dreaming, and he’s in disbelief that he has you back. Upon the realization, Chan immediately wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your neck and squeezing you.

“What are you doing?” you laugh. He responds but it’s muffled. “Channie, I can't hear a thing you’re saying.”

“I’m just so happy to have you back and so happy that I get to be your boyfriend,” he responds looking up at you, and would you look at that- he has stars in his eyes.

---

It's the first game night since you started dating Chan seriously.

“Babe, do we have to go?” your boyfriend groans, sitting on your bed. He’s looking at you through the mirror as you get ready for a return to the friend group. He has made it a point to walk you to every class since you became official, and he told you it was to make sure you know he’s proud to be your boyfriend. (But if you actually ask him, he did it so that none of his friends would be able to talk to you for more than 30 seconds.)

“Yes, of course we have to. Literally, everyone has been asking for us to go. We’ve missed 3 weeks already.”

“Yes, but everyone includes people who want to fuck you, and that’s not really people I want to be around,” he whines.

“Channie. They don’t all want to fuck me.”

“Thanks a lot, Minho. You could’ve let us know they were gonna end up together, so we could’ve had a shot before it happened,” Hyunjin groans.

“Listen, I would've, except I think that it’s way funnier to watch you thirst for Y/N from afar,” he laughs.

“Do you think Chan would be down to share one time for the one time?” Changbin asks.

“Listen… never say never, but if anyone is going to convince him first, it’s going to be me,” Minho winks before walking up to greet you and Chan.

“Hi, Y/Nie!” he says, giving you a big hug that lasts longer than Chan would like.

“Hi Minho,” you smile.

“I hope you know that everyone here wants to fuck you,” the mischievous purple-haired boy loudly whispers.

You slap him on the shoulder, “And whose fault is that?”

“Listen, I wasn’t going to lie about my personal experience at the Y/N establishment,” he says, hands up.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to say all that. Now everyone knows how they taste,” Chan butts in, grumbling.

“Well listen, I have to keep you on your toes, Bang Chan. Now you know that if you slip up, Y/N has several guys waiting desperately to swoop in and save the day.”

“And now you know,” Minho says looking at you now, “if he ever fucks up, I can fuck you real good and make you forget all about it.”

“We’re going to go now,” Chan says, dragging you away. “I told you they all want to fuck you-” he groans.

“Okay, I didn’t think it would be this bad. Lucky for you, I’m ending up in your bed tonight and every night til you get sick of me.”

“Lucky for me, that’s never going to happen,” he says, giving you a wet sloppy kiss.

----------

a/n: lol it only took me a year to complete pt 2. sorry! since the first part was based on my real life it was hard to decide where part 2 should go. this was genuinely like a therapeutic exercise lol i wasn’t sure if i wanted the mc to end up with chan or minho because i wasn’t sure what made the most sense. i ended up choosing chan over minho because i thought that might be the best idea for what most people would want. plus i think creating a story where the person does change and does become the guy you deserve is very sweet and hopeful. while in real life i think the minho character makes more sense, i think chan being endgame is romantic. i also SUCK at writing smut i think i just don’t have the creativity for it- it was SO HARD however i did entertain the idea of writing a side bit where chan actually does allow minho/hyunjin/changbin a shot to sleep with y/n because i love 3some/4some/5somes hahahah but anyway thanks for reading this far i hope you have/are having a beautiful day!! <3

#stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #bang chan #christopher chan bang #christopher bang #bang chan x reader #chris bahng x reader #chan x reader #lee know #lee minho #minho x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader

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decayed-cartilage · 1 day ago

Text

The Intern

Hannibal Lecter x AFAB! Reader

Pt 1 / Pt 2 /?

Warnings for chapter: power dynamic? Mentions of erection.. creepy! Hannibal, Morally wrong! Hannibal

Synopsis: Y/N is on the brink of graduation, with just one requirement left—an internship. Somehow, she finds herself under the esteemed Dr. Hannibal Lecter, a man as brilliant as he is unreadable. Cold, precise, and impossible to rattle, he keeps his thoughts well-guarded. But Y/N can’t help her curiosity—she wants to understand him, to get beneath the surface. And whether he intends to or not, bit by bit, he lets something slip. Something darker. Something she might not be ready to see.

After what felt like endless hours of writing and submitting, writing and submitting, I finally received an email back from one of the many psychiatrists I’d been desperately trying to reach for my mandatory internship—Dr.Lecter, A prestigious man with many colorful reviews, which had drawn me to contact him.

From: H***********@gmail.com

To: Y/[email protected]

Subject: Internship for Johns Hopkins University

Dear Y/N,

I’ve had the pleasure of reviewing your application and personal portfolio, and I must say—your dedication and talent are impossible to overlook. It’s clear you take your work seriously, and intelligence like yours is always refreshing to encounter. I have no doubt that you would be the perfect young lady for me to mentor

do get in touch at your earliest convenience, and please, use my personal number (***) ***-****

Best,

Doctor Lecter

My heart pounded out of my chest, my eyes scanning his words again and again as warmth flooded my face. Oh god—had I really sent all that? How had I forgotten? Yes—I had sent all of it, in a tired, near-lucid state, exhausted from working so hard. My words had grown almost desperate by the last emails, pleading for validation.

But really? My whole life story? A deep dive into why I chose psychiatry—endless run-ons about trauma and my relentless hope for a better world?

And—oh no—the pictures. Me in scrubs, grinning way too hard, double thumbs-up in front of a cadaver during one of my early tech programs. Or me, beaming like an overexcited tourist beside historical documents, looking ridiculously proud.

Yet, all of that faded as my eyes caught on one thing—his phone number.

I screamed like a teenage girl, shooting up from my seat as I sprinted to grab my phone, my hands shaking as I typed in his number—only to pause.

What do I even say?!

I groaned, throwing myself back onto my bed.

Third person (Hannibal's) P.O.V

Hannibal had been waiting. Days bled into each other, an endless cycle of monotony—listening to insipid patients whine about their problems, assisting in crime cases that barely challenged him, returning home to indulge in his more refined appetites. Even killing had lost its thrill. Nothing ever truly stirred him.

Until your email.

God, the desperation dripped from every word, a quiet, pleading sort of need that sent a slow, curling heat through him. You had laid yourself bare, unaware of what exactly you had just invited into your life. Your tragic little story, the way you carried yourself—so unassuming, so small. So easy.

Just picturing you in his office, lingering in his space, speaking to him with those wide, trusting eyes—his jaw locked, his fingers twitching with restraint.

Staring at the pictures you had attached, Hannibal felt his length twitch, his breath slowing as his free hand drifted—almost absentmindedly—palming himself through the fine fabric of his dress pants. God.

The way your lips curled, the way your smile beamed so effortlessly, so full of warmth—it was intoxicating. A stark contrast to the cold, calculated existence he thrived in. You radiated light, soft and unguarded, utterly unaware of the predator fixated on you.

His throat tightened.

Such an innocent little thing, standing there in your scrubs, so proud, so eager. So trusting. You belonged to a world of laughter and hope, while he—he was carved from shadow and silence, his smile only ever genuine when he was peeling flesh from bone.

And yet, here he was, jaw clenched, breath heavy, wanting.

Needing.

He exhaled sharply, fingers pressing harder against the growing strain beneath his waistband.

Oh, sweet girl… you have no idea what you’ve done.

Ding!

The sharp chime shattered the heavy silence, jolting him from his trance. His phone clattered against the desk, but his eyes were already locked onto the screen. He knew who it was. Of course, he did.

Hannibal was a meticulous man. A careful man. And yet, you had made it so easy for him. Every little detail of your life, carelessly scattered across the internet—your school, your favorite cafés, even the places you liked to study. He knew where you had been before you even told him. He had all of you at his fingertips.

And now, your number. Displayed so innocently on his screen.

"Hello Doctor Lecter! This is Y/n :),I got your acceptance email-"

The preview cut off, but he didn’t need to see the rest to know exactly how you would sound—bubbly, eager, grateful. A stark contrast to the dark amusement curling in his chest.

Still, he unlocked the phone, fingers rolling over the screen, expression unreadable as he took in the rest of your message.

and I just can’t express how grateful I am you responded! It’s even better since I’m attending the same school you did! I would love to set up a time for us to chat in person—I hope I’m not being too informal—if I am, please tell me! Thank you so much for your time!

Such sweetness. Such hope. He could practically hear the nervous excitement laced in your words, see the way your hands might have trembled as you typed, wondering if you were saying too much, if you sounded proper enough for him.

He exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening, his fingers pressing into the screen just a little harder than necessary.

You had no idea what you had just invited into your world.

He began typing.

I’m pleased to hear from you so soon. Why don’t we meet somewhere comfortable? Perhaps a coffee shop—there’s a lovely one, [your favorite coffee shop], that I hear is quite popular. It seems like the perfect setting for our first conversation. Let me know when you’re available, and I’ll gladly adjust my schedule.

And please, don’t worry about being too informal. I much prefer sincerity. I look forward to meeting you, properly.

With that, he sent the message, his thumb hovering over the screen for just a second longer than necessary before finally setting the phone down. It slid across his desk with a soft thud, the only sound in the stillness of his office.

Hannibal exhaled slowly, a drawn-out sigh that did little to temper the hunger curling inside him.

You had been on his mind long before your message arrived, but now? Now, you were real. Tangible. Just a text away.

And soon, within reach.

Rolling his shoulders, he adjusted his cuffs with careful precision, though it did little to distract from the heat simmering beneath his skin. His jaw tightened. He needed a walk. Fresh air. A moment to compose himself before his thoughts spiraled into something indulgent.

His lips curled slightly as he stepped away from his desk, anticipation thrumming in his veins.

You had no idea what you had just done.

But you would.

YOUR POV

Ding!

I was too nervous to look at his message right away. My fingers hovered over my phone, heart hammering so loudly it drowned out all rational thought. When I finally mustered the courage to open it, my face went hot instantly.

He mentioned my favorite café.

Had he been there before? Was he that local? Had I somehow missed him in the crowd? My stomach twisted at the thought—equal parts exhilaration and unease. It wasn’t strange for someone to know about it; it was a well-loved spot, after all. But the way he said it, so casually yet deliberately, made my skin prickle.

I let out a small, breathless giggle, my lips pressing together as I read over his words again. I needed to calm down. Breathe, Y/N. Act normal. But I wasn’t normal. Not right now. I was too warm, too jittery, too caught up in the weight of his attention.

A walk. I needed a walk.

Without responding, I shoved my phone into my pocket and grabbed my jacket off the hook by the door. My scarf—a soft, muted rainbow of colors—was next, the familiar knit worn and comforting against my fingers.

"I know it gets cold out there Y/nn! You're taking this scarf with you- it's my dying wish!"

I could still hear my mother’s voice, warm with fond exasperation, as she fussed over me before I left for college. The memory made me smile.

I wrapped the scarf snugly around my neck, letting the soft wool shield me from the crisp autumn air seeping in through the doorframe. My outfit was hardly practical for the weather, but I had always dressed like this—formally, neatly, a habit ingrained into me since childhood. A plaid skirt, fitted but flaring just above my knees, swayed as I moved. Tights helped ward off the chill, but only just. My dark grey moccasins were polished and proper, and beneath my heavy coat, I wore a delicate white button-up. The heart embroidery around the collar was my mother’s handiwork—stitched with care, meant to remind me of home.

Despite the structured appearance, I was anything but composed. Anyone who truly knew me would recognize the contrast between my polished exterior and the nervous, sweet-natured girl underneath.

I stepped outside into the cold, the late autumn air nipping at my nose and cheeks, turning them pink within seconds. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves tumbling along the pavement.

The walk stretched on longer than I had planned. What started as a way to clear my head turned into an aimless journey, my feet carrying me farther and farther from my starting point. By the time I thought to check the time, my phone screen flashed 4:07 PM.

Four hours. Four hours.

I had wandered nearly halfway across the city, lost in my thoughts, replaying that message over and over in my head like a song I couldn’t turn off. The crisp autumn air had settled deep in my bones, my fingers stiff despite being tucked into my coat pockets. My legs ached, but I wasn’t ready to go home just yet.

That was when I noticed it—the quiet hum of a near-empty park, tucked away from the city’s usual noise. Golden leaves fluttered from the branches above, painting the pavement in warm hues. It was peaceful here, the kind of place where no one would bother me, where I could sit for just a moment and-

That was when I noticed him.

A figure moving toward me, his steps slow, measured, deliberate.

At first, I didn’t think much of it. Just another passerby enjoying the evening air, someone else drawn to the quiet solitude of the park. But something about the way he walked made my breath catch—a smooth, unhurried grace, like a man who never rushed for anything.

My brows furrowed as I squinted. Damn it, I forgot my glasses.

I could make out the tall, well-built frame beneath a long, dark coat, the way his shoulders sat perfectly squared, the way his hands—gloved—rested easily at his sides, as if he carried nothing but time and patience.

A strange feeling stirred in my chest, a quiet knowing before my brain even caught up.

Then, as he stepped into the golden glow of the late afternoon sun, everything clicked into place.

The sharp, unmistakable features. The neatly combed dark hair. The slight tilt of his head, like he had already recognized me long before I had recognized him.

Dr. Lecter.

Oh God.

My stomach flipped so violently I thought I might actually double over. What was he doing here? Had he seen me before I saw him? Was he here because of me, or was this just some freakishly timed coincidence?

My brain scrambled for an appropriate reaction—anything other than standing there like an idiot, heart hammering in my throat.

My cheeks burned before I could stop them, heat creeping up my neck, traitorous and undeniable. I must look ridiculous right now—flushed, wide-eyed, completely caught off guard.

But there was no turning back. He was already close enough that ignoring him would be rude. Unprofessional.

So, I did the only thing I could think of.

I forced my stiff fingers to move, lifting a hand in a small, hesitant wave.

And then—I smiled. Nervous, flustered, but hopefully not as painfully obvious as I felt.

"H-Hi, Doctor!" I blurted out, my voice coming out softer than I intended, almost breathless.

I forced a smile, though I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. My big, wide eyes locked onto him, searching his face for any sign of reaction.

A second passed.

Then another.

My stomach twisted, dread creeping in. Did I mess up? Did I sound stupid? The silence stretched just long enough to make my pulse stutter.

"I-It’s Y/N—" I started, my voice unsteady, but before I could finish, he cut me off.

"I know it’s you, sweetheart."

My breath hitched.

His voice was smooth, effortlessly composed, dripping with confidence in a way that made my skin tingle. He looked down at me with an amused sort of curiosity, his gaze steady, unwavering—like he was taking his time, drinking in every little reaction, every tiny shift in my expression.

"How funny is it," he continued, his lips curving slightly, "that I should run into you here—right after we had just spoken?"

I swallowed hard. My stomach flipped again, my nerves unraveling by the second.

He was so calm. So composed. And here I was, standing there like a nervous wreck, my thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.

Whatever little confidence I had managed to build up crumbled beneath the weight of his presence. My body felt too warm despite the crisp autumn air, and I could hear the rush of my own pulse in my ears. Still, I forced myself to nod, hoping it looked casual—hoping he couldn’t tell just how flustered I was.

"It’s t-totally crazy!" I rushed out, my voice a little too high, a little too eager. I winced at myself, clearing my throat and trying again, desperate to sound normal. "I-I mean, I wasn’t even paying attention to where I was going. I must’ve wandered too far—I couldn’t even tell you where I am right now if I’m being honest."

I let out a nervous laugh, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, willing my hands to stop fidgeting. My cheeks burned, and I prayed it looked like nothing more than the bite of the cold air rather than the sheer excitement buzzing beneath my skin.

I had imagined meeting him—dreamed of it even. But now that he was standing in front of me, watching me with that unreadable gaze, I felt like my legs might give out beneath me.

"I'm really sorry you had to meet me like this," I blurted, my voice smaller than I intended. My fingers fidgeted with the hem of my jacket sleeves, twisting the fabric as I dared to glance up at him. His eyes—sharp, knowing—made my stomach flip. God, why did he have to look at me like that?

"I promise I would have been more presentable— and- l-less shocked—I'm very sorry," I squeaked, heat rushing to my face as I dropped my gaze again, mortified by how utterly flustered I was.

A deep hum left him, measured and deliberate. "There is no need for an apology, hon," Hannibal said smoothly, the richness of his voice wrapping around me like silk. "You present yourself in a manner most... revealing."

He tilted his head, gaze unwavering, studying me as though he were unraveling something unseen. "There is an honesty in moments like these. A rare and unguarded glimpse into one's truest nature."

My breath caught in my throat. What—what did he mean by that?

I tried to piece it together, but the warmth in his eyes, the weight of his words, left me grasping at nothing.

I nodded at his words, dumbly, still trying to process the way he spoke, the way his voice felt like silk wrapping around my thoughts. But then, like a slap to the face, realization struck.

Oh no.

He definitely saw that I had read his message but never responded.

My stomach twisted as I stepped closer, suddenly feeling the need to explain myself, to fix whatever impression that might’ve given. "I—I meant to text back!" The words left me in a rush, my hands gripping the hem of my sleeves anxiously. "I just got too excited—" I stopped abruptly, my breath catching as my face burned. Too excited? Oh god. That sounded ridiculous. Desperate.

"I mean—" I scrambled to recover, shaking my head quickly. "Not excited—well, I mean, yes, excited, but not in a weird way! Just… I thought I should wait until I wasn’t so—so—" I let out a nervous laugh, utterly failing to dig myself out of the hole I was sinking into.

Hannibal tilted his head ever so slightly, watching me with that same unreadable expression, his lips curving just enough to make my stomach twist even further.

"There’s no need to fluster yourself on my account," he said, his voice smooth, deliberate. "Some things are best expressed in their rawest form, unfiltered… unguarded."

I swallowed hard, my mind racing, trying to decipher his words. Was he talking about my message—or something else entirely?"I—I completely agree!" I rushed out, still trying to steady myself, my heart hammering against my ribs. "But—still—I mean, we should set up a time. Whenever you’d like, of course."

I offered a small, nervous smile, shifting slightly on my feet, hoping I sounded even the slightest bit composed.

Third person (Hannibal's) pov

Hannibal watched you with quiet amusement, his sharp eyes taking in every flustered movement, every nervous breath. You were trying so hard to sound composed, but the way your words tumbled out—rushed, uncertain—betrayed you.

"I—I completely agree!" you blurted, your voice carrying that same delightful eagerness from your emails. "But—still—I mean, we should set up a time. Whenever you’d like, of course."

You shifted on your feet, offering a small, nervous smile, as if willing yourself to appear more put together. How endearing. You had no idea how much you were giving away. Hannibal let the moment stretch just a second longer than necessary, letting you stew in the weight of his gaze before finally offering a slow, knowing smile.

"How about now, then?" Hannibal’s voice was smooth, effortlessly calm. "It seems the only thing occupying you at this moment is our conversation. I don’t mind in the slightest."

He watched as you blinked, clearly caught off guard. Your fingers twitched at your sides, your lips parting slightly as if scrambling for a response. You hadn’t expected that—hadn’t considered that he might take control of the moment so easily, turning your nervous rambling into something entirely inescapable.

Of course, he knew you wouldn’t say no. You had been so eager, so desperate for this opportunity, your emails practically dripping with the need to prove yourself. The way you sought validation was almost endearing—so open, so unaware of just how much you had already given away.

And now, standing before him, you couldn’t hide it. The excitement in your eyes, the nervous energy humming beneath your skin. You were trying so hard to play it cool, but he could see it all—the way your breath hitched, the way you hesitated for just a second too long.

He let the silence stretch, just enough to make you squirm, his face giving no hints to how he felt.

"Oh! Of course! Now is perfect!" she blurts out, nodding far too quickly, her voice pitching higher than she probably intended. She grips the hem of her coat, wringing the fabric between her fingers, as if the motion might tether her to reality—might stop her from unraveling beneath her own nervous energy.

How utterly transparent.

I say nothing for a moment, only watching, taking in the way she fidgets, the way her pulse flutters just beneath the delicate skin of her throat. She is trying so very hard to maintain composure, but she is failing spectacularly.

She doesn’t realize how much she gives away. How easily every flicker of emotion plays across her face. It is almost endearing—the way she fights against her excitement, attempting to suppress it, as if I cannot already see through her.

And yet, there is something else beneath the surface. Something softer, untouched by the weight of the world’s cruelty. A rare thing, fragile and sweet.

My lips curl slightly.

She swallows hard, her breath quickening, the silence stretching just long enough for uncertainty to creep in. I can almost feel the way her mind races, second-guessing herself, wondering if she has said too much or too little.

Finally, I incline my head in a slow, deliberate motion.

"Perfect," I murmur, watching as her breath hitched

A/N oh my god I think is the first fanfic I've written since I was like ten, so if you like it tell me :) and if you don't, also tell me. I hope everyone is doing well and I hope to write more, or leave suggestions! Big kisses everyone :3

#Spotify #hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal x reader #x reader #dark fic #slashers #slasher #slasher x reader #slowburn #dead dove do not eat

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nutria--oscura · 1 year ago

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The Oak family make me so mentally ill actually

Like, for starters, the generational trauma that cannot and will not be shaken off:

The very obvious first point is The Doodler. 'The Curse of The Doodler' passed down from generation to generation. Even after Lark and Sparrow release it, the curse still haunts them as the apocalypse they have to bear the blame for. Now Dood is walking amongst them, as a teen protected by the teens, and all Lark and Sparrow can do is look him in the eye (not even really). Lark wants to end this generational trauma by killing Dood but Normal wants to do it but helping it (parallel to what we see happen in s2 ep23 when they sit on the Throne).

The next obvious ones are the veganism (has been an Oaks thing since Hildy's grandmother, if not great-grandmother).

and the 'shoes on' household. Something Henry started due to always being barefoot in Oakvale cause of Barry's Rules. Something that is still instilled with Normal and Hero.

All of the Oaks have a dislike towards their kids/parents. Hildy hated Barry cause he abused her for so long and in the final years of her life he abandoned her in Oakvale and left her to die. Barry and Henry fought constantly, Barry creating more Oakvalians cause Henry would never have been good enough for him. Henry and Lark straight up just do not get along, especially after Henry took the Gauntlets of Ogre Power (which in Lark's eyes caused Walter to get injured and almost caused Sparrow to die), ESPECIALLY after Henry pulled to rogue card. Henry and Sparrow don't talk anymore which is something I will get into later on. Lark and Sparrow weren't even Henry's favourite kids, it was his pet bird Beanie. Honestly, I'm kind of scared to see what Henry and Birdie's relationship is like. Then we have Sparrow and Normal. Sparrow is open about being not being proud of Normal and wishing he was more 'normal'. Finally we have Sparrow and Hero. Sparrow probably isn't that proud or happy with Hero either since she just noped out of being the chosen one. (check out this post)

Another kinda obvious one, the (very strong) family resemblance. They all look so alike, so similar, of course they're going to be the least likely to change and break tradition. (post)

SPARROW AND HENRY NO LONGER TALKING - so many implications. Like, is it because of the shit Lark and Sparrow pulled with Hero? Cause he married a centrist (/j)? Was it because Sparrow (potentially) used the memory syringes on Rebecca to keep their marriage in tact(more in a bit)? Some other reason which we will later find out? Is it why Sparrow can no longer turn into a Love Wolf? Or the final straw as to why he can't?

SPARROW, REBECCA AND THE SYRINGES - So. In s2 ep18 when Normal asks Sparrow if Rebecca knew about all the Doodler stuff, Sparrow says "Your mom doesn't know… about what's going on." ... "that's kind of how we… stayed married." Later, we get to know, from Hero, that Rebecca did in fact know what was happening - that she was involved in what happened to Hero when she was younger, "mom and dad, just sort of looked at me as like, the golden child. They weren't like with me, they were like demanding things of me." So potentially, Lark and/or Sparrow used the syringes on Rebecca cause she threatened their marriage over what happen with Hero. (POST)

Speaking of Hero's childhood - Other than what happened very obviously traumatising her, "they showed me a glimpse of the Doodler for a second and I cried for 3 weeks straight," it also very heavily strained her relationship with Normal: "I feel like things have been choppy between us for a while" ... "It felt like I shouldn't befriend you, cause I knew at some point I'd have to like, sacrifice myself heroically and I didn't want to make you lose me in that way, so I felt like 'I should just keep him at arms length.' " It is suck a stark contrast and parallel to the (toxically) codependent relationship Lark and Sparrow have

HENRY - The fact that Henry is the last of the dads that is alive is so depressing and so expected. He has elf blood and is a high level druid, of course he's still alive. He is (most probably - we don't know the situation with Mercedes and Birdie) alone, all of his closest friends are dead, his sons don't talk to him and because of that he probably hasn't seen his grandchildren in ages either. If something happened to Mercedes and Birdie and Henry is truly alone, there are parallels with Hildy's final years (this post and the tags)

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icewindandboringhorror · 2 months ago

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Recent images I suppose ~

#First one is THE LONG series of GEESE that fly by!!! my aforementioned friends... Or I think I referenced them in tags of some post #days ago. and how I love watching them. See how many there are? And multiple of these will go by. It's like hundreds of them.#Then just the sky because I love the sky. My hair looking ridiculous as it always does when I brush it out of the four big braids I always #keep it in to keep it out of the way lol. I just find it silly how small it can be all braided up and then as soon as it is Released and #combed then it poofs into some sort of swamp dwelling wizard style.#Then... a daily word count... have been so busy the past week that I sadly haven't written much but I'm WORKING on it. Still on the blasted #'odd jobs' tasks sections which were SUPPOSED to be very quick and short. but.. alas.. Though I am on basically the last one. You go work #for one of the enchanting specialists in the city (very important in society since a majority of people cannot do that type of magic) and #basically he just works so much he has no time for a social life so he hires random people to sit with him in the afternoons doing menial #tasks. You show up thinking you'll help with some Important Job or something but hes just like 'no... peel this apple for me.. :)' lol #Edit note: arrgh just had to fish a slippery avocado pit out of a narrow garbage disposal drain with a chopstick. felt like some #sort of taskmaster challenge or something.. gods... I know some people just reach into them. I guess maybe #my hand would fit?? but... erm... scary. what about Sharp Things in there or something.. also Sludge of some sort perhaps.#ANWYAY.. interruption... I got up to go to the kitchen in the middle of typing my tags... lol..#Next image is SLEEPING boye.. And then PIGEONS!!!!!!!!!! my beloveds...#Oh then the giant evil hole in my bathroom ceiling which is STILL not fixed and the repair people still have to come back again.. BUT they #did have this terrible industrial dehumidifier thing they put in the bathroom and just left here for like 5 days and it was like a noisy #hairdryer going at all times and raised the heat in the bathroom from 65F to 76F in like two hours so.. I'm glad at least at their #last arrival they've finally taken it away.... the Noise Beast... silence in my house at last...#though I am still plagued by Mysterious Hole.. the plastic wrap rustles sometimes when I'm in there.... go away...#Ah. Then a delightful little lemon poppyseed muffin someone didn't want and then gave to me. Which was interesting since I haven't #had one in soooo long even though its like a very Classic Flavor.. I do quite like them though now that I've had one again. :0c #Lastly.. mushrooms. I think it's the mushroom season here. Everywhere you go outside there's some new manner of fungus #having popped up from nowhere. I like the variety of all their little shapes. These in particular have an interesting wispy curled layers #sort of look to them. Almost like a shaggy hairstyle that's curled up at the ends or something. They seem neat to draw perhaps.#Okay.. that is all.. I still have literally like 2 costumes and 12 outfits and I think 1 sculpture? to post.. but I am so busy this is #what I can manage for now I suppose lol... quick pictures that don't really take any sorting or cropping or editing lol #photo diary

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cemeterym · 5 months ago

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i'm begging my uni to stop making every fucking student social activity something where you have to walk around a bunch if you are a slow walker who cannot help it they literally want you dead

#i try to walk as fast as i humanly can. which i shouldn't bc it hurts and makes me dizzy. and i'm still slower than everyone else #last week we divided into groups and had to walk to checkpoints around the city to do tasks #i had a friend in my group who knows abt my issues and they walked slower with me which was nice. everyone else walked like 10 20 meters #ahead and it was fucking embarrassing bc for every checkpoint they had to wait for me #and i felt bad my friend couldn't talk to anyone else in the group bc they were zooming way ahead of us and i'm the one who couldn't keep up #and like. they didn't know my body's fucked. but these are people i do not know well at all and maybe i don't wanna disclose my medical #history to everyone i interact with #and like this event wasn't mandatory. i could've skipped it #but it's every fucking time #most nights we end up going to a bar and to these people “walking distance” is like a half an hour. and they walk fast #i can never keep up #i don't reallu enjoy bars either and i don't drink but you just kinda have to endure to socialize. some days i can't handle it tho #this week there's another checkpoint type activity. i know i shouldn't. i know i'm gonna slow everyone down #but i got specifically asked and invited to be a part of a team. i can't remember the last time that happened #also we're doing a group costume and mine includes platform heels on the streets of a very old city i am so cooked #my friend is nice tho. they know the basic lore and check up on me a bunch which always catches me off guard 😭#i'm used to pushing through and also used to people not really taking my shit into consideration so i don't know how to respond sometimes #2 people in the group know the issues and i just sent the gc a “sorry in advance i can't walk very fast” so like what else is there to do #only accessibility info we're ever given is if it's wheelchair accessible. and that's good. like you should do that. but it kinda ends there #like how much walking is there. where are the stops. are there places to sit.#i love having to either push through or be excluded disabilities are awesome #been in soooo much pain lately and have to take breaks walking uphill. functional body #i live in an area where everything. literally everything. is uphill one way or another. so as you can imagine it's going great #also “you have to endure to socialize” as if i don't end up hovering around my friend like a lost puppy with separation anxiety anyway #the group costume is winx club. btw

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teenagefeeling · 7 months ago

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despite my allergies i have still considered getting a cat tbh. i love dogs but they kinda demand attention in a way that cats just don't. cats are slightly more self-sufficient creatures (like, emotionally) and crucially, you don't need to walk them outside every single day. also they're smaller and generally cost less and they're such cute lil guys and obviously they're very fun to play with but i would truly need to figure out some kind of allergy solution because my throat will close up if im exposed to too much Cat Essence 😔

#depending on how well people clean their houses i can hypothetically last a whole night with just loratadine and be okay #but if u haven't vacuumed for even just a couple days i got like 2 hours before things start to go south #or the time my friend's (elderly and shedding) cat sat in my lap for like an hour purring 🥺🥺#she was so sweet but my chest did start to feel tight towards the end of that fjshsgs #ive heard cats with certain types of coats are better than others but i can't find a reliable source on specifically which ones #also have done 0 research on like allergy treatments or prescriptions or whatever #but maybe i should because like i said i love dogs #but for like. when i move out and im on my own. honestly not sure i'll be ready for a dog #they just. have so much goddamn energy #plus ive always wanted a cat but in a household where 3 of us have severe allergies and the 4th isn't trusted with small animals #well it's never been an option lol #idk it'll all depend on where i end up and how i feel then anyway but it's smth i have thought about #bri babbles

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indecisive-dizzy · 1 month ago

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today I learned that my nightmares can be cool inspiration for at least one horror game

Here's this morning's concept: an Escape Room Tower, where every floor is a new puzzle. It's gimmicky with haunted house vibes. But wait that's not all!

Your friends are mysteriously disappearing and coming back as horrifically disfigured monsters! now you have to finish the puzzles and survive in order to reach the top to get to the exit! oh and the gimmicky horror vibes become,, not gimmicky. that is real gore now.

#legit i woke up. laid there #and went “huh I'd watch someone play that”#i dont play horror games <3 i watch them (except fnaf)#but anyway yeah i thought id write it down a little #get the nightmare out of my system while having fun with the concept ya know?#and it worked! but i spent the last 2 hours conceptualizing this non existent game instead of trying to go back to sleep #fun fact! this hypothetical horror game has 17 endings!#i had waaay too much fun coming up with endings yall #oh lemme know if you want me to talk about this more! i plan to at least post the endings with or without context XD #there were four people (including me or whoever i was idk I'm rarely Me in dreams)#two of them were clowns???? for some reason???????#one of the clowns got yoinked 😔 then he tried to kill us (the other clown) on the next puzzle.#oh i should do achievements next...#no! not now. ive been up so long i actually need to start getting ready for my day out sigh #literally my alarm just went off lmao #typing out loud #Nightmare Horror Game Edition

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girlcrushau · 11 months ago

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#me? about to use tumblr as a diary again? in 2024? unfortunately:/#but here have a waterfall i saw on a hike last week as payment #i am sO tired and exhausted emotionally after dating #there's this guy that i fr thought was going to last and be around for a long time. we spent like every moment together that we could for 2 #months straight and if we werent physicaly together we were texting or calling or on ft . just every part of our day had the other in it #not once did i ever feel unwanted undesired or uncared for. not once did i feel that i wasnt sure of his intentions. i felt safer with him #in those 2 months than i ever did with any one else i could think to compare to.#until one day he just didnt think it important to communicate any more. after 3 days of nearly nothing .. hardly any talking . i asked if #he was ok if we were ok. what was going on in his head. he said some ive just been with my buddies and family and havent been on my phone #and just. immediately thats heartbreak yanno. thats :// thats what they say when theres a new girl. but there'd never been a reason to think #there was another girl so i was like ok we're gonna trust bc this dude has been So good in every way. so i said imy but i understand. enjoy #your time with your buddies and with your fam -- i cant wait to hear about it (and hold you)#and i havent heard from him in the 3 weeks since. just randomly #so last night #i send the dreaded 'i miss you' text.#i dont expect to hear back and i accept the hurt that will come with that and the confusion that i've felt settles deeper into my heart #until this afternoon i hop on ig and see a hard launch that was posted an hour after my text was sent #that shit kinda hurt different. but also sent me into a bit of a delirious state where all i could do is laugh bc are you for fucking real #did she see my message? i know it. bc i know him and i know that he wouldnt hide anything from the person he's giving his heart #and his softness to. i can almost imagine how he showed her and promised her theres nothing to worry about #and there really isnt anything to worry about because he genuinely is the type to give his all to the relationship he's in #which feels silly to say after what happened w us. like no there wasnt a title ever #it sucks to call it a situationship because a month ago we were laughing in bed together about how we could never bc we were all in.#just the timing of the hard launch makes me giggle. did my text push them to have a conversation about what they are. was she really the #reason that he went away on me.#im trying not to blame myself . trying not to think about the phone calls i didnt answer. about what i could have done differently. trying #not to think about where we would be if i didnt let my anxieties hold me back. if i wasnt scared about what he'd think of the parts of me #that i keep hidden just a little bit longer than the rest.#and at the same time im trying not to put him on a pedestal. but that pedestal is just where i wholeheartedly believe he belongs #he set the bar for me. he set the standard. i was never too much. i was never too little. he made me feel perfect just as i am

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orcelito · 4 months ago

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Despite all odds, I have arrived home safely👍

Turns out that the earlier goop was the better goop. The adderall goop. The adderall has worn off now though. So I am. Very incredibly out of it.

But I am home. And I will take my quick shower. And then I will climb into bed.

I do need to eat. But... later...

#speculation nation #im the special kind of tired where im more tired than hungry #which is to say my every cell is yelling at me to get some fucking sleep.#and i dont think id be much more successful at eating rn than i was this morning.#i ate. half a can of chef boyardee. which was half bc i was so focused on typing and half bc i could barely stomach it.#so i at least ate Something. but not as much as normal.#i did have an ensure in the middle of the day. so theres some nutrients too at least.#i'll eat after i get a few hours of sleep. when the edge is no longer so desperate.#and hopefully i'll be able to stomach things better then.#honestly have all nighters always been this hard or am i just getting older? i havent actually pulled an all nighter since uhhh #well there was kind of one on dead dad day. but that day sucked just in general.#last time i think was april '23 when i read t.rimax volume 9-14 within a 24 hour period while also finishing a final presentation.#even then tho i got like 2 hours of sleep. it was still pretty rough though.#like ok i guess those times were pretty awful and also i did get at least some sleep. which is more than today.#so it makes sense for me to be in worse shape rn. i also didnt get as much sleep the night before last as i wanted to #i got... ...maybe 4 hours sleep??? ummm. which isnt a good thing actuslly. no wonder im so fucking exhausted.#i can barely type right now i will be honest. it was so hard to bike home. it took all my focus to not drive off a bridge #or get pushed into traffic by wind. oh boy the wind sure did try.#then i almost tripped down the stairs at my apartment after grabbing the mail bc i Briefly was focused on my mail 🙄#barely present. total mess. but at least im home. and i already did all the thinking i need to do today.#i was brave. i perservered. i was tempted to give up around 6 am ish but i was like No. this is getting done TODAY.#so i did it. i turned it in. and i so bravely did my in class work for my 2nd class. even though i was so mentally not present the whole way #i did my thinking... i am home... rest soon.#actually its kind of funny im lying on my couch rn and i think if most other ppl were in my current state theyd fall asleep right here.#but the power of my insomnia is so. powerful. i am not at risk of falling asleep without meaning to.#only time thats ever actually happened are like. a handful of times i was like. the most tired ive ever been in my life. etc etc.#in fact idk how well i'll be able to fall asleep for my nap. i certainly couldnt last night despite how hard i tried.#hopefully this time... i am truly tired enough....pls i need to rest i am so tired 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

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sorrymcm · 8 months ago

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keller kang has quite the night without @wcvensouls ...

#keller is away from jae for Hours and acts like he's gonna disintegrate and you just KNOW his priv is full of tweets whining #starts going thru his camera roll like a housewife whose husband has been drafted and sent overseas #i like 2 imagine the last pic is kell catching jae coming upstairs and having to resist the urge to throw himself at him and concuss him #clingy pathetic boy yearns for his Husband at all costs idk!!!#me writing texts for jae and praying ik this man enough that u don't hate me LKJDFGJDLDFKGJ #also ik most of these pics have changmin wearing masks but imo jae seems like the type to constantly wear masks so he doesn't #have to pretend to smile at people LKFGLJDGLKFG #wcvensouls #« i'll take whatever comes with you as long as it's yours. » keller & seungjae.#« the p in photoshop stands for procrastination. » edits.

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suhnflowerstay · 7 hours ago

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game night pt 2

taglist: @sunnybutcloudy @sofix-hc7 @laziestasitgets @desiree-lee

mark lee x afab!reader, jaemin x afab!reader

wc: 10.9k

tags: toxic situationship vibes, high emotions, light angst, smut, fluff, love triangle

part 1

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jaemin: yo so is your friend single

Your eyes open, and Mark’s still not awake. Mark typically wakes up before you do, but your brain was so restless thinking about the text from Jaemin and what it could mean. Mark being deep in sleep has to be a sign, you tell yourself, and your heart starts racing all over again. A large part of you knows that Mark would purposefully sabotage any potential fling with Jaemin over the weird possessiveness he feels and the double standards he holds. Luckily, you both know each other’s phone passcodes. While that knowledge typically leads to arguments and broken hearts, this time it can lead to something good. (for you at least)

In a burst of impulsivity, you grab Mark’s phone and unlock it to reply, acknowledging in your heart that there will be a fight that happens as a result of going through Mark’s phone to give your number to someone else. That, however, is a problem for future you to deal with.

mark: yeah, y/n’s single why do you ask

jaemin: well after last night, i just couldn’t stop thinking about how y/n’s really funny and so insanely pretty it’s crazy

jaemin: and i figured if you two aren’t dating, why don’t i give it a try?

Fighting the urge to throw the phone across the room, you send Jaemin your number before setting Mark’s phone back on the nightstand. You already know that when he sees the messages, it’ll start another fight, but by that point, it won’t matter since you just received a text from Jaemin asking how you’re feeling after last night’s drinking.

Mark wakes up an hour or two later and finds the bed empty. He assumes you’re in the living room and groggily reaches for his phone, squinting while trying to read the notifications on his screen. He sees the group chat has been blowing up, and when he opens his messages app, Mark notices something weird. In his thread with Jaemin, your phone number is the last text sent. Mark’s sure he’s not the one who sent that, which means you must have, and he feels sick. He tries to suppress the anxiety rising from the pit of his stomach and opens up the group chat. Where everyone is talking about how hot his friend was. Cool cool cool.

johnny: bro mark

johnny: next time you bring a baddie to game night please give me a heads up

johnny: i was in no way ready to talk to someone who was both hot AND funny

jaehyun: no seriously

jaehyun: i also held myself back because i really thought you two were dating

jaehyun: i didn’t realize i missed my chance until jaemin yelled from across the room asking if you were dating and then whispered dibs

jaemin: you snooze you lose

jaemin: y/n is single but not for long

Mark immediately shoots into panic mode, his worst fears realized. Jaemin is going to ask you out. You’re going to say yes. He’s going to be amazing, and you are going to fall in love with him and get married and have 12 kids and a farm and like puppies and kitties too probably. Okay maybe he’s spiraling but…

How the hell is he supposed to compete with that and what the fuck is he going to do about it?

“You went through my phone and gave Jaemin your number???” Mark storms into the living room.

“Well, good morning to you too,” you say casually, looking back down at your phone to text Jaemin like you’ve been doing since you woke up.

“Are you going to respond at all, dude?!” Mark asks, bewildered, “Why would you text him your number from my phone? What happened to ‘I’m never gonna see him again’?”

“Well… that was before he asked if I was single, and like I told you last night, I am,” you say matter-of-factly.

Mark cannot believe what he’s hearing. His ears are ringing and he feels the blood draining from his body, especially from his face. He's sure he’s about to die because he has no idea what to do, but he knows he has to sabotage it somehow. Maybe he’ll tell all of his friends that you and he are secretly dating or maybe he’ll tell them you have an STI or that you torture animals. One way or another he has to make sure that not a single friend of his wants anything to do with you at all. He wishes so badly he never took you to game night and that they had no idea that you existed.

Three of Mark's most attractive and charming friends all want you, and you’re clearly interested in at least one of them. If you knew the rest of his friends all had some sort of interest in you, would you also be interested in them? He’s spiraling and lost in the fear of what could possibly happen that he doesn't even realize you’re calling out his name. He looks up and he’s now sitting on the couch. How did he get here?

“Mark! Markie, are you okay?” your voice slowly fades in. You look so concerned. Have you always looked so beautiful in the mornings? Mark thinks.

“What happened?”

“You didn’t say anything for a bit, and then you straight up looked like you were about to collapse onto the floor! Your face is so pale- are you okay? Do you have alcohol poisoning?”

Mark’s face turns red, and he can’t believe he just almost fainted in front of you at the thought of you going out with Jaemin. He needs to learn how to hide his feelings better, and he needs to do it fast.

You make sure he’s okay and that he’s eaten before you let him know you have to head out to do homework. This, of course, is a clever lie so that you can text Jaemin all weekend without an extremely jealous and possessive man peering over your shoulder, watching your every move.

What you don’t know is that Mark knows you’re doing this, or at least assuming you are, which is enough, and it’s making him progressively spiral and further lose his mind. He is overthinking every possible outcome. What if you’re talking about him? What if you don’t actually like how he is in bed and you tell his friend and now his entire friend group thinks he’s bad at sex? What if you say you don’t think he’s funny? What if you send Jaemin nudes? What if you send Jaemin nudes that he will never get? Mark doesn’t think he can handle that, and the room starts spinning again.

What if Jaemin does ask you out, and what if you say yes? The yes feels like a guarantee to Mark. Not for nothing, but Jaemin is a super good looking guy. He’s super sweet and exactly what you would describe as your type, so there is nothing stopping you from saying yes. What happens next? Will you be Jaemin’s girlfriend? Will he have to stop sleeping with you and jacking off to your nudes on the nights he doesn’t see you? Will you even still consider him your friend after everything you two have done? Is he going to lose you forever to a man who can’t tell if two people are dating or cousins?

---

You’d been texting Jaemin all weekend, getting to know each other, and as you walk up to campus on Monday morning, you’re honestly disappointed that he hasn’t alluded to any plan to see you or take you out on a date. As you walk towards your first class, a boy with pink hair suddenly pops up in front of you.

“Hi, beautiful,” he smiles.

“Hi, Jaemin” you respond, surprised.

“How was your weekend?” he asks, now apparently accompanying you on your walk to class. You find yourself feeling so grateful this is not the class you have with Mark because you aren’t mentally prepared for that drama right now. It is way too early for that.

“It was great. I actually met this really funny guy. He was about yay high,” you say gesturing and putting your hand at his height, “kind of crazy hair and eyes… oh! and says fucko a lot.”

“Oh wow,” he says laughing, “That sounds like a super interesting and hot guy that you should seriously consider asking to marry you. Truly sounds like a keeper,” he kids.

“I don't know that I'm thinking about marriage right now,” you say, playfully rolling your eyes.

“Boo!” he jeers, before asking, “Well if you aren’t thinking about marriage, could I interest you in thinking about a date?”

Your brain shuts down.

“YES!” you say a little too quickly, “Uh yes, yeah. For sureeee, dude. Definitely. That sounds great! I’m so down-” you ramble

“Say yes one more time, and I'll be convinced,” he jokes

“I could change my answer to no,” you warn.

“Fine, fine, fine-” he concedes as you pull up outside your classroom, “I’ll text you the details, yeah?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” you smile.

“Perfect,” he smiles back, leaning in to give you a kiss on the cheek.

Internal screaming ensues

“Y/N!!!”

Your thoughts are interrupted as you turn around to see Mark jogging up to you.

“Hey, baby,” he says, kissing you.

“Hi,” you reply softly, a little worried that someone (Jaemin) might be around but melting into his arms anyway.

“How were your classes? Ready to go to the library?”

In the midst of the Jaemin flash mob going on in your head, you had completely forgotten about your usual study date with Mark on Mondays. How were you supposed to act normal when you were patiently waiting for whatever details Jaemin was going to send you related to your date?

Mark could sense something was off with you, so he said, “Let’s call off studying for the day and take a drive. What do you think?”

“Hello? What are we doing here?” you laugh.

“Well clearly you’re feeling overwhelmed about something, so I figured a walk on the beach would help since it always does,” he takes your hands into his, looking down shyly. Mark’s behavior is throwing you off, and it feels like it’s coming out of nowhere. It all feels so intimate, making your heart do cartwheels. He knows something’s wrong, so he took you to your favorite place to try to help. You nearly melt.

“Awwwww, Markieeeeee! You love me, how cute,” you softly pinch his cheek, trying to play it off. Instead of joking back, however, he slides his hand to the back of his neck with a little smile and deflects, “Let’s go get you something to eat before we take a walk, and maybe… if you want, you can talk it out, o-only if you want though.”

Talking it out isn’t really an option for you, seeing as your inner turmoil is coming from potentially being in love with Mark and definitely having a crush on Jaemin. You do, however, feel stress-free spending time with one of your best friends, just listening to the sounds of the ocean and giggling at whatever dumb jokes Mark makes. The familiar feeling comes creeping over you again, as you fall back into comfortable silence alongside Mark.

You are definitely a little bit in love with Mark, and there’s really no doubt now. You’ve been in denial for a very long time because… it’s Mark. He is probably your best friend in the whole wide world, and you refuse to be one of the many people that just fell in love despite him being very clear about his disinterest in relationships. It’s also not something you’re proud of. You were supposed to be totally cool and distant, and it’s entirely too late now. Both of you may have been wrong when you thought it would be simple transitioning from being best friends with someone to having sex with them without some sort of romantic feelings developing.

Even though you know Mark will never want anything other than something casual with you, seeing him in the sunset, smiling and laughing, makes your heart yearn for him even more. You think about how easy it all is and how right it feels. It's him. It just sucks that you are not the one for him... that you aren’t enough. Not enough to get him to want to commit, at least, because otherwise, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.

jaemin: hi beautiful how was your day?

jaemin: are you free tomorrow night?

You smile a little at your phone, and Mark takes notice. He does his best to not look suspicious as he peeks over at your phone screen to see what Jaemin texted you, and his heart sinks.

“Who's that?” he asks, defeated.

“Oh, it’s just Jaemin,” you say, looking at your phone, unaware of the frown Mark is now wearing.

“What does he want?”

You look up and see Mark clearly not doing so well, and you begin feeling defensive and ready to remind him that he’s the one that doesn’t want to commit.

“He asked me out on a date earlier and texted me just now to see when I’m free,” you reply, waiting for whatever angry or annoyed response you’re about to get.

“Oh…”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, oh…” the boy looks down, “Did you want me to say something else?”

The two of you continue your walk in the sand after you let Jaemin know that you are indeed free. There is far less laughter, and there is no longer a carefree feeling. Mark drops you off at home, and you feel a bit sad over the shift that’s happening with Mark but hopeful and excited about your date with Jaemin.

---

Jaemin does not tell you what you two are doing on the date, so you have absolutely no idea what to wear. You decide to go for something casual enough that you wouldn’t feel too overdressed if you wound up at the movie theater but not so underdressed that you’d feel uncomfortable at a higher end restaurant. At least that’s how your best friend and roommate Felix tells you to dress. He lends a helping hand by telling you if you look absolutely horrible or like you’re trying too hard. It may seem like it’s harsh, but he is tired of watching you cry over Mark on a weekly basis.

Being your roommate and best friend means that he hears about every fight with Mark and every girl you see Mark with. He sometimes even hears your fights if they happen in your shared apartment. He wants this to go well as much as you do, for your sake. You deserve someone sweet and caring who is serious about you, and from what Felix has heard so far, Jaemin seems like he might be all of those things. This sentiment is reinforced when Jaemin picks you up.

Jaemin shows up to pick you up, but he picks you up. He doesn’t just text you that he’s outside. This man actually walks up to your door with flowers, and you are completely shocked. He's dressed in a button down shirt and some black pants, so you definitely feel comfortable with your choice of outfit.

“How long have you been friends with Mark?”

Taken aback by his question, you nearly drop the vase.

“Well that’s lucky. I'm glad you did because now I get the pleasure of getting to know you,” he says, grinning as he walks back up to you.

Your cheeks warm, “H-how long have you been friends with Mark?”

“Oh, since childhood, like basically my entire life-“ he laughs, “I was always closer with his cousin Haechan since we’re in the same year, but Mark was always around as well. It’s actually super lucky that we met because I actually wasn’t going to go to the game night at all, but when I heard Mark was going, I knew I could get him to help me with the homework.”

“Oh wow, so we only met so that you could cheat on your homework?” you fake pout.

“Nooooo! Don’t say it like that! We met because fate wanted us to meet,” he smiles dreamily.

“Whatever you say, Jaemin,” your cheeks warm as you both make your way out the door to his car.

He opens up the door for you like a true gentleman and slides over to the driver's side.

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?”

“I do not!”

“Okay, perfect!” he responds, as he speeds off.

You chat a bit on the drive, just getting to know each other more. You learn that he’s obsessed with skin care and coffee, and also, that he hates artificial strawberry flavoring. He tells you about his cats and how in love with them he is and how much he loves his family. The ride to your unknown destination is basically never silent and filled with lots of teasing and giggles.

Finally, you arrive at your destination, and you look up to see you’re at the beach, once again.

“Jaemin… this is so sweet. This is a great idea, thank you-” you hug him and give him a kiss on the cheek. He blushes lightly and leads you on your way.

Jaemin planned for you two to have dinner at this small restaurant with a perfect view of the sunset. The meal was amazing, and the company you had was even better. Dinner was just an extension of the conversation you were having on the drive over, and after dinner, you then walked around the pier and decided it might be nicer to walk along the beach to avoid the crowds and have a more intimate and private date.

Jaemin made you feel so secure, and he made you feel so heard and validated. You never ran out of things to talk about. This dynamic isn’t something you’ve experienced before, and it’s a refreshing change of pace. In fact, it’s such a change of pace that it’s kind of making you…

Is basic affection and respect making you horny?

You are suddenly hyper aware of your body and its proximity to Jaemin’s body. Your hands keep drifting closer to each other as you walk alongside each other, lightly touching but never making that connection. Your eyes move to his lips as he talks, and you can’t believe how gorgeous his smile is. He probably has the softest looking lips you’ve ever seen on a man. He must use a lot of lip balm, you think. Men usually don’t have such moisturized lips. Then, you realize that the lips you’re looking at are no longer moving and neither is the body they’re attached to.

“Can I interest you in anything?” Jaemin asks smugly once you finally look up at his eyes.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry I can't believe I zoned out like that,” you reply, mortified.

“I’ll forgive you if you tell me what you were thinking about,” he smirks.

“I was thinking about how soft your lips must be,” you say matter-of-factly.

Jaemin’s facade crumbles a bit as he wasn’t expecting you to be so direct, and he looks down at your lips before looking back up into your eyes.

“So my place or yours?” you say, chest heaving as you catch your breath.

“Definitely yours.”

Thank God Felix decided to give you the apartment.

You tumble into your little apartment with Jaemin, hands grasping at each other, desperately needing to feel each other. One by one, articles of clothing are getting strewn about on your path to the bedroom before you finally land at your final destination, and the two of you are basically naked. He lays you back in bed and leaves kisses as he makes his way down to where you need him most. You haven’t really had sex with anyone but Mark for a while, so having a new set of hands and lips on you is making you more sensitive than you thought you’d be. You shiver at every light touch and Jaemin notices.

“What’s wrong baby? Been a while?” he smirks. You decide to ignore him and instead say, “Please-”

“Please what, sweetie? I need words.”

“Please touch me-”

“Oh, don’t worry, darling. I will- I’ve been wanting to taste you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

He finally makes it down to where you need him, and he licks a stripe over your underwear, groaning.

“Fuck, you smell and taste so good, and I haven’t even gotten the real thing yet,” he says, more to himself than anything.

He tears off your underwear, needing to get to the real thing immediately and starts messily licking and sucking at your core. Mark never really goes down on you as you usually just skip to the main event, so, it has definitely been a while since you had this. You can’t stop all the noises escaping you, and they only make Jaemin even more feral. He is obsessed with hearing you, and he thinks he could honestly die like this and feel completely content. You taste that good. He swears he’s never had pussy this tasty, and he’s officially whipped without even being inside you yet.

He doesn’t even have a strategy as he eats you out- he’s more just being selfish. He just wants to get as much of your taste as he possibly can, and if you happen to cum in the process, then that’s a win in his book. His unpredictability in the way he licks and sucks and moans against your cunt is making you quickly approach your high, and the second you mention any word of being close, Jaemin proceeds to tongue fuck you while his nose rubs against your clit. The combination immediately tips you over as you chant his name. Even after you start to come down from your high, he's desperate to keep going down on you, and you have to pull his hair to get his attention. When you do pull his head up, the look in his eyes is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. He looks starved and desperate to taste more, pupils dilated, his mouth slightly open as he’s panting, waiting for the second your hand gives so he can go back to the task at hand.

“I need you inside me, baby," you say slowly. Jaemin almost throws a fit but decides there’ll be more time to eat you out later. He peels off his boxer briefs, and his member slaps up against his stomach. You’re shocked to say the least. You didn’t expect him to be so… big. He was definitely bigger than Mark. I should not be thinking about Mark right now. But it’s true! Not that Mark’s small, but he’s definitely not this big. You’re practically drooling watching him stroke it.

“You can have a taste later,” he smirks, reading your mind, “I need to feel that delicious pussy suck me in.”

He rubs the tip up and down your slit, groaning, coating it with every drop of wetness he can get. He thinks he could probably get off on just rubbing up against you with how wet you are.

“Are you ready for me, baby?”

You can only nod in response, since you’re sure you’ll start whining if you open your mouth.

“God, please move,” you moan, barely able to keep it together.

“Whatever you need, baby.”

“Oh- you like being watched, huh, baby?”

You shake your head, your face getting hot knowing how turned on you were by the thought of someone seeing how good Jaemin is fucking you.

“No? Are you sure because that’s not what that slutty pussy is saying, is it? I think you love being watched, and you’d let me take you in front of all my friends, huh? Johnny and Jaehyun wanted a piece of you- maybe I’d let them watch.” You clench again, unable to keep yourself from babbling and moaning.You’re almost at the edge as Jaemin keeps ramming into you at the same pace, hitting the perfect spot everytime.

“Just a desperate, needy, little slut-” nibbling on your ear. This light stimulation is enough to send you over the edge, as you cum the hardest you have in a while, leaving scratches all over Jaemin and practically screaming his name. Jaemin is rapidly approaching his orgasm as your pussy tries to milk his cock for all it’s worth.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby- where do you want it?” he says, getting ready to pull out. You wrap your legs around him tighter and say, “Inside.”

“I promise I don’t usually do this on first dates,” he says, kissing you on the cheek.

“Don’t worry- I won’t slut shame you,” you joke.

“I can be a slut,” he admits, “But this is not that. I really had a good time with you today, fully clothed, and I'd like to see you again- if that’s okay with you.

Wow. He fucked you, and he still wants to see you again. In public. On a date. With the intent of something serious developing between you two…

“I would actually love that,” you smile.

---

It's now been over a month with Jaemin, seeing him nearly every day. You always have a good time, and he always eats you out at the end of the date. He's so into you, and it’s a really refreshing change of pace. (But that hasn’t stopped you from seeing Mark on the days that you aren’t with Jaemin).

You aren’t exclusively dating Jaemin yet, but he has made it abundantly clear that he is okay with taking things slow, per your request. He’s so sweet- he even (re)introduces you to his friend group.

“This is Chenle and Jisung, they're the babies,” Jaemin says as the boys shyly wave. “Then there’s Mark and Haechan, who you already know.” Mark gives you a tight lipped smile. “There’s also Renjun- he couldn’t be at game night because he had an art assignment to do.”

“Nice to meet you, Renjun,” you say, and Renjun just smiles in return.

“Then, there’s one million guys with J names- don’t ask me why we all have J names but we do,” he jokes, and it makes you giggle a little bit which Mark notices. Mark actually notices everything. How Jaemin has his arm around you like it’s where it belongs. How you’re looking at him with stars in your eyes. How he is introducing you to his group of friends like you’re his girlfriend, which you definitely aren’t because he was deep inside you 2 nights ago, making you beg for his cum.

“There’s Johnny who you met,” Jaemin starts as Johnny pulls you in for a hug and whispers just loud enough for Jaemin to hear, “There’s still time to leave him.”

You giggle as Jaemin pulls you away and glares at Johnny.

“Hey! This is not why I’m doing these introductions… This is Jaehyun,” he says, turning back to you, “He was at the party, but I don’t think you two spoke.”

“No, we did not, and that was a big mistake on my part,” Jaehyun says, going in for a shorter hug than Johnny. When he pulls away, he keeps his hands on your waist.

“Nice to meet you officially, gorgeous. I second what Johnny said- it’s never too late to pick the better Jae.”

You are now officially flustered. Did Jaemin tell them about the comment he made the first night you slept together? (and several nights after that)

You look around the group and a few of them are looking at you like they’d also like a taste… except for Mark who is glaring at haechan for staring.

“Yah! Stop it! I didn't bring them here for you guys to all stare and latch on. They’re here so that you all can meet the person I'm going to marry,” he jokes. Mark chokes. Why did Jaemin have to say that while he was drinking water? Now all of the attention is on Mark, everyone trying to figure out what happened. Finally, Mark is able to properly breathe again and Jaemin says, “Okay, well, moving on. I saved the best for last. This is my best friend Jeno!"

The boy smiles big and gives you a hug, just like the other J names (minus the suggestive comment) and says he’s happy to finally meet you. The boys go on having independent conversations in small clusters, and you stick by Jaemin’s side listening to his conversation with Johnny and Jaehyun, that is, until you feel like someone is trying to make your head explode with their stare. You turn and look over to see none other than Mark who is not giving any attention to what his cousin has to say. He is instead trying to make not your head but Jaemin’s head explode. He thinks that if he hopes and prays enough, Jaemin’s head will just roll right off his body.

“I’m gonna go catch up with Mark,” you say, and the boys let you go but not without watching you leave. Jaemin slaps both Johnny and Jaehyun and says, “Hey! Stop it! You’re gonna scare them away!”

“Listen, you might have called dibs, but you aren’t married yet,” Jaehyun says.

“I have to agree,” Johnny adds.

“Guys, this isn’t funny anymore- don't even look at them!” They both immediately turn to look at you and Jaemin sighs, exasperated.

“Hey Mark,” you say, interrupting Haechan’s rant about god knows what, “Can I talk to you about that thing?” You grab Mark’s arm and walk out of earshot before saying:

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“What are you talking about?” Mark asks, knowing all too well what you’re talking about.

“Mark don’t play dumb- you’re looking at Jaemin like you want to kill him!”

“Am I not allowed to look at people?” he says, nonchalantly.

“Not when you’re looking at them like you want to kill them!” you whisper-yell.

“It’s just funny to me that he’s introducing you to everyone as if I wasn’t in your guts basically any day you weren’t with him.”

“Shhhhhhut the fuck up,” you hiss, looking back to make sure no one heard you two. “We aren’t official yet, but I like him, Mark- and you’re going to have to be okay with that.”

“Dude, he’s corny like- does he even know how to fuck you right?” he says in a cocky tone.

“You don’t want to know the answer to that, Mark, stop doing this.”

“What I can’t ask about your sex life with one of my friends?”

“Jaemin is never serious about anyone-” he deadpans.

Your heart kinda breaks at hearing that, but you won’t let Mark know that so you throw it back on him.

“Okay well, that’s even more of a reason for you to not be concerned and to remember that it’s none of your business. If he’s not serious, then why is it a problem- how does it affect you?”

“It doesn’t- I’m just letting you know,” he mumbles.

“Well, I didn't ask for your input. You are going to have to act normal and not be a dickhead out of spite-”

“It’s not out of spite,” he interjects, “It’s-”

“It’s? It's what, Mark?” you ask, officially heated from this conversation.

“Hey, is everything ok over here?” Jaemin says, coming to your rescue and wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Yeah, we were done actually,” Mark says before walking away.

You nearly roll your eyes. You look back to Jaemin, smiling, and wrap your arms around his neck. You stay like that, talking about god knows what while Mark glares from afar.

---

You've been spending a lot of your days waking up in Mark’s bed and then going to sleep in Jaemin’s. All this juggling has you feeling all sorts of things, but also, a pro is you have never been fucked so good and consistently. It would almost be worth it if it weren’t for all of the emotional turmoil and distress you’re feeling. Jaemin is so incredibly sweet and he fucks you so good, but the second you get a text from Mark, you’re down bad all over again.

For example:

1:27pm

jaemin: are you free tonight, beautiful?

1:27pm

markie: babyyyyy

markie: you’re coming over tonight right?

No! Enough is enough. You decide it’s time that you fully give yourself to Jaemin. If you’re still sleeping with Mark, there’s no way you’ll ever be fully focusing on Jaemin.

you: we need to talk

Mark's heart drops to his ass. This can’t be happening. He knows exactly what you’re going to say, and he actually thinks he will collapse this time. Maybe he does have feelings for you, but what’s he supposed to do about it now?

You show up at Mark's door, feeling like you’re going to puke out your heart. It’s just sex, right? You’re just friends who have sex, and so, this will be nothing. This will be a super easy conversation that will go so smoothly, and neither of you will feel any differently. You try to convince yourself all of that’s true and knock on the door.

“Hey, baby,” he greets you, already looking like something’s up.

“Hi Markie, how was your day?” you respond, walking in.

“Oh, it was pretty good. The same old shit. Renjun was nagging me about our group project, but it’ll be fine. What did you want to talk about?” he asks, cutting to the chase. You take a seat on the couch right next to him and try not to think about your knees touching and how you desperately want to touch more of him.

“So… as you know… I’ve been seeing Jaemin, and we’ve been on several dates…” Mark’s jaw clenches, “and things are going really well, honestly…” you smile genuinely. Jaemin has truly given you butterflies and is constantly making you feel like you’re the most gorgeous person he’s ever met. You have never ending conversations, and you truly have insane sexual chemistry. He's just not…

“Mark… we have to stop sleeping together. We always said if one of us needed to end it, we would- and I really like Jaemin, and I don't really want to be sleeping with anyone else while he’s trying to start a relationship with me-” you ramble, looking at the ground on that last part. “Is that okay?”

“Oh yeah- of course that’s okay! You know I can always get sex somewhere else, Y/N. It’s not a big deal,” he comments.

Well, that stings.

“Oh- okay. Great! Well… are we still friends?”

“Yeah, of course we’re still friends,” he smiles.

---

THAT WAS A LIE

It has been two weeks since your talk with Mark, he hasn’t so much as looked at you. He hasn’t been around his group of friends, and he’s been ignoring your texts. The only time you see him is at school with his arm around random girls or one time, at a party walking up to his room with- you’ll never guess- a random girl. You try not to let it bother you, but you’re failing miserably. You’re currently at a party glaring at him with a girl sitting on his lap when Jaemin comes up. Jaemin who you have been seeing for two months and who you still haven’t let be your boyfriend.

“Hi, baby,” Jaemin says, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. You turn around and see he’s a little pink. He's definitely drunk.

“Jaemin- honey, how much have you had to drink?”

“Like- literally nothing? I had like 4 shots of vodka,” he says, holding up 2 fingers. “Oh! And I only had a few hits off Johnny's bong,” He smiles. He's so cute. You can’t believe how cute this grown man can be.

“Okay, maybe we should go home- how does that sound baby?” you say in your sweetest voice because you know the cuteness overload will get him to listen to you.

“Aw- I can’t say no to youuuuu,” he smiles, booping your nose.

You walk him through the crowd as he has both arms wrapped around your shoulders so as to not lose you. He decides he isn’t ready to leave just yet and pulls you in the direction of dancing bodies.

“Jaeminnnnnn-”

“Come on, baby, just one dance? Please?” he pouts. You may know his weaknesses, but he knows yours too.

“Fineeeeee,” you sigh. “Just one,” you say, holding a finger up to let him know you’re serious.

Mark sees you two dancing and fights every urge to not get up and steal you away from Jaemin. He hates how happy you look and how close Jaemin is to you. He hates knowing that you’ll be in his bed tonight or maybe he’ll be in yours, but either way you’ll definitely be with Jaemin and not with him. He wishes once again that he would’ve never taken you to that stupid game night. He thinks about how he lost his chance as he watches you full of joy with a man who is giving you everything you’ve ever asked for.

You luckily were able to get Jaemin home safely and stayed the night at his place to make sure he was taken care of. You wake up to the smell of him making breakfast, and you walk into the kitchen absolutely gobsmacked at how normal and not hungover he seems.

“I don’t understand how you just never suffer the consequences of your actions.”

“Someone up there really wants me to make you breakfast without being hungover- I don’t know what to say,” he laughs before turning to kiss you on the forehead. “How’d you sleep, gorgeous?"

Everything is so domestic with him. It just works. So why does it feel like something’s wrong? All of a sudden you’re hit with so much emotion, and you start crying in Jaemin’s kitchen.

“Whoa, are you okay? What's wrong? What did I say?” he asks, concerned, pulling you in for a hug.

You start crying harder because it’s not Jaemin’s fault, and it could never be Jaemin’s fault. All this time, you’ve been repressing your emotions, and this is how they boil over. Over a forehead kiss from the sweetest, hottest, best man because you know you can never truly belong to him.

“It's Mark, isn’t it?”

“Wha- huh?” you look up and Jaemin isn’t mad or angry, but he gives you a look of compassion and understanding.

“I mean, it is Mark, right- like it’s not Johnny or Jaehyun or something? I’d be pissed if it was either of them,” he shakes his head, keeping his arms around you.

“Jaemin, I'm so sorry. I really do like you- I just- I'm a mess, and I thought I was over Mark and being with you made me feel like I could get over Mark, but it wasn’t fair to you- and it didn’t even help-” you cry a few more tears into his chest before looking back up at him, “How did you know?”

“I’m sorry, Jaemin. I’m so sorry. I mean, I know I have feelings for Mark but I doubt he feels that way about me-”

“Oh. He definitely does. He has not been able to stop staring at me like he wants to rip my head off in class. He’s definitely jealous,” he laughs

“Yeah, but jealousy doesn’t need to involve feelings,” you retort.

“Trust me, it does. I've known Mark for a while, and he has never been so upset or jealous over someone. And he has never targeted that jealousy at me. Not to be crass, but… we’ve sort of shared before.”

Your jaw drops. “WHAT? What do you mean shared??”

“Why? Are you interested?” he smirks.

“Jaemin,” you deadpan (though you definitely are interested, but that’s not the priority right now).

“Ugh, Jaemin, ew! Why would you do that?”

“Okay…” you respond, skeptical.

“Okay. So that means you’re special, duh” he rolls his eyes.

“Jaemin, I just really don’t think that Mark Lee likes me the way you think he does.”

“I don’t think he likes you. I know that he loves you, but I think I know a way to help you out and prove it,” he says with a mischievous smile.

“What are you going to do?”

---

Another day, another party. Mark shows up with Haechan and looks around the room, not really interested in seeing anyone but you. He's really hoping you’re not near Jaemin right now- but well, there’s Jaemin, surrounded by their group of friends, and he looks awfully smug.

“Dude, I can’t believe you’ve been playing them this whole time! It looked so real,” Jisung looks incredulous.

“Wait, but do you think I have a chance? What was it like?” Jaehyun asked, desperate to know more.

Jaemin sees Mark come up and says, “They tasted so good,” provoking the already annoyed older man. “No wonder you kept Y/N around for so long,” he says, now making direct eye contact with Mark, “but they just never. stop. yapping. Like sometimes, I just want to stick my dick in their mouth to get them to shut up.”

Jeno knows that these aren’t Jaemin’s real feelings at all and is very confused as to why Jaemin would say these things in front of his friends. He’s ready to stand up for you when he sees the look on Mark’s face and suddenly understands what’s going on.

Mark is fuming. He can’t believe his ears. This is the guy you chose over him? This is the guy that’s going to sleep in your bed every night? He’s fighting every urge to rip Jaemin’s head off until Jaemin makes a pointed comment:

“That’s all Y/N’s good for. Am I right, Mark?”

Mark is not in control of his body when he swings at Jaemin’s face, hitting him square on the nose. Haechan and Jeno have to physically pull Mark away as he continues to try to swing at him.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Jaemin screams.

“Y/N’s too good for you-” he hisses, thrashing against Haechan and Jeno.

“Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it?”

“Fucking- let go of me!” he pushes Jeno and Haechan off and storms off.

There is only one thing he can focus on right now: finding you. He sees you off in another corner of the frat playing beer pong with Johnny by your side and fights the urge to punch another one of his friends for being within 2 feet of you.

“I need to talk to you-” he grabs your arm, dragging you away from the game.

“Wait, I was playinggg,” you whine.

“Don’t care.”

“Where are we going?” you ask, now extremely confused.

You finally make it to one of the bedrooms, looking around at the decor, this must be Haechan’s room if the Michael Jackson merch is telling you anything.

“I'm with Jaemin,” you say indignantly as a reminder to Mark, knowing full well you aren't with Jaemin. His plan must have worked if Mark is in such a fuss over needing to talk to you.

“He’s a bitch, and you need to break it off with him.”

“Um… are you going to elaborate? You being pissed that I’m not fucking you anymore is not a good enough reason to end things with Jaemin.”

“He doesn’t give a shit about you, Y/N!” he responds, frustrated that you aren’t listening.

“Oh and you do? You haven’t even talked to me since I ended things with you, Mark!”

This is it. He’s going to say it, and it is in fact even scarier than he could have ever imagined.

“Yes, actually, I do- I’m in love with you and I give every shit about you and you’re the only person or thing in the world that I actually give a shit about!” he almost screams.

“I promise that I have felt like this the whole time. Since meeting you on that stupid vacation, I have not been able to control how I feel about you, and when we started sleeping together- it was like I was in heaven. But I was scared of losing you. Jaemin coming into the picture scared my ass into taking action after realizing how close I was to actually losing you. I promise I love you even if you don’t love me… and even if you don’t love me, please don’t be with him because he-” you kiss him to end his little rant.

“Huh?” he says, completely dazed after you break apart, “Yo, what was that? I-uh, I thought you were with Jaemin.”

“I’m not, actually,” you smile awkwardly.

“Dude, wh- what do you mean?” he asks, completely disoriented.

“Jaemin and I aren't together, and he was convinced that you had real feelings for me but I didn't believe him, so-”

“So, he said something that would make me want to punch him in the face,” he sighs.

“You punched him in the face??” you stop, your eyes wide.

“He was asking for it, quite literally, if what you’re telling me is true.”

“Oh wow. I really owe him big time.”

“Ummm… I don’t think you owe him anything. In fact, maybe you just never perceive Jaemin ever again. Sound like a good plan? I sure think so,” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“So… does this mean you have feelings for me? Real feelings?”

“Yes, dummy!” you say, nudging his shoulder, “I thought that would’ve been clear to you- you’re the one that was always out of reach.”

“I know, I know. It was like I was trying to avoid my real feelings for you and ended up self sabotaging.”

“How about now?” you ask softly, “Are you still trying to avoid your feelings?”

“Are you joking? There is absolutely no way to deny it anymore- I just punched my friend! Oh my god, I just punched my friend,” Mark repeats, in shock at the realization of what just happened.

“It’s fine, I'm sure he’ll forgive you. I'll put in a good word for you,” you joke.

“Actually, executive decision- starting now, you can never see any of my friends ever again, you’re too hot.”

“What? They’re literally my friends now!” you argue.

“I don’t care! They think you’re hot, and now after Jaemin’s little stunt, they know you taste good.”

“They know WHAT?”

“Let's not think about that right now. I'm going to make love to my baby without any interruptions,” he says, tugging your hips to be flush against his.

“Oh? Your baby huh? I don’t remember you asking me to be in a relationship,” you tease.

“Baby, beautiful, love of my life, will you please let me be your boyfriend?”

“I guess,” you sigh, pretending not to care before pushing him on the bed and straddling him. “This has been a long time coming, Markie. I can't believe you made me wait so long,” you say grinding down on him. “That's not very fair to me, huh?”

Mark is unable to think, feeling you rub against him for the first time in a long time. God, he’s missed you.

“Now tell me. Do you have a condom?”

“Wait, why would I need a condom?” he sits up, confused, way too distracted by how good you feel against him.

“Mark, I know you’ve been sleeping with other people,” you stop your maneuvering on his lap, anticipating an argument.

He whines, “No, baby, I haven't.”

He's tried to fuck other people, but he hasn’t been able to follow through with sleeping with anyone since you left.

“I wasn’t able to stop thinking about you. There was no interest for me. I couldn’t fuck someone else even if I tried.”

“But- you had girls on your lap and you’d take girls upstairs?”

“That was like one time, and it was just to make you jealous” he sinks. “I never did anything with her. I couldn't. She wasn’t you…” he trails off, looking embarrassed.

“Look at me, and tell me you didn’t sleep with anyone else.”

“I didn’t sleep with anyone else, my love. I couldn't. I only want you. I have always only wanted you. I love you.”

Finally.

“God, I’ve missed this.”

He spreads your legs and kitten licks at your slit, immediately groaning at the taste he has craved for weeks. You’re so wet and he’s barely started touching you. You whine, and he realizes that keeping you standing is probably not ideal for what he’s trying to do. He gently lays you down, kissing you softly once again before going back to where you need him most. He doesn’t lick lightly this time, and he immediately captures your clit in his mouth. He begins to eat you like a man starved, as if he’s in a desert, and you are the last glass of water. The man cannot get enough of you, messily making out with your cunt, groaning and making the dirtiest sounds. You can hear how wet you are from the squelching sounds he’s making and if it wasn’t for how insanely good it feels, you might feel embarrassed. Mark has never eaten you out like this- it’s something you didn’t even know was possible from him. He almost never went down on you before, but now it’s like he needs your pussy to survive.

Mark cannot get enough of you. He is so lost in your cunt that he doesn’t realize that you’re telling him you’re close. You start grinding against his face chasing your high, and he decides to help the process by harshly sucking on your clit. You throw your head back and swear you see stars because you’ve never cum so hard from head before. You have to pull on Mark’s hair to get his head away from your core, and when you do, his face is covered in your slick. The way he looks at you is completely animalistic and it takes everything in him to not go right back into eating you out.

“Mark, I need you, please,” you beg, as he moves his hands up and down your thighs, wanting to feel and caress all of you.

You almost whine, but he’s never been so eager to go down on you. As much as you’ve missed his cock, this new side of Mark is turning you on so much. He sees the look on your face and knows you’re giving in, causing him to dive right back in. His digits slide into you with ease, slick from your first orgasm. Your walls are already clenching around his fingers, sensitive and still reeling from cumming so hard. It turns him on so much- he starts moaning into your pussy. Mark is so desperate to rip another orgasm out of you before finally getting to feel you around his cock.

“God, yes, just like that, Daddy,” you writhe underneath him, already close.

“Play with your tits for me, baby-”

You tweak your nipples, arching your back, but Mark presses his hand onto your lower abdomen, making the sensations even more overwhelming. Mark’s fingers curl perfectly against your g-spot and your whole body feels like it’s on fire. This orgasm feels like it’s radiating even more than the last one. He eats you through your high, not stopping until you’re pushing him away.

“How was that?” he checks in, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “Are you okay? Do you still want me inside you, baby?” “Yes, Mark, please- need to feel you,” you pout.

He immediately gets up and gets naked as fast as is physically possible.

“How do you want me?” you ask, still fuzzy from your two intense orgasms. He puts you in missionary, without answering, before lining himself up with your hole.

“I’m not going to last very long, sweetheart. Eating you out nearly made me cum untouched.” You almost moan at this admission. “Wanna look at you when I fill you up with my cum,” your boyfriend states.

He thrusts in, filling you to the brim, and both of your mouths fall open into a gasp. The sensation is so overwhelming, you can hardly breathe.

“Baby- please,” you beg, needing him to move.

“Feels so fucking good, pretty,” he grunts.

He begins to slowly thrust in you and bends down to attach his lips to yours. Once your lips smash together, he begins to roughly and desperately ram his hips into yours as he chases your high. Mark keeps his lips on yours, swallowing all your moans. He slightly changes the angle and his tip begins to hit your sweet spot, already bringing you close to cumming again. Mark can tell from the way that you’re sucking him in that you’re going to cum with him, and he needs just one thing from you.

“Tell me you love me,” he pleads, eyebrows scrunched together in pleasure. He’s so close, and he needs these 3 words from you to tip him over the edge.

“I love you, Mark. I love you I love you I love you,” you moan, not stopping. I love yous flow out of your mouth in every breath and soon Mark is filling you up, the sensation ripping one last orgasm out of you.

Mark pulls out of you, not caring about the mess that would definitely be left on his cousin’s bed. The two of you lay there, panting messes. Mark feels like he’s dreaming, and he’s in disbelief that he has you back. Upon the realization, he immediately wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your neck and squeezing you.

“What are you doing?” you laugh. He responds but it’s muffled. “Mark, I can't hear a thing you’re saying.”

“I’m just so happy to have you back and so happy that I get to be your boyfriend,” he responds looking up at you, and would you look at that- he has stars in his eyes.

It's the first game night since you started dating Mark seriously.

“Babe, do we have to go?” Mark groans, sitting on your bed. He’s looking at you through the mirror as you get ready for a return to the friend group. He has made it a point to walk you to every class since you became official, and he told you it was to make sure you know he’s proud to be your boyfriend. (But if you ask him, he did it so that none of his friends would be able to talk to you for more than 30 seconds.)

“Yes, of course we have to. Literally, everyone has been asking for us to go. We’ve missed 3 weeks already.”

“Yes, but everyone includes people who want to fuck you, and that’s not really people I want to be around,” he whines.

“Markie. They don’t all want to fuck me.”

“Thanks a lot, Jaemin. You could’ve let us know they were gonna end up together, so we could’ve had a shot before it happened,” Johnny groans.

“Listen, I would've, except I think that it’s way funnier to watch you thirst for Y/N from afar,” he laughs.

“Do you think Mark would be down to share one time for the one time?” Jaehyun asks.

“Listen… never say never, but if anyone is going to convince him first, it’s going to be me,” Jaemin winks before walking up to greet you and Mark.

“Hi, Y/Nie!” he says, giving you a big hug that lasts longer than Mark would like.

“Hi Jaemin,” you smile.

“I hope you know that everyone here wants to fuck you,” the pink-haired boy loudly whispers.

You slap him on the shoulder, “And whose fault is that?”

“Listen, I wasn’t going to lie about my personal experience at the Y/N establishment,” he says, hands up.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to say all that. Now everyone knows how they taste,” Mark butts in, grumbling.

“Well listen, I have to keep you on your toes, Mark Lee. Now you know that if you slip up, Y/N has several guys waiting desperately to swoop in and save the day.”

“And now you know,” Jaemin says looking at you now, “if he ever fucks up, I can fuck you real good and make you forget all about it.”

“We’re going to go now,” Mark says, dragging you away. “I told you they all want to fuck you-” he groans.

“Okay, I didn’t think it would be this bad. Lucky for you, I’m ending up in your bed tonight and every night til you get sick of me.”

“Lucky for me, that’s never going to happen,” he says, giving you a wet sloppy kiss.

----------

a/n: lol it only took me a year to complete pt 2. sorry! since the first part was based on my real life it was hard to decide where part 2 should go. this was genuinely like a therapeutic exercise lol i wasn’t sure if i wanted the mc to end up with mark or jaemin because i wasn’t sure what made the most sense. i ended up choosing mark over jaemin because i thought that might be the best idea for what most people would want. plus i think creating a story where the person does change and does become the guy you deserve is very sweet and hopeful. while in real life i think the jaemin character makes more sense, i think mark being endgame is romantic. i also SUCK at writing smut i think i just don’t have the creativity for it- it was SO HARD however i did entertain the idea of writing a side bit where mark actually does allow jaemin/jaehyun/johnny a shot to sleep with y/n because i love 3some/4some/5somes hahahah but anyway thanks for reading this far i hope you have/are having a beautiful day!! <3

#nct #nct dream #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #mark x reader #mark lee x reader #mark lee #jaemin x reader #na jaemin x reader #na jaemin

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