#it’s him even if it’s just his back lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

honeyhotteoks · 1 day ago

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across stardust - one (j.yh)

summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you've never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he's so much more than a crush, he's your soulmate. one | two | three | four

note: please enjoy this truly self indulgent romance. will be four parts total, and i'll post each as soon as they are ready to go. happy comeback week, and i hope everyone enjoys this 💖

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, a lot of fluff and tenderness, love at first touch, shared feelings/emotions/physical sensations, anxiety/stress over what to do, reader's family isn't the best, kq is not the best company for the purposes of this fic!, light smut including - heavy makeouts/grinding, hand kink, size kink, phone sex, sexting, fingering, jacking off, dirty talk, praise, use of good girl, use of pet names like baby/jagiya/sweetheart. basically this fic is an excuse for me to write star-crossed desperate love so i would say it's the literal opposite of a slow burn lmao

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 17.9k

It’s eleven in the morning when your day starts, hiding in the green room of a concert venue in Berlin, and the day feels lost already. With Eunji and Dahan ill that only leaves you and Iseul to handle makeup for all eight members and with how exhausted you are from yet another night of little sleep, you don’t know how you’ll be able to keep up. You’re trying to stay awake, but while the members are all out on stage learning their marks and rehearsing the improvisational moments for this tour stop, the green room is quiet and you keep nodding off.

“Bad night?” Iseul’s voice startles you out of one of your dips into sleep and your body jerks up right.

“Fuck,” You breathe, “hey,”

“Here,” She pushes a bright can into your hands, an energy drink, “you need this.”

“I need to be sedated,” You grumble, taking it from her, “the time difference is never this hard,”

“Mm,” She shrugs, “it’s unpredictable,”

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I guess.”

The thumping music outside as they run through another track is starting to give you a migraine. You take a long sip of the drink and then leave the can on the table in front of you, choosing instead to hide your face in the sleeves of your sweatshirt and let out another long sigh.

“Girl,” Iseul nudges you, “you look like shit. Your station looks like shit.��

“Thank you?”

“In thirty minutes we’re going to be busier than we’ve been since that Inkigayo stage for Answer,” She points out and you grimace at the reference. Back then it really was just a skeleton staff and one of the makeup artists quit on the spot, too stressed to continue the work and walking out in the middle of doing Yeosang’s foundation.

What a mess those old days used to be. Nostalgia sometimes makes you forget how late those nights were and just how impossibly tired you had been. This feels too reminiscent of that for sure.

Iseul taps your shoulder to get you to lift your face as she continues, “I know you’re tired, but I can’t do this shit on my own. I need you.”

“Okay,” You breathe, scrubbing your hands over your face to jolt yourself awake as best you can, “you’re right, I’m sorry,”

“Don’t be sorry,” She gives you a sympathetic smile, “I get it.”

This tiredness feels different though, so deeply ingrained in your body. Something’s been keeping your adrenaline running like a long, drawn out anxiety attack and you can’t understand it. You’ve been on tour before, you’ve been on planes, you’ve had long days, and you’ve worked with this exact group for years. There’s nothing on paper that should be making you so anxious, but the threads of it are humming in the deep back of your brain even now.

“Come on,” Iseul prompts again, pulling you to your feet, “let’s get you in gear.”

“Right,” You take another long sip of your energy drink and pray it starts kicking in soon and that the effects won’t make you feel crazier, “let’s do this.”

She helps you put your station together with ease and then pull yourself together. Within those precious thirty minutes of calm before the storm you’ve downed two cans of pure caffeine, assembled your station and strapped on your brush belt, and tried to make yourself some form of presentable by slicking your hair back into a smooth knot and adding a coat of lip balm.

As always, the boys have used the ladder game to determine hair and makeup order which means those at the bottom of the list have more time to relax fresh-faced on the couches before getting poked and prodded and wrapped up like presents for thousands of screaming fans. With only you and Iseul available it’s about to be a race against the clock to get them ready.

Their managers hustle them from the stage to the back rooms where the rest of the staff waits, and the members gather around you and Iseul and your makeshift makeup stations.

“Alright,” Iseul says as the members quiet down, “we’re down some staff as you know,”

They nod attentively and you trade a close lipped smile with Hongjoong.

“We’re just going to do the best we can as quickly as we can,” She explains, looking down at their names on a slip of paper, “Wooyoung, Yeosang, Jongho, San,” she recites, “you’re with me in that order.”

You run through the names on your slip, “Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, Yunho, that leaves you with me.”

Iseul nods as you finish your words, “Please be ready to slot in when the person in front of you is finished, and then you can go directly to wardrobe for your soundcheck outfits,”

“We’ve got it,” Hongjoong nods, “and if there’s anything you both need,”

“We’ll be fine,” Iseul assures him, “but it’s definitely going to be cutting it close,”

“We should get started,” You cut in, “if you’re ready?”

Hongjoong jumps to your chair immediately and Wooyoung steps to Iseul’s, and before you know it you’re off.

The room is alight with activity while you both work, only you don’t have a relaxed pace and only two members to perfect. You’re used to working with Wooyoung and Seonghwa, they’ve been your assigned members for as long as you’ve worked with Ateez, but when staff shortages or timing gets tight, it can be a bit of a free for all.

You stay focused and execute each member’s makeup like a well rehearsed dance, and you do your best to ignore the buzzing anxiety in your veins. For a little while, you handle it like a professional.

When Yunho finally settles into your chair, about a single second after Mingi leaves it, the exhaustion careens back into you sideways. It takes you a minute to prep your tools this time, and you’re pretty sure that without the artificial pick me up of the energy drinks you’d be passing out on the spot.

You steady your hands against the vanity in front of you and take a deep breath, and when you look up you catch Yunho’s eyes in the mirror, a tiny crease of concern between his brows.

“You okay?” He checks.

You give him a smile, albeit a tired one, “The jet lag is really hitting this time,” you explain, “but I’m fine,”

He looks sympathetic immediately, “Same for me, I feel like I’m barely sleeping,”

“That’s not good,” You tell him as you prep your stainless steel palette, “you have a long night ahead,”

“I’ll sleep tonight,” He says, “I’m sure,”

“After dancing for three hours I’d hope so,” You smile and pick up your first set of tools before turning towards him.

“Do you have anything you could take?” He asks, studying your face, “A sleep aid?”

“I usually don’t like to,” You admit, “I always feel groggy the next day,”

“And we have another show,” He finishes for you, his lips coming together in a thin line as he thinks.

There’s nothing really for him to do, but it’s kind of him anyway to be so concerned. They always are, this rare group of eight idols who remember staff birthdays, bring coffee on the early morning schedules, and always, always take extra time to clean up after themselves so it’s not left to anyone else.

You take a step closer towards him and glance over his bare face and then it occurs to you, “You know what’s funny?”

“Hmm?” He tilts his face up to you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever done your makeup before,” You smile, it’s a ridiculous thought.

“No way,” He blinks, thinking back, “it’s been… forever, are you sure?”

You nod, “You’re usually with Eunji,” you tell him, “and even when we’ve swapped around, I don’t think so. I think you’re the only member I’ve never done,”

“Wow,” He laughs, eyes bright, “well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

“Is there anything,” You start to ask him if there’s anything he prefers, anything special about his makeup that he gets done with Eunji that he asks for, but Iseul catches you idle as she pats foundation onto San’s forehead and answers for you.

“His skin gets dry,” She jumps in, “don’t use too much powder,”

Yunho grins, a laugh on his lips at the directness of her words.

“And don’t use that oil,” Iseul adds, “that primer oil you like, he’ll break out by tomorrow,”

“Thank you, Iseul,” Yunho says, and you watch San’s face as he stifles a chuckle.

“Noted,” You smile, and you swap out two of the products in your hands before taking up your position by his side again.

You’ve gotten used to working with idols, to working with Ateez and with Yunho specifically, and yet when you get this close a little flutter of nerves rocks through your belly. He’s handsome, and if you’re being honest he’s just your type. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or this weird feeling in your chest that you’ve been dealing with all week, but for the first time in a long time you think about what it would be like to kiss his lips.

“How do you want me?” He asks, breaking your thoughts, and you have to shake off the impending blush at the way his words make you feel. You have work to do, and you had gotten over your silly little crush on him years ago, you need to get a grip.

You recover fairly smoothly though with a quick smile, “Right,” he’s never worked with you before, and he’s looking to you for direction, “head back a bit, please, and eyes closed,”

“Alright,” He follows your instructions to the letter.

“Okay,” You tell him, “primer first. Let me know if anything bothers you,”

“Mhm,” He hums and stays relaxed.

He has the loveliest eyelashes, that’s the thought that echoes through your brain as you start working on him, and you wish it never occurred to you at all because you keep glancing up at his closed eyes. He lets you work, he knows you’re exhausted so he doesn’t push you for conversation, and you’re strangely grateful. You know he’s chatty sometimes in the chair, an extrovert through and through and always keeping Eunji company or talking with the member beside him, but right now he keeps still and gives you respite on a hard day.

You’re patting foundation into his skin with a large paddle brush when Iseul interrupts your thoughts, “Do you have that eggplant liner?”

“Check my table,” You offer, but with how sluggish your brain is feeling there’s no way you remember a single thing on your station without looking.

“Mm,” She pivots around and pokes through the products and tools behind you, and you glance over as San opens his eyes to watch Iseul rifle through things.

“Damn,” She mutters, “how much time do we have?”

“Um,” You glance down at your watch, “twenty?”

“Perfect,” She scoots behind you and disappears into the hall, no doubt to find your traveling makeup case and the liner.

You sigh, chewing the inside of your lip at the idea that you only have twenty more minutes, but you really don’t want to rush and have his makeup melt off on-stage.

“You’re fine,” San assures, his body angled towards you and Yunho now while he waits, “don’t worry about the clock,”

Yunho hums his agreement from below you, “Plenty of time,”

You refocus on Yunho’s skin and notice a long black and white hair from the paddle brush affixed to his cheek, mixed in with the foundation. You take the brush again, wiping off any excess foundation and checking to see if more fibers are loose, and then you work the brush against his cheek in an attempt to free the loose hair but it isn’t coming off easily. Every attempt you make just slides the hair into a different spot on his cheek and covers it with more foundation.

“Um,” You usually don’t like to do this, but you might have to, “can I just…”

His eyes open but his expression stays smooth, “Can you?”

“Sorry,” You shake your head, “do you mind if I touch you?”

“You already are,” He smiles, a small, amused crease between his brows you’ll have to pat out momentarily.

You tuck your brush away and gesture with your hand, “You just have a hair,”

“Oh,” He laughs, “of course, yeah,”

You’re just supposed to touch his cheek, brush away the hair with the pad of your finger and then get back to work, that’s all it is, so you’re completely unprepared for the feeling that rockets through your chest when your skin finally touches his.

Yunho gasps softly as your fingers brush over his cheek, his eyes blowing wide and his expression blanking, and it’s the only indication you have that he feels something too. A tightness wrenches in your chest, like someone pressed something hot and hard directly into your breastbone and your stomach does a somersault. Your ears are ringing, and you’re pretty sure your heart is about to beat out of your chest now that it’s started up again.

The tattoo on your chest feels warm beneath your blouse.

“You,” Yunho manages, his voice shaky and you know for sure he felt it too.

You rock back a step, “I don’t understand,”

“Shit,” Someone else says, and then you realize that it’s San and you’re not alone with the only other person in the entire world, you’re in the middle of work in front of at least one other person and it’s only your existence that just got tilted on its axis. Yours and maybe Yunho’s.

“Oh,” You glance to the side, taking in San’s wide eyed expression, “oh my God,”

“I’m not insane, am I?” Yunho smiles, his focus entirely on you, and you think you might just pass out, “You felt that?”

There’s a noise in the hall and San scrambles up to his feet, “Iseul,” he says heading for the door, “do you need help looking?”

He’s covering for you both, but thoughts are slow to form and all you can manage is blinking at the man in your chair.

“You did, right?” He asks again, eyes soft and hopeful, and then his fingers brush over the center of his chest. Squarely over his breastbone.

He’s yours.

You want to reach out and yank up his shirt, check the tattoo over his heart to see if it’s the same looping knot shape as yours, but you don’t need to see it to know for sure. It’s him.

San says something about forgetting the liner altogether, a little louder so you both know the room is going to get crowded again, and you shake your head to jolt yourself out of your paralyzed position.

“You didn’t?” His hand falls.

“I did,” You rush to correct, “I’m, I don’t know,”

He nods, wetting his lips and shifting in his chair. He moves to reach for you, but reason and sense click back into place immediately and you realize that no matter what your tattoo feels like and no matter what this means, you’re at work and about to have a very private moment in a very public place if you’re not careful.

You shake your head with a glance at his hand and jerk your head towards the door, “Later,”

“Right,” He leans back from you, “of course, right,”

Footsteps to your right draw your attention and Iseul is huffing, checking her own watch, “We’ll do brown,”

“That’ll be fine,” San assures her, but his eyes are glued on the pair of you.

Iseul moves to step around you again and realizes you’re just standing there, “What’s with you?”

“Sorry,” You manage, blinking hard and refocusing, “I just got dizzy,”

It’s not entirely a lie, given that you felt the entire earth shift under your feet thirty seconds ago and your life is completely changed. Dizzy is the least of how you’re feeling.

Yunho’s expression shifts immediately, concern across his face, and he curls his fingers into his palms to keep himself from reaching out again, from being too familiar.

“Oh,” Her eyebrows raise high, “do you need me to finish Yunho?”

“N-no,” You take a breath, “just give me one second,”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Yunho asks, and in the back of your brain you wonder if his voice has always sounded this good.

“Here,” San cuts in smoothly, cracking the seal on a fresh water bottle and passing it over to you, “do you need to sit a minute?”

San’s hand rests on your upper back between your shoulders as you take a long sip of water, the cold shocking your brain back to reality in exactly the way you need.

“Thank you,” You tell him honestly, “I think I’m okay, just a headrush,”

San nods, and when you refocus your eyes on Yunho, you almost laugh. His gaze is squarely on San’s hand where it sits on your back, and you watch the fast, silent exchange between the two men when San drops his hand and Yunho realizes his own reaction. He blushes, ears running red and he dips his head to avoid both your eyes.

“Iseul,” San steps around you both and distracts your friend, “ready to wrap?”

“Yeah,” She agrees, “let’s finish up. You’re sure you’re okay, y/n?”

“Mhm,” You hardly trust your own voice, but you nod anyway, “I’m good now.”

Yunho tilts his face back up as you step close, and the tension between you is so palpable and so familiar that you can hardly breathe. Your tattoo feels warm and heavy and something tells you that his does too, you can see it in the tenderness of his brown eyes.

“Dizzy?” He asks quietly, keeping his words just for you.

You shake your head, “No,”

“That’s good,” He murmurs, but he lets whatever words he wants to say rest on his tongue.

Your tattoo throbs and you don’t dare touch his bare skin again.

His makeup takes fifteen more minutes and his eyes don’t stray from your face the entire time. You barely finish on time, and wardrobe is standing by to get them into their first outfits of the night, so when you put the final touches on he’s already being pulled out of the chair before you have a chance to say anything.

You want to corner him and ask him exactly when he’ll have time to talk later, but despite working together for the last few years, you and Yunho aren’t that close. You’re friendly, but you’re not familiar enough to casually ask what he’s doing later and not have it seem strange. While friendships between staff members and idols are not discouraged, even between the opposite sex, being overly familiar or suggestive would certainly leave a question in everyone’s minds, and you don’t want to draw attention to yourself that quickly.

This is between you and Yunho, no one else. You don’t want an audience for this.

So he goes, pulled away by wardrobe and his other members, fitted quickly into his Soundcheck outfit. He has his game face on, so do all the members, and you watch him disappear down the hall without a second glance back at you.

You collapse into the couch and press your eyes closed, focusing on the singular feeling of heat and soreness from your chest.

A soulmate.

The tattoo on your chest was one you barely looked at anymore, too focused on living your life to sit in the mirror and wonder about the person who would be your other half, the person that would slot into the gaps in your spirit with a simple brush of skin on skin. But now, it aches. It pulses to remind you that it’s real and that you’ve found him.

Everything in your life is about to change. Has already changed.

On the couch you don’t sleep as much as you disassociate, still stunned, your buzzing brain filtering out everything Iseul says as she cleans up around you and preps both of your brush belts for touch ups. There’s such a small amount of time between Soundcheck and the concert that you barely get to process, you just exist, playing the moment you touched him over again and again in your mind. Despite how utterly changed you feel, the world is just continuing on around you like a regular day.

Once again, you and Yunho miss each other for every brief moment between Soundcheck and stage.

The shift happens in the wings, in the underbelly of the stage where you and the other staff members for hair, makeup, and wardrobe wait for any last minute quick fixes. The eight of them are almost ready, pumping themselves up between rows of technical equipment and stage scaffolding.

There’s so much commotion around you and yet your eyes are drawn to him like a magnet, the feelings you once had for him coming back to you full force in a blurry torrent.

He shifts, stretches, swallows hard, and then looks up directly into your eyes. There’s a question in them that you can’t read, but you manage to smile.

His shoulders relax just a little.

You raise your fist, giving him the gesture for ‘fighting’ and he returns it with a wide grin.

“Alright,” Hongjoong’s voice cuts through, the final step of their pre-show ritual as the concert hall starts to roar, “huddle up.”

The eight of them circle up with each other, one leg in and one out.

“We’ve practiced hard,” Hongjoong starts, patting his members on the back, “let that practice pay off, and have fun out there,”

“Okay!” San hypes them up, getting the tension high.

“Let’s give it our all,” Hongjoong continues, a wide smile on his face, “fighting!”

They echo it back, and a tense feeling starts to roll in your gut.

“Alright, one,” Hongjoong starts the count and you feel the tension in your own body rising, enough to make you take a soft step back from the group, “two,”

On three they chorus it, moving their feet in a synchronized step, “Eight makes one team! Fighting!”

They break apart, clapping each other on the back, and your eyes meet Yunho’s for one more fast second before he’s jogging after the rest of the members and finding his mark on the stage risers.

You feel the sensation of his eyes on you even after he’s gone. You have the length of four songs and their opening ments before members start swapping out on stage for makeup touch-ups and technical adjustments. The sound of the audience is intense, the start of the first song keying up, and you stumble back from your post to get a breath of air away from it all.

There’s a bathroom along the hallway two doors down from the green room that’s meant for staff and you blissfully find it empty. With shaking hands you flip the lock and sink down into a crouch, your back braced against the wall as you breathe through the sudden wave of feelings filling your chest.

Adrenaline, that’s what the bitter taste on your tongue is.

Your heart is thumping, double time like you’re running a marathon, and then you realize it. You can feel him, even now with the bond between you unfulfilled you can feel his emotions coming to you like a wave. Adrenaline, anxiety, euphoria, exhaustion, it all roils through you and you brace your hands on the wall to get your composure back.

They say the first time you feel your soulmate link it takes you by surprise, but this is an intensity you couldn’t have imagined. It’s all encompassing and honestly terrifying, and you’re struggling to understand which parts of you are you and which are him. You can’t conceive of how an accepted bond would make this feeling stronger when it already feels like your emotions and his are knit together so tightly.

Anxiety strikes down the link and you realize it’s not stage fright, it’s for you. He can feel your panic and your fear just like you can feel every ounce of his performance and if you don’t get yourself in check you’re going to be distracting him even more than you already are.

You yank yourself up off the floor and collapse against the sink, turning on the cold water tap and taking slow and steadying breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Counting slowly, relaxing your body with every pulse of oxygen through your system. You hope he can feel it, but you have no idea how this all really works. You’ll have to call your sister when this is all said and done, find out what she felt when she met her wife, but right now in this bathroom in Berlin you have to do this by yourself.

You hear the pulse of another song thrumming through the stadium as they keep performing, and you feel the thundering beat of his heart in your chest, but you breathe into it this time and try to keep yourself calm for his sake. You splash cold water on your face, keep breathing low and slow, and eventually you pull yourself back up to standing tall to look at yourself in the mirror.

You look the same as you did a few hours ago, before him, but the warmth in your chest is still present and you wonder if that will ever go away or if that’s just a permanent part of the link.

With shaky hands you unbutton your blouse and pull your bralette down in the center to reveal what you already know is there. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight.

The tattoo nestled at the base of your sternum is the only one you were born with. Every other line of ink on your body was put there with intention, but this one you’ve had for as long as you can remember. The maedeup knot is small, but intricate, and until this moment it had always been colorless. Loops of black and gray twining together to make a rounded diamond, unbroken with no beginning or end to the threads.

Now the ink has changed, a deep red against your skin that makes the knotted josephin soulmark look even more traditional, but the skin is slightly inflamed, tender to the touch as you brush your fingertips along it. It feels like a fresh mark, not something you’ve had since birth, but considering how it’s changed, maybe it is new. A soulmark shifting color is common, you know that, but it still stands out so starkly against your skin and your other black tattoos. You can’t look away from it.

A pounding on the bathroom door makes you jump and you fix your shirt, covering the mark back up and buttoning it away. You wonder if Yunho’s mark is the exact same like other couples you know and if it too turned red, if it’s warm to the touch, if he felt you brush against your mark through the link.

“y/n?” A voice comes through the door and you shut off the tap.

“Coming!” You wipe the excess water on your hands onto your jeans and take one last, fast look to make sure your mark isn’t visible, before opening the bathroom door.

Wonshik, one of their many managers, is waiting for you on the other side. His eyes narrow when he sees you, “Are you ill?”

“No,” You assure him.

“You’re sure?” He presses, “We can’t afford to lose any more staff or risk getting the members sick if you are,”

“I know, Wonshik,” You nod, “I promise I’m just tired, jet-lagged. I was putting cold water on my face, that’s all. I’m not sick,”

He exhales in relief, his expression softening, “Thank God,” he says, “I can only take so many surprises.”

A little sickness is nothing compared to a staff member and an idol under a dating ban being soulmarked, but you hold your tongue.

“They’re about to come off,” He says, “Iseul was looking for you, she seems like she might start climbing the walls if you don’t get back to help her,”

“No, of course,” You start back towards the side stage entrance, “I lost track of time, but it won’t happen again,”

“Make sure you sleep tonight,” He adds, following you closely, “no sleep means no immune system, and no immune system means sick.”

“Don’t worry,” You promise, winding your way through the dark backstage, “you won’t lose me,”

“I better not,” He sighs, and then Iseul comes into sight.

“There you are!” She hisses low under her breath, “I was about to have a panic attack,”

“I’m sorry, I’m here, I’m good,” In the commotion, your brain starts to ease into normalcy. You’re used to this pace, the speed of lightning fast makeup touch-ups and assisting wardrobe when things start to go awry with their quick changes. The audience feels none of this, they just see smooth change-outs on stage and cool idols in new clothes, but backstage is a wild flurry and it always puts you on an entirely different plane of focus.

“Here we go,” A stage director starts, gathering everyone’s attention, “four minutes… starting…”

The stage goes dark and in the venue a video starts to play to the crowd to fill the space between costume changes. You prep your hands, making sure your kit is ready to go and you see the wardrobe specialists out of the corner of your eye readying themselves to help facilitate the quick change.

Suddenly they’re here, and the stage director interrupts once more, “Now, four minutes people, let’s go.”

“Mingi,” He gets to you first and he crouches down to drop his face to your height, “stay still one second,”

He says nothing, but he nods as you pat powder across his forehead and the bridge of his nose, checking him over for any other defects. He looks good and you nod, “Go, go,”

Mingi peels off to the left of you and you hear the sound of fabric swishing as he and Wooyoung rip off the top layer of their outfits behind the privacy screens and trade garments with the wardrobe team. It’s a fast shuffle, but you stay focused on who’s in front of you.

“Seonghwa,” You wave to him, pulling blotting tissues out of the pack on your belt, “here,”

He knows this drill well, you’re used to working with him and you have a clean routine down. He blots the sweat off his brow himself and starts to unbutton his jacket while you shift focus to Yunho.

For a split second you almost forget what happened earlier in the buzz of backstage, but the minute your eyes hold on his awareness floods you.

“Hey,” You say, but there’s a time clock shout behind you and you beckon him down, “come here, let me fix things,”

He drops down to your height just like Mingi did and stays steady while you work, but his eyes flick up, “You’re okay?”

“I’m good,” You nod, “don’t worry,”

His expression clears a little and you guess you have your answer about the feeling of the link going both ways.

Hongjoong clears his throat behind you both, “We’re short on time,”

“Am I good?” Yunho checks.

Your eyes flick over him fast, “Yep,”

He’s out of your eyeline a split second later, and you’re grateful for the distraction of both Hongjoong and Seonghwa, otherwise you’re sure you’d dwell a little bit too long on the fact that Yunho’s half naked next to you, privacy screen or no.

“One minute,” The stage director announces, “everyone’s doing great,”

The boys are almost done, flying through the last of their zips and getting their hair smoothed down by that team as they finish. You put the last pat of powder on Seonghwa’s nose and give him a nod before he’s gone too, dropping his jacket as he goes and giving you all a quick flash of his bare back.

You turn back towards the group as they prepare and your eyes zero in on Yunho again. His expression is serious, it’s his game face before he gets back out on stage, and you watch as he corrects the placement of his in-ears and ensures that his mic pack is secured. He runs through his pre-stage ritual and you can’t help but be a captive audience.

“Good work,” The stage director says as Seonghwa rejoins the eight, fully dressed and ready for stage, “fifteen seconds for act two,”

The crowd heats up again as the video starts to fade, and the members do their final checks. Yunho doesn’t look back at you once, his eyes forward and focused as he and the other members find their places on the rising platform that will take them back out to the main stage.

You can see him a little though, in the low light in his white trousers and blue satin shirt. He lifts his hand, adjusting his microphone once again, and then as he drops it back to his side he lets his fingers skim over the familiar hollow of his chest.

Your mark warms, you feel it as if it were your chest he brushed his fingers over, and your breath stops.

The platform rises, the crowd roars, and your heart starts beating to a new rhythm.

He really is yours.

It turns out that later means much later.

You manage to get out of dinner with some of the other staff members, but that just leaves you anxious and alone in a hotel room trying and failing to eat room service. Iseul would be back soon to take up her place in the other bed, and you’re starting to realize that you don’t have Yunho’s number.

Now that emotions are a little smoother, you can’t feel him. Or maybe you can, but it’s so faint that you’re not sure. All you know is that he’s definitely in the hotel, but that’s partially the solid feeling of your link with him and partially the YouTube live being broadcast from Seonghwa’s room where all of the members are.

You put the live on and watch, feeling strangely disconnected from the men on screen. You’ve known them for years, but suddenly with this new truth everything feels foreign and confusing.

You should call your sister, but it’s only six in the morning in Korea and even though this is an emergency of life altering and epic proportions, you can’t bring yourself to wake her on a Saturday.

You try your best to eat the pasta you ordered and watch as the live eventually ends. Your phone dings and for a split second you think it will be him, but it’s just Iseul telling you she’s heading back to the hotel.

A soft knock at the door makes your stomach lurch.

You’re frozen.

There’s another knock, a little firmer this time but then you feel the warm touch against your mark and you’re on your feet, your hand on the door handle before you can think.

He looks tired, that’s your first thought. His face is bare again, and his eyes are rimmed in a little bit of red like he just removed the day’s stage makeup. Despite all that, he smiles when he sees you and sighs, leaning against the door frame, “You’re awake,” he says.

“I waited,” You manage.

He grimaces, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” his eyes flick behind you into the room and he swallows, “are you alone?”

“Yes,” You nod, “but not for long, Iseul’s on her way,”

He nods, “Come to my room?”

“Are you sure?” Your eyes widen.

“We need to talk,” He nods, “can you get away for a little while?”

Iseul will probably expect you to be asleep, but you can’t let this go until morning. If you’re ever going to sleep you need to talk to him now.

“I’ll think of something,” You tell him, “what room?”

“2606,” He answers, reaching into his pockets and producing an envelope from the front desk, “take this,”

He passes you one of his room keys and you nod, “I’ll be up in five minutes, but you should go,”

“Okay,” He breathes and neither one of you makes a single move to step away from the door until a sound down the hallway pushes you into it.

“2606,” You repeat and he nods, swiftly moving down the hall before anyone can see him standing at your door.

You have no idea what you’re going to tell Iseul that would make sense, but you don’t care. You stack up your room service for collection, kick on a pair of slippers, and give yourself the fastest look in the mirror ever on your way out the door. You want to be gone before she gets back, the idea of facing her and lying ten times more difficult than an empty text.

No problem - I can’t sleep, I’m just going to walk a bit. Don’t wait up.

You don’t stick around to see if she’ll believe it.

You try to seem casual when walking to Yunho’s room, like it's yours. You don’t want anyone to give you a second glance and wonder where you’re going, so you keep your head up, smile at anyone you pass, and when his door comes into view you scan the card like it’s any other day.

When the heavy door shuts behind you, you sigh.

“God, finally,” His voice startles you, and you look up to see him pacing, “I’ve been going insane all day,”

Your shoulders drop, you aren’t alone, “Me too,”

He runs a hand through his black hair and finally stops pacing, but doesn’t come any closer, “So, this is real?”

“It feels pretty real,”

“How did we never feel it?” He manages, “I’ve known you for years,”

“We’ve never touched until today,” You tell him, and that has to be the reason, it’s the only thing that makes sense. You’ve been turning it over in your mind all night, and with the exception of bumping into him last week in the hall, it’s all been polite bows and waves.

“How is that even possible,” He breathes, “team dinners? Holiday parties? Work?”

“Skin to skin,” You murmur, “I think that’s what it was,”

“I had no idea,” He swallows, gesturing in the negative space between your bodies, “I always liked you, but I thought it was just, you know, a crush,”

“You what?” Your eyebrows raise.

“Well,” He backtracks, “not like that, it’s not like I’ve been holding a candle.”

Your face stays neutral, but he grimaces at his own words.

“I’m fucking this up,” He takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry, I’m really nervous.”

Your stomach warms, “Yunho, it’s okay, honestly,”

“I just meant I’ve always liked you, I thought about asking you out when our contracts loosened up if you were still single.” He clarifies and then you watch his face blanch, “You are single, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” You nod, “we don’t have to worry about that,”

He nods and you see him searching for the next thing to say, the right thing.

“Your mark,” You cut in, taking a few steps further into the room, “did it change?”

“Completely,” He nods, “did yours?”

“Yeah,” You wonder the right way to ask him if you can see.

“Does it feel,” He starts.

“Warm?”

“Yes,” He nods, “and tender?”

“Like a fresh tattoo,” You take another step in.

“I’ve never gotten a tattoo,” He confesses, “but I’ll take your word for it,”

“Can I,” The words are stuck on your tongue, “maybe this is weird, but I mean, I guess we’re soulmates,”

“You want to see it?” He surmises.

“Only if you’re comfortable,”

His lips quirk, “I’m comfortable,”

Heat twists in your gut and you wonder if he can feel that too. If he does he doesn’t say it, but you watch as he pulls the black t-shirt off over his head.

You’ve never seen his chest. Any inch of his skin except for his neck and arms really, and you guess that was part of keeping his soulmark covered. Idols always do, even when they’re in the most inconvenient locations, there’s always makeup or flesh colored tape or editing to take care of it. The idea that someone could replicate it and try to fake a connection is far too real for someone famous.

He drops his shirt onto the bed and pink tinges his cheeks as he gestures towards it, “Well,”

Your mouth drops, it’s the exact same, down to the size and the placement and every little loop and you stumble forwards to get a better look, “Yunho,”

“Yeah?”

“Has yours always been red?” You reach out, your fingertips hovering just over it.

He shakes his head, “Not before today,”

“Mine’s the same,” You tell him, your eyes glued to his sternum, “just the same,”

You know every centimeter of this tattoo. You’ve studied it a thousand times in the mirror, tracing over every curve with your eyes, trying to find the place where the cord starts and ends. He sucks in a sharp breath as your fingers brush gently along his mark, and you feel the ghost of the sensation against your own.

“I can’t believe we never knew,” You murmur, sliding your finger along each rounded edge.

“You feel that?” He asks, “Right?”

You’re nodding and moving to tug off your sweater before you can even think it through. He starts to shake his head, to say that you don’t have to, but you’re already tossing the sweater next to his discarded shirt and tugging down the front band of your bralette so he can see the whole mark.

His eyes flick over you fast, but with the matching mark in front of him he doesn’t focus on anything else, “It’s exactly the same,”

“I know,” You reach for his hand, but the minute more of your skin connects with his you feel your chest throb and you drop it like it burns you.

He winces, touching his chest again, “Is it supposed to hurt?”

“In the beginning,” You nod, “I think?”

“Does it always feel like that?”

“I’m not sure,” You admit, “I was going to call my sister and ask, but it’s too early at home,”

He smiles, “Your sister found her soulmate?”

“In highschool,” You smile back, “they��ve been bonded together since they were eighteen,”

“Older or younger?” He asks, and you realize just how little you know about each other despite how long you’ve worked alongside him.

“Younger,” You say.

“I have a little brother,” He replies, “but he’s still in school,”

You nod, painfully aware that this is such a strange conversation to have with your shirts off just standing in the middle of a hotel room, but somehow it’s easier than any date you’ve ever had.

Your eyes flick from his eyes to his mark and he reaches out a hand again, “Can I?”

Your heart quickens and you nod.

His fingertips graze over the edge of your mark, mimicking your touch from before, sliding along the edges of the tattoo. His eyes widen and you know he’s feeling the sensation in his own mark, a mirror image of each other.

“This doesn’t hurt,” He observes, letting his fingers linger.

“I think we have to get used to each other,” You remember that fact from somewhere, “the link has been dormant for a long time, I think it takes a minute to get used to having it,”

“Makes sense,” He murmurs, his eyes still squarely on your mark, “I’ll be honest though, I still really want to touch you,”

“Yeah?” Your voice is thready.

His fingers fall away and he nods, “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” You agree, painfully quickly.

He swallows tightly and takes the smallest step forwards, before offering out his hand, palm up and waiting for you.

Your eyes flick from his face down to his outstretched hand, and you reach for him slowly. You let your fingertips skate over the skin of his palm, down each digit, ghost the pads of your fingertips together. It’s warm, sharp and dizzying even just to brush against each other.

You wonder what more will feel like.

“Can I try something?” He murmurs, his voice nearly a whisper even though you’re all alone.

You nod.

He wets his lips unconsciously and moves a little closer, your bodies now only inches apart. Anxiety, anticipation, thrill, it all runs through your gut like a whirling wind and you shiver at the torrent of his emotions, a grin breaking out over your face.

His smile mirrors yours, “Your heart’s beating a mile a minute,”

“You can feel that?”

“Yeah,” He breathes, grin widening, “this is crazy,”

You laugh, a little nervous, a little elated, and he finally reaches out his hands.

He takes a steadying breath, and then his fingertips brush along your jaw.

You suck in a sharp gasp at the sensation, electric and hot, the feeling rocketing through your entire body. You tilt your face up to his as he continues his gentle touches, your eyes watching him as he studies you. His plush lips are parted, brown eyes wide with awe as he grows a little bolder to brush over your cheeks, down your throat, and back up to your jawline.

“Feel alright?” He murmurs.

You nod into his touch and he starts to lift off but you reach for him, “Don’t stop,”

Your hands land safely on his hips, still covered by his sweatpants and you watch him swallow again at the sudden contact, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Warmth fills the bond, no doubt the first threads of his arousal, and you wonder if he can feel your own. If he can sense how much he’s affecting you with just his fingertips on your face.

His hands settle back on your skin, this time smoothing across you with his palms, one hand cupping your cheek and the other sliding over your shoulder and down your bare back.

You can barely breathe, the room so silent and around you, like the only thing in the universe that exists is the two of you orbiting each other, standing at the precipice of something so catastrophic and wonderful.

Your hands adjust, resting on his taut abdomen as you move a little closer together, and his eyes flutter shut as he breathes through the sensation of your hands on him properly for the first time.

“You’re so warm,” You murmur, your hands softly tracing his abdominal muscles, instinct guiding you to touch more of him, seek out every inch of him as you unconsciously make a map of his body in your mind.

He hums pleasantly, eyes reopening, “So are you,”

He feels so right, so essential under your touch.

Yunho wets his lips softly with his tongue, and a nervous thrill passes through your belly. His eyes flick over you, the pad of his thumb sweeping a line over your lips. You suppress a needy sound, still trying to keep your head amidst the thrumming emotions and steady thumps of your heart.

He doesn’t stop, just stroking your skin slowly, fingers on your back pressing just a little as he sighs.

“Yunho,” You shiver.

“Cold?” He gravitates a little closer.

“N-no,” Your body is all but pressed flush against him now, and you have to lean your face up even more just to see him as he stands tall over you.

“I…” He starts to say something but lets the words die off, like he’s thinking something through, but then he sighs, “forget it,”

His lips are on yours.

Yunho lifts you, wrapping his arms around your back and tugging you up into his embrace. You gasp against his mouth, finding his shoulders to hold onto as one of his arms bands around your lower back.

The kiss is shattering, the world tilting once again, a new frequency humming between your two bodies. It’s hot, your skin buzzing from the contact, but the way you move together is fluid and easy. Your legs part naturally, settling around his hips and his free hand finds your plush thigh as he tugs you into place, slotting your bodies together like they were always meant to be.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles against your lips when he draws in a quick breath, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. His nose nuzzles against yours, and his lips part at the same moment yours do, tongues meeting in the space between your mouths to flick against each other.

“Don’t,” You push closer to him, fingers knotting into the back of his hair as you kiss him back.

He hums, the hand on your thigh sliding up to cup your ass and you shiver as his wide hand stretches across your backside, squeezing your pillowy flesh.

A tiny whimper does leave you then, liquid heat spreading through your body, the combined sensation of both your arousals giving you a headrush.

“So beautiful,” He sighs between kisses, “you’re so beautiful,”

“Yunho,” Your voice is thready, his name a stretched out sound.

He holds you close, nearly stumbling as he moves. You blink your eyes open just as he spins you both, pushing you up against the hotel wall and pinning you in place with the weight of his body. You should slow things down, but nothing in your life has ever felt this good and you find yourself diving back to meet his kiss again.

His arm slides out from behind your back as he pushes closer, your body fully supported by the flat of the wall behind you and his hips under yours and one hand firmly anchored on your ass. With his arm free he cups your cheek, a pleased sound on his lips as he dips you back into the wall and deepens the kiss.

Heat blooms through you, your kisses getting needier, artless and desperate just to get a little closer together. The kind of kissing that sounds as messy as it is, tiny pants and moans muffled between you, skin on skin, tongue on tongue.

“God,” He shudders, his lips breaking away, but his eyes only flick over you for a second before he dives back in. This time his lips travel, hot kisses across your jaw and back to the hollow of your ear, down your throat as he holds you a little higher on the wall for the right access.

You grip his shoulders with one hand and lock your fingers in his mess of black hair with the other, your head falling back against the wall. He pants against your throat, a soft groan as he kisses, and your stomach tightens pleasantly.

“Y-Yunho,” You gasp, arousal rolling through you, and unconsciously you rock your hips, desperately seeking some kind of friction.

He hums low in his throat, kissing back up your neck fast to get to your lips again and his hand slides off your cheek as he crowds you tighter, bracing himself against the wall above your head. His abdomen presses against your core, and even through layers of fabric you feel his heat. Hungrily, you roll your hips again and catch a little pressure, moaning in earnest against his mouth.

Yunho makes a tight sound and then he breaks the kiss, his forehead pressing hard against yours as he takes in slow breaths, his body all but trembling with need as he holds you.

“We need to slow down,” He manages.

You can’t find words, not yet, but you nod against him.

“You deserve better,” He says, “dates, presents,”

You laugh softly, your hand in his hair softening from a grip to a gentle hold, carding through the long locks at the base of his neck, “I don’t need all that,”

He smiles wide, brushing off your words, “Still,” He sighs, still recovering from the heated make out, “I think I have more self control than fulfilling our bond by fucking you into the wall,”

Reality bleeds back in at that. Soulmarks were just that, indicator marks. A way to find your person amidst a sea of thousands, if not millions. All the shared sensation and emotion a precursor to something more permanent and binding, something only sealed together by sex.

You lift your head up, and he leans back to mirror you.

“I lost my head there,” You admit, warm blush in your cheeks, “I didn’t know it would feel like this,”

He smiles, and you take in his expression. His hair is a mess, mussed and disheveled and his face is pink from his nose down to the dark, well-kissed curve of his lips. His bare chest is flushed bright pink and his eyes are bright and warm. You fight the urge to kiss him again.

“Me either,” He shakes his head, “it’s incredible,”

“Overwhelming,” You nod, exhaling softly.

He makes a soft sound to agree and then starts to push back from the wall gingerly, letting you slowly unwrap your legs from his waist and ease down to the floor.

He lets you go when you’re steady on your feet and clears his throat, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants and running a hand through his tangled locks. He’s hard, that much is obvious from the distinct outline of his cock through the gray fabric, but you do your best to look away and not think about how thick and heavy it looked just from kissing you.

“Jesus,” He adjusts his sweats again, “sorry,”

“It’s fine,” You cup your own cheeks with cool fingers, “I promise you’re not the only one,”

His eyes hold yours for a lengthy beat and then he swallows, taking a wide step back and nodding, “Right,” he shakes his head, “we’re supposed to be slowing down.”

“Slow,” You lean against the wall behind you, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to steady your thumping heart.

“I’m going over here,” He grins and walks to the far wall by the door to the bathroom, leaning back and crossing his own arms, “we really should talk,”

A pulse of anxiety flickers through you, and you realize just how quickly you went from his hotel room door to nearly falling into bed. He’s handsome, a kind man, your once upon a time crush, and certainly fated to be a good match for you, but that doesn’t mean you should throw out good sense and rush things. No matter how much your impulses were screaming at you to do just that.

You try to ignore the fact that there’s a bed between you, and you nod, “You’re right,” you finally say, “we barely know each other,”

Yunho’s smile fades just a bit, “I wouldn’t say that,”

“We’re coworkers,” The words tumble out, “I know what we’re both feeling, but,”

His brow furrows as he thinks through your words and he shakes his head, “y/n,” he cuts you off, “do you believe in soulmates?”

“Yes, of course,” Even if you hadn’t before, the way you’re feeling now would be enough to dispel any skeptic.

He takes in a quick breath, the sound sharp as he draws it through his teeth and he cocks his head slightly to the side, “You’re scared,” he massages the top of his sternum with his fingers, and you recognize your own chest is tight with anxiety, “I can feel it, talk to me.”

The instant vulnerability of the bond is startling, and you can feel your own expression crumble. It’s suddenly a bit like being an ant caught under a magnifying glass, too much sharp attention all at once and you swallow tightly, eyes flicking away from his tender gaze.

“y/n,” He murmurs, “I’m not pushing for more, not tonight,”

“Yeah,” Your voice is soft, too quiet for your own liking. Something about the way he sees you so clearly and so quickly makes you feel exposed, nervous and strangely childlike.

“Hey,” He breaks through your little thought spiral, “look at me,”

You straighten up again, finding his eyes.

“I’m just happy I found you,” He tells you, and you feel the truth of it in your gut, “we can figure everything else out together, and at our own pace, okay?”

Relief spreads through you, the knot in your chest loosening, “Promise?”

“Promise,” He nods, raising one hand with his pinky extended, “I just want us to try,”

You nod, extending your own pinky to seal it, “Me too.”

He smiles at that, “Barely know each other,” he scolds softly, “I’m offended.”

“Oh yeah?” Tension bleeds out of your shoulders.

“Mhm,” His expression is full of cheek, “I’m the one with a crush, remember? I notice things,”

Your stomach flips pleasantly and your arms relax from their tight position crossed over your chest, “What things?”

“Let’s see,” He starts, and for a brief moment you think maybe he’s bluffing, but the moment he starts you melt and he holds your gaze as he warmly recites all the little things he’s noticed about you over the years.

“You only wear silver jewelry,” he notes first, nodding towards you.

Your tight hands uncurl.

“You have a ridiculous sweet tooth,” The more he talks the more he relaxes against the far wall, “and you start getting flushed after the second shot of soju, you really are a lightweight,”

“You always pick a Big Bang song for karaoke, and you’re late to work every Monday,” He laughs a little at that and keeps going, “you don’t wear a lot of color but when you do it’s red. We’re both from Gwangju but you moved to Seoul when you were five,”

Your heart starts to beat a little faster, warmth filling you again and you don’t know if it’s your affection or his anymore, but it hardly matters.

“Um,” He takes a deep breath and glances away for a moment and then catches more threads from his memory, “you’re a Sagittarius, you’re a runner, and the last book I saw you reading was Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982. I bought it, but I haven’t had a chance to read it just yet,”

“Yunho,” You find yourself smiling, a hand over your surprised lips.

“I’m just saying,” He shrugs a little, “we aren’t strangers. I know this is scary and fast and going to change the rest of our lives,”

Elation, pure joy, spills over unfettered from his side of your new emotional tether.

“But I like you,” He confesses, “I have for a while, and this,” he brushes his fingers along his soulmark, “just changes the timeline.”

He’s yours.

You push off the wall, crossing the room and all but leap back into his embrace, your arms looping around his shoulders again as you push up on tiptoe to kiss his lips.

“This is real,” You murmur.

“Yes,” He cups your cheeks, nodding as he pecks your lips again.

“You’re mine,”

“Yes,” He grins.

“Oh, this is crazy,” You laugh, forehead against his again.

“We’ll go slow,” He assures you again, “we’ll figure it out together,”

“Together,” You nod.

He dips low once more, this kiss more tender, and he separates you both before things can heat up again. “Hmm,” He glances across the bed and makes a small face at the time displayed on the digital clock, “did you eat?”

“I tried to,” You confess, “I was nervous,”

“You need to eat,” He snaps up his black shirt from the bed and slips it back on, and your chest warms. It’s strangely domestic, strangely commonplace like you’ve been in this position a thousand times before.

Yunho adjusts his shirt and then kisses your hair as he passes by you, padding over to the hotel microwave and searching through the assorted snacks and instant meals, “It’s too late for room service,”

“I’m okay,” You pull your own sweater back on and sit on the edge of his bed.

“y/n,” He glances back, a softly scolding tone.

“Really, you need to sleep,” You offer.

He dismisses that thought, “But I’m hungry, eat with me?”

You concede, and while he starts whipping up two servings of ramen, you wonder if this is what he’s going to be like. It makes sense, he’s always been a caretaking kind of person, but having it so tenderly directed at you feels right.

“When we get home,” He says as he pours in the spice packets, “I’ll take you somewhere nice,”

“This is nice,” You smile.

“y/n,” He sets the ramen on a side table and sits next to you, “this is cup noodle from a hotel microwave,”

“The company is nice,” You take the ramen happily though, and tuck into the warm meal.

“It is,”

“Mm, you know,” You slurp back some noodles and softly clear your throat, “you weren’t the only one with a crush,”

He freezes, letting his noodles drop back into his cup, “What?”

“I’ve always liked you,” Your own confession feels easier after his, “I put it aside since we work together, but I guess, I mean, what I’m trying to say is that we both felt it before the mark, you’re not alone in that.”

“I had no idea,”

“I’m very professional,” You tease him lightly.

He nudges you and tucks back into his noodles, “How long?”

“Hmm,” You get more comfortable, crossing your legs and scooting back a little onto the mattress, “I thought you were cute when we first met,”

“God,” He groans, “we were such kids,”

You nod, swallowing another bite, “Mhm, you had that blonde hair,”

He laughs.

“I remember thinking, ‘that one’s trouble’,” You confess.

“Me?” His eyebrows perk up, “I’m perfectly nice,”

“Trouble as in you’re my type,” You roll your eyes, “but I don’t think the crush properly came until later. You’ve always made me laugh, and when I realized how I was feeling I just did my best to keep some distance,”

He nods, face getting a little serious, “I know what you mean,”

That knowledge leaves you both a little quiet. The late hour, the adrenaline come down, all of it barrels into you at the same moment as the next anxious thought. How in the world were you both going to navigate this with a contract as tight as theirs and the public eye always watching?

“Yunho,” You murmur, the last of your noodles left to go cold as you sit with that thought, “Are we going to be able to figure this out?”

“Figure what out?” He looks genuinely confused by your question, “Us?”

“You’re an idol,” You nod towards him, “I’m staff,”

He rests a hand on your knee, “We’ll be fine,”

“Aren’t your contracts,” You trail off, letting him fill in the blanks.

“They’re strict, yes,” He nods, “year seven,”

Dating, romance, even the perception of it was more than discouraged by companies in this industry, their artists contractually obligated to be single and available and dedicated only to their fans. Five years would have been the industry standard to prevent any idol from being caught out with a partner, let alone a potential soulmarked one, but seven is excessive.

You blanch, “That’s almost two years away,”

“We will find a way,” He says, “we’re not the first people in the industry this has happened to,”

“Really?” You perk up, “Who?”

He falls short, “Well, I don’t know exactly, but it’s bound to have happened.”

“And then ruined their careers,” You groan, flopping back flat on the mattress and covering your face with a hand, “which is why we’ve never heard of them,”

Yunho laughs, earnestly laughs, and takes the half empty ramen cup out of your hand to discard, “Maybe, but for now, let’s just stay positive. Get to know eachother better,”

You nod.

“Nothing can change the fact that we found each other,” He points out, dropping down onto his side on the bed next to you, “and I’m okay with that.”

“So we just lie to everyone?” You chew at the inside of your lip, staring up at the white ceiling.

“Hey,” Yunho’s fingers tuck under your chin and draw your eyes to him, “I know you’re anxious,”

You sigh, letting his softness calm you again.

“I know,” He repeats, “I am too, but we don’t have to decide anything tonight. We’re both tired and it’s been an emotional day,”

“Okay,” You nod, “okay, yes, you’re right,”

His thumb strokes over your cheek again, and you watch him exhale and sink further into your touch, “Will you stay tonight?”

That wakes you up.

Your eyebrows raise, “Stay?”

“Just to sleep,” He assures you, “I just… I don’t want to be without you yet,”

“I need to get back before Iseul wakes up if we do that,” You note with a grimace.

“What time?” He glances back to the clock.

“Seven,” You say, “her alarm is set for seven-thirty,”

“We can do that,” He grabs his phone off the side table and sets an alarm, “we’ll get up,”

The pull between your bodies is so strong you’re fairly sure you would have stayed no matter the consequences, but you nod, “Then I’ll stay,”

He grins and pushes himself off the bed, “I’ve got clothes, if you want to get comfortable,”

“Sure,” you sit up and wait for him to find things in his still packed suitcase.

“Um,” He pulls a pair of black sweatpants from the bag, “these should work, and if you get cold,”

You smile as he grabs a gray hoodie and comes back to you.

As you start to pull off your sweater again, he turns around and leaves his back to you, “Sorry,”

“Thanks,” You chuckle, making short work of changing. You’re swimming in his clothes, but his sweatshirt smells like him and you just want to bury your face into it, “you can turn around now,”

His shoulders relax as he turns back, and you watch his lips part as he takes you in.

“What?”

“You look cute,” He clears his throat, shrugging off his reaction.

You smile and ease back onto the bed, “Oh, I get it,” you laugh, “is your guy brain on fire because I’m wearing your clothes? Is this some kind of… you won the competition, ownership thing?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, kneeling on the bed to shuffle closer, “No competition when you’re literally fated for me,”

“Right,” You let the word drag out on your tongue to tease him.

“But I like taking care of you already, and now you’re warm and comfortable,” He collapses next to you onto the mattress with a sigh, “and I know I don’t own you, but you are mine, just like I’m yours now. I won’t apologize for liking you in my clothes or in my bed, for liking when you look like my girlfriend,”

Warmth blooms in your cheeks and you duck your face into the sheets.

“Now come get under the covers,” He maneuvers the duvet, “it’s late, you were dead on your feet today,”

His voice is so warm and familiar, and you slide into the covers beside him.

In bed you keep a little distance, and despite the number of times both of you say that you should go to sleep, your conversation is almost impossible to stop. Yunho holds your hand in the middle space of the mattress between your bodies, and in the dim lighting of the hotel room you whisper thought after thought back and forth. A million things coming to mind you need to tell each other so suddenly now that you’ve found each other.

As you talk his fingers travel, restlessly stroking your skin, up and down your arm and tapping out patterns. When his palm slides back and forth over the sharp lines of the tattoos on your upper arm, and you feel the question slipping out of your lips and revealing more about yourself than you intended before you can catch it.

“Your parents,” You blurt out, “will they be happy?” He’s spoken about them so much over the past hour that you can’t help but ask him that question point blank.

“So happy,” He responds with ease, a laugh on his lips, “they always worried me being an idol meant I’d never be able to find the one and settle down, they’re going to love this story,”

You smile at the easy way he calls you ‘the one’, but the question you really asked still remains unanswered and you exhale softly, “But,” you manage, “will they be happy with me?”

Yunho stills, reaching across the bed to hook his finger under your chin and draw your eyes up to his again, “Very happy,” he says, “just like I am.”

Your muscles relax, his words a soothing balm, and you adjust your position on the pillow beneath you, “Just checking,”

“Mhm,” He studies your face, “jagi, why wouldn’t they be happy with you?”

The endearment slips off his lips with ease, and a burst of warmth spreads through you. You’ve never needed pet names and softness like this from a partner, but from him it makes your heart quicken.

The momentary elation fades though, and his question comes back into your mind. You take a deep breath, you owe it to him to tell him now, “My family won’t be happy,”

“With me?” His eyebrows raise.

“It’s me,” You shake your head, “my parents have difficult ideals, and I’ve never pleased them. It wouldn’t matter who you were, they… they’ll find a way to not be happy for me.”

His eyes soften, and his thumb strokes along your jaw, “I’m sorry,”

“It is what it is,”

“Are your parents soulmates?” He asks softly.

You shake your head, “No, they don’t really believe in soulmarks,”

You watch his eyes widen in surprise.

“Unless,” You can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes, “the match is ‘fortuitous’,”

“For status?” He surmises.

“Status, money,” You shrug, “connection. But I think I could marry the next president and they’d still find a way to be disappointed in me,”

His jaw flexes tense for just a moment, before his expression smooths over again.

“Anyway,” You clear the bad thoughts away as quickly as they came, “my sister and I never went along like they wanted, like my cousins and the rest of my family, so we are the great disappointments. It’s not… it’s fine, but, I guess you should know before we, you know,”

He smiles, a bit of amusement in his expression that you can’t place, “Did you think having bad parents would scare me off?”

“It could,”

“No,” He slides a hand under your side and tugs you across the mattress to press a fast kiss to your lips, “it never could.”

“But I’m,” You start, all the reasons why a partner might care ringing in your ears.

“Beautiful?” He cuts you off, “Just my type? If it’s anything else I don’t want to hear you say it,”

Your stomach flip flops hard and you push lightly against his chest to get him to stop.

“The thing is,” He brushes your hair back from your cheek, “my parents are soulmates. I grew up in a house full of a lot of love, even when they were being strict and scolding us.”

Your smile at his warm expression.

“So I know they’ll love you,” He explains, “they know what this feels like, what it means. I have plenty of family for us both,”

Your throat constricts, tears threatening for a moment.

“Your sister, though,” He grounds you out of the bad thoughts without even thinking, “you two are close?”

“Very,”

“I’d like to meet her,” He smiles.

“You two would get along great, my sister and her wife both, actually,”

Yunho nods, listening attentively, “Do they have kids?”

“Not yet,” You groan, “but I’m dying to be an auntie,”

His thumb drags a comforting line across your cheekbone, his expression warm and affectionate, “Cute,”

You sink into the pillows, a yawn creeping up to your lips, “She’s going to lose her mind when I call her,”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” You huff a laugh, “she thought that when I started working here I should have found an inconspicuous way to bump into all of you to test possible bonds. She’s going to be riding the ‘I told you so’ train.”

“She’s funny,” He smirks.

“Very,” You sigh, unconsciously cuddling into his warmth.

“Has it been a while since you’ve seen her?” He asks softly, adjusting his arms around you so that you’re cradled against his chest with the pillows at your back.

“Mhm,” You yawn again, the warmth of his body settling the last of the adrenaline inside you, “a while,”

“Let’s find a day off after the tour,” He tucks the duvet around you.

“Yeah?” Your eyes feel heavy.

“Yeah,” He kisses your forehead.

“Yunho,” You yawn again, dipping your forehead into his chest, “God, I’m so tired again,”

“Mhm,” He yawns too, “me too, jagi,”

You hum softly, fingers slipping under the edge of his shirt just to feel a little skin, “I like that,” you murmur, “I like you,”

“I like you too,” He chuckles, “now go to sleep,”

A piece of you wants to protest, wants more time cocooned in this day with him, but something about his body feels so right. After a week of sleeping poorly, your body tight and anxious and heart fluttering for no reason at all, when he touches you, your mind goes blissfully blank.

Your muscles relax, your breath dropping low and soft in your chest.

Nuzzled against his tattoo, you drift.

You’re supposed to wake up to an alarm. Early enough that you could slip back into your hotel room and your own bed to yawn and stretch next to Iseul and make her believe you were there the whole night. That’s what was supposed to happen.

Instead, you wake to the heavy sound of a hotel door and Seonghwa’s voice, Yunho jolting awake beside you.

“Oh my god,” Seonghwa says for what sounds like the third time to your fuzzy sleep-addled brain, “oh my god?”

“Hyung,” Yunho pushes himself up, his arms unwinding from around you, “hey, don’t freak out,”

“Don’t freak out,” Seonghwa’s eyes blow wide, “are you fucking kidding me? Hongjoong is going to kill you,”

“You don’t understand,” Sleep is still heavy on him and he shakes his head to try to pull himself away.

“I understand plenty,” Seonghwa counters, “how long have you been lying to us?”

His reaction surprises you, and you ease yourself up to sit next to Yunho. You’re not sure what to say or not say, you don’t know what they’ve discussed in the past when it comes to dating and relationships, but by Seonghwa’s outburst you can guess it’s honesty at a minimum.

Yunho’s face falls, “No, it’s not that,”

“I can tell you what it looks like,” Seonghwa lowers his voice to what amounts to a stage whisper.

“Hyung,” Yunho rubs his eyes, running a hand through his mop of black hair.

“It looks like you’ve been sneaking around,” He continues, “how long have you two been fucking?”

“Hey,” Yunho’s voice sharpens, and his hand crosses your body to anchor on your opposite thigh.

Seonghwa’s eyes track it and he shakes his head, “This is so stupid,” he steps back in surprise, “you’re both being so, incredibly stupid.”

Yunho gives you a squeeze and opens his mouth to reply but Seonghwa keeps going.

“Naive is what it is,”

Irritation bubbles in your gut and you can’t stop yourself, “Seonghwa, will you shut up for one second?”

He stops in his tracks, mouth falling open, “What?”

“Can you please,” You hold his gaze, “please, just listen to Yunho for a minute before you jump to conclusions.”

He shifts, taking a step back and crossing his arms, and then he looks to Yunho.

Yunho finds your eyes quickly, silently asking, and you give him a nod.

“Okay,” Yunho runs a hand through his hair again, “I’ll just say it.”

Seonghwa waits, his expression completely neutral except for the irritated corner of his lips.

“y/n is my soulmate,” Yunho squeezes your thigh again and you slip your hand into his to twine your fingers together, “we didn’t know, but now we do.”

Seonghwa’s brows go high, shock filling his features.

“We’re not hiding,” You add, “we just… it’s just,”

“How long?” Seonghwa manages.

“Soundcheck yesterday,” Yunho says, “we haven’t known long enough to lie, hyung.”

“You’re sure?” He looks between you both, and you know what he’s thinking. How could it be possible to know each other for years and not know.

“We’re sure,” You answer confidently, calmly, “I swear,”

“It’s real,” Yunho’s thumb strokes across knuckles, “it’s very real.”

Seonghwa swallows, taking in the news and sinks back against the hotel dresser, “Well, fuck,”

“Yeah,” Yunho laughs.

“You were off timing yesterday,” Seonghwa points out, “and distracted,”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Yunho grimaces.

“No, but,” He shrugs, “I know you and you’re never off time.”

“It wasn’t easy to focus on the show yesterday,” Yunho admits.

“I’m sorry,” You nudge him with your shoulder, knowing a huge portion of that must have been the panic flooding his side of the link.

He shakes his head, “There’s nothing to be sorry for,”

When you look back up, Seonghwa is smiling and he sighs, “Oh, you’ve both got it bad.”

“Obviously,” You hide your face in your sweatshirt sleeve.

“So, what’s the plan?” Seonghwa asks, “Because you can’t act like this around anyone else,”

Your mouth feels dry.

“We don’t know,” Yunho answers, “we have to figure that out, for now I think we just try to keep things normal.”

Seonghwa nods and then leans forward, “Listen, I know you’re not asking for my advice,”

You both wait.

“But you're my brother,” Seonghwa says unequivocally, “so I’m going to give you some anyway.”

Yunho nods.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” Seonghwa points out, “and I’m sure it will be hard to act like acquaintances in front of everyone, but you have to do it, at least until you make a plan.”

“Yeah,” Yunho’s cheeks are a little pink and he squeezes your hand.

“No one fires the idol for things like this,” He reminds you both, “so for her sake, put it away for today.”

“He’s right,” You nod, “today we go back to coworkers,”

Yunho draws your clasped hands up and kisses your fingers, “Okay,”

“You’re lucky I offered to check on you,” Seonghwa sighs heavily, “if any of the managers came in,”

“Check on me?” Yunho perks up at that, “Hwa, why,”

Things come into focus for you at that moment, how bright the hotel room is with sunlight, how well rested you really feel. You twist in the bed and look at the digital clock, “Oh no,”

“You were late,” Seonghwa explains, “we figured you overslept, I offered to use the spare key to get you up.”

“Fuck,” Yunho curses.

You both slept straight through Yunho’s alarm.

“Iseul is going to fucking kill me,” You roll out of bed, your hands breaking apart as you scramble for you phone, “what the hell am I going to tell her?”

Your phone reads nine-thirty. In thirty minutes you’re supposed to be packed into a van and on the way to the venue and when you look at the collection of notifications your stomach churns.

Three calls from Iseul, and a lengthy string of text messages.

Did you already get up and get ready?

Your work bag is still here…

Not funny, girl, where are you?

Did you make it back last night?

Can you answer me??

I’m getting worried. I haven’t heard anything - You haven’t even read these?

You better not be dead in a ditch, I’ll kill you myself.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Your hands are trembling as you tap out the fastest reply - Alive, be right there.

Yunho’s a whirlwind behind you, stripping out of his sleep clothes and yanking on whatever outfit is at the top of his suitcase, “It’s fine, it’s going to be fine,”

“Sure,” You search the floor for your jeans and dart into the bathroom, “my best friend is going to murder me though,”

You change at lightning speed, swapping his sweats for your jeans and then tying up your hair into a messy bun before pushing back out into the main room.

“Everyone’s downstairs,” Seonghwa offers, “you shouldn’t run into anyone on the way back to your room.”

“Good, okay, good,” Your heart is pounding, “where’s my room key?”

“Here,” Yunho darts forwards and finds the little envelope, passing it to you, “take a breath,”

“I have to go,” You manage, “I have to think of something,”

“Don’t kiss and tell,” Seonghwa offers and he’s being funny but it’s vaguely helpful.

“Wait,” Yunho grabs your hand and tugs you back, snapping your phone out of your hand.

“Yunho, I don’t,” You start to say but he waves you off.

He types fast, adding himself as a contact in Kakao Talk, “My number,” he explains.

Seonghwa huffs a laugh.

You take the phone back and tuck it into your pocket, “I’ll message you later,”

“Good,” He dips forwards and presses one warm, tender kiss to your lips, “now get out of here,”

You kiss him back, just once and fast, a little shred of self indulgence before you have to act like he’s just another guy, and then you’re darting out of the room, shouting back a thank you at Seonghwa as you go.

You navigate the halls fast, and opt to take the stairs to get down one floor faster and more inconspicuously. You take a deep breath when you get to your hotel door, and then you dive.

“So you are alive,” Iseul’s waiting, just like you thought she might be. She’s sitting on your still made bed, her phone in her hands and a tense expression on her face, “I was just about to tell the managers you were missing,”

“I’m so sorry, seriously, I didn’t mean to worry you,” You take a few steps into the room.

Her eyes flick over you, and you realize at the moment her eyes widen that you’re still wearing Yunho’s hoodie, your sweater still discarded on his bedroom floor.

“You hooked up with someone?” Her voice spikes, “Are you kidding me?”

Thankfully the hoodie is plain, just a heather gray with no identifying attributes that scream his name, but you’re still swimming in it and it’s clear you’re rumpled from bed.

“Listen,” You hold up your hands, “I didn’t mean to not text you, I just fell asleep,”

“With some guy?” She stands.

“Yes,” You settle on some version of the truth.

“Who?” She flounders, “We’re supposed to text each other,”

And you always did, when either one of you went home with someone there was always a little preemptive safety report. A name, an address, a shared location, something so that you weren’t completely alone in the world with a strange guy.

“I’m sorry,” You say again.

She studies you, and it’s like she’s looking through you.

“Oh my god,” Her eyes widen, “we know him.”

“Iseul,” Your cheeks heat.

She points at you, “I’m right!”

“It’s not a big deal,” You skirt around her words.

“The only reason you wouldn’t text me is if you were with someone we both know,” She narrows her eyes, “so give it up.”

“I can’t,” You press, “leave it,”

“Why are you being so weird?”

“Iseul,” You sigh, avoiding her gaze, “I just woke up in a panic, and I have like fifteen minutes to get showered, can you give me the third degree later?”

“I’m not letting this go,”

“Yeah,” You pull off Yunho’s sweatshirt and head to the bathroom, “I know, but we have work.”

“Work with a coworker you slept with,” She stands in the doorway while you start the shower, and you realize her tone isn’t so much as angry anymore but probing.

“I didn’t sleep with him,” You groan, “well, I guess I did, but we didn’t have sex, okay?”

“That’s awfully cozy for a one night stand,” She crosses her arms, “unless you’re seeing someone? Are you seeing someone?”

“No,” You test the water heat and unbutton your jeans, “I swear I’ll explain another time, but can you just drop it for today? Or do you want to stand here and watch me shower?”

“Fine,” She concedes, “you will tell me?”

“I swear,” You nod, “I want to tell you, but I’m not ready yet, okay?”

Her eyes soften up at that, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” You nod, “but I’m having big feelings about it and I need to work it out,”

“Oh,” In all the years you’ve known her, she’s never seen you in love or even close, and she just blinks, “got it,”

“Can I shower now?” You gesture towards the running water.

“Yeah,” She steps back, “yeah, but I’m still mad you didn’t text me.”

“Okay,”

“And I’m still going to guess who it is,” She smirks.

“Fine,”

Her smile widens and she rolls her eyes, “I bet it’s one of the BB guys, isn’t it? You always like a dancer,”

She turns the corner before she can watch you blushing harder, so nearly on the money with her guess, but you put it all out of your mind for now and focus on your day. You’re late, and it’s about to be another long one. You’ll have time for everything else later, if you can just keep your cool.

Work is bizarre to say the least. You and Yunho both do an excellent job of not looking at each other except for when he’s in your makeup chair, and you’re getting better and better at ignoring both San’s and Seonghwa’s nervous glances.

This time you start the makeup early, less time pressure with the schedule adjustments, and the night goes off without a hitch. Soundcheck to stage to VIP benefits, it’s a whirlwind and you’re grateful for the distractions everywhere you look.

You can still feel him, emotions from his side of the link ebbing and flowing throughout the day, but the sharp intensity of yesterday has dulled a bit after your night together. In quiet moments you find yourself thinking about his lips, or the way his hands held you as you tumbled into sleep, but you push it down and stay professional.

As the show ends, Iseul ropes you into team dinner, desperate to observe who you interact with and how, still on her quest to find your mystery bed partner, but the boys aren’t there and so there’s nothing for her to really see.

Later, with Iseul passed out from one too many shots of soju, you slip back into Yunho’s hoodie and cuddle into the warmth of your own bed. You need more sleep, you know that, but your brain isn’t cooperating. You toss and turn in the sheets, body feeling like a taut cord, and all you can think of is him.

You miss him.

It’s not even two days of having him in your life like this and you feel nervous and achy without him. There’s no way you’ll survive two years of this.

Over an hour passes as you sigh, changing positions again and again, and then your phone finally buzzes. You scramble to see if it’s a message from him, nearly dropping your phone in the process.

Can’t sleep? - He must be feeling your restlessness.

Not at all - You reply, chest feeling warm at the contact.

Little bubbles pop up immediately to indicate he’s typing and then another message pops on your screen - You’d think after last night we’d both be exhausted.

So you’re as awake as I am?

Just can’t relax. I liked having you here last night. - He confesses.

You roll over in the bedding onto your front and push the pillow under your chest before you keep texting - I liked it too. I’d come up except Iseul wouldn’t lay off guessing who I was with this morning.

Oh? Did she guess correctly? - You can practically see the smirk on his face.

Nope - You tease back.

Was she upset? - He asks.

At first, but I told her I would tell her soon I just needed some time - You reply.

That’s good, honest. - His message makes you smile.

How was Seonghwa? - You tap out.

Fine…. stressing and acting like a hyung, you know - He says.

You smile and type out another message - Is he keeping this to himself for now?

Yes - Yunho’s message comes in, and then another - For now, he knows we need to decide things first.

That’s good - You send back.

Things lull for a moment, and you try to think of something more to say, but Yunho swoops in with a question that makes you bite your lip to keep from laughing - Who did Iseul guess you were with? Was I even on the list?

I thought you’d be happy she didn’t guess - You reply.

Bubbles appear immediately, then another message - I’m a little offended, I’m the obvious choice.

Why’s that? - You tease him.

You feel something warm in your chest, and his next message flies back - I thought I was your type?

You stifle another laugh - You are, she’s not very observant.

So who did she guess?

Your belly flip flops and you hide your face in the pillow for a moment. His obvious jealousy, even just to tease you, is making your heart quicken and you can’t stop yourself from making it harder on him.

You take a breath and reply - About half the BB crew and a few of your managers.

The replies don’t come for a moment, and you nervously refresh the chat.

Finally a message comes in - I’m trying to think of something funny to say, but I’m actually just irrationally jealous.

She was just teasing, no need to be jealous - You smile into your hand.

Doesn’t matter - He says - Now I’m just here alone wondering which of our coworkers Iseul thinks you have chemistry with

He is jealous. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the swooping sensation in your belly and press your legs a little tighter together. If you close your eyes you can feel the echo of his hands on you from last night, and all you want in the world is for him to come down here and kiss you hard like that again.

With a slow exhale you return to your phone - Don’t be jealous, Yunho. We both know I’m yours.

Yeah? - His reply comes after a beat - No need to be jealous then.

Exactly - You reply.

I bet you like it a little though - His message flies in as yours sends.

You feel warm all over and you run a nervous hand through your hair before replying - No, I don’t.

Jagi, you forget I can feel how worked up you’re getting.

Your stomach clenches, drops and twists. He’s going to be the death of you and you’re still just flirting.

You work up the courage and finally send your reply - You’re the one that pinned me to the wall last night.

I’ve been thinking about that all day - The message reply is fast.

You smile and bite your lip, snuggling further into the mattress and trying to ignore the growing pulse between your thighs - You did seem distracted during rehearsals.

You feel warmth in your chest, and you know exactly how much your flirting is affecting him. Another text pings through and you shiver when you read it - How could I not be distracted with you there? All I could think about was the way you said my name last night.

Your thighs press together - Yunho?

Yes, jagi?

Or more whiny, was it? Yunho-ya? - You type it out fully, emphasizing the extended sound, knowing exactly what he wants to hear from the way he gripped you last night.

The room is suddenly hot, and your heart beats faster to sync with his.

It takes a moment for him to respond, bubbles popping up and then receding again and you wonder how he’s lying in bed. If he’s hard already, if he’s palming himself? You wonder if he sleeps naked when he’s alone and youre core clenches, arousal pooling in your gut and you know he can feel the threads of it. When he finally presses send on his message you have to cover your mouth to keep quiet.

Feeling needy? Are you squirming around in that hotel bed wishing for me, sweetheart?

You feel that message from your top to your toes and you steal a fast glance at the bed next to you. Iseul is sound asleep, turned away from you and snoring softly, and you let out a relieved, shuddering breath.

You could pump the brakes here, tease him and find a way to say goodnight, but you simply can’t. Need and arousal overwhelms you and you tap back your reply fast - I’ve been aching all day.

Do you have headphones?

The question catches you off guard, but you write back - Yes, airpods.

Put them in - He says, and you swallow tightly, reaching for the little headphone case on your bedside table.

Your fingers are shaking as you take them out of the case and put them in, making sure they’re connected before you reply - Done.

His call lights up your phone, ringing in your headphones and you swipe to answer with a panicked glance at the bed next to you, but Iseul sleeps on, none the wiser.

“y/n?” His voice is so rich and quiet, a little raspy edge after singing all night and you nearly moan.

“Hi,” You whisper as soft as you can, “I can’t,”

“Don’t talk,” He soothes you, “don’t wake Iseul up, I’ll talk to you and you can text me back, okay?”

You minimize the call and open your chat back up, sending him a quick emoji to acknowledge his words.

“Perfect,” He laughs softly, “this is way easier than texting. Listen, I know we said slow, but I’d love to help you relax if you want that. If not, I can just say goodnight, it’s up to you.”

You exhale softly, a needy thrill in your gut - Let’s relax together.

“Oh,” He sighs pleasantly, “yes, I’d love that.”

You want me? - You ask.

“You can feel how much I do,” He responds, “I’m sitting here convincing myself not to come downstairs and get my hands on you.”

You hum softly, shifting in the sheets and relaxing deeper into the pillows.

You hear his own breath, the way he parts his lips with a wet sound, “Can you tell me what position you’re in?”

You tap out the reply - Lying on my front, on my stomach.

“Hmm,” He sounds pleased, “I bet you look so cute, all twisted up in the sheets and blushing,”

I was tossing and turning.

“I bet you were,” He groans a little, “I tried everything. I hit the gym, cold shower, did some deep breathing, but you have me so keyed up I can’t sleep,”

You send him another emoji, the blushing face.

He laughs, the rumble of it too deep and warm in your ear with your headphones in.

You tap out another message - What position are you in? Trying to picture it.

You hear him shift around in the sheets, “I’m on my back,”

Wearing?

He chuckles, “Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking what you’re wearing?”

I asked you first.

“Fair,” He shifts again, and you picture him restless on his back in the bed you shared the night before, “just boxers,”

A heavy sigh passes through your lips.

“And you?”

You wish it were sexier all of a sudden, but that just wouldn’t be practical in a room with your friend so you tell him honestly - Pajamas, the button down kind, they’re gray.

“God, you’re adorable,” The covers on his end shift again, “wish you were up here with me.”

Me too

“This is probably better,” He says though, “I don’t think I could hold myself back for another night.”

Me either - You confess.

“y/n,” His voice warms, low in his chest, “jagiya, can I help you? Can I tell you what I want you to do?”

Your hands are shaking and you type the reply so fast there’s a typo that you have to fix - Pfease - Please.

He chuckles, “Alright, get comfortable, just listen to my voice, okay?”

You message him one last thought - What about you?

“I’m… I’m, uh,” He lets out a shaky breath, “I’m already stroking for you,”

You press your lips together to keep from making a sound, dropping your forehead to the pillow in front of you.

That’s so hot - You text him quickly when you hear him say your name, probably a little nervous he came on too strong.

He hums, “Good,” he says, “then don’t worry about me, just listen to my voice.”

You set your phone to the side, snuggling into the mattress and the pillows just like he asked for, sparing one more glance at Iseul to confirm she’s still completely out of it.

“Comfy?” He asks when you stop shifting around.

“Mhm,” You murmur in a whisper.

“Good,” He sighs, “now slip one of your hands under your cute little pajamas, between your thighs.”

You slide your arm down, tucking it under your body and into your sleep pants.

“Under your panties too,” He says, his voice a little husky.

“Mhm,” You murmur again, following his words.

“Tease a little for me,” He instructs you, “not too fast, just your fingertips on the outside,”

You breathe low and slow, gently passing the pads of your fingers over your slit, just barely ghosting against the hard nub of your clit.

“I bet you look so pretty right now,” He groans a little and you hear the sound of sheets, “you make the cutest faces when you’re feeling good,”

You make the tiniest noise of acknowledgement, fingers still brushing your cunt.

“Can’t wait to see you fall apart for real,” He confesses, a strain in his tone as he sighs, and you picture him. His long legs spread wide in the bed, stretching from corner to corner, his boxer briefs pushed down and his hand fisting his cock.

You’re going to lose it when you finally get to touch him again.

“You can touch now,” He murmurs, getting your attention back, “are you wet?”

You push your fingers through your folds and sigh when you feel just how slick and swollen you are. With your other hand you find the phone nearby and tap out a quick message - So wet

“That’s good, that’s so good,”

Your fingers start to circle on your oversensitive nub and there’s no way he won’t have you coming in five minutes or less with it feeling this good and his heavy breath in your ear.

“R-rub your clit for me,” He pants and your eyes roll, you can hear the sounds of the sheets rhythmically swishing as he pumps his cock harder, “get your fingers nice and wet,”

You whimper into the pillow, biting down hard on your cheek to keep yourself in check.

“Oh, fuck,” He groans, “sound so pretty,”

You rub harder, faster, your legs stretching wide under the downy comforter to give you better access.

“Baby,” He gets your attention with that, “push two fingers inside yourself, imagine I’m there with you,”

You shift, hand slipping lower and body arching to slide your middle and ring finger as deep as they’ll go. You stay mostly quiet this time, but your breathing is heavy and you’re sure he can hear it.

“Close your eyes,” He murmurs, “picture my fingers,”

You gasp softly.

“Grind,” He tells you, “grind your pussy on my palm and feel my fingers fucking you,”

You bite back a moan, only the slip of a soft sound into the microphone as you start to rock, rolling your hips and working your clit against your hand as you sink into his fantasy. You always took him for soft, the romantic type who’d blush at saying the word ‘pussy’ let alone talking you through what’s bound to be the headiest orgasm of your life, but you’ve never been so happy to be wrong.

“Yes,” Yunho moans and you shudder, “I can hear you moving, you’re doing so good,”

Pleasurable stars burst behind your eyes and you grind harder into your slick palm.

“So good,” He groans and you hear him roll in the bedding, his voice changing to something lower and breathier, and then the rhythmic rock of sheets from his side of the phone tells you all you need to know. You can almost see it, Yunho braced on his forearms, hips thrusting to drive his cock in and out of his hot fist, his face buried in the pillow you slept on the night before.

Heat melts through you, your body alight, and you grapple to find the phone again - Close

“Already?” He says in a flushed exhale, “You’re so hot, that’s so hot,”

You need him to talk to you, you need him to tell you what to do, and you whimper into the bedding as you work your body faster up to the peak.

“You gonna come for me?” He murmurs, “Yeah? Hmm?”

You drop the phone and press a hand over your lips, stifling the threat of a real moan.

“Let go,” His voice is so low in your ear you can practically feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, “come for me,”

Your legs are trembling, knees digging into the mattress and sweat gathered on your brow, and you feel the pressure start to crack open inside you, “Coming,” you whimper into your fingers so he knows, and then it breaks.

“God, good girl, yes,” He groans, “I’m coming with you, fuck,”

Your body curls into itself as you release, locking up in pleasure as you feel wave after wave of heat. You bite down on your knuckle to keep from making a sound, silently falling apart, dimly aware somewhere in your gut that half the heat you felt was his, that part of that pleasure was his own.

Yunho moans in your ear as you ride the sensations, panting and cursing and you can’t wait to feel him pulsing inside you while he sounds this good.

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover, but when your brain starts to connect again you realize you’re panting against the cool flat of the mattress and both your phone and pillow are nowhere to be found. You swallow hard and pop your head up, but Iseul hasn’t moved an inch and you thank god for her liberal use of melatonin while traveling.

In your ear you register the sound of Yunho’s breath and the end of a sentence, “still there?”

He must have been talking, and you try to focus in on the sound of him now as you slip your hand out from between your sticky thighs.

He exhales slowly and you hear him shifting around, “y/n, baby, are you there?”

“Uh-huh,” You manage.

“Sleepy?” He murmurs, misreading your sound, “That’s okay,”

You make a tiny noise of protest and search the bed for your phone.

“Baby?” He’s confused and you grin at his sleepy sated tone.

Sliding off the bed onto nearly boneless legs, you find your pillow off to the side and your phone underneath. You snap it up and send a message quickly - Wait

“Wait?” He breathes, “Sure, I’m not going anywhere, I’m here,”

You tiptoe to the bathroom as quietly as you can and then shut yourself behind the heavy door, flicking on the light and collapsing to sit on the closed toilet lid.

You disconnect your earbuds and bring your phone to your ear, “Hey,”

“Hey,” He murmurs, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” You smile, still a little breathless, “Hiding in the bathroom for a sec so I could actually talk to you,”

He hums, a quiet, lazy laugh, “Ah,”

“Are you okay?” You find yourself asking, a little nervous tumble in your gut.

“Me?” He says, “I’m incredible, you’re incredible,”

“Yeah?” You draw your knees up, wrapping your arms around yourself and smiling into the phone.

“That wasn’t too much, was it?” He checks, but you still hear the sound of him calling you ‘good girl’ and you shiver.

“Not too much,” You sigh into the phone.

“Good,” He hums, “I thought so, I was trying to pay attention to how you were feeling, but it was a little,”

“Hard to focus?” You offer and he laughs.

“Yeah,” He sighs again, heavy and sated.

“I can’t wait for this tour to be over,” You confess, “I just want to be with you,”

You feel a pang in your chest and listen as Yunho rolls in the sheets, “I know, I want that too,”

A little lump forms in your throat and you breathe through it, “Yunho,”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Have you ever felt like this before?” Your thundering heart has started to slow, and you let your eyes close as you murmur the question.

“Never,” He murmurs, “but I felt this way before we touched,”

You feel his tenderness wrap around your heart as if he were in the room with you, and with a small smile you whisper, “I thought you said you weren’t holding a candle?”

“I lied,” He says softly, “it’s been you for a long time,”

He doesn’t say it, not in so many words, but you feel the way he loves you through the link in a wave. It’s as good as any confession to you, just as honest if not more so.

“I wish I could come upstairs,” You manage, tears pricking your eyes.

You hear him swallow and breathe a slow breath through his nose, “Soon, I promise. We’re going to do this right,”

“I know,”

“Are your headphones still in?” He asks

“No, but I can switch back,”

“Put them back in and go get back in bed,” He softly instructs, “it’s late, but I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep, okay?”

“Okay,” You swap back over to your earbuds and adjust them.

“Get back to bed,” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yunho,” You interrupt him, “thank you for staying with me,”

“Always,” He says, and for the first time in your life when someone says they’ll be there, you believe it.

“I’m going back out,” Your voice drops to a whisper, “good night,”

“Mhm,” He listens as you slip back into bed, “just get comfortable, just breathe. I’m right here with you, jagiya, I’ll be right here.”

He murmurs to you softly until your mind is sinking into darkness, body finally unspooling and letting you drop off into sleep. It’s not the same as his arms around you, but it settles you more than any meditation, his voice a steady whisper through your dreams.

In the morning when you wake the call is still connected and the first sound you hear is his slow breath and the steady beat of his heart.

#yunho #jeong yunho #honeyhotteoks fic #yunho x reader #yunho fic #yunho ff #yunho smut #yunho fluff #ateez #ateez fic #ateez ff

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revelboo · 2 days ago

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as the other metroplex writer on this website, I feel you. I understand your pain. I made the call early on to not do the idw 'they can only talk to the cityspeaker' because I knew I would immediately proceed to write myself into a corner lmao. (although I decided against giving him superfine control over his inner mechanisms, which is its own set of challenges)

Good luck, soldier! It's just us out here doing Primus' work

He’s a fun challenge to write, but I feel for the big guy so much

I Can Feel You Pt 4

IDW Metroplex x Reader

• By morning, the glyphs are gone leaving you disappointed and wondering if just maybe you’d imagined it all or dreamed it. If you’d been able to take a picture, you could have asked someone else to read it to you, because if Metroplex is reaching out? You want to answer him. Staring at the spot the writing had appeared doesn’t offer any answers. What was it Hound had said? Something about a city speaker? “Are you trying to talk to me?” You ask, but the Titan is quiet and still around you.

• Halfway between waking and recharge because of the energy he’d expended trying to focus, to communicate, he’s half alert as he tracks you. Drifting in and out, but aware of you all the same, his little anchor to reality. Sometimes in his dreams he’s closer to your size and when he reaches out a hand, you come to him, let him pull your warmth into his body and just hold you in his arms. But even there, you can’t hear him. There, holding you, but still isolated and it hurts. You’re speaking again and it pulls him into alertness. Focusing on you as you reach out a little hand to Hound as the mech kneels in front of you.

• “City speakers?” Hound repeats, idly toying with one of his alt mode’s tires. “They could speak to the Titans. Hear them. Don’t know if they ever were real, though. Might have been just a legend.” It’s not exactly what you want to hear and you wrap your arms about yourself. Remembering those glyphs showing up slowly one by one like it was taking the massive Autobot an effort. Like it cost him something to try and it has been for nothing. Whatever he was trying to say lost on you, because you couldn’t understand.

• “How hard is it to learn Cybertronian?” You slowly ask and his massive spark aches at the determination in your voice. Because you’re trying for him, trying to find a way to speak to him. Reaching out a hand to him just like he’s reaching out to you. And he wants so much to protect this feeling, to protect you. Throughout the day, he tracks you like he always does. Listening to you telling him you have an idea. Watches you request a human sized data pad from Bumblebee loaded with simple educational programs meant for sparklings.

• Back in the little home Metroplex fashioned, you stretch out on the floor with the data pad. Flicking at the screen, searching until you pause. Half drowsing, relaxed at the feel of your little heart beating against him, it’s the touch of your warm fingers that focuses him again. You’re tracing shapes against him, your bottom lip between your teeth. Hesitating, then drawing again. And again. The same shapes. You’re spelling out a simple word he realizes, a ‘hello’ and now he’s wide awake. “Can you even feel this? Or understand?” You murmur and he focuses, mimicking your crude glyphs with an effort. Replying and feeling warmth spread through him when you grin. Can you understand how much this means to him? How precious you are to him for trying? For caring? “Hi, Metroplex,” you whisper as he wishes that his arms could hold you.

#transformers x reader #metroplex x reader #tf metroplex

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readngandweepng · 3 days ago

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needed to put my thoughts on paper about screwing daisuke or curly in the main lobby + some tidbits (pre-crash)

MDNI gn amab top reader, bottom character. can honestly be any of them i guess?? but i wrote this with curly and daisuke in mind lmao. basically just a horny post about same-room sex. half proof-read and probably ooc

imagine fucking him while he’s either sitting on the kitchen counter or laid against the table when everyone’s sound asleep in their respective cabins. he’s hiding his face in the crook of your neck where you can feel his warm breath against your skin as he’s trying oh so hard to keep his volume down. his hands clutch the back of your shirt so tightly you think he’s going to tear it. he bucks his hips, sending a shake bolting through his body. the moan it erupts is muffled by your neck, as are the rest of them. with your fast fucking he has to take a deep breath before hiking a leg up over your waist, angling your cock just a little bit deeper inside of him where he needs you most. the fear of getting caught has dwindled down, too distracted by the feeling of you pounding into him to even give it a second thought. all he can do is hook his legs around your waist and take your cock. he slaps a hand over his mouth to keep his moans repressed as he arches his back and cums. your cum filling him up is almost rejuvenating, and suddenly the consequences of getting caught means absolutely nothing as he rocks into you, his legs around your waist keeping you, and your cock, perfectly in place.

both daisuke and curly would really enjoy the humiliation aspect of something like this. actually getting caught would be absolutely mortifying, but if you were to successfully have sex in the kitchen or on one of the couches without anyone knowing or catching you? say goodbye to your dick because it's curly's now. it wouldn't be an insanely common thing between you two, but i do think that he would secretly be kind of in love with it. daisuke would enjoy it but i don't see him as too much of the exhibitionist type; he prefers getting caught being lovey-dovey.

curly definitely has a rebellious side, and if he was feeling frisky enough he'd lean against one of the kitchen counters while daisuke and swansea were at the dining table, bending over just enough to catch your eye. he might even brush himself against your crotch when passing by, but it wouldn't be noticeable to anyone other than you or someone actively looking for it.

though i don't think daisuke would be forward like that in public, (the most he'll do is give you kisses or sit in your lap while he's playing) he wouldn't mind if you kissed up his neck while he's playing sorry! or rifling in the kitchen for something to eat. swansea would scold you and it would make his face red, but he does enjoy the little thrill he gets out of someone catching you sneak kisses.

(i'm not entirely sure what their sleeping quarters entail, like if there's bunk beds and everyone sleeps in the same room) but in this case that is the set-up, and neither daisuke nor curly would be opposed to riding you on your bed while everyone else is asleep.

daisuke is like a bunny, riding you too fast for his own good until the creaking of the bed forces him to slow down. really, if you actually want to get caught this is the best way to do it, but to ensure there's some kind of dignity left, sitting up and controlling his speed while he has something stuffed in his mouth to keep him from whining is the way to go. otherwise he won't have the self-control to cover his own mouth where your hands are too far away to cover it for him before he wakes everyone up.

riding you is definitely one of curly's favorite things to do, so he would be great at it, even in a situation where you have to be quiet. he'd like leaning over and kissing you with his hands by your head and your arms wrapped around him. the main concern here is having the self-control to not buck your hips up into him, yet your feet are still planted flat on the bed, just in case. he's not the worst at being quiet, so why not make things exciting?

daisuke would love sneaking into bed with you, even if it really is just so sleep. he loves having his back flush against your chest as your hand goes down the front of his pants to stroke him. sometimes he'll just rock into your hand until he cums, and sometimes he'll take off his pants and slip your cock inside, rutting back against you until you push him down onto his stomach and take him. you have to be careful with daisuke because he's noisy, and if you can't tire him out he'll just ask you for more, and by that point the whole crew will know what you've been up to at night (as if they don't already know).

curly, depending on the circumstances, can a lot of the time be the one to start it. playing it off by giving you kisses on the corner of your lips and acting like it's just to send you off to sleep. but then he'll move his lips down to your jaw, and to your neck. you'll feel his hand palm at you through your pants, but if you try touching him he'll shush you, taking your cock out and stroking it painfully slow. you can kiss him, but then he won't throw the blanket over his head and mouth at your dick to slip it down his throat.

ftm!curly would adore having you eat him out under the covers. the feeling of your fingers curling inside of him is intoxicating, and having to keep his voice down and his breathing even just adds to the pleasure he feels. curly is good at keeping his volume down until you start sucking on his clit, then he has to turn his head and pull the pillow over his mouth to quiet himself. he bucks into your tongue a lot because even though he won't outright admit it, he revels in the thought that others might hear how wet you make him.

ftm!curly, if he's feeling too shy, likes when you fuck his thighs, being perfectly content with your cock grazing his cunt. he'll tweak his nipples and watch your dick being sandwiched by his thighs. if he doesn't cum, he's not opposed to finishing things quickly and having you just rub his clit while you kiss and nip at his chest.

ftm!daisuke also loves being eaten out but he's not as good at being quiet, so he'd prefer being fingered where the pleasure being inflicted upon him isn't as overwhelming and direct. he likes when you slowly drag your fingers in and out, spreading him open little by little while thumbing his clit every now and then. he gets very wet very fast, so being under the covers is ideal to drown out the sounds his cunt makes, especially when you begin to speed up and his thighs clamp around your hand because the feeling is too much.

ftm!daisuke loves dry-humping too, and he cums a lot quieter. he'd like having you hold him as he rides your thigh, clothed or not. daisuke also would love to feel the head of your cock rubbing against his pussy, teasing his entrance. absolutely can cum from just your dick gently slapping against his clit.

these thoughts honestly spawned from the very minute i saw the bedrolls on the ground in the lobby. i'm not even a horn-dog but one of my first thoughts was damn imagine fucking there so now here is this post to finally relinquish weeks of 'what-if-'s and 'i-would-totally-'s. i am really into the whole having sex with the chance of getting caught but would hate actually getting caught thing if you couldn't tell lmao.

#mouthwashing x reader #bottom mouthwashing #top male reader #daisuke x reader #captain curly x reader #the more i write for him the more i love curly #i have so many thoughts about this btw #this is my roman empire #dont even care if this is ooc cuz damn #afab character #ftm character #my writngs

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gaywineauntsstuff · 18 hours ago

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I love the idea of Dick being all the Batkid's favourite sibling but in violently different fonts.

Jason: Dick and Jay canonically have a pretty solid relationship but i'm partial to the Jason was around for Dick's rebellion stage and so Dick doesn't think he has to worry about the pedestal thing bc Jason has absolutely seen him violently hungover before he was legally allowed to drink font of this

So by the time Jason comes back and is no longer trying to murder Tim (except psychologically) Dick decides... Well he's evil sometimes but also I can finally tell someone all the Titans drama. So him and Jason meet up like once month if they're in the same city and get progressively drunker while shit talking their teams and Bruce.

Also I hate the Dick and Robin!Jason didn't get along. They absolutely did, Dick was like 0.5 seconds away from taking Jason to live with the titans permanently.

Tim: 'Oh Jason is Tims Robin, Oh Dick betrayed Tims trust.' in the name of the orange dude y'all elected twice W R O N G. Tim Drake used to watch VHS tapes of the flying Graysons routine. He wasn't even a batman Stan first. That came after he saw Robin do a quadruple summersault. Tim is a Dick Grayson fanboy first Person second. Like Tim canonically saw Jason die and went lmao skill issue, imagine not being like Dick Grayson i'm better. When Dick first started training him, he'd consistently excuse himself go to the other room, hyperventilate over Dick Grayson teaching him how to train surf. Dick is not just his idol he's also a pretty substantial part of Tim's support system. He calls Dick when he's going through something or is stuck on a case. And he knows that Dick will always have his back. They have like the unrealistic adorable sibling relationships from Tv that don't exist irl. Tim also does that awkward shuffle thing after fights bc they're still siblings and Dick just pretends the fight didn't happen until Tims calm again

Damian: You have to understand Damian thought he'd have to basically do the league all over again. He lands with Bruce and those ideas are soundly rejected and he now has no trust or respect and he has to adjust. And Bruce is doing his holier than thou, you should know better 10yro who literally was brainwashed as a child act, like Tim didn't have to pull him away from straight up becoming a villain and Dick didn't have to put him in his place with his fists a couple times a year (we love Bruce really). Then Bruce gets Time-streamed, Tim runs away and now the circus freak is BATMAN. Except the circus freak is also a sadistic bastard to criminals, despite being made out of marshmallows to you. Dick hangs people upside down off high buildings for information and cackles as Nightwing. He also listens to Damians worries and helps him deconstruct his bias view of the world. Dick canonically set the standard for child heroes and is among one of the most beloved and trusted heroes despite being marshmallowy and refusing to murder people. Dick is kinda like Damians stand in non pretentious moral compass until he learns his own one later on. Hence why Damian adores Dick Grayson more than anyone really.

in summary support my agenda that Dick and Jason are gossipy drinking buddies, Tim absolutely had a Dick Grayson Shrine as a child and Damian calls Dick to double check that he still cannot kill Timothy (its now entirely a joke.... mostly)

#dick grayson #comics #tim drake #batfam #bruce wayne #jason todd #batman #nightwing #red hood #batfamily #damian wayne #robin jason todd #Listen I love them #listen i love them so much #They're literally all my children but I have a favourite and its the blue one with the weird laugh (thank u yj tv show for this hc)#Tim used to have a kiddie crush on Dick Grayson and got over it b4 his time as robin but it haunts him at night #I stole this from the fact steph canonically had a crush on DG btw #He once told Steph post nap when he was loopy on morphine and she wont let him live it down. Ever

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rmadridcore · 1 day ago

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NSFW Alphabet

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Requested

Word count: 2.3K

Warning: Smut! (Minors DNI)

Author’s note: Another request I had on my list that came just in time lmao 🤍 Enjoy, anon!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aftercare with Jude is practically a ritual. No matter how intense the moment, he makes sure you end the night feeling cherished and at ease. He’s meticulous — cleaning you up with a warm cloth, whispering soft reassurances as he gently wipes away any lingering mess. If he’s gone rough, you’re guaranteed a warm bath where he’ll tenderly wash every inch of you, his touch as gentle as his words, massaging your skin with care. Jude gets extra affectionate afterward; he wants to be close, savoring the post-intimacy warmth with his arms wrapped tightly around you. For him, holding you is almost like another way of saying "I love you" and he needs you to feel that just as deeply.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On you, Jude is truly torn. He adores your eyes, especially how they’re filled with love, but also how they look when he’s making them roll back. Then there’s your hair — soft and fragrant, perfect for his hands to pull when he’s got you on all fours or on your knees. Naturally, he’s captivated by your body, your curves, but if he had to pick a favorite, it’s your lips. Those soft, inviting lips that kiss him tenderly, speak words of love, and do...other things that drive him crazy. The way your lips look wrapped around him or just lightly kissing his fingers, or how they brush over his sensitive spots; it’s irresistible.

For himself, it’s between two: he loves his hands, for what they can do to you — massaging, exploring, or lifting you closer when you’re arched back. And, well, his other favorite…take a lucky guess. But those hands of his? They’re his pride and joy when it comes to you.

C = Cum (anything to do with come, basically)

Jude’s favorite place to is definitely inside you. It’s like he’s on another level when he feels your warmth around him, holding him close — he loves how intimate and possessive it feels, and nothing compares to hearing you ask for it. That alone drives him wild. But if he’s feeling extra smug, he’ll finish on you, usually your face. He loves seeing his release on your lips or the stray drops on your lashes, and the way you look with him still covering you leaves him in awe.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Jude loves marking you, even if he rarely admits it. Knowing the hickeys he left are hidden away on your thighs or chest makes him feel smugly possessive. When he’s in a more playful mood, though, he’ll leave them somewhere visible and watch you try to hide them the next day. Seeing you subtly covering up the spots, his love bites just barely hidden, makes him lose his mind.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Jude’s had his fair share of experiences, he’s learned a lot over time and he definitely knows what he’s doing. But with you, he’s dedicated to learning you — he’s incredibly observant and pays attention to all the tiny details about what you like. Every sigh, every shiver, he notes it down mentally, building a whole guide to pleasing you specifically. His experience shows, but he doesn’t coast on it, he’s always looking to make each moment even better, to discover new ways to make you feel good. He’s invested in making every time together feel like it’s just for you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves anything that lets him see you. Whether it’s missionary, or having you on his lap facing him, or you riding him, Jude is addicted to watching you. Seeing your face flushed and eyes struggling to stay focused on him? It’s everything he wants. The way your expression changes when he’s deep inside you, seeing every little reaction up close — it just drives him to keep going, to watch you unravel bit by bit under his touch.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous etc.)

Jude’s mood is flexible, sometimes he’s lighthearted, laughing softly and whispering silly things to make you giggle. Other times, he’s intensely focused, his full attention on you, dead serious about making you feel every inch of his passion. But no matter the mood, his smugness is always there; he can’t help those teasing remarks and that cocky grin, even at the height of intimacy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is definitely a man who takes pride in keeping himself well-groomed. His hair on top is always styled and maintained, and it’s no different down below. He keeps everything tidy and natural, making sure he’s clean and presentable for you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

With Jude, it’s all about intimacy. He knows that true intimacy is about genuine connection, and he feels that connection with you. His favorite moments are when he’s as close to you as possible, his gaze holding yours if you can keep your eyes open long enough. He’s deeply romantic, telling you all the things he adores about you as he kisses down your body. His intensity and passion grow when he’s with you — nothing matters more to him than making you feel cherished and loved.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Jude likes to jack off, obviously. Who doesn’t? When you’re not around, he’ll definitely take matters into his own hands, but he much prefers if you’re on the other end of a phone or FaceTime call with him. If that’s not possible, he has a stash of Polaroids he’s snapped of you, his favorites that he keeps hidden away to help him out when he needs it. To him, nothing compares to the real thing, but he’ll make do when he’s missing you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

This man has the most obvious praise kink. When you tell him how good he’s making you feel or how much you love what he’s doing to you, it’s all he needs to melt into a mess. The more you praise him, the more he ramps up his efforts, practically obsessed with hearing your approval. There are moments when your compliments even make his cheeks heat up, and that vulnerability drives him to work harder, making him practically feral in his need to satisfy you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

While he’s up for a lot as long as you two have privacy, his favorite place will always be the bed. It’s where he can fully take his time, exploring you without limits. The bed gives him the freedom to do whatever he pleases with you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It’s honestly everything about you, he’s helplessly attracted to every detail. However, nothing drives him crazier than seeing you in his jersey, with his name and number on the back. He can’t get over the sight of “Bellingham” and “5” emblazoned across your shoulders; it’s a powerful reminder that you’re his, and he’s yours. If you wear it around the house, you’re almost guaranteed to end up pinned against a wall, bent over a counter, or pulled onto his lap as he can’t resist making the most of the moment.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s quite open-minded and loves experimenting with new things together, but he has hard boundaries, and bringing other people into your sex life is a firm no. He’s fiercely protective over your bond and can’t even stomach the idea of sharing you with anyone else. Naturally, anything that might hurt or make you uncomfortable is off the table; that goes without saying.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Jude’s mouth was made to worship you — or so he often tells you with a smirk. He’s got serious skill, and he knows how to use it. When he’s between your thighs, it’s his favorite place, and he’s almost desperate as he laps you up, savoring every moment like it’s his last. He’s obsessed with making you come on his tongue and has to physically restrain himself from keeping his mouth on you for hours.

As for you going down on him, that’s a whole different high. Seeing you on your knees, with that gleam in your eyes and your tongue teasing him, brings him to his limit almost instantly.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

His pace varies with his mood, and he loves mixing it up. If he’s been yearning for you all day or feeling a bit possessive, he can get lost in a faster, rougher rhythm, his need for you overpowering everything else. But when the moment’s tender, like on your anniversary or after he’s missed you, it’s slow, steady, and dripping with affection. Every thrust is measured, intimate, filled with soft kisses, whispered promises, and hand-holding. He knows exactly when to be soft or rough, and it keeps things electric between you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Though quickies can be fun, Jude doesn’t favor them. He loves savoring every moment and finds it hard to rush through it; he’d much rather have the time to build up and bring you to the edge slowly. For him, foreplay is essential, and when he doesn’t have the time for all that care and buildup, he’s usually happier waiting until you can fully enjoy each other. That way, the anticipation only makes everything feel even more intense.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

You and Jude are both open to some risks, but you two tend to prioritize safety and privacy. The thrill is there, but he’d never want you both to risk getting caught in any real trouble. However, that doesn’t mean he’s a complete angel: he’s sneaked a hand under your dress at a fancy dinner, given you that mischievous smile, or pressed his hand over your mouth in rooms where you could easily be overheard. Those little thrills are more than enough for him, and they make every private moment afterward even more cherished.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Jude’s stamina is borderline legendary. He’s trained as a top athlete, and while he’s only human, you might be convinced he’s superhuman with how long he can last. He has a strict rule of making you cum at least once before he even thinks of reaching his own high, ensuring you’re completely taken care of. He’s always ready to go for more rounds than you might expect, coaxing you to “give him one more,” until you’re out of breath and only his name remains on your lips.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He enjoys keeping things interesting, so he has a few favorites like handcuffs, a blindfold, and a vibrator for when he’s in the mood to tease. But more than anything, he loves relying on his own body, his hands, mouth, and everything in between, to make you scream his name. He believes his personal touch is more satisfying than any toy could ever be.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Jude is, without a doubt, the king of teasing. This is because he has learned all the tiny, almost unnoticeable things that turn you on and he exploits them like a motherfucker. He’ll make you flustered with a single look, drag out the anticipation until you’re practically begging, and won’t even touch you until he knows you’re fully aching for him. He loves seeing you on edge, desperate, and completely at his mercy.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He knows how much you enjoy his sounds, so he doesn’t hold back. His deep, husky grunts, the way he moans in that accent, and his whispered, filthy words keep you coming undone. He’s vocal because he knows his sounds drive you wild, and he loves to let you know exactly how good you make him feel.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He’s got a thing for mirror sex. He loves watching you watch yourself as he has his way with you, making you see just how needy and beautiful you are. It’s a game for him — if you close your eyes or look away, he’ll slow his pace and tease you until you’re back to looking at the reflection. It’s a control thing, and he absolutely relishes seeing you struggle to keep your eyes open.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

“Impressive” doesn’t quite do him justice. Jude’s perfectly large and proportional, the kind of fit that has you thinking about him hours after he’s left. When he’s fully hard and deep inside you, it’s a feeling you never get used to, almost as if he’s about to split you in half.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Jude’s sex drive is fairly high, almost perpetually ready to show you how much he loves you. If he’s not dealing with major stress from his career, he’s pretty much down anytime, anywhere. Just a hint of flirtation or a touch from you is often all it takes to get him started.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As much as Jude loves sleep, he never nods off until he knows you’re completely settled. Watching you fall asleep in his arms, seeing your breathing slow and your face at ease — it gives him his own kind of peace. Once he’s sure you’re comfortable and content, then he lets himself drift off, happy to have you curled up beside him.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham imagine #football player x reader #football fic #jude imagines #imagine #real madrid #rma #rmafc #football imagine

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lucysarah-c · 22 hours ago

Text

Mounting Spring Ch. 3

Summary: Paradis has opened its doors to the world, and the Rumbling has not yet occurred. The military board insists, "We need more Ackermans!" to avoid ruining Mikasa's life. Levi agrees. Arranged marriage, explicit consent, Omegaverse. Alpha! Levi x Omega! Y/N. Mentions of underage marriage but it doesn't happen, the reader is over 21.Age gap but they are both adults. (I would say enemys to lover but they don't even know eachother to be enemys lol.) Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it. From the creator of "Not in season?" I bring to you "Mounting Spring" lmao haha sorry it's just that my first omegaverse was rather a success… so I decided to do another. Masterlist to the previous parts! Ao3 link in case you prefer to read there!

The raindrops fell over the cobblestones, and, in particular, those falling from the gable were heavy against the small porch of the chapel where she waited. She breathed into her hands, seeking warmth as she tilted her head to the side. Now alone, she felt her curiosity begin to spark, like a cat finally let out of its carrier.

The narrow side streets hinted at the town’s size and social standing, with only one main road that, incidentally, was the only paved one. She guessed that if the weather hadn’t been so dreary, she could have seen the end of it. Her more optimistic side blamed the weather, but the town struck her as dreadful. In the distance, her attention was drawn to the farmer who had been inside with them.

He was talking to someone she assumed was his wife or another townsperson, with his horse beside him and a border collie patiently waiting against his leg. Eventually, both of them turned to look at her, and she stiffened under their scrutiny.

‘Should I... wave at them? Don’t small towns know everyone? Should I start getting to know everyone?’

But as her mind filled with these thoughts, they turned back to talk to each other. She pressed her lips together, feeling time drag painfully. The coat over her head made her uneasy. Almost involuntarily, she took a few deep breaths, catching a faint scent in the air, and then another, more focused sniff. It felt like cheating somehow, though it wasn’t, as her nose itched from his scent, and her body seemed to process it more deeply.

‘It’s deeper than Die...’ she thought melancholically. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t encountered many unmated alphas in her life, or at least hadn’t gotten close enough to catch their scent. ‘Well… isn’t he humanity’s strength? ...something like that. I guess it takes some strong genes to be called that.’

“All right.” Levi’s voice startled her, and she tensed, turning to see him. He was drenched from his search for horses but seemed to handle it with a calmness, like sheep who don’t mind the sky falling on them. His hand held the reins of two horses, and, if her mind hadn’t been elsewhere, she might have chuckled.

The black horse was absurdly tall and elegant, while the other was a dirty white with grayish spots, shorter and with bulkier legs.

“You can have the one I rented if you prefer,” Levi offered, handing her the reins. But she didn’t take them right away.

“Um…” She hesitated. “Sorry. I’ve never ridden alone,” she explained. Then, feeling the need to clarify, she added, “I usually just take carts.”

Levi quickly grasped the issue. After a brief consideration, he reached back and switched the reins. "Take mine," he said, extending the reins of the black mare instead. "She’s calm and obedient.” Levi said, nodding toward the mare. “Scout-trained.”

She looked at the tall, sleek horse in front of her, nerves clear on her face. He jerked his thumb at the other smaller, stocky white one. “This one, I don’t know.”

Her hand tentatively moved forward to touch the mare’s nose. At her touch, the horse nudged forward, her dark eyes focused intently on her. The mare’s imposing size made her hesitate. “Can’t we just ride together?”

Levi, double-checking the saddle, looked back and replied firmly, “No. Too much mud on the way. I don’t want to put extra weight on her.”

When he finished adjusting the saddle, he held out his arm, gesturing for her to step closer. He gave her a once-over and instructed, “Take the cloak underneath. No point in wearing it now that it’s soaked.”

‘Well… he does enjoy giving orders,’ she thought.

Feeling self-conscious under his observant gaze, she removed his coat, then unfastened her cloak, which was heavy and sodden. Her cheeks flushed as she noticed the white dress beneath was now damp and clung uncomfortably. She quickly ran her hands over her arms, trying to cover up, but Levi moved smoothly, placing his coat back over her shoulders before tossing the soaked cloak over the mare’s back.

She took her position beside the mare, gripping the saddle, though her uncertainty was plain. “But… with my dress and that saddle, it’ll be difficult to ride with my legs on the side.”

“Ride with your legs apart.”

She looked over her shoulder at him as he moved to help her up. Despite his short height, he hoisted her up smoothly onto the mare. She was perched high above him now, gripping the reins and feeling the unfamiliar weight of control. Levi stepped back and gave her a once-over, as though to make sure she was seated safely.

“This isn’t very ladylike,” she murmured, her voice carrying a note of unease as the powerful animal shifted beneath her.

Levi raised an eyebrow, still maintaining his stoic look but with a glint of dry humor breaking through. “Well,” he said, his voice calm and low, “I’m the husband now, and I don’t mind it.”

But the silence that followed told him all he needed to know: she didn’t find it funny.

“Just hold steady,” he advised, placing a hand on the mare’s neck in an almost fatherly pat. “She’s been through rougher trips than this.”

The mare, as if responding to his touch, lowered her head, brushing her soft nose against his hair and disheveling it slightly, so that her dark fur mingled with his equally raven locks.

With that, he took the reins and knotted them to the other horse and swung himself up with practiced ease, barely flinching at the wet leather. It struck her that he was completely in his element, as if he belonged here in this bleak weather and muddy roads, as if he barely noticed the discomfort.

The rain pattered steadily, its soft murmur filling the quiet as Levi guided his horse through the thickening gloom of the forest. Her soaked white cloak hung limply from the horse’s saddle. The water on it was counterproductive to keep the warmth, so she took it off. The green trench coat pulled over her head helped more, but it was far from miraculous. Despite the rain, a thick fog was rising as they left the small countryside town and ventured deeper into the forest. Soon, the cobblestones ended, leaving the horses to trudge through thick mud. The road became nearly invisible just a few steps ahead, and she cast a nervous glance at the forest, which seemed to stretch on endlessly.

“Captain… shouldn’t we wait? It’s getting dark, and it could be dangerous,” she murmured, eyeing the shifting shadows between the trees.

Levi’s response was firm, almost cutting. “I told you to call me Levi, and don’t worry.” His tone was as sharp as his gaze ahead. She wasn’t convinced, her brows knitting together in silent protest. Y/N clung tightly to the saddle of the black mare Levi had called his own. His raven hair stuck to his forehead as the rain poured mercilessly on him without his trench coat. When she pressed again, “But—” he cut her off.

“I wouldn’t do anything dangerous,” he declared, his tone allowing no debate. “If I say it’s safe, it’s safe. Understood?”

She murmured a reluctant hum, clearly displeased, but he glanced back over his shoulder, eyes piercing. “I didn’t hear you.”

She swallowed, muttering low, “Understood.” The word fell with barely concealed disdain, and under her breath, she added with a hint of defiance, “…sir.”

‘He said it wasn’t that far...’ but as they continued, it became clear that the headquarters weren’t close by.

Each step the horse took forward felt like moving deeper into an enclosure, further away from family and friends. Eventually, the rocky forest path opened onto the scouts' rustic facility—a large training field of neatly trimmed grass and a main building looming in the darkness, with smaller buildings in the back. She squinted, barely able to make them out through the thick fog but guessed they might be the barracks, possibly separated by gender.

She thought they would stop at the main doors, but Levi guided the horses further. The place overwhelmed her—she didn’t know where to look, and the quietness, at least from the outside, only made her more curious.

“Where is everyone?” she asked.

Levi looked around the quiet training grounds. “It’s late. Most of the soldiers are in the mess hall for dinner or getting ready for curfew,” he explained, his eyes sweeping the area with practiced vigilance. “Especially in this shitty weather.”

He dismounted near a back entrance, which seemed to be a service area littered with discarded training materials. When the horses stopped, she moved to dismount, glancing down to gauge the distance to the ground.

“Need help?” he asked, already striding over with firm steps, his boots far better equipped for the weather than hers. He positioned himself behind her and said, “Let go, I got you.”

With his hands under her arms, he lifted her down with surprising ease. She turned quickly to face him, but he just said, “Stay here. I’ll put the horses away.” before she could protest.

Though Levi’s presence didn’t exactly warm the atmosphere, his absence made the cold settle in even deeper. She shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting around hectic —taking in the swaying trees under t the gusting wind, the flashes of lightning splitting the clouds. While the rain had momentarily stopped on the way back, it was obvious it wasn’t over. The forest sounds felt ominous in the dark, with only dim light illuminating the semi-open area at the back of the building.

‘I feel like a doe... in the middle of a meadow.’

Ignoring Levi’s instruction, she opened the door and stepped inside. She glanced down both ends of the corridor, where yellowish candlelight cast a warm glow. The hum of distant voices filled the air, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. ‘It stinks.’

It reeked of alphas—too many of them. Down the corridor to her left, she saw two young women, a brunette and a dark-haired one, passing by. The brunette noticed her standing in the hallway and looked back with a puzzled expression.

‘Alright, maybe this time I should actually introduce myself.’

She raised a hand slightly, giving a tentative wave, but the brunette turned, calling out to someone—

“I thought I told you to stay there.” Levi’s voice cut in from behind, firm with a trace of irritation as he locked the back door. Without further comment, he led her up a nearby staircase, his movements swift and purposeful.

“But—” she started to object, glancing to the side, but he was already nudging her forward. His hand hovered at her back, as if nudging her without physically touching her, more a mental command than a physical push.

As they ascended the stairs, Sasha, a brunette at the far end of the corridor, tugged on Jean and Connie’s arms. “See, she’s there!” she exclaimed. But when the three of them looked down the hall, no one was there—only a trail of muddy footprints.

“...She was there,” Sasha insisted.

Jean shot her a skeptical look. “Sasha, are you that hungry you’re seeing things... again?”

Sasha frowned, clearly annoyed. “I saw her! I might be hungry, but I’m not imagining things.”

“Well, she’s not there now, that’s for sure,” Connie said, stretching his arms behind his head. “Maybe a ghost?”

“A suicidal one,” Jean added dryly. “Only higher-ups use the back door. And if Captain Levi sees that mud, he’d probably drag out a Ouija board just to kick that ghost’s ass for dirtying his floors.”

Sasha and Connie started to walk away, but Jean paused, wrinkling his nose and sniffing the air with a puzzled expression. “...I do smell something strange, though.”

Sasha and Connie shrugged, both of them betas, unable to pick up on any scent. But Mikasa, overhearing, joined them, her dark eyes narrowing. “Jasmine, berries, and coconut milk.”

Jean shot her a smirk. “Well, I did switch to a new cologne…”

But Mikasa ignored him, already walking ahead with a thoughtful expression, leaving Jean to trail off, his attempt at humor forgotten.

As they moved through the winding corridors, she struggled to keep pace. Levi’s stride was steady and brisk, his attention fixed forward, but after a few glances back, he seemed to notice her struggle. With a subtle sigh, he slowed his pace focusing on her feet to match her pace.

As he did so, he couldn’t help but notice the trail of mud they were leaving behind. Each footprint was a smear of damp earth and grime on the clean floor. His jaw tightened, and he clicked his tongue in irritation. ‘Focus on the important shit,’ he reminded himself.

Reaching the door to his chambers, he patted his trousers absently, then checked the pockets of his uniform jacket. His brow creased in mild annoyance before he remembered: ‘The keys are in my coat.’

He moved closer to her, his face showing a rare hint of apology. “Sorry,” he murmured, reaching into the pockets of the coat she wore. She held still as he fished around, finally pulling out the key with a subtle nod.

Before turning the key in the lock, he looked down at her shoes, now caked in mud.

“Wait,” he muttered, holding a hand up. He gestured to her shoes with a short nod. “Shoes off,” he instructed, bending to remove his own boots first, leaving them by the doorway. She followed suit, slipping off her mud-caked shoes, which felt heavier with every step.

She hesitated, glancing at the mud-covered shoes, but then leaned against the wall to remove her shoes. He did the same, tugging off his own boots and setting them neatly to the side. Once they were both ready, he unlocked the door and pushed it open, holding it for her to step inside.

To be honest, she couldn’t say she was disappointed—her journey to his office had shown her this wasn’t the marriage she’d imagined. She’d heard the Scouts were… humble people. ‘A sweet way to call them low class,’ she thought wryly, fiddling with her loose ring, trying to keep it from slipping off her finger. Part of her almost wished the room would stay dark so she wouldn’t have to face reality, while another part hoped for a glimmer of candlelight to surprise her for the better.

Levi shut the door behind him with a subtle sigh, closing his eyes briefly, as if gathering strength from somewhere unknown. ‘One task down,’ he reminded himself, as if safely getting her to the Scout headquarters unnoticed was his toughest mission yet. He shrugged off his uniform jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door.

She stood, frozen in place, as he walked past her, lighting a few candles he’d set up earlier. He busied himself lighting more, methodically checking off tasks from his mental to-do list. “Why don’t you take a shower? The water should be warm,” he suggested.

‘And... here it is,’ she thought, her pupils darting around the room as though afraid to turn her head, scanning the place as the light started to fill it. She tried to hide her discomfort, not so much from a lack of hygiene as from a lack of warmth. Catching his eyes on her, she forced a thin smile. “Very... modest.”

‘…Empty and rustic, but the last thing I want to find out is what he’s like when he’s mad.’

The room had only two doors: one, she guessed, led to a small bathroom, and the other to the bedroom. The main space was an office with a single shelf filled with books and not much else. ‘Doesn’t he have paintings or decorations?’ She found herself searching for anything that might make the space feel less austere and more homely, something to give her a glimpse of who he was. The office seemed to be the most furnished part of the quarters, with a set of sofas, a coffee table by the fireplace, and a desk. The large arched window was probably his only indulgence, a feature suggesting he spent most of his time here.

“Shower?” Levi insisted, “Don’t take it personally, but I’d like to shower too.”

That snapped her out of her trance. “Oh—sure,” in a small voice. “Um... where did you put my luggage?”

Levi’s brow furrowed, and after a moment, he realized he hadn’t noticed her lack of belongings. “Was I supposed to have it?” he replied, answering her question with another—not a habit of his.

“I sent it ahead, two days ago,” she explained, “They told me it would be best.”

His eyes flicked to the window and the rain still pouring down outside. ‘Well… I think it’s pretty clear why that didn’t arrive yet.’

With a weary sigh, Levi leaned against his desk, one hand running over his damp hair. He looked worn out, both physically and emotionally. “This is a rural area,” he said, “and with this rain, it could take a few more days. A cart wouldn’t make it through the forest right now.”

Levi stepped over to his bedroom, opened a few drawers, and, without moving from her spot, she couldn’t resist sneaking a look. She leaned forward, trying to get a glimpse over the door frame.

She couldn’t see much, but curiosity stretched her mouth open as she craned her neck. A chest of drawers held neatly folded clothes, a couple of books stacked on top, and a wardrobe nearby had boxes on top that reached the ceiling (probably he used it as storage) with boots lined up beneath it. There was a standing mirror in one corner and she could only see the wood footboard of a small bed against the wall.

“Here, you can—” Levi turned back toward her, catching her in the act of peeking. She straightened up quickly, feigning innocence. He raised an eyebrow at her obvious interest. “It’s not as if it’s off-limits. Walk in if you want.”

‘Like a dog caught digging through the trash,’ he thought, mildly amused by her guilty expression.

“Anyway, here.” He handed her some clothes. “The rest is in the bathroom.”

She took them with a distracted nod, disappearing behind the bathroom door.

“Ah...” He let out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding as he let himself collapse, boneless, into his desk chair. His hair was soaked, as was the rest of him, but he didn’t care. “A moment of silence.”

Though she hadn’t said much, her silence was somehow louder than any words. Covering his eyes with his forearm, he felt drained—he’d been through expeditions to retake Wall Maria, yet this felt just as exhausting. But as always, Levi quickly pushed himself back up, pressing the bridge of his nose to calm the headache beginning to throb behind his eyes, and moved on.

“I don’t have time to slack off,” he grunted to himself. He didn’t have much firewood left—it had been an unusually warm spring until today, and firewood was a luxury he was used to being frugal with, like nearly everything else in his life.

'She should probably dry her hair before bed,' he thought, setting a kettle of water on in case she wanted tea. He considered making himself a cup but, as “going to bed” crossed his mind, the idea shifted to the liquor he had stashed in a cabinet. He poured himself a small glass, not intending to get drunk, but needing something that soothed him better than his usual caffeine.

The fire began warming the room, and he placed his coat and jacket near it. He stepped outside briefly to bring in their shoes, cleaning them off and setting them to dry. The kettle’s whistle echoed in the quiet room, and he took it off the heat. That’s when a thought began to bother him.

‘Should I check?’ He found himself near the bathroom door, ear pressed against it, straining to hear any sign of life. ‘What if she passed out in there?... or maybe she’s just constipated and can’t take a shit’

Knocking softly, he asked, “You okay in there?”

“Yes, sorry.”

Relieved but mildly exasperated, he shook his head. She’s using up all the water in the place, he thought, realizing she’d definitely not adapted to the military’s five-minute shower rule.

Inside the bathroom, she was struggling to detangle her hair, but there was no conditioner, no hair mask, or anything remotely helpful. Her skin felt dry without any lotion, slightly raw from the harsh soap he had. Her hair smelled vaguely like cucumber, a tangled mess that only worsened under her frustrated attempts.

“We are not going to cry, we are not going to cry,” she kept whispering to herself in front of the mirror.

‘This was supposed to be my wedding night,’

For as long as she could remember, she had dreamed of her fiancé slowly, reverently helping her out of her wedding dress—a dress chosen just for him. She’d imagined him finally seeing her, her skin soft, her scent sweet enough to eat, a blend of lotion, perfume, everything.

Instead, here she was, struggling with tangled hair and an uncooperative brush, her mascara still on because there was no makeup remover, wearing a baggy T-shirt and gray sweatpants, smelling like some generic soap, with her wedding dress stuffed in a dirty laundry basket.

A million questions rushed through her mind. ‘What do I do?… Should I just lay there and let him do whatever he wants?’ ‘Is it going to hurt?’ ‘Would he force me to do something?’

“I could lock myself in here forever,” she reasoned, gripping the doorknob. ‘…Or could I?’

But eventually, she stepped out cautiously, slowly opening the door. He was sitting with his back to her, watching the fire from one of the couches. When he sensed her presence, he glanced over his shoulder. “Finally. For a moment, I thought you drowned in there.”

Eyes downcast, she muttered, “Sorry.”

Levi clicked his tongue. “It was a joke,” he grunted, feeling like nothing he said made the situation any less awkward.

Levi noticed her standing there, looking unsure and uncomfortable, and with a small sigh, he gestured toward the couch. "Sit down," he said, his tone a bit softer than usual. "Dry up. It's cold in here."

She hesitated but finally obeyed, slowly lowering herself onto the couch, her hands still clinging to her damp hair. Levi awkwardly stood for a moment, unsure of what to do next, before clearing his throat before speaking again.

"Do you want something to eat? I can go see if there’s anything left from dinner," he asked awkwardly, already knowing she hadn’t eaten since the long journey.

She didn’t reply immediately, only giving a soft hum as her response. Levi looked over his shoulder, brow furrowed.

"That’s a no, then?" he muttered, then shifted his weight and walked to the desk. He leaned against it, sipping from his glass.

"Fine," he muttered, “but I prefer when people actually answer me with words.”

She didn’t respond. He glanced over at her, then added, “You sure? I can bring something. I don’t mind.”

"No, thank you," she replied, her voice quiet but clear.

Levi let out a small grunt of acknowledgment, not wanting to push her. He felt an odd tension in the air as he took another sip from his drink. “Alright then.” He paused before offering, "Tea, maybe?”

"No, thank you." Her voice was quiet, distant.

Levi exhaled a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his wet hair as he tried to focus on the fire.

The tension lingered in the air, and after a moment, she spoke again, breaking the silence.

"When do you think my things will arrive?" she asked, a note of uncertainty in her voice.

Levi glanced at her, "Could take a while. The roads are bad, especially with this weather." He paused, his eyes meeting hers for a moment before continuing. "But if you need anything urgently, just tell me."

She hesitated, her eyes darting away. Levi frowned slightly, sensing she was holding something back. He was starting to feel a little impatient.

"Are you still on the rags?" he asked bluntly, unable to ignore the subtle discomfort in the way she fidgeted. "Need something for that?"

Her eyes widened, a blush creeping across her face as she looked away, clearly embarrassed by the question. She seemed to shrink under his gaze, her shoulders stiffening.

"I-I’m fine," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Levi raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced by her answer. He didn’t know her well enough to be sure, but he was certain that something was off. He wasn’t about to let her go without offering help, though.

"Look, if you need anything, just say it." He rubbed the back of his neck, his voice softening slightly, “I can be named humanity’s strongest and all that bullshit but I’m not a mind reader,”

She didn’t meet his eyes, still hesitant, but Levi stood still, waiting for her to speak. ‘There’s no point dragging this out any longer,’ she decided.

“No, uh—” she chose her words carefully, “I’m over it.”

Levi still seemed confused, so she clarified, her face growing redder by the second. “I’m... ready for you… whenever you tell me.”

Her words dropped into the room like the cannonballs once used to break titans’ necks. Levi’s first thought, admittedly, wasn’t his most noble: ‘So... she thinks people don’t fuck when women are bleeding or?’

Lost in his thoughts and the awkwardness of the moment, he didn’t notice how she bit her lip, glancing up at him shyly. “Just—please, don’t be too rough on me.”

Captain Levi always had a comeback, a retort, a dry response. But now, he only pressed his fingers against his glass, eyes locked with hers, lips parted as if to speak but words caught in the back of his throat. Across his life, he’d seen people look at him in many ways—admiration, anger, pity, fear—but hers was different. Her eyes, reflective and tinged red, stared up at him with something close to terror. A terror filled with pure resignation, pleading him.

His jaw tightened, and he felt a knot form in his throat. ‘I’m going to make those bastards pay for this,’ He broke eye contact, turning his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

It was painful, painful for him to think someone could look at him like that. To see him as someone who might treat her as an object, begging him that at least, if he was going to do that, not to be a brute about it. But the worst part, the thought that clenched his throat even more was: ‘Like my mother…’

The room felt silent except for the branches scratching against the window in the storm outside and the flickering firelight. He forced his voice to sound steady. “Just go to bed.”

“Huh?” she asked, confused. “...Should I...wait for you there?”

Levi shook his head. “I can’t do it. Just go to bed. You look like shit.”

He wasn’t known for being the best communicator, and his words often got lost in translation. She blinked, panic rising in her eyes. “I’m...not pretty enough? I tried to look my best—I didn’t mean to disappoint. Please, don’t call this off…”

The thought of being sent back as a failure made her stomach turn. Her family, her younger sisters, her grandmother—they all depended on her.

Levi raised his hand, stopping her mid-sentence. “Oi, oi, relax. I didn’t mean that—damn it! I meant you look tired.”

“But—” she hesitated, moving a step toward him but keeping her distance.

“Shit,” he muttered, his cheeks warming slightly. “It has nothing to do with that.”

Her confusion was clear, so he forced himself to say it: “You’re...pretty, alright? That’s not the issue.”

She still looked uncertain. “If you don’t…claim me…what will people say?” she asked. “People will look down on you as a soldier, as a man...as an alpha.”

Levi chuckled, though he didn’t mean it. “Well, one good thing about who I am is that everyone’s too scared to say anything to my face,” he replied, almost gently. “I just can’t—not while you’re this scared.”

The truth hung in the air, and she resumed fidgeting with her ring, frowning as she looked at the carpet and her voice grew quieter. “What if…I never want to?”

Levi shrugged, too tired to pretend. “Then I guess we’ll wait until next spring when we’re both so damn drunk on hormones, you’ll be begging for it, and neither of us will remember it.”

"Spring?" she echoed, her caution mixed with disbelief. "But that’s a long wait..."

“Oh, well,” he said, with a dry humor, “we’ll just have to try not to kill each other in the meantime.” He gestured to the room. “Go to bed.”

"Where will you sleep?" she asked, then added, almost disappointed, "Do you... have someone else?"

Not that she was jealous, but she’d heard that “a good wife always knows.”

This time, the question made Levi scoff, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “Good one. No, I don’t. I don’t even use the bed—I sleep at my desk.”

‘That can’t be healthy,’ she thought, grimacing. But, like a mouse just freed by a cat, she walked cautiously toward the bedroom, unsure if this escape was real. That can’t be healthy, she thought with a grimace of disapproval. But with hesitant steps, like a mouse released from a cat’s grip, she headed toward the room, still unsure how real this escape was.

Levi finished his drink, then readied himself to take his own shower, thinking, ‘It’s going to be a long, tense wait until next spring.’

A wait filled with mounting anxiety.

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime Wanna join my tag list? Here!

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muletia · 2 days ago

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[tfp] optimus prime x human!reader

summary: you had to go on a business trip. optimus doesn't take it too well

cw: obsessed!optimus, hardcore pinning, angst, i wanted to practice writing dialogues and it shows lmao

word count: 1800

an: i want you guys to know that i am reading EVERY reblog and comment from you swirling my hair and kicking my legs like a schoolgirl

you are so real for that anon

When you, out of your own free will, expressed the desire to join him on patrol, Optimus was overjoyed. You rarely got the chance to be together, just the two of you, always consumed by work or saving the world. And although Optimus wouldn’t dare ask you outright to accompany him on patrols (because the last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable), he deeply longed to spend more time with you alone. He knew he was feeding only his own illusions, fueling the machinery of madness, but by this point, he couldn’t stop. Not when you sat comfortably on his seat, gazing at the views outside the window, visibly content with your outing together.

He wanted so badly for this to be your everyday reality. Maybe then he could finally find some relief from his fixation, maybe you would even save him.

"Hey," you started, and his entire attention focused on you. "Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while."

Oh.

Did your feelings match his? Did you feel affection for him as well? Had you noticed his suffering? Or maybe you wanted to reject him, once and for all, to make him understand that his passion was an illusion, that no matter how much he wanted it, the two of you could never be together — too incompatible, too different. That he had developed this coping mechanism, exhausted by the war.

But before Optimus could spiral further, you crushed his hopes.

"The company I work for is sending me on a business trip," you sighed, clearly dissatisfied with the news. "It’s supposed to take two weeks, but you never really know with these trips, especially since they’re sending me across the continent."

"I understand," he replied, his tone not betraying the turmoil within. "What does this business trip involve?"

"Oh, shoot, sorry! I should have explained that right away," you laughed casually as if you hadn’t just delivered news that shattered his spark. "Business trip is assigned by an employer for training sessions, conferences, exhibitions, and other boring stuff. Kind of like a mission, but without explosions, action, or danger."

It was good to hear that you’d be safe, though you would truly be safest only at the base, under his watchful optics.

Pessimistic, ugly thoughts churned in his processor. Of all the things he expected to hear from you, this wasn’t one of them. Suddenly, he feared being alone, feared his own dreams. Because he knew you wouldn’t be there to comfort him after a nightmare, and nothing else could bring him peace.

"I am sorry to hear we will not see each other for two weeks," he said, "but I am confident you will do exceptionally well on this assignment. You are dependable, unyielding. You can handle anything."

"Oh, thank you," you answered, a bit flustered. You hadn’t expected a compliment. "It just makes me sad to leave Jasper. I don’t say it often enough, but I have a wonderful time with all of you. With you."

"Likewise, [Name]. When are you leaving?"

"The day after tomorrow. Tomorrow after work, I’ll say goodbye to everyone else."

So soon. Too soon. He’d hoped you wouldn’t leave until next week, to at least give him time to mentally prepare for the separation, but you denied him that luxury. Not that any amount of time would have prepared him for this.

Slowly, subtly enough that you wouldn’t notice the change, he reduced his speed, prolonging your shared drive.

"I’m not sure I’ll have time to write," you warned. "Unfortunately, they’ve given me a really tight schedule. But! If I can, I’ll write to the kids. Oh, and expect some souvenirs — I’ll bring something back for you all."

"You do not need to spend your valuable time searching for trinkets. But if you insist, I will cherish anything you bring me."

"Aw, don’t worry—it’ll be no trouble." You waved your hand dismissively. "You do so much for me, for the kids, for the whole Earth without asking for anything in return. You deserve something nice."

"I do not protect your planet for glory or offerings."

"I know, I know. That’s very noble. And amazing. So many years, sticking firmly to your values."

He eagerly soaked up your praise, allowing himself, if only for a brief moment, to forget the world around him, to forget his duties, unfulfilled promises, fallen brothers and sisters. He’d never describe himself as 'amazing', nor did he believe the praise his own kind gave him about his greatness. But for you, he could believe it. If only for a moment, a few seconds, so that you’d leave on your mission thinking warmly of your time together and of him.

"Thank you, [Name]. Please know that I value your words tremendously."

"Oh," you blushed, "that’s nice to hear."

Embarrassed, you quickly changed the subject, unaware that Optimus was watching you closely, curious about your reaction. For now, he pushed thoughts of your departure to the back of his processor, wanting to fully enjoy your presence. You recommended songs from the country genre, one of his favorite discoveries on Earth, which he promised to listen to later. He knew well that this would lead to more daydreaming, imagining a future that would never be. Because no matter how hard he tried, his tomorrow would not be entwined with yours. His desires would forever remain mere fantasies born out of desperation, longing, and sorrow.

A week had passed since you left. In the lives of the Autobots, not much had changed because of your absence; they went on with their chaotic schedule. The kids, however, missed you. No more evenings spent helping them with their homework, working on your reports, playing games, or simply chatting. The worst part was that no one really knew what was going on with you. You rarely messaged, didn’t have time to talk, and when you did, it was just to say, "I’m alive, it’s boring, I’ll message you on Thursday." Life continued, despite how much Miko wished she could play games with you instead of doing her homework.

Everyone managed to adapt to your absence.

With one exception.

At first glance, it seemed like Optimus, the bot with whom you shared the closest bond, hadn’t been affected by such a drastic change. Nothing in his behavior indicated any longing. He didn’t express his opinion on the matter, didn’t ask, didn’t demand. As always, he buried his feelings deep within, playing the role of a diligent leader, hiding from everyone the nightmares running through his processor, now even more intense because of your absence.

He was withering, quietly and alone.

Until now, he had been content simply watching you. He had established a routine, unhealthy as it was, that kept him going. He knew that most of the time when he returned from patrol or a mission, you would be at the base. Even if you came every other or every third day, Optimus knew that eventually, you would show up. It gave him a sense of stability amidst the chaos surrounding him. But now? Maybe two weeks wasn’t a big challenge for you, but he was done after one.

Now, he wanted to be more than a passive observer. He craved physical contact, to hold you close, to feel your heartbeat against his metal. He wanted to know you were alive, to feel your pulse under his digit, to listen to its rhythm, to understand how your chest moved against his metal. He wanted to feel, taste, touch, enter.

He kept glancing at the spot on the couch where you usually sat with your laptop on your lap or spent time with the kids as if hoping that if he looked just one more time, you would materialize there. That everything would return to normal, that he wouldn’t suffer so much, that you would give him the daily dose of antidote he needed to function without plunging deeper into despair. But no matter how many times he looked, you weren’t there, and wouldn’t be for another week.

At some point, however, someone noticed their leader’s miserable mood.

"I can’t quite figure out what kind of bond you have with that woman," Ratchet said, pausing his work to look at Optimus. Before his friend could answer, he continued, "But she’ll be back soon. And whatever she’s doing, she’ll do it well. She’s tough."

"Thank you, old friend. I have no doubt in her abilities. But I would feel better if she were stationed closer to the base in case of a Decepticon attack."

"Mm-hmm," the medic scoffed. "Sure, that’s all it’s about."

Optimus had no response to that. He wasn’t surprised that Ratchet noticed his infatuation, but he would prefer that his friend not delve into the details of their relationship. At least, not yet. Not while Optimus himself was a wreck.

"Hey, hey! [Name] messaged!" Miko yelled.

The Autobot leader immediately approached the platform, finally abandoning his conversation with Ratchet, aware that it would only spark more suspicions. But he didn’t care anymore, not in such an important moment.

He stood directly behind Miko, with Bumblebee and Bulkhead beside him, equally curious to know what you had been up to over the past week.

"She sent photos, too! Look!"

Miko turned to show the messages to the others but paused when she noticed Optimus’s helm close to her.

“Whoa,” she whispered, surprised that out of all the bots, he was the one standing the closest. She swallowed, but her confidence quickly returned.

Holding her phone firmly, she displayed a close-up selfie of you. You were smiling, though the bags under your eyes betrayed that you were sleep-deprived, probably exhausted.

Optimus felt the accumulated stress, pain, and longing of the past week slowly dissipate. Everything was fine with you. You were alive, pushing forward with a smile on your face, happy to simply exist. Admiring your photo didn’t compare to seeing you in person, but it let him vent a little easier, granting him a brief respite from worry, gnawing at him from within. It was enough. For now. For a moment.

“She sends her regards to everyone,” Miko went on, “Oh, and she also asked Ratchet to take a break and mentioned she already bought a gift for Optimus and can’t wait to come back. Hey, I want a present, too!”

Optimus couldn't be certain if another week apart wouldn’t inflict even more damage on his processor and spark, or if longing would eventually consume him entirely. But he knew he was already lost, that you held sway over every aspect of his life. He was wrapped around your finger, tethered by a leash you didn’t even realize existed. And he didn’t mind one bit.

#transformers #transformers x reader #optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader #tfp #obsessed!optimus

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monamipencil · 2 days ago

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this is my fav series. (yes i've said it a hundred time and i'll say it a hundred times more). i absolutely loved this ep lol, it was the right amount of lore with crack. their dynamics take me out everytime lmao. i love how you characterised all of them !! and ofc my fave parts below!!

“There's no room for but Y/n.” Seungcheol finally spoke, looking up. “Quest season is approaching and we cannot have a weak link on the team.”

??? weren't you trying to kiss her just yesterday ???

“Are you keeping tabs on me, newbie?” Mingyu bent down, smirking at you. “Can I consider you interested?” “Your schedules are on the white board genius.” You rolled your eyes, letting him go and pointing at it. “We need to talk.”

smh, the realities of living with 13 men

“The house Gyu, my house. I have a final plan for it.”

THE HOUSE, YOU IDIOT

“I was bored and jerked off.” Soonyoung washed up his bowl, shaking the water off his hands. “It was a good one.”

?? uhm, thanks for the save ig (he's a sweetie pie)

Or could they? Because Jihoon was yet again looking at you like he knew everything

when does he not? i love his lil character lmao

“Though if those are your concerns, you can move into my house. I live close to the Great hall and I have a loft - you won’t have any issues there.” Oh no. No no. You weren't about to fall from the frying pan into the fire.

lmao, frying pan into fire–also like yk gyu is like the son of hephaestus and fire and ikyk. I love your writing skills mia!!

you had in fact, caught him butt naked.

uh? asdfghjkl

He simply grabbed a towel, wrapped himself and walked straight past you into the locker rooms like you didn't even exist,

LMFAOOO

“For someone who is the daughter of Hestia, hospitality isn't really your trait is it?

thanks ig

He leaned back with a small smile. “I don’t read people’s minds but their bodies. I can tell when one is sick, or hungry….or even horny.”

ah yes, cough cough mr. healer, i feel very sick, will you please check ^3^

it’s different and my guess is it has something to do with being Hestia’s daughter.”

im very invested in this lore btw. It’s just itches my brain the right away :))

Sighing, Jihoon sat down beside you. “You can’t allow yourself to be governed by emotions Y/n. You are the result of a God’s lack of resistance to impulses - those who sit in Olympus have their own flaws. If you run your whole life seeking their validation, you will keep running. They will keep you running.”

that got deep real quick. And also a very good life advice. Ngl, i kept thinking about this line

“Funny that a man who pairs socks with sandals is judging me about my outfit.”

that is so foul, choi seungcheol. wth, he is a man afterall

“Can I ride with you?” You turned to Mingyu, looking at him just a little pleadingly.

well my friend over here actually meant to ask if she can ride yo-

“I’ve been to funerals better than this.”

help??? lmaoo

“Maybe because it’s an illegal blend?” Seokmin shrugged before realising what he had let slip. “You cannot tell anyone. Everyone in camp will kill him and Soonyoung will resurrect and kill me.”

lmao, very characteristic of seokmin to say shit he’s not supposed to

Soonyoung laughed, nonchalantly wiping the cream at the edge of your lips with his thumb.

what are we soonyoung?

Though you didn't have the intention of continuing anything at all with Soonyoung, something about being interrupted this way stung differently.

... that rly did sting

She looked away, pretending like she was thinking before turning back to him with a smirk. “Yes, I do. I didn't wear any underwear today.”

nahhh. woman, trust me, i dont wanna know any of that

He doesn't really care for them because he knows it's a mere chemical attraction thanks to his dad.

for some reason “mere chemical attraction thanks to his dad” is tickling my funny bone more than it should. But still lmao

Joshua? You frowned. How could he be anything but a sweetheart? Soonyoung’s girlfriend maybe was an obnoxious toad but not Joshua. He was flawless.

LMFAO?? TOAD??

Minghao’s eyes darkened as he looked at you wordlessly. Strangely, you felt something shift inside you too - oh god he was right.

clears throat WHY IS EVERYONE SO HORN—nvm this is an aphrodite rager

“No.” Minghao shook his head, silencing the voices behind him as he slid his bracelet off his wrist and hooked it to the door handle, eyes not leaving you even once. “Get in.”

i–yes

“I'll owe you one.” You sighed. “Whenever, wherever, please Minghao….” “Remember those words.” He whispered, his hand snaking around your waist to unbutton your shorts, fingers lingering over your skin.

😌😌😌

“Good boy.”

sub soonyoung, anyday, anytime, anyplace, everywhe–

Except deep down you knew it must mean something if despite being drugged Soonyoung rejected his girlfriend because of you and Minghao who was a man of impeccable self control was crumbling for you.

... yes

“Bold of you to assume this is my first time.” Soonyoung smirked as he sucked off Minghao's fingers and you grinned to yourself. Atta boy.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

“That’s my good girl.” “Xu Mingao.” Soonyoung groaned as the other man drew back. “What the hell?!” Minghao simply chuckled. “You know how much I enjoy pain.”

GOOD GIRL?!? I ENJOY PAIN?!?!?

“Didn’t you say you could watch her all day?” He smirked at the older man, hand snaking around your waist. “Now watch.”

cocky minghao is doing smthn to me

You simply stared wordlessly, as the blonde man's eyes found you, flickering from the jacket you had donned, to Soonyoung's hand which was still holding yours. Behind him lightning cracked opened the sky and rain began pouring furiously.

well fuck you too seungcheol. ngl, i giggled like hell reading the last line

Camp Seventeen: Chapter 2

Pairing - Afab!reader x ot13 (Soonyoung x reader x Minghao)

Word count - 13K

Genre - Greek Demigod AU! We’ve got crack, smut, fluff , angst, hurt, comfort, all of it in this series, buckle up!

Previous chapter

Chapter summary - As you delve deeper into the world of the demigods, a party throws you spiraling down a road less taken. While it seems there's one member who may be able to help you with it, there's another you want to lend a hand to. And more.

A/n - I do have a taglist so comment on this post to be added! And if you enjoyed reading, please don't forget to leave feedback in the comments or tags - we've got lots of chapters to go and hearing thoughts really helps <3

Smut warnings - I'm trying this thing where I won't be adding any detailed warnings as of now now, I will be including them after 1 week instead! I'm trying to keep the suspense for those who are interested but I understand there might be some of you who are wary of reading certain things - I will be adding warnings for your sake in a week's time! (There are no trigger warnings for this fic though!)

(edited) - Sexual tension phew, fingering (f.receiving), male masturbation, oral (m.receiving), threesome, sub-ish Soonyoung, dom Minghao, slight mlm? (feeding her cum), couple of spanks, unprotected sex (plis refrain), they're kinda rough - she's struggling to breathe, Minghao is mean and a bit of a sadist, deepthroating, edging, marking, hickies, sloppy seconds, they both finish inside her, I think that's about it?

Today you slept with both the windows and the curtains closed.

Not just Seungcheol's eagle, even the late morning sun couldn't wake you up, leading to you casually strolling into the dining hall, late in the day. As you walked in, still dressed in your pajamas, twelve heads turned towards you, following your every step.

Seokmin turned towards Seungcheol who's gaze was fixed on his food, like it was adamant not to meet yours. Hesitating, the former cleared his throat, taking one for the team, questioning you instead.

“You uh….didn't come to train today.”

“Yes, I didn’t.”

Walking in, you grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl and sat as far away from Seungcheol as possible. If anyone noticed the hostility between the two of you, they didn't say anything. Seokmin looked at you like he was expecting to hear more - then he realised that was all you had for an answer.

“Why didn't you…...”

“I got wet in the rain last night.” You munched on your fruit. “Felt sick in the morning.”

A part of you expected at least one of them to have the decency to ask you how you were doing now but all the boys simply exchanged looks. As you frowned at them confused, Joshua finally looked at you. “Demigods don't fall sick Y/n.”

You blinked. “What?”

“We're half gods, so uh…. stuff like bacteria and viruses don't really have an effect against us.”

Suddenly, at that point, the last 25 years of your life made a little more sense - you realised you hadn't ever fallen sick. You also realised that last weekend when you offered to watch a movie with Seungcheol because the two of you were alone in the house, he had declined, stating he had a cold and didn't want to pass it on.

Of course he lied. All that man did was lie.

Scoffing, you shook your head. “Of course we don't.”

“Is there a problem?” Minghao narrowed his eyes at you conspicuously. “Any particular reason you couldn't or didn't want to come?”

Sighing, you shook your head. “It's just been hard getting used to things, I'm trying but-”

“There's no room for but Y/n.” Seungcheol finally spoke, looking up. “Quest season is approaching and we cannot have a weak link on the team.”

“Cheol.” Jeonghan cautioned, looking at him just a little sternly. “Enough.”

Seungcheol stared back at Jeonghan like he wanted to retort but when the latter shook his head at him, he got up, throwing his plate into the sink a lot louder than anyone had expected.

If Chan hadn’t muttered that the cab was ready to leave, you would have exploded - how dare he? He was the one who hinted at something more last night and he was the one who had left you in the middle of the storm so why was he behaving like this was your fault?? But before you could say anything, Seungcheol and the members going for morning shifts grabbed their things and set out for the day, unusually quietly. As Mingyu began to follow the crowd, you held him by his wrist,

“Where are you going? You don’t have work today?”

“Are you keeping tabs on me, newbie?” Mingyu bent down, smirking at you. “Can I consider you interested?”

“Your schedules are on the white board genius.” You rolled your eyes, letting him go and pointing at it. “We need to talk.”

Mingyu frowned, both confused and curious.

“The house Gyu, my house. I have a final plan for it.”

“Oh! Okay sure let’s go-”

“Wait.” Joshua stood up shaking his head. “I don't know what's going on with you Y/n, but unlike Cheol, I cannot walk away from what I am responsible for in this camp. You're going to put that fruit down-” He pointed at the plum you just reached for. “-go shower, have a full breakfast and then you can sit with Mingyu and finalise whatever you have to.”

“But Shua-”

“No.” He said in a tone that you knew meant that this was not open for any more discussion as he turned towards the man who was stuffing his face with cereal. “And Kwon Soonyoung, why are your sheets still in the dryer?”

Oh fuck.

Soonyoung looked at you confused - you had completely forgotten about that.

“I uh couldn't carry them back in the rain last night.” He muttered, drinking the last of his milk straight from the bowl, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I'll take them now.”

“Why did you need to wash your sheets in the middle of the night?” Hansol frowned at the man beside him sceptical and Soonyoung glanced at you but you were suddenly deeply interested in some random crack on the table surface.

“I was bored and jerked off.” Soonyoung washed up his bowl, shaking the water off his hands. “It was a good one.”

Hansol groaned disgusted and you looked at Soonyoung scandalised as he shot you a cheeky wink before disappearing out of the hall. A part of you was kind of relieved - you were worried after last night, especially considering what he said as you were leaving. Perhaps you heard it wrong because Soonyoung seemed just as relaxed as ever, like nothing had changed.

You were thankful for that - now things could go back to like they were before.

Or could they? Because Jihoon was yet again looking at you like he knew everything

“This is your final plan?”

“Yes.”

“Isn't this the first plan you had made?”

“Yes.”

“Y/n,” Mingyu groaned. “If you wanted to do this we could have finalised it days ago.”

“I told you, I was confused about the whole bathroom situation.” You muttered, tracing mindless patterns over the floor plan. “Let's just make the residence alone. I'll adjust with the common showers.”

“We can still arrange to build a bathroom for you.” Joshua glanced at the papers. “Since we have to divert water pipes, it'll just take a little longer-”

“No.” You gripped the pencil tight. “I don't want anything that takes a little longer. I want this house made as soon as possible so I can shift to my own space.”

Your adamance was definitely new but neither boys commented on it. Instead Mingyu pulled out his phone and scrolled through clumsily.

“I need to place an order for the brick and cement and sure Chan has got a decently sized cab but it's going to take a couple of trips to bring the whole load.” He sighed, not looking up. “It's going to take a couple of weeks to get the house ready-”

“No, no no.” You shook your head. This couldn't be happening. “I need my own house as soon as possible, Mingyu….” You looked away rambling as both men frowned. “I'm in my final year, I've uh got projects and submissions to work on. The library isn't well lit enough to study all night and Seungcheol's house is too far from the charging station in the Great Hall, I can't keep making such long trips just to charge my laptop? What if it rains like last night again? What if all my stuff gets wet and-”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Mingyu set his phone down and tried to calm you down. “Though if those are your concerns, you can move into my house. I live close to the Great hall and I have a loft - you won’t have any issues there.”

Oh no. No no. You weren't about to fall from the frying pan into the fire.

“No Mingyu, what I need is my own space, like every other member of the camp.” You sighed. “And I know it's a lot to ask but I hope we can be done with it fast.”

“I really wish I could help Y/n.” He looked at you pitifully. “You’re an architect, you know the kind of time it takes to build a house. Maybe if you had opted for something simpler, like a wooden cabin-”

“Can you build that faster?”

“I mean we do live in the middle of a forest and I do have automations to cut trees-”

“How long will a wooden cabin take?”

“A few days.” Mingyu rubbed his chin in thought. “Provided it doesn't rain or-”

“Do it.”

Both men looked surprised.

“You're sure?” Joshua spoke up this time. “Wooden homes tend to feel colder, it would also be harder to-”

“I'm sure.” You nodded, gathering the sheets. “I'll have to make a few amendments to the layout then you can start. Meanwhile, why don't you go ahead now with the….. wood gathering?”

Mingyu nodded, stuffing his phone into his pocket, resting his face on his interlocked hands.

“What're you waiting for Mingyu?”

“Now as in right now??”

“Yes right now.” You looked at him like it was obvious. “Please.”

Joshua nodded, signalling Mingyu to leave and grumbling, the bigger man left, much to your relief. Just a few more days. You could handle a few more days with Seungcheol, right?

“You cannot.” Joshua turned to you. “You cannot survive with a group of people if you don't communicate Y/n. Do you want to tell me what's going on?”

You let out a deep breath considering it for a minute but then shook your head. “It's not worth discussing. I'll deal with it on my own.”

“Well you better do it fast because,” Joshua pulled out a sheet from his bag and slid it across the table to you. “Things are about to get a lot more hectic.”

You were too scared to extend your hand and reach for that paper. Good god, what else was in store for you.

“Seokmin and Minghao are already covering physical training for you but being a demigod is so much more than just combat - you need to learn about this world, about its people, about the laws that govern it.” He looked at you apologetically. “I've drafted a schedule where the members will cover these different areas with you. Of course you will have time for your own obligations but you will also have to strictly adhere to the rest…..”

Joshua's words trailed off as your eyes landed on the timetable and the names scribbled on them.

You counted 12 names, all the members were scheduled to help you except-

“Wonwoo.” You breathed out. “His name isn't….here?”

“Yeah…” Joshua scratched the back of his head. “Wonwoo isn't really available for stuff like this, he's got other things to do….”

Of course he did. He was a top secret government official, he did guard duty at night, he was working on your case too, you could understand that he was busy.

But what you didn't understand was why he always ignored you. Even earlier when you popped into the showers forgetting that Wonwoo usually washed himself much after everyone, you had in fact, caught him butt naked.

Any normal person would've covered himself up or at least responded to your small scream, quick turn and innumerable apologies but Wonwoo? He simply grabbed a towel, wrapped himself and walked straight past you into the locker rooms like you didn't even exist, the trademark scent of his perfume the only thing lingering behind.

“Y/n where are you lost?”

You shook your head. “I was just thinking about how the bath house would've been more efficient if the showers were attached to the locker room so we didn't have to walk so far in a towel to change.”

Joshua looked at you like he didn't understand a word you were saying. Or why you were saying it.

“It's just…. I'm just being an architect, don't bother.” You shook your head then the paper. “Thank you for this.”

“No worries.” He smiled sweetly, getting up, leaving you to your breakfast. “I see your first lesson is History of the Gods. Unfortunately I think Chan is busy with some delivery in the evening so, it'll be just you and Jihoon. I hope you'll attend the lesson earnestly.”

You nodded, giving him a hard smile.

How were you supposed to last 2 hours with a man who read you like an open book?

The darkness behind your closed eyelids was supposed to be comforting. That's why you were lounging in your chair, half asleep while waiting for Jihoon to show up. But somehow, it felt like you were being watched and sure enough when you opened your eyes, the face of your instructor of the day was inches away from you.

“Jesus Christ Jihoon…” You sat up scrambling, pulling yourself away from him. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“You're tired.” He tucked his hands in his pockets walking back. “I was wondering if I should let you rest-”

“I'm fine.”

“-but it's strange considering you skipped training and slept all morning, yet you're incredibly sleep deprived.” Leaning back against the table he looked at you amused. “What might have happened last night that exhausted you so?”

Words refused to leave your mouth considering you didn't know if he was teasing you or actually concerned. Given the last few days you assumed it was the former and ignored him as you began closing all the books you had strewn on the table before you.

“I see you're doing pre reading.”

“Chan gave these to me before he left for work. He said I should read to understand better.”

“Did you?”

Of course you didn't. You were almost snoring away and Jihoon saw that, yet he asked the question like he wanted you to feel embarrassed about the answer.

“I thought you were supposed to teach me.” You shut the last book and glared at him. “If you just expect me to just read off a book, I don’t see why you’re required here.”

“Are you suggesting I leave my own class?” He raised his eyebrow amused. “I’m going to have to disappoint you but unlike some, I take what I’m told at camp seriously.”

You glared at him like you were contemplating throwing the book straight at him and you almost did when he walked around the table, sat down on the chair and cocked his head at you.

“For someone who is the daughter of Hestia, hospitality isn't really your trait is it?

“How would I know, aren’t you supposed to be teaching me about this God stuff?”

“I am.” He nodded, crossing his arms. “But it depends on how much the mortal world has already taught you.”

“I’ve never really bothered myself with Greek mythology.” You rolled your eyes. “They’re just stories for bored children.”

“Except they aren’t. They are your reality.”

“Not by choice.” You mumbled. You did not wish to be an outcast in the only world you knew and thrown here. You did not wish for any of this.

“Parentage is no one’s choice.” Jihoon sighed. “But to be a demigod is a gift. It’s a shame that you disregard your power.”

“What power?” You scoffed. “I don’t have any….” Trailing off you gulped.

That was a lie.

“I am the Son of Apollo which means I was there at the Court of Delphi when the Oracle assigned you.” Jihoon reminded you of the fateful night.

The night when a couple of masked men had forcibly picked you from your dorm, throwing you into a large room of unknown people and a round crystal in the middle on an altar. No sooner than you took a scared, confused step forward it spoke - Daughter of Hestia, Camp Seventeen.

“The Oracle only recognises those who have God's blood. So if you’re telling me you don’t have any powers and this is all a mistake, you must think I’m an idiot.”

“If you’re so smart-” You narrowed your eyes at him. “-why don’t you do that mind reading thing you do and figure out what my powers are?”

“I can’t read minds Y/n,” Jihoon looked at you quizzically. “I’m not Athena’s progeny.”

“Y-you can’t? But all these days…..” You blinked at him confused. “Oh my god, can Jeonghan??”

He shook his head. “Neither can Jeonghan. Not all of Athena’s children are mind readers. I’ve only ever come across one in my life and if she wasn’t busy shuffling through everyone’s brain in the quest, perhaps she wouldn’t have been killed.”

You opened your mouth and then shut it, unsure which of the hundred questions in your mind to ask first.

“If you really must know, my father is the God of Medicine which makes me a natural healer.” He leaned back with a small smile. “I don’t read people’s minds but their bodies. I can tell when one is sick, or hungry….or even horny.”

You gulped, feeling your heartbeat raise. Could he tell that too?

“It goes without saying that a demigod's powers are associated with their parentage. So as the daughter of the Goddess of Hearth and Home, I’m assuming you have some sort of bond with fire.”

Tightening your fists, you refused to meet his eye.

It made sense why you never told anyone in the human world about your ability to create fire out of thin air but somehow you couldn’t bring yourself to tell anyone in the demi-world either.

You had seen the powers the boys had - Seokmin was the son of Posiedon, God of the Sea, but he couldn’t create water, only bend it. And Mingyu? His father was the literal God of Fire and even he was only immune to flames.

But you, birthing fire from thin air? Something told you that even in the world of demigods, the world where you belonged, you were a freak.

“Or maybe I’m an architect because of you know, the ‘home’ bit.”

“I don’t think so. Your college preference is pretty much just a personal interest.”

“Then I guess I don’t have any powers.” You shrugged. “Maybe the Oracle made a mistake.”

“The Oracle isn’t human. It never makes mistakes.”

“Then maybe my powers are too insignificant for us to care. I mean think about it - what can the daughter of such a goddess have to offer? I most definitely don’t have anything of value.”

Jihoon stared at you like he had too many thoughts.

“Do you know the life cycle of a demigod?”

You shook your head confused about where he was going with this.

“Not everyone born half breed inherits powers and even if they do, it is dormant until puberty. At the ages of 16 to 18, demigods are at their highest energies which gives them an aura that makes them instantly identifiable - the stronger their abilities, the stronger the aura. After they are picked either by their parents or our scout force, they’re taken to the Oracle who puts them in camp where they will be best suited to train and learn to harness their powers. If a demigod isn’t placed in camp by 18, you best believe that they are dead.”

“Huh?” You blinked. “Why is that?”

“Because either the inability to handle their own powers will kill them or in rare cases, monsters.”

“M-monsters?”

“There’s always good and bad in the world. Where you have gods, you have monsters too.” Jihoon opened one of the books to a page filled with sketches of the most gruesome creatures you’d ever seen. “Most of our predecessors have already locked up many of these in the Underworld but there are still some out there, lurking around. If they sense an aura and you aren’t trained for combat, you don’t stand a chance.”

“So you think because I’ve managed to survive the last seven years, on my own and untrained, I am powerful?” You frowned. “Did you consider the fact that perhaps my aura was so weak no one could detect me?”

“I did. That was my first assumption till the Oracle.” He leaned onto the table. “Even Gods have to touch the orb for a reading but your mere presence lit her up Y/n. Your aura isn’t weak, it’s different and my guess is it has something to do with being Hestia's daughter.”

You hummed, trying to make sense of things. “Well, did the same thing happen with her other children?”

Jihoon shook his head. “We don’t know. Unfortunately for us, there are no other known children of Hestia - you are the first ever.”

You stared at him, letting the weight of his words sink in.

“I’m her only child?”

Jihoon nodded slowly.

If that were true, the whole of last week made no sense. Ever since you had discovered the temple, you had been trying to reach out to your mother every other hour. You assumed she might have been busy or probably had too many places to be to tend to you, but to learn that you were her only progeny and she still didn’t care hurt differently.

Scoffing sadly you shook your head. “What kind of mother doesn’t care about her only child?”

“One who is not proud of her momentary lapse of judgement.”

“What do you mean?”

Jihoon sighed. “Hestia is one of the three virgin goddesses, along with Artemis and Athena. She’s not supposed to have any offspring, much less one with a human. If anything, you are a walking talking symbol of her weakness.”

“I am her child-”

“In theory.” Jihoon emphasised. “But in reality, you’re merely a fragment of her.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Humans and Gods don’t mix Y/n. Hell, even humans and demigods can’t.”

“I’m aware.”

Jihoon took a pause before he narrowed his eyes at you playfully. “Why and how are you aware of that?”

“Irrelevant.” You brushed off. “But if what you’re saying is true, how can demigods even come to be?”

“Because it’s not unlike even the Gods to succumb to lust. At any time they feel particularly attracted to a human they enchant their partners.” When you frowned like you didn’t understand, he sighed and continued. “Enchantment is what we call the process of gods…to crudely put it, possessing people. Taking over their bodies, controlling them.”

Your jaw dropped.

“You mean they possess one person to have sex with another???”

“Well, sometimes it’s just sex but sometimes it is love. They stay on Earth for years together till the lesser gods aren’t able to handle things and they are forced to go back.” Jihoon got up, pacing around the room. “Demigods are born to two human parents who are completely unaware about what happened with them and what their child actually is.”

“Wow” You breathed out dumbfounded. “You mean to say I have two parents in the Mortal world and one sitting in Olympus-” Jihoon nodded. “-and neither of them care about me?”

Jihoon looked at you like you had given him more information than he asked for.

“I can’t speak for your mortal parents but as far as Gods are concerned, they don’t really care about their half human children…… unless they are powerful.” He locked his arms behind his back. “Demigods train for years to become worthy of their parents' attention.”

“So being a demigod isn’t really a gift after all.”

“What do I do then?” You blinked at him lost. “I think I have more than one question I want to ask the woman because of whom my life is a mess. How do I get her to notice me?”

“Play it smart. First, learn about our world and the things that shape it. Understand how Olympus works - what the God's weaknesses are, what ticks them off, what will bring them on your side.” He turned to you. “If you play your cards right, trust me, your mother will come looking for you in no time.”

Letting out a deep breath, you whispered hesitantly. “Will you teach me how?”

Smiling in a way that made your stomach turn a lot differently than it used to for Jihoon before, he nodded. “I'd love to.”

You didn’t even realise when your supposed two hour session with Jihoon dragged on till after the sun had set.

By the end of it, you had a book full of notes stuffed in your backpack and a head full of information that your instructor had filled. As you stepped out of the library building, Jihoon offered to walk you back to Seungcheol’s house given it was nightfall and as much as you wanted to continue talking to him, you politely refused. You weren’t ready to face that man just yet but just as you began walking towards the Great Hall to grab a snack or two, your eyes fell on Jeonghan and Seungcheol whispering away near the trees.

As you skidded to a stop in your path, they turned towards you, both surprised and relieved by your presence. When you noticed Jeonghan nudge Seungcheol making him take a step towards you, you immediately walked back, knocking into someone behind you, earning a shriek.

“Watch it rookie.” Seungkwan muttered as you apologised under your breath. From the corner of your eye, you noticed a couple of the guys standing fully dressed like they were headed out to a party.

“Y/n.” Seungcheol took another step, trying to get your attention again. “We need to talk-”

“I can’t,” You walked over to the boys, placing yourself right in the middle of the group. “I’m going out tonight.”

“Dressed like that?” Seungcheol raised his eyebrows, looking up to down at a really old t-shirt you had donned over a pair of worn out shorts.

“Funny that a man who pairs socks with sandals is judging me about my outfit.”

Behind you the boys snickered, glancing down at Seungcheol’s feet.

“That’s not my point-”

“Can you drop my bag in my room?” You looked over the leader’s shoulder at his sidekick. “Since you love roaming around that house anyways.”

Jeonghan caught the bag you threw to him, sighing as he swung it over his shoulder.

“Well, that would make a total of eight of us..…” Seokmin looked around, doing a headcount. “Dino’s car can take us all but it will be a bit congested-”

“I can take my bike.” Mingyu offered, running his hands through his hair. “It’ll be more convenient for you guys and-”

“Can I ride with you?” You turned to Mingyu, looking at him just a little pleadingly.

Even though you were on the way to a party, you weren’t in the mood to be stuffed in a small car with a bunch of guys right now - all you wanted was some air and space away from Seungcheol.

Shooting you a small smirk, Mingyu nodded, just in time for his mechanical bull to jog over, modifying into a slick bike the moment it neared him. As he got on, you followed him, gripping his shoulders as you clambered on.

“Hold tight.”

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you glanced at the two boys left behind - Seungcheol’s jaw was tight and Jeonghan looked mildly curious, eyes darting where your body pressed up against Mingyu’s back. You could tell the normally cocky Mingyu did seem slightly tense under your touch, perhaps because you were not wearing a bra and he could feel everything very clearly.

“Shall we?” He muttered, turning on the engine.

Sighing, you nodded, a part of you well aware that tonight was most definitely going to be a long night.

“Let’s go.”

“I’ve been to funerals better than this.”

You muttered to Seokmin about fifteen minutes after reaching the house that the boys had brought you to for the night. Your expectation had been that of a frat party, one with pizzas and chips and dip and booze instead you were looking at a living room filled with pink balloons, rose gold streamers and french appetisers.

“Wait till Soonyoung’s alcohol goes around.” Seokmin half giggled, grabbing a canape from the table. “Things always get so much fun after that.”

You watched the man in question pulling out some bottles from his pockets, handing them over to some boys at the corner of the room.

The moment Chan’s car had stopped at the location, all the boys had practically disappeared. Seungkwan headed over to a bunch of people Mingyu said were some of his very close friends. No sooner than he said that, he too disappeared as did Chan, Soonyoung and Mingao. The only ones who remained by your side were Seokmin and Joshua but just as you stepped into the house, a couple of girls pulled Joshua away, leaving you with your current company.

“Why do I feel like something about Soonyoung’s alcohol is sketchy?”

Laughing you shook your head, grabbing a cracker and topping it with brie, stomach rumbling due to the lack of dinner.

“You don’t have to keep me company Seokmin.” You turned to the man who was sweet enough to stay by your side. “I don’t wanna ruin your night.”

“It’s no big deal.” He muttered, putting himself between you and a drunk guy leaning over you to grab a drink from the table. “I know you don’t know anyone here-”

“I’m not looking to socialise anyways.” You confessed, piling a bunch of stuff on your plate. “I’m just going to sit outside and grab a bite in, hopefully, some peace and quiet.”

“Oh.” Seokmin looked a little upset, like he wanted to hang out with you but before you could tell him that you didn’t mind his company, Mingyu popped by out of nowhere, pulling his friend by the elbow and dragging him away excitedly. Chuckling, you got back to piling your plate.

“You worked up an appetite.”

You turned to see Soonyoung hovering behind you, hands tucked in his pocket.

“Yeah….” You shoved a spoonful of cold but nevertheless tasty pasta salad into your mouth. “Apparently spending three hours learning about Greek gods can really drain you.”

“Jihoon can be a bit intense with teaching.” Soonyoung laughed, nonchalantly wiping the cream at the edge of your lips with his thumb. “The trick is to remind him about his workout. He'll drop everything and run.”

“Huh.” You laughed uncertainly before struggling to swallow your bite and turning to him. He stared at you stuffing your mouth with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“Soonyoung we…. “ You swallowed. “We didn't get to talk about last night.”

“Oh.” Soonyoung blinked. “What about it?”

About what he said. About if you heard it right. About if he meant it.

“About if whatever happened was…. of any use with Mina?” You diverted like a coward.

“I uh haven't spoken to her yet.” Soonyoung confessed, scratching the back of his head. “Surprisingly I haven't returned any of her calls.”

“Why is that?”

“I don't know.” He looked at you intently. “I don't feel like doing it.”

“Is there…” You whispered softly, wondering if you should even be asking this. If you were ready for his answer. “....something else you feel like doing?”

Soonyoung nodded, his tongue running across his lower lip, his eyes darting to your mouth. Just as it seemed like he leaned in, out of nowhere, the most beautiful girl you had ever seen, threw her arms around Soonyoung's neck, pulling his mouth to hers instead.

“Hoshi.” She mumbled against his lips, pressing her body up against him not so subtly.

You weren't sure why exactly you were continuing to watch the two people before you shoving their tongues into each other's mouth but perhaps that's how shock worked. Though you didn't have the intention of continuing anything at all with Soonyoung, something about being interrupted this way stung differently.

By the time they had separated, you had chugged an entire can of beer, crushing the metal in your hand.

“And who might this be?” She looked at you, pushing her hair back.

“She's the new member of camp seventeen Y/n,” He pointed between the two of you, “Y/n, this is Mina, my uh….”

“Girlfriend.” She smiled, with an unbelievably perfect set of teeth. “So the rumours are true. The infamous all-boys-celibate camp finally has a female presence. Tell me,” Her eyes glowed. “Have you gotten your eyes on any of them? Or even better,” She lowered her voice. “Have you gotten your hands on any of them already?”

You looked at Soonyoung, utterly uncomfortable.

“Mina, you can’t ask such things-”

“Why not? It'll be between just us girls-”

“Please.” He pulled her back. “Last I saw you, we broke up and now you just waltz back and-”

“I know, I know. We never should have broken up in the first place. That whole fight was stupid.” She pouted, wrapping her arms around him tighter. “Forget about it Soonyoung-”

“Forget about it?” His expression was of disbelief. “So you don't have anything to say to me?”

She looked away, pretending like she was thinking before turning back to him with a smirk. “Yes, I do. I didn't wear any underwear today.”

Inwardly groaning you stared at the design of the tile hoping the ground would just swallow you instead. You wanted to get the fuck out of here since this conversation was of no interest to you but moving was impossible with both their intertwined figures blocking the way.

“Come on Soonyoung, it's been so long and I'm in the mood tonight. The bedrooms on the second floor won’t be free for long.”

Soonyoung’s adam's apple shifted, his words stuck somewhere there as Mina held him by the wrist and began leading him away. As he was dragged off, you expected him to turn and shoot you a grateful look, instead, he looked at you wistfully.

Your plan was simple - stuff your face with all the incredibly bougie food, catch some air in the patio away from all the noise and then leave with the boys whenever they were ready to go. Instead here you were, your plate somewhere unattended while you were gripping the edge of the sink, leaning over it, chest heaving as you stared into the mirror.

Now you knew you weren’t supposed to be hogging the washroom for this long but you couldn’t bear to go out. One, you didn’t want to see Soonyoung and his girlfriend again - especially if she was going to be all over him like a leech because something about that sight made your stomach turn violently. And two, you were somehow, for no reason at all, incredibly wet.

Perhaps it was because suddenly, everyone in the party was quite literally all over each other, or because you were thinking about what happened in Soonyoung’s residence this time yesterday, or because you were just plain desperate to have something, anything inside you.

Last night awakened something in you that you didn’t know existed and now nothing seemed to satiate the beast. Chiding yourself for being out here when you could have been in your own room, having your way with Soonyoung’s toy or your own fingers maybe, you gripped the sink tighter, feeling your heart rate rise unprompted. It was getting harder and harder to stay modest.

The only thing that stopped you from putting your hand down your pants in a house full of sixty people on the other side of the door, was the knock on it.

“What part of I am throwing up in here do you not- Oh!” You gasped, walking back as the door flung open and in stepped a slightly inebriated Chan. “What are you doing!?”

“You won’t open the door….” He slurred. “It’s been so long, Seokmin was worried.”

“How the hell did you open three locks….” You stared at the door as he slowly shut it behind him.

“My father is the God of thieves. Are you really surprised that I can open any lock and any door?”

“I guess not.” You muttered, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub. “But you didn’t need to, I was going to come out-”

“You’ve been in here for over 20 minutes.” Chan crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “I thought you passed out or something.”

“I wish.”

Passing out would be much better than whatever was going on between your legs.

“You don’t look like you’re enjoying the party.”

“I’m not. I’m just waiting for us to head back.”

“Then why ask to tag along?” He raised his eyebrow. “Does it have anything to do with the hostility between you and Seungcheol?”

“So you noticed.”

“I think everyone did.” Chan chuckled. “Do you want to tell me why or should I guess?”

“Shoot your shot.”

Chan shrugged all knowingly, “He rejected you.”

You looked up at the boy before you so fast, you nearly fell back thanks to the inertia.

“W-what makes you think that?”

“Sons of Zeus and Daughters of Aphrodite have a natural tendency to attract the opposite sex.” He stated like it was obvious. “Seungcheol has women swooning over him like they're in some sort of trance. He doesn't really care for them because he knows it's a mere chemical attraction thanks to his dad. Instead he just ignores them or if things get unbearable, he breaks their hearts so they snap out of it.”

You knew Chan had to be quite tipsy to so bluntly place you in the list of women Seungcheol had rejected. It wasn't like that was it? Yesterday in the rain, he had hinted his feelings for you, he almost kissed you but….. what about what you were feeling? Was this irresistible attraction you felt towards him nothing but chemical?

Considering how you had been feeling since Mina wrapped herself all over Soonyoung…. You wouldn't have felt that if your heart was set out on Seungcheol right?

Then again….. it was Seungcheol’s name that left your mouth as you orgasmed yesterday.

Staring at the floor you shook your head slightly. You could not think about last night again, not with how soaked you already were at the moment.

“Hey,” Chan inched closer, putting his finger under your chin, lifting your face to meet your eyes. He did not however notice the way you pressed your thighs together at his touch. His eyes skimmed over the features of your face, a slight amused smile forming on his face. “You’re flushed…. Did you have any of Soonyoung’s alcohol?”

You shook your head but were unable to shake his fingers from your face. “His blend is not my drink of choice.”

“Oh gods, please don’t tell me you had any beer.”

“I think I had two cans…… or maybe four?” You frowned. “I can't remember but I'm not drunk! Beer barely makes me-”

“Y/n,” Sighing, Chan finally let you go. “Party rule number one, you never drink alcohol at an Aphrodite rager.”

“Why not?”

“Because Aphrodite’s children are a bunch of troublemakers. Don’t let their gorgeous faces fool you.” He brushed the hair off your face. “You must think people like Joshua are the finest to walk the Earth, but don’t judge a man without knowing his stories.”

Joshua? You frowned. How could he be anything but a sweetheart? Soonyoung’s girlfriend maybe was an obnoxious toad but not Joshua. He was flawless.

“You might as well have drank Soonyoung’s disgusting blend.” Chan muttered. “Why do you think his alcohol sells so well at these parties?”

“Because his annoyingly beautiful girlfriend is a daughter of Aphrodite?”

“Yes, but also because only the insane drink the booze served at an Aphrodite party. She may be the goddess of Love but she’s also the goddess of Sex and more importantly, her children are addicted to it.” Chan looked at you just a little worried. “Those drinks are their special concoctions of aphrodisiacs.”

“A-aphrodisiacs???”

“Aphrodite, aphrodisiacs - not far off huh?” He shrugged. “I’m not sure if it hit you yet - do you feel anything?”

“No….” You shook your head.

The correct answer was hell yes. Everything going on with you suddenly made sense but you couldn't tell Chan that, not him.

“Are you not feeling unnaturally hot?” He looked at you concerned as he sat down beside you, his body unwittingly brushing against yours. “Doesn't the tiniest bit of proximity rile you up?”

You didn’t answer him. You didn't need him to know just how much even his presence was affecting you thanks to those stupid sex potions.

“I should tell you beforehand, when it hits, it’s going to be intense but the longer you resist it, the stronger it gets.” You turned to him, only just realising how close his face was to yours. “The only chance you have of getting out of it…. is to give in.”

Gulping you stared at him. The boy who was always bright, laughing around and cracking jokes like he was an old man was looking at you with unusually darkened eyes, his thighs pressed against yours, your hand inches away from him.

The only chance you have of getting it out is to give in.

“Chan do you think….” You gulped. “...you can guard the door for a while?”

Perhaps if it were anyone but Lee Chan you would have climbed them by now. Because he was right - the more you tried to control yourself, the more you felt yourself slipping. But not with Chan, definitely not with him. He was far too sweet and innocent to be dragged into whatever mess was going on with you.

“I might uh need a few minutes alone here.” You mumbled.

Chan blinked like he didn't understand but when you looked away, wiping the sweat trickling down your neck in a pretty cold room, he seemed like he got it.

“Oh y-yeah sure.” He got up quickly, not looking at you. “I'll be right outside.”

And with that he scurried out, closing the door behind him.

The moment he disappeared you smacked your head - you didn't particularly enjoy beer anyways, why did you have to drink it tonight? If you were being honest, it was because of Soonyoung and his irritatingly gorgeous girlfriend and their unnecessary antics right in front of you face-

No.

No no no.

You couldn't be spiralling with these thoughts again. Chan said the longer you resisted, it was going to get worse so you were going to do whatever it took to get this feeling out of your system.

As you unbuttoned your shorts, you got up and leaned against the sink to avoid seeing your face in the mirror, barely able to meet your own eyes given what you were about to do. Pushing your embarrassment aside considering the need of the hour, you slid your hand past the material of your underwear, fingers feeling exactly how drenched you were.

“Fucking hell.” You muttered. How was it possible that you were this wet absolutely unprompted and for no reason at all? What the hell was in those concoctions??

You thought you could just get off with your own fingers but given how easily they were sliding past your hole there was no way you could do this on your own, especially not here. Annoyed, you pulled your hand out and turned, washing it under the running water, sighing at your reflection in the mirror. Chan was right, you were incredibly flushed, your pupils were blown and the sheen of sweat was very evident - oh it was definitely getting worse.

Maybe you could go find Mingyu and convince him to give you a ride back to camp. If you could get your hands on Soonyoung’s toy again, you could help yourself out of this. That was perhaps the best thing to do right now.

Adjusting your hair and your clothes, you gave yourself a determined nod and opened the door, expecting to see Chan but finding someone else entirely guarding the door.

“M-Minghao.” You stuttered as he looked over his shoulder, eyes finding you.

“Party rule number two, never trust Lee Chan to do anything in a party with alcohol.”

You should have known - he might be your age but Chan was like an overexcited child. And did Minghao just say rule number two? Did that mean he was aware….

“You’re still very aroused.” He smirked as you felt your cheeks heat with embarrassment. “I’m guessing whatever you were trying to do in there didn’t work out.”

You groaned. “I can’t believe Chan told you-”

“He didn’t.” Minghao shook his head amused. You watched as he ran his eyes from your face down. “He didn’t have to, it’s pretty evident.”

“I just need to get home and I’ll be fine-”

“I don’t think so.” He dropped his voice, his wide frame covering anyone from seeing you. “On the contrary, you might quite literally pounce on the first guy you see-”

“You’re the first guy.”

Minghao’s eyes darkened as he looked at you wordlessly. Strangely, you felt something shift inside you too - oh god he was right.

“How much longer-”

“There’s bedrooms upstairs you know-”

”Are you guys done-”

“No.” Minghao shook his head, silencing the voices behind him as he slid his bracelet off his wrist and hooked it to the door handle, eyes not leaving you even once. “Get in.”

Surprisingly you obeyed, taking a step back, allowing him to enter as he closed the door behind him much to the disappointment of the many queueing outside.

“Y/n,” How was his voice so much deeper suddenly? “This is the exact kind of trouble the Aphrodite children are looking for. They want the drama that comes from the inability to control oneself, you’re better than that.”

“What do you want me to do?” You groaned. “Before you shoved me back in here, I was trying to leave and get back to camp so I can deal with it myself-”

“The art of war lies in self control.” He slid his arms in his pockets, looking at you just like he did every morning on the training field. “As a demigod, you are at your best when you learn how to control yourself. People misunderstand how this aphrodisiac works - you don't have to give in, it does wear off after a point. Most just don't happen to be able to control themselves till then.”

“Wears off at what point because Minghao, it's been barely 20 minutes since I’ve had those drinks and I’m barely able to get a hold of myself.”

“Which is precisely why leaving right now is a horrible idea - you don’t have a hold over yourself.” He let out a deep breath. “We can fix it. We can stay here for however long you need and you can let this pass. Consider it a lesson in your training.”

“We’re training in the middle of a party?”

“As warriors we’re always training.” He walked past you, sitting on the edge of the bathtub like you had been just a while ago, looking annoyingly relaxed. “Do you think I enjoy these all-pink, snooty french parties? I come here just for the drinks.”

Your jaw dropped. “Y-you had the beer too?”

Minghao nodded.

“On purpose? After knowing what they do?”

He nodded again.

“Why in the world would you do that?”

“To practise self control.” He stated like it was obvious.

“By drugging yourself?”

“A good warrior is one who doesn’t allow himself to be governed by any kind of emotion - lust is usually the hardest to control.”

“So that concoction has no effect on you?”

“It's starting to hit.” Minghao looked at you intently as your eyes flickered down to his pants, noticing the bulge. “But I'm not the kind to give in.”

“Well I think I'm the kind to.” You muttered, throat going dry as you peeled your eyes away. Minghao didn't. “I don't know how to explain it.” You shut your eyes tight, embarrassed of the words leaving you but you knew he might be the only person who understood where you were at. “but I have this feeling like I'm being clawed on the inside, like if I don't have anything in me right this second, I might just lose my mind.”

“I get it.” Your eyes flew open to find him standing right in front of you, his face inches away. “I feel like I'm on the edge of my sanity too but you can fight it.”

Gulping you looked at the way his lips moved, the vein of his neck stark as was his collarbone peeking from under his shirt. Before this, you hadn’t actually noticed just how handsome Minghao was.

“l can't.” You whispered, running your eyes over his features. “Can…can you help me?”

Leaning closer, his gaze hardened. You could see there were thoughts running in that head of his - the warrior was engaged in a battle with himself.

“Minghao please.”

Grabbing your waist, he spun you around swiftly, trapping you between his hands and the sink, meeting your eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

“Help you how?”

You looked at how his mouth was right by your ear and his frame so wide behind you that he was engulfing you merely with his presence. On one hand there were his arms, veins running up them as he gripped the edge of the sink and on the other was the fact that if you just took one step back, you knew you would feel his length pressed against you - both of which were making things exponentially worse.

“Tell me how you want me to help Y/n.” He muttered, his breath soft against your ear.

“I… you know how-”

“I was helping. I was telling you what to do-”

“Can't you do something instead?” Knowing exactly what you were doing, you took a small step back, pressing your back against his chest and your ass against his length. “Didn't you say it hit you too?”

You thought it was a fair enough proposition. Both of you had taken the drink so it was easy to put the blame on it for anything that might potentially happen.

“But I don't need any help.” He shook his head adamantly. “If I help you, what's in it for me?”

“I'll owe you one.” You sighed. “Whenever, wherever, please Minghao….”

“Remember those words.” He whispered, his hand snaking around your waist to unbutton your shorts, fingers lingering over your skin.

“W-wait.” You gasped. Though this was exactly what you were expecting when you asked for his help, as it blended into reality, you felt an uncertainty kick in. “W-what if someone opens the door-”

“A door that has the bracelet of Ares on it?” Minghao's reflection raised his eyes amused. “They'd be crazy to.”

“b-but what if…. I'm too loud or something. Wouldn't we be in trouble?”

“Y/n.” His hand drew back just a little. “Are you sure you want me to….”

“Yes.” You shut your eyes mortified that just the feeling of him withdrawing his touch was physically painful. “Yes please …”

Almost instantly Minghao obeyed, his hand snaking past the material of your shorts, just the thin layer of your underwear keeping his fingers away from you.

“Oh you poor thing, you're drenched.”

You nodded as his hand pushed aside your panties, running his digits along your folds, smearing your arousal everywhere, a fingertip prodding your hole ever so slightly.

“I'm not sure two fingers are enough for you.” He muttered, groaning. “You really want a dick inside don't you?”

“So bad.” You whispered back. “I wouldn't even mind two of them in me right now-”

You felt your words die in your throat as Minghao chuckled, slipping his fingers into your wet hole. “Let's start with two of these first.”

A soft moan left you as you agreed, hands gripping the edge tighter as his digits simply stayed inside you.

“Look at you.” He muttered in your ear. “Open your eyes and look at yourself.”

Hesitating you obeyed, catching sight of the two of you in the mirror as his free hand wrapped around your waist, holding you in place against him. Something about the way your small frame fit against his wider one was….nice.

You wanted to ask him to move his fingers, to give you something but before you said it, he slowly began pumping his digits in and out, burying his face in the dip of your neck. As his mouth brushed your skin, you felt yourself tense around his fingers.

“So tight. ” He mumbled. “Oh you'd be such a delight to fuck.”

“Then fuck me.” You moaned as his fingers picked up speed.

“Tempting.” His voice left him like a low growl as his teeth grazed your skin. “But I'm a man of principles.”

“Are you sure?” Reaching for the hand on your waist, you led it up your torso under your shirt, guiding him to your tits.

“No bra?” He half groaned, squeezing it. “What a doll.”

“Don't you want to fuck me?” Moaning you tried to push your ass further against his rock hard self. “Use me and we can both be free of this-”

“Don't be greedy Y/n.” Contrary to his words, he let a third finger join his act. “Take what I'm giving you.”

Feeling a lot more full now, you felt your jaw slacken and no words left as both his hands took turns to harshly pump and squeeze, his mouth along your shoulder and neck, leaving painful, stinging marks of red.

“Faster.” You panted as his tongue ran along your skin to soothe the burn and fingers obeyed, stretching you out just right. Minghao could tell it wasn't enough and his thumb darted to your clit, having you keen in his arms. The moment he curled his fingers up, met your eyes in the reflection and whispered, “cum for me doll.”, all that was building inside you instantly snapped, your orgasm washing over you in waves.

Thank god he held you up against him because as you pressed your legs, riding out your climax, they began trembling. When your sight became clear and you came around, Minghao slowly let you go but whatever fire was burning inside you was not satiated.

Fucking hell.

“You need more?” Minghao chuckled as he took a step back and you turned to him, eyes still hooded with lust.

“Perhaps just another…” You ran your hand down his chest, unzipping his hoodie, revealing his black tank top. “Finish off the favour.”

“I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “As your campmate I did help. But now as your trainer, I'm going to let you get over the rest on your own.”

“Minghao….” You groaned. If he was going to leave you halfway, he might as well not have done anything. Now you were, in fact, much more turned that you didn't think his fingers could even do the job anymore…..you needed the whole package.

But like he said, Minghao was a man of principles, he wouldn't give in…. unless you could tempt him enough?

Humming you looked around. The four walls of this bathroom did not seem like the right place to try and entice him but thankfully, you remembered Soonyoung’s girlfriend mentioning the bedrooms upstairs.

“Fine.” You agreed, adjusting your clothes and buttoning up while Minghao washed his hands. Perhaps if the two of you found yourself in the proximity of one of those rooms, you could get him to succumb.

As you pulled your hair into a ponytail, Minghao opened the door, holding it for you to leave first but being the girl you were, you wantonly brushed your hand against his erection, pretending your actions were innocent. He stared at you as you walked away from him, stopping only at the edge of the staircase to glance at him before heading up, hoping he was following.

Pushing through the crowd of people making out and feeling each other up in a way that was far from decent, you glanced down the corridor, slightly surprised. The house didn’t seem so big from the outside but the corridor before you looked endless with dozens of rooms on either side. You walked past them, avoiding the ones with socks on the knobs, knocking on some to receive screams of ‘go away’ and ‘taken’ and opening some unanswered doors to sights you wished you never saw. Half disturbed and half amused you continued to try and find an empty room when the sound of a particular something made you stop your tracks, eyes widening.

Your name.

Your name sounding like a strangled moan, repeated over and over, getting breathless with each word.

Gulping, you slowly pushed the door next to you open, both terrified and curious about what you were going to see because a part of you recognised that voice - it was one you heard on camp all the time.

Sure enough, before you was a large bed, Soonyoung sitting against the headboard, his pants pushed down his thighs and his dick in his fist, pumping it hard and fast. He didn’t seem to notice your presence, his eyes screwed shut as your name continued to spill from his mouth. Of course this wasn’t the first time you were seeing Soonyoung do this but something had most definitely changed since last time.

When you took a step ahead, letting the door close behind you, the click of it shutting was what finally got his attention, his eyes flying open. Catching sight of you he immediately swore loudly, tucking his length back into his pants, face turning a lot more red than it already was.

“God woman, how long have you-”

“Long enough to hear whose name you were saying.” You looked at him guiltily. “Soonyoung, you have a girlfriend-”

“Mina and I are not together.” He confessed, gulping.”She wanted to but for the first time ever I refused to….”

“Why?” You whispered, terrified of the answer. Please, please, please. Kwon Soonyoung cannot be in love with you.

“For the last ten years I thought no one could make me feel the way she did and that’s why the two of us belong with each other but….” He sighed. “I learnt that that’s not true.”

You blinked at him as he looked at you softly.

“And you know why it’s not true.”

“Soonyoung we….” You walked in, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What happened between us was just a favour, one friend to another. How can there be something between us-”

“I know.” He nodded. “I’m not saying I’m in love with you or something, I…. I myself don’t really know, all this is new to me too.”

“But what you were doing,” You tried not to glance at his pants where his erection was still very much evident. “That seemed like-”

“Y/n I’ve only ever been with one woman my whole life who gave me a boner before I turned her down for good.” He couldn’t look at you either. “What else could I really do…..”

A part of you understood him. You too were incredibly wound for a while now and you knew what it was like to try and fight it - you too had succumbed. In fact you were still not fully rid of the feeling and Soonyoung was right before you, just as aroused. Yesterday could be justified as an ignorant act whose consequences were not expected but if you went through with this today, there was no coming back from it. It wouldn’t be right…..

But fuck it.

“You didn’t finish, did you?”

Soonyoung shook his head slowly

Sighing, you kicked off your shoes and climbed on the bed on all fours, crawling towards him as he held his breath.

“This is yet another favour.” You clarified, more to yourself than him, “Just so you can understand if it's me you want to fuck or just anyone who's not your girlfriend.”

W-what?” He stuttered as your hand found the waistband of his pants. “We're going to…?”

“We don't have to if you don't want to-”

“Yes.” He breathed out, nodding fast. “God yes I want to.”

Smiling just a little, you pulled his pants down a bit, the way they were when you had entered. His erection sprung out, lying against his shirt, the tip pink and flushed. You were familiar with how it looked, but this was the most up close you had seen it and the first time you touched it as you wrapped your wrist around the base, earning a hiss from him.

“How long have you been hard?”

“Over 20 minutes.” He groaned. “Ever since we spoke at the table…. your ass looked fucking good when you bent over the table.”

“Yeah?” You pumped his length slowly. “You're not too bad yourself. Your abs are hot.”

Almost immediately, without needing to be told, Soonyoung pulled his sweatshirt over his head, tossing it on the floor.

“Good boy.” Tongue darting out, you licked the precum on his slit, looking up at his blown pupils. “You taste good too.”

“Fuck y/n, I might just cum right now.”

“In my mouth?” You cooed. “Not inside me?”

Groaning Soonyoung threw his head back. Honestly, you had no idea how these words were even leaving you - you owed it to both the aphrodisiac coursing through you and also how submissive Soonyoung seemed in your hands. So reactive, so easy to please.

The moment you took his tip in your mouth, his hand gripped your ponytail, trying to push himself further in. Pulling back with a wet pop, you clicked your tongue.

“Uh huh.” You shook your head. “If we do this we do this my way.”

“Do whatever the fuck you want.” He panted, his thighs twitching. “I'm all yours.”

Although you had some thoughts about that statement you didn't voice them. One because you really wanted to suck him off and two because you heard a voice you knew most definitely wasn't Soonyoung.

“So this is how you choose to tempt me.”

Before you Soonyoung froze, eyes looking past you at the door where Minghao was standing. You could tell the man before you was both shocked and embarrassed and wanted to cover himself up but you didn't move to give him room for that.

“If you're worried about your modesty Kwon, you should know I don't give a fuck.” Minghao leaned back against the door. “I'm only interested in what Y/n has to offer.”

Soonyoung looked at you confused as you smiled just a little. Oh you managed to crack him and it didn't even take much.

“Tell him my offer is still open.” You ran your tongue from his base up. “If you’re okay with it too that is.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widened, finally realising what was happening. You doubted that he wouldn't be okay with it - the man was quite literally falling apart in your hands.

Sure enough, he slowly nodded.

“From only one woman ever to this overnight?” Minghao raised his eyebrow. “Your girlfriend must've put you up to a really strong dose of those sex potions.”

“I didn't drink a-any beer.” Soonyoung muttered as you ran your eyes over his face. He was the same as you - pupils widened, face flushed, breath fast and shallow.

Oh.

“You're telling me that woman isn't capable of slipping in a little something to entice her boyfriend who won't crawl back to her like he always does?” Minghao chuckled. “Because I think so.”

Well wasn't this ideal, now you could justify everything that was happening - it was simply three people succumbing to the effects of an aphrodisiac - nothing personal, nothing beyond anything physical. Except deep down you knew it must mean something if despite being drugged Soonyoung rejected his girlfriend because of you and Minghao who was a man of impeccable self control was crumbling for you.

Except he hadn't really yet.

Deciding to leave the thoughts for another time, you slightly looked over your shoulder at the man who was leaning against the wall.

“Only my mouth is busy, I have two more free holes you know.”

You could tell that something about the energy in the room had shifted the moment you said that, like it was only a matter of time before Minghao joined. Sure enough, you heard the lock of the door click behind you and from the way Soonyoung gulped and his eyes followed his teammate, you could tell Minghao had neared. Wrapping your mouth around the older man's tip again, you hummed at the weight of his dick on your tongue.

“F-fuck.” Soonyoung groaned under his breath.

As the bed dipped behind you, you knew Minghao had climbed in, finally succumbing, finally giving in. .

“Is that the best you got?” He chuckled with a deep voice, pushing your knees apart with his own and running his hand down along your back as Soonyoung stared at him wide eyed. “That won't be enough for me.”

You could feel your mouth practically water, drool leaking down the corner of your lips as you took Soonyoung further in your mouth, earning a pained hiss. Minghao though was still not satisfied as he bent over, one hand unbuttoning your shorts, his breath at the shell of your ear, whispering.

“Take care of my friend and I'll take care of you.” You looked at Soonyoung to see his eyes flickering between the two of you. “The louder he moans, the harder you'll get it.”

Most definitely motivated, you sunk Soonyoung’s length deeper into your mouth, his tip touching the back of your throat, a deep groan leaving the man as his hand gripped your hair again to hold you back.

Minghao smacked it away with the shake of a head as he drew himself back, fingers hooking onto your waistband as he pulled down both your shorts and panties in one go, letting it pool at your bent knees.

You could feel your arousal drip down your legs given how incredibly wet you were. A part of you wanted to see Minghao's face but then you would have missed the sight of Soonyoung panting, looking down at you like the mere smell of you had awakened something wild in him. To make things a whole lot worse, Minghao ran his fingers up your slit, playing with your wetness before gathering it on his digit and holding it out to his friend.

“Want a taste?”

“Bold of you to assume this is my first time.” Soonyoung smirked as he sucked off Minghao's fingers and you grinned to yourself. Atta boy.

Minghao chuckled as he pulled his fingers away, smearing the wetness on the cheek of your ass, landing a smack that sent a sharp sting, making you moan around Soonyoung.

“Barely a week in camp and look at you.” He mimicked his actions on your other cheek, the impact jerking your forward, Soonyoung’s length slipping into your throat. “Good girl.”

“So fucking good.” Soonyoung moaned. “That mouth is divine.”

“Not more than this.” Cupping the curve of your ass, Minghao dipped his finger into your quivering hole. You keened at the sensation, but didn't stop working on Soonyoung's dick - you knew if you gave Soonyoung what he needed, Minghao would give you what you wanted and god did you want to feel full of him. When you grinded against his hips, his hands left you and you finally heard the sound of Minghao's zipper despite the lewd noises leaving your mouth being much louder.

“Fuck baby just like that.” Soonyoug groaned as you picked up the speed, making him feel more and more of your throat.

You still couldn't tell what Minghao was doing, the absence of his touch testing your patience, your teeth accidentally grazing Soonyoung’s dick making him hiss in pain.

Minghao chuckled, adjusting your body on each knee to pull out the clothes on your lower half and when he aligned himself behind you, you could tell he discarded his own too. His hands returned to your ass which you guessed was faint red, a colour that was exceedingly a part of Minghao's life, a colour he seemingly enjoyed. Although you did want him to rail you into tomorrow, you didn't mind if he took a moment to admire what he saw.

As though he was lost in thought about the same, Minghao dragged his dick along your folds, his length bumping your clit and sending a jolt down your nerves, before he aligned himself.

“W-wait” Looking at his friend, Soonyoung let out a strangled cry. “She hasn't been prepped-”

“Oh Kwon.” You felt his tip pushing into your needy wet hole. “She's already ready for me.”

And with that he buried himself to the hilt, the suddenness making you choke around Soonyoung’s length much to the latter's surprise and delight. Barely giving you the time to get a hold of yourself, Minghao began thrusting into you, the force pushing your mouth to take more of Soonyoung, your hands painfully gripping his thighs. The older man, who could have been a little more considerate, also began ramming his dick into your mouth, barely allowing you to breathe.

You could feel yourself losing a grip on reality, one man fucking you onto another - you never thought you would ever find yourself in a situation like this but here you were, being wrecked on both ends by men who were strangers just a week ago but god did it feel good.

Minghao bunched the material of your shirt, pushing it up along your spine, as you pulled yourself away from Soonyoung, desperate to get some air before you passed out. He groaned at the loss of your warm mouth but his expression turned fond as you looked up at him, drool running down your chin messily. Considering you looked absolutely fucked out, you didn't get why he was so enamoured as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“Shit I could watch you all day sweetie.”

You wanted to say something back but your throat felt too sore and bruised so you settled on just giving him a sweet smile. Minghao watched the interaction between the two of you intently, his movements slowing down to deep, hard strokes. You could feel him so far in, reaching spots no one ever had before. Not even Cheol’s dildo model.

“Do you need a breather?”

Soonyoung's concern laced voice was echoed by another one that sounded a lot more condescending.

“Do you?”

Though you had barely gotten any air in you for so long and your eyes were threatening to roll back, you knew Minghao would only allow you to cum if Soonyoung did and man did the latter have the stamina of a bull.

Shaking your head you spat in your hand and wrapped your fist around the base of his cock, stroking it.

“I'm tired.” You muttered. “Fuck me Soonyoung.”

Forgetting Minghao’s previous instructions to not use his hands, Soonyoung obeyed, gripping your hair again, guiding your mouth back to his cock.

“Tap me twice if you want to stop.”

Much to his surprise, you took him in at a whole new depth, making him throw his head back in pleasure as he held your head down, dick getting squeezed down your throat. At the same time the man behind you decided to pay attention to your clit, making you tremble at the combined sensation but there was nothing you could do - you were at the mercy of both men.

As Soonyoung loosened his grip, allowing you draw back, you barely had the time to catch a breath before he was fucking his dick into your mouth, at the same speed Minghao was ravaging you from behind.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Soonyoung groaned as his movements got sloppy and his grip tight.

“Fuck I'm gonna come.”

Oh fucking finally.

But to your complete surprise, you felt Minghao's weight press against your back as he leaned over you, hips not stopping their abuse on your hole, whispering,

“Enough.”

Although you knew it was cruel, you immediately tapped Soonyoung’s thigh and the moment he let you go confused, you pulled away, looking at him guiltily as you got on all fours.

“That's my good girl.”

“Xu Mingao.” Soonyoung groaned as the other man drew back. “What the hell?!”

Minghao simply chuckled. “You know how much I enjoy pain.”

“Sadist.” Soonyoung mumbled, trying to push himself to the edge again, pumping his length slick with your spit, hard and fast.

“Oh no.” Minghao shook his head, continuing to fuck the living daylights out of you. “If you cum I'm not letting you get a taste of this.”

“That's for Y/n to tell.”

“Tell him doll.”

You didn't know how he expected you to answer as he rolled his hips against your ass, hitting all the spots.

“Tell him what you want.”

“Don't you…” You moaned as Minghao tightened his grip on you painfully. “Don't you want to cum inside me?”

Muttering under his breath, Soonyoung looked at you with eyes filled with lust. You could tell he was leaning to kiss you, but suddenly Minghao's hand wrapped around your neck, drawing you away.

Sitting on his ankles, he pulled you back till your thighs rested on him and stripped you of your shirt, baring your body to Soonyoung like a mannequin on display.

“Didn't you say you could watch her all day?” He smirked at the older man, hand snaking around your waist. “Now watch.”

You finally seem to understand where the shift in intentions was coming from as he began snapping his hips up into you. Though he wasn't hitting you as deep, his fingers found your clit again and was tightening that knot in you unbelievably fast, your body growing hot and tense.

It was the sound of Soonyoung’s soft sigh that brought you attention back to him as he watched where Minghao disappeared into you with unwavering eyes, fully discarding his pants. When you let out another unholy moan, he looked up, not before his eyes lingered at your tits, his tongue running along his lower lip ravenously. At the sight of him and with Minghao hitting that spot once again, you finally convulsed around him, your orgasm hitting you with an intensity it never had before. Under your grip as tight as a vice, Minghao swore in your ear as he came too, ropes of his release painting your insides.

It was only when his warmth hit your walls that you realised he had not worn a condom and you had not cared.

Before you could justify to yourself that Demigods probably didn't get STDs and it didn't matter, Minghao pulled himself out, depriving you of his girth to clamp around. With a swift movement that was all a blur to you, he manhandled you around till you felt your back aligning against Soonyoung’s chest, the latter spreading your legs apart, the mixed releases leaking out of you, onto his dick.

“Just a little longer.” Minghao tilted your head up by the chin, face hovering over yours. “Be a doll will you?”

You nodded as Soonyoung slipped himself into you with a groan.

“Fuck I don't think I'm going to last long enough anyways.”

Considering you still hadn't even fully come down from your orgasm yet, Soonyoung's intrusion felt like an intense surge of pleasure shooting up your being. Overwhelmingly, in less than a thrust or two, you found yourself cumming again almost immediately, walls fluttering, tightening around him.

Muttering a string of fucks, Soonyoung bit down on your shoulder, his hips moving erratically as he felt himself nearing his high. Cooing into his ear though his thrusts were starting to get painful given your sensitivity, you rolled your hips and with two sharp jerks, Soonyoung finally emptied his load straight into you, cumming copiously.

As he softly held you against him, letting your breaths slowly become regular again, your vision finally cleared and you caught sight of a half naked Minghao before you, watching you snuggled in the arms of his friend. Your eyes ran down, finally catching sight of the dick that had been inside you, lips curling into a small smile.

“Good?”

He asked, scanning your features as he slid off the bed.

“So good.” You muttered, beckoning him with your hand.

Narrowing his eyes confused, he walked around, picking up all the clothes tossed around before he neared you. Pulling him closer to the edge of the bed by the hand, you wrapped your hand around his dick, leaning over to take it in your mouth. As you licked it clean, tasting your mixed releases along his length, you watched his eyes darken.

“Just wanted to be fair.”

“You're not satiated are you?” He smirked amused as you slowly shook your head. “Careful doll, you won't be able to stay conscious through another round with us.”

“I know..” You muttered, snuggling back into Soonyoung’s chest. “I’m tired. Wanna go back.”

“Let's clean you and get you dressed first.” Soonyoung patted your head softly, unwilling to move as your eyes began fluttering shut. “Hao, open that third drawer under the sink, there's washcloths in there.”

“And how do you know that?”

“This is my gir- ex girfriend's room.” Soonyoung muttered.

That information seemed to surprise even Minghao who was usually quite unfazed. “You're crazy Kwon.”

He voiced your thoughts as he disappeared into the bathroom, shaking his head. Within seconds he returned, handing a white towel to Soonyoung who slowly wiped you clean, trying not to brush any sensitive areas.

Just as he finished and his lips softly pressed against your temple asking you not to fall asleep, the sound of a knock resounded in the room, along with a voice.

“Anyone from Camp Seventeen here?”

“Yes.” Minghao and Soonyoung replied at the same time.

“Someone is here looking for your team. Says it's code yellow.”

You watched as the boys shared looks, panicked. Slowly pulling himself away from you, Soonyoung caught the clothes Minghao threw to him, the two of them moving quickly to dress themselves.Pulling your hair into a neat ponytail again and trying to ignore your aching body, you swung your legs off the bed.

“What’s going on?”

“Get dressed.” Minghao handed you your clothes, looking tense. “When a team member calls a code, it means everyone needs to gather immediately.”

You nodded, half understanding as you began to dress yourself. “But what's code yellow?”

Looking at your shivering self, Minghao threw you his hoodie, which you slipped on, letting it envelop you in its warmth.

“Yellow is a moderate danger alert.” Soonyoung held the door open for you as Minghao stepped out. “It most likely means the camp is under attack.”

Oh fuck.

Pushing through the crowd, you followed the boys downstairs, trying not to lose them in their hurry. Noticing you lagging behind thanks to the fact that you were struggling to walk, Soonyoung grabbed your hand, wrapping his hand around your wrist.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Seokmin and Joshua laughing away with a group of girls but before you could call them along, you were dragged away in the urgency of the boys you were with. As you reached the front door, coming to a halt right behind Minghao, your eyes fell on the familiar back of a man leaning against the frame.

Oh no.

“Chief.”

Seungcheol turned as both boys bowed, greeting him.

You simply stared wordlessly, as the blonde man's eyes found you, flickering from the jacket you had donned, to Soonyoung's hand which was still holding yours.

Behind him lightning cracked opened the sky and rain began pouring furiously.

a/n - please send me your thoughts - this series is waaaay out of my comfort zone, I need to know I'm not completely messing shit up and if I missed you in the taglist, please lmk! Also please be patient for chapter 3 - I have to temporarily shift focus to my other stories as well, I will be back here soon!

#lola's recs <3 #mia slays once again #this was so fun to read

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thelov3lybookworm · 2 days ago

Text

Cat claws

Day 2: Scarred.

Summary: Maybe he can forgive Nuts.

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Word Count: 1177

Warnings: cat being mean to hazel :(

A/n: azzie just loses his mind in tis lmao nd you cant blame him hazel's the most adorable little thing ever 🥹 yall just wait till she begins talking azs going to sob his eyes out (subtle foreshadowing 🎀)

@azrielappreciationweek

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

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Azriel watched, amused, as Hazel attempted to crawl towards the black furry creature that sat in the corner licking its paw.

Hazel had only started crawling a week or so ago, and Azriel absolutely loved watching her drag herself around. It was often amusing to see her get angry when the carpet slowed down her movements when it caught on her clothes, or when she bumped into the couch and glared at it.

She would always turn to search for Azriel when that happened, letting out the loudest yell her tiny body could muster as if ordering him to get rid of the offending item.

Even barely eight months old, Y/n always said Hazel had her father’s ability to glare and grumble.

Azriel always scoffed in return to that statement before forcing himself to stop and realise him being grumpy only proved his mate’s words to be true.

Hazel was currently looking at her father with her brows furrowed, and Azriel blinked, coming back to the present as he realised she was trying to move over the carpet. He grinned at the anger on her face and stood, bending down once he was close enough to pick her up.

He set her down closer to the cat Y/n had insisted on getting after Hazel’s birth, her reasoning being that their daughter needed a friend and then named him Nuts.

Hazel and her best friend Nuts.

‘Get it? Hazel-Nuts’ She had giggled.

It made Azriel laugh back when she had suggested it, but soon enough he’d realised she was not joking. At all.

Azriel watched on with a smile as Hazel reached Nuts and tried to grab his fur. Nuts walked away without a look in her direction, which always pissed Azriel off. Who did the creature think it was?

"Azriel, that’s a cat. He does not understand how to act with a baby-" Y/n called out from the kitchen, having peeked into the living room to see what had caused her mate to get so mad that his emotions reached her through the bond.

"Well how long does it take to learn? I swear to the mother one day I'm kicking him out if he continues to bully my daughter."

Azriel heard Y/n sigh and walk closer to him as Hazel crawled towards Nut again. He now sat closer to the hearth, where a fire burned red to ward off the winter chill that was beginning to set over Velaris.

"Az-"

But Azriel did not hear the rest of Y/n’s sentence.

His ears began ringing as he stepped forward as if in a daze, eyes sharp on the raised paw of Nuts, who, having seen Hazel get close to him again, tried to hit her.

The firelight glinted off his claws.

And then Hazel’s loud cries filled the room as her head reared back, eyes clenched shut in pain.

She had a habit of flopping on her back when she was mad. Azriel had never really worried too much about that particular habit of Hazel’s until now, when she was too close to the fire and the tiniest movement would end up with her-

No, Azriel did not want to complete the thought.

In that moment of panic, Azriel did not care that there was a glass covering separating the fire from the room, and that no matter what Hazel did, she would not be able to be burned.

In that moment all that mattered to Azriel was that the fucking cat living in his house had the audacity to hurt his daughter.

Azriel grabbed Hazel, frantically looking over her to check for her injuries. There weren’t any big claw marks, but the tiny scratch on the chubby flesh of her upper arm connecting it to her shoulder made Azriel see red.

He turned to glare at Y/n as he pulled Haze close.

"I am telling you Y/n. If by the time I return, that bastard is not out of this house, I will drop him into the sidra myself."

Y/n’s eyes were helpless, but Azriel did not wait for a moment longer as he walked out of the main door and took flight, his only mission to find Madja and get his daughter healed.

He did not want her to be scarred like the hands cradling her.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Flying back home, Azriel decided that he needed some time alone to figure out why he had reacted so harshly.

He knew Y/n had been right. Nuts was an animal. He did not understand how to treat babies. But Azriel did not want to admit that.

The stars were out, so clearly visible as Azriel flew his daughter back home. It had been over an hour since he’d left the house in such a hurry, wishing he could strangle the cat.

He had taken to the skies after Madja had assured him that Hazel would be fine, and had his emotions not been so high and panicked, maybe Hazel wouldn’t have cried at all. After long moments of being assured by Madja, Azrie finally calmed down and left.

"I’m sorry baby. Did I scare you?" Azriel mumbled, glancing down at his daughter who stared up at the sky with wide eyes. She only giggled back in answer.

The innocence in the sound made Azriel smile.

The smile faded just as quick as it had come when his eyes fell on his hands cradling her head and back.

They once were soft and smooth like Hazel’s. They once had grabbed his own parents hand with as much love as he now grasped his daughters. Only now, they were uglier.

If Y/n heard his thoughts, she would have yelled at him and forced him to say they were beautiful. But Azriel knew better. They weren’t, and they never would be.

The only thing he liked even a little about his hands was the fact that their texture was so different from other’s hands, Hazel always immediately figured out she was in her father’s arms.

Y/n always talked about how the same scarred hands he despised were the reason she and Hazel felt safe. Those words echoed back to Azriel when he began doubting himself. It always made him feel better.

Hazel squealed loudly when Azriel dipped lower, air pushing gently against her back.

She was so pure, so innocent. She did not even know of the cruel world she was born in.

And Azriel swore to keep it that way. He had hoped the world outside his father’s dungeon would be better, once, and quickly realised that there were people in the world that would pounce at the chance to scar innocent souls just for the sadistic pleasure of ruining their lives.

He did not want her soul to turn out as scarred as his too.

As he finally landed on the front porch of his home and heard loud meow’s coming from inside, he contemplated letting the cat stay.

Maybe a cat’s claw scratch was not that bad.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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socksracoon10 · 1 day ago

Text

𝐇𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐧

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦… 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵. Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. x F!Reader, Charles Leclerc x F!Reader, Max Verstappen x F!Reader A/N: Alright gang, I caved like I said I would, here's my first f1 fic lmao Read The Second Part: Hit and Run (Part 2)

𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙤𝙨 𝙎𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙯 𝙅𝙧.

"You had a pretty nasty crash with (Y/N) (L/N) during qualifying today, do you have any words to share about the collision?" A reporter had asked Carlos, bringing the microphone closer to his lips. Boy did he have words, a very strong choice of them that he desperately wanted to spew out on national television. He bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes focusing in on the said driver just a few feet from where he stood. She was most likely giving her side of the story to the press, and it boiled his blood. He wanted to be nice, he wanted to be supportive. He liked to welcome everyone into the sport, make them feel like they belonged. Yet all his efforts to try and be the better person went down the drain as soon as she had rammed into him on track. That was his final straw. If it wasn't for the fact that she had been getting much more cocky during interviews, talking about how Carlos was an easy opponent and was practically no competition to her, he would've let this crash slide. His eyes drifted back to the patient reporter and he shook his head,

"I don't uh... want to talk about it. It happened, let's leave it at that." He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. The reporter furrowed his brows, a doubtful pout on his lips as he tilted his head,

"Interesting you say that. (L/N) had a lot more to say."

"Oh, did she now?" Carlos raised an eyebrow; he couldn't help the way his body turned to completely face the reporter, his curiosity taking over him. He wanted to know what that idiot must've said to the press.

"She said, and I quote, 'Even if you give Carlos a million practices, he'll still fumble the bag like he did today...' what are your thoughts, Carlos?"

Carlos gaped at the reporter, his mind reeling with at least a thousand different responses, each of them having to deal with the fact that he was racing against an absolute asshole but he shook his head, trying to calm himself down. He knew his words would have weight, and he figured he might as well let her have fun for the time being. Let her have that confidence boost that she desired so strongly.

"Well, we'll see how it plays out during the race." Carlos snapped, forcing a thin smile before heading out of the press pen. 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙇𝙚𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙘

Charles was having a wonderful weekend. Had P1 in all the practice sessions, got pole for qualifying and he was set to the win the race. He was so happy and hopeful, he knew that after a long while he was going to taste victory. Carlos had draped his arm over Charles's shoulder, giving it a little squeeze before exclaiming, "You're going to win tomorrow, I can feel it."

And then in came (Y/N) (L/N) like the absolute hurricane that she was, bopping her head to whatever stupid song was playing in her headphones. She glanced over to him, taking off one side of her headphones before scanning him from head to toe,

"You think I'd look good in red?" She asked, her head still moving side to side as she hummed with the song. Charles didn't understand it at first, and he frowned before it eventually clicked in his head,

"You'll never be in Ferrari," He scoffed, and she snorted,

"We'll see about that."

And see he did when he saw her coming up right behind him, ready to overtake him on the turn coming up, only to lose her grip and crash into him. As both cars spun towards the barriers, it wasn't hard to miss the way Charles began to scream over the radio, his voice hoarse and dry from the fact that all his hopes were diminished within seconds. He scrambled out of his bottled car and headed towards (L/N) who was looking over at her own car's damage. "You fool! You moron! What were you doing?" Charles roared, and she turned around with an exasperated sigh, "Trying to overtake you, and then I lost grip." She crossed her arms, and Charles clenched his fists, taking another step towards her, "You leave space! Leave space! I literally-" "Oh, quit whining. What's done is done, you can't be wallowing over it," She scoffed and as Charles was just about ready to shove her onto the ground, some of the marshals jogged over to break up the fight.

"You're lucky I didn't break your face," Charles spat, feeling the marshals drag him away. He glanced over his shoulder to see (L/N) mirroring his glare. He watched her lips twist into a scowl before she was taken out of his sight.

"We're sorry about that crash, Charles," A reporter sighed, shaking her head as she gave him a look of sympathy.

"I'm sorry for (L/N) for the next few races," Charles bit back, knowing that he was going to give it his all during the next race. 𝙈𝙖𝙭 𝙑𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣

A championship battle would've been much easier to win over an argument with (Y/N) (L/N). Max had figured that out the hard way. He had the fastest lap and was just about ready to overtake (L/N) when she had suddenly divebombed randomly into him, forcing him into the barriers. Max was beyond just pissed, he was fuming. He had never felt such strong rage in a very long time, and as he hopped out of his car with the help of the marshals, he knew he was about to start a war back at the garage. He had dropped his gloves onto the floor, shoved the helmet onto the ground before ripping off his balaclava with one intention in his mind: sort out whatever bullshit (L/N) kept bringing into these races. She was only 6th in the driver standings, but she sure acted like she was 2nd and that only did little to calm Max's anger. He had marched over to her team's garage much to the chagrin of those with him at Red Bull Racing.

"So, are we letting blind people race now?" Max barked, and he watched (L/N) crane her neck to get a good look at the man approaching her. She stood her ground, crossing her arms with that cocky look on her face. It drove Max wild looking at her, he hated her guts.

"Listen, it just happens. My bad," She put her hands in the air, taking a step back as she noticed Max losing his mind.

"Just happens? Just... happens? Seriously? Are you fucking stupid? That shouldn't be happening! I have a championship to win and you just ruined it for me!" "Hey, I DNF'd too. We're both in the same boat," (L/N) exclaimed.

"I'm fighting for the championship, you're fighting to secure your seat for the next season because you are nothing but shit!" Max hissed which earned a couple gasps from those at the garage. Within seconds he was dragged back to Red Bull Racing's garage, but he couldn't help but notice the smirk on her face. A part of him wondered if she did it on purpose. After all, (Y/N) (L/N) had nothing to lose at the moment so it wouldn't surprise him. He sank down onto a chair, impatiently tapping his foot as he watched the race continue without him.

He couldn't wait to wipe that smirk off her face next time.

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jazeswhbhaven · 18 hours ago

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A Successful Hunt in Heaven | React | Spoilers | Prologue

LETS GO YA'LL

First, let me say that this is completely different than Levi's Torture story and when I get a chance to read the rest of this???? I'm pretty sure it's gonna be a 10...

Cause let's jump in???

We start with the fact that MC is standing in front of a throne, everything is in white and angels are calling them Gabriel.

I was like???? AYO ARE WE GABRIEL???

It seems, that we are indeed Gabriel....

it's so good to see our angry bae again, even if he's cussin' us out

not that he can help it, we are literally Gabriel right now. but why the fuck are we????

SO it's flashback time and we're in Gehenna after a big battle. Three kings Mammon/Levi/Beel came to help out and the results were victorious.

Mammon is so that guy because if I were watching him lifting buildings with ease all day, I would. Lemonade in hand like those ladies watching the lifeguard at the pool.

So the kings are talking amongst themselves about Satan reacting to Mammon's saying of "how Gehenna is his so ofc he's gonna help" and Beel saying that Satan would headbutt him with his horns if he heard him and it's surprising that he didn't (foreshadowing??)

Mammon just loves to call his boyfriend small huh? Lol

We know Beel, you like to spy on us. Next you're gonna be randomly showing up when we're showering or something and be like HEY JUST CHECKING UP ON YOUUUUU.

My stinka boo. <3

Anyways....

Leviathan, give me one reason why I shouldn't box with you right now. One good reason other than the fact that I can't fight demons 💀

I ain't payin' you nary a cent back.

But yeah everyone starts to depart though, since the job is done and it's time for the devils of Gehenna to relax and chill!

I'm crying because I like how Levi and Beel's dynamic here is still "Ugh my dumbass best friend that annoys me sometimes" because He was getting onto Beel for being careless and making Bael work too much and Beel was like "Awh but you're closer to me :(((((" and Levi is like "Nah you got 6 other kings" skskskkskskksks And then he drags him away here? I love them your honor, their dynamic makes me crack up each time.

BUT now that this is over and done with we're at the PUB GETTIN' DRUNK LETS GET IT

Even Ppyong comments that he hasn't had a drink in a while and Sitri is over here yappin' about tea and how long it takes to brew compared to just pouring alcohol and throwing it in your mouth. Then a funny thing with Leraye happens...

I can hear him in my head and it's hilarious. Because Leraye why you sayin' it like this? lmaoooo

After being chided that he was being too damn loud in his ear and some other interactions from the other nobles, it's then realized that Satan actually hasn't been around in a while. No one has seen him in a couple days and I'm just like....wait ya'll just been doing whatever and not concerned that your King is literally not around for over 48 hours? o k

We then get Belial/Jjyu busting in the pub and saying there's an emergency meeting to talk about Satan's disappearance. Turns out Zagan and Belial noticed that Satan has been gone for a quite a while, Zagan being the first to notice and so he called the meeting. During this time when everyone is thinking of what's happening and what's going on, with MC thinking more about the "how this happened" rather than the "how can we fix this"??? There's a solution right outside the door.....

BUT FIRST

Paimon is so real because if a bead can shut up Jjyu it really does give us a reality check on how small he is lmao

ALSO POINTING WEAPONS AT THE DOOR? ITS ON SIGHT?

Oh.

oh.

That's my cat daddy right there.

I'm so happy we get to have Ronove content ya'll. And so randomly too. I wonder if we will get other Abaddon devils as a cameo in the other cards??? Hopefully? MAYBE?

So the nobles are wondering who called him there, and it turns out Zagan did.

And he was trying to say that from the beginning but since Ppyong wasn't looking at him, he couldn't translate. To which Astaroth is like "Just speak tho." LMAO

Anyways,

It seems the Abaddon devils love the thrill of danger. Dantalian also seems to love that to where he will literally put himself in harms way. But I mean I guess the devils there are just built different as they keep saying anyways.

So in order to save Satan though, someone has to go undercover as an angel. Problem with that is devils are unable to lie so if they were caught they would immediately just give up and admit they were sneaking in. But MC....

LOL this dialogue had me like??? OMG p l s. First...this is actually for once something I'd say, more in a joking sense even though this is clearly a serious moment.

I also love how Sitri was like "okay but the only thing you know how to do is lie, MC" and I was like...thanks Sitri thank you so much for your support you have no idea how much it means to me /s

But he's right, MC doesn't know how to do anything else which at this point damn we still don't know how to fight with magic or something??? Anything??

Thank you for letting us know this information Ronove. You are a treasure.

So, we end up seeing Ronove's power in action btw. How it works is that he says the words, and they work as long as he doesn't swallow.

R o n o v e

I do not need to know how you were eating food with your butt. Thank you sir. (why did I go there? Because it's a joke that's been done already in another media lmao so if you know you know) Honestly though if not his butt then probably made another hole somewhere or he ate through his dick who the fuck knows this is Hell and he's from Abaddon, anything could go.

He's so hot I'm crying. Like...I'm trying to imagine what a wet voice is and it's making me shiver in a bad/good way.

So his power is in action, he says "you will be an angel" and he pretty much spits in in MC's mouth and mixes it up and tells you to swallow. (reference my thirst post with him saying to swallow it)

So, there's no specifics to his powers. It works, but not the in way anyone would expect. This type of theme in most stories always ends up bad in some shape or form when the words are vague or broad. So yeah MC was an angel alright.....

So we were back in Heaven, and now we understand that MC is possessing Gabriel's body. I wonder if he's aware that's happening and he's internally screaming or if he's just kinda unable to do anything about it and is unconscious the entire time?

It's believable surface wise because everyone is falling for it, even Satan who was cursing and spitting on MC/Gabriel to point where they had to gag him.

Ngl, I'd have a hard time being into this "roleplay" too because he legit doesn't know it's MC so he hates them. It's kind of like a revenge mirror thing from Gabe's christmas card (i still have to do a react on that btw)

THIS????? FACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gabriel needs to make those faces more.

But the entire time MC was pretending to be Gabriel I was like "GURL FOCUS" because they kept getting distracted by Satan looking fine as fuck in those restraints and that gag in his mouth. Which I mean??? EYAH but we're here to do mission rescue. But now we about to do some

Mission I'm going to fuck Satan as the angel he hates. And I'm so anticipating that Satan is going to react and sort of like it....SO YEAH YEAH YEAH INDIRECT WAY OF CXC

I did not originally ship any of the angels with any of the Kings or Nobles butttttt after I get my hands on the rest of this card story I'll be a believer.

Funny thing though is that I did in fact get the artifact for that discounted 250 pull they give us each time and it clearly is a reference to the key from Hellraiser which is one of my favorite Horror films~

we have such sights to show you

Okay but crossover of Kings as each of the different Cenobites when? Cause I need it.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb satan #whb screenshots #whb spoilers #whb new card #satan torture card #whb ronove #there's so much of him here i'm happy #we get to see satan again and that's cap #jazewhbreacts🖤

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twstafterdark · 1 day ago

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letting him dominate you

Author's note: we're back on the horny, folks! I was totally distracted exchanging hcs about the boys in bed, no sir lmao

Content: cowboy | doggy style | eating out | consent

Leona

Leona knows you by the back of his hand, watching for your every reaction as he itches deeper into you. The whimpers bubbling on your lips only fuel his drive to taint you even further, your core soaking wet and tight around his manhood.

“Leona, please,” You muster a plea as you resemble some form of decorum. A devious smirk makes its way to your partner’s lips, “No can do; I’m only getting started.” He bucks up his hips, edging himself deeper into your core. An electrifying pulse of pleasure shoots up your body, meriting a yelp from you.

You wrap your arms around his figure, your nails digging deep into the flesh of skin between his shoulder blades. The rhythm of your hips bouncing on his shaft synchronized against his hips, an addicting sensation that brought a harmony of pleasure between you and your love, the vulgar sound of wet skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room.

“Leona, slow down!” You cry out, clinging hard to his shoulders. He doesn’t show any sign of stopping, accelerating his pace to one that elicited more cries from you, pleasure coming in waves. Your whimpers give way to cries - music to Leona’s ears. He doesn’t let up, watching you unravel under his spell.

Only then did he cease his teasing, his seed sown deep inside you. Your body wavers, your legs turning into elly. Balance thrown asunder, you feel a pair of strong arms cradle you towards a supple chest, towards a sanctuary of herbal spice and rich fruit. You fathom a smirk from the man’s lips as he cradles you close.

Sebek

You can imagine the bruises forming on your waist as Sebek’s grip only tightens as he quickened his pace. Warmth in the form of droplets plop by your back, which you presume to be tears. You spare a quick glimpse, noting strands of minty-green locks clinging onto his forehead, his handsome features scrunching into an expression of scarlet, his fangs biting onto his bottom lips.

“Sebek,” You reach over to him, a finger gently caressing his cheek. He opens his eyes, murky bronze orbitals piercing onto your silhouette. The tears falling from the corner of his eyes were enough to tell you what ailed the young man. He slows his pace, nuzzling against your hand as if heeding your call.

“Sebek, my love,” You coo, wiping those tears with a thumb. The coax beckons him to your side, his head on your shoulder as you can feel him pulsate inside you. “You feel so good, [Reader], so good,” Sebek chokes in between sobs. You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, ruffling the mess of locks that you’d normally see slicked back, his complexion a stark contrast from the straitlaced demeanor he’d impose in public.

Before you could utter a word, a wet tongue licks the curvature between your neck and shoulder, fangs ghosting supple skin following light, sloppy kisses that light a fire down under. You could only let Sebek do his work, an intoxicating combination of pleasure and pain blossoming by your neck as he consumes your being.

“I love you so much, [Reader], every single inch of you..” He whispers, his warm breath doing wonders against your skin as you fight the urge to kiss him back. A strong hand encircles your torso, keeping you close to Sebek’s warmth. Just as you are about to answer his call, a cry of pleasure replaces your words as you feel a strong pump against your being.

Epel

Bodily fluids spill onto the sheets as pleasure surges through your body in waves. “Epel ….” You can barely say the words, remnants of bliss lingering in your mind like a drug. The culprit of such answers back with a boyish chuckle, “[Reader], you’ve made a mess!” A whine gurgles from your lips as a warm tongue laps your numb organ.

“Epel…” The smirk lingers on the pretty boy’s lips, “You want me to stop, sweetie?” He pecks at your inner thighs, biting onto the flesh of your inner thigh. His satisfaction grows tenfold for your mewls. You wanted the boy to stop, your organ barely holding on by a thread yet, you didn’t want the pleasure to stop.

You gather some breath as you offer him a hug, “Aren’t you pent-up, sweetie?” That being said, you can glimpse the pulsating tool by his nether realm, a cheeky red in contrast to his snow-white complexion. Epel itches closer to you for a kiss on the lips, a heated one that only brings arousal to your core.

“I wanted you to be ready for me,” He says, sapphire orbitals reflecting your silhouette. Before you, the beautiful boy you once knew and loved was no more; lithe hands prompt your legs upon broad shoulders, a dangerous look by his eyes, you could only brace yourself for what is to come.

Your eyes follow his figure greedily as he gently guides his hips closer, his cock aligning to your core. “Take a deep breath for me,” Epel whispers in your ear, his voice another aphrodisiac to your body. You muster a soft smile to him, as you hug him close. “I’m all yours, Felmier.” With that, a flower burst open, entrapping Epel to everlasting pleasure.

Jamil

The way he hoists up your leg as he pins you against the wall immediately sends flames down your core. His eyes betray a look that could only mean one thing: he wants you. The bulge outlined by the folds of his pants had you licking your lips, a hunger for him palpable.

“Is today okay, [Reader]?” He asks, peppering kisses down your neck. You consent, grinding your hips against his mischievously. “You don’t have to ask; your ‘snake’ is begging for it today.” The young man could only give you a helpless look as he kissed you deeply.

His kisses were hungry, sloppy, but all the more, enough for you to know how much love he was giving you. You give in to him, groans leaking out from your throat as your tongues dance in circles for dominance. A sliver of spit spills from your lips as you two gasp for breath. He peers down, a pool of precum leaking onto the fabric of his pants.

Impatience best described his next move - the buckling of pants, fabric pooling past the ankles, one by one, particles of clothes making their way to the floor. “Ready?” Jamil inquiries, his fingers spreading your hole open, a mix of spittle and lotion dripping from the digits.

“Ready when you are, Jamil.” You bare it all for him, anticipating the connection between you and your lover. He musters a small smile before latching onto your lips for another kiss, his hips inching closer and closer until you feel the tip prodding into your entrance. You cry out, a sweet groan sipping your lips.

#twst smut #twst x reader #twst epel #leona kingscholar #epel felmier #leona kingsholar x reader #twst jamil #jamil viper #twst sebek #sebek x reader #sebek zigvolt #leona x reader

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aewon · 2 days ago

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when they find out you’re a mermaid

pairing: enhypen x f!reader g: fluff, est relationship warnings: cursing, pet names, kissing note: i’m literally writing an h2o inspired fic but i wanted to do this too hehe also i went crazy with sunghoon’s lmao

LEE HEESEUNG

you didn’t expect to see your boyfriend in your secluded area on the beach, and unfortunately it was too late to hide your tail.

“hey baby i—” cue the shock.

you’re looking at him in fear, not knowing what he’s gonna do next. is he gonna scream? run? tell someone? but he doesn’t do any of those things, he just asks, astonished, “you’re a mermaid?”

when you nod, he just walks forward, sitting on his knees beside you. “how did this happen?” when you explain it to him, he’s amazed. “i never knew something like that was possible.”

“are you afraid?” you ask him. he shakes his head, “afraid? baby i think you’re the most magnificent thing i’ve ever seen.” and he just looks at you like he’s even more in love than he already was.

“can i touch it?” he asks, and you know he’s referring to your tail. you giggle and nod, and he wastes no time in bring a gentle hand to it. the scales feel smooth against his hand and he’s mesmerized.

you ask if he’s gonna tell anyone and he shakes his head vehemently, “no, never. i would never put you in danger like that.” and you know that you can trust him.

PARK JONGSEONG

you invited your boyfriend over to confess something that’s been gnawing at you for awhile.

when he arrives, he gives you the usual hug and kiss, but quickly realizes something serious is going on.

“what’s wrong babe?”

you say nothing, just taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom. while inside you sit on the bed, him following you.

“i have something to tell you… or rather, show you.”

you take the water bottle on your nightstand, open it, and pour just the smallest amount on yourself.

jay looks at you in confusion, but within seconds, you’ve transformed. it almost blinds it, the glowing light, but after it subsides, the first thing he sees is your tail.

“what the fuck?” he says, eyes wide and mouth open. “you’re a….mermaid?” as you tell him your story, he listens intently as he always does though he’s still shocked. once you finish, his mouth opens and closes like a fish, which you can’t help but find adorable. “are you mad?” you ask.

“no, i’m just… in awe i guess. i never thought mermaids were real but here you are.” he immediately promises that he won’t tell anyone to your relief and starts asking questions. as you show him your power, he looks like a kid in a candy shop.

“you’re amazing, i can’t believe my girlfriends a mermaid.” the giddy smile on his face makes you laugh.

SIM JAEYUN

you completely forgot that jake has a key to your apartment.

you don’t realize he’s inside until he’s barging into your bathroom while your mid-bath, in your mermaid form.

he jumps back, “what the fuck?”

you begin to stutter, trying to find something to say. “that’s a sick costume, why are you wearing it in the tub though?”

oh my god, you can’t help but laugh at his obliviousness. “it’s not a costume, jake. it’s real.” he blinks a couple times, looking like a confused puppy. “but mermaids aren’t real?”

“well, they are. and i’m one of them.”

he walks forward, running his hand along your tail and you can visibly see him shiver. “holy shit.”

once you explain how you became this way, he looks star struck. “so that pool really turned you, with the moon and everything?”

as you nod and answer more of his questions, him having comes to sit beside the tub on the toilet, you realize he’s not angry or upset. you voice this to him and he just gives you his signature smile, “of course i’m not angry. why would i be? i understand why you kept it from me.”

you relax, knowing you can trust him. within a few minutes he’s become obsessed with your tail. he’s continuously stroking it, amazed by the texture of the scales and the way your top is covered. you indulge him, feeling safe and relieved now that he knows.

PARK SUNGHOON

you knew you shouldn’t have come to this party. it’s a pool party for gods sake. you don’t belong near any pools. sunghoon is the one who invited you, it’s his party of course, why wouldn’t he invite his girlfriend? you should’ve came up with an excuse to miss it, but you didn’t want to disappoint him.

you figured as long as you stay covered from head to toe and stay away from the pool, you’ll be okay.

how wrong you were. not only are you getting questioning looks for your attire, your boyfriend being one of them, you can’t seem to get far away enough from the water.

“baby, are you okay? why are you wearing all that?” all that being layers and a long coat. you tell him you’re not feeling good and he pouts a little, “you could’ve told me, i would’ve understood.”

you know, but you didn’t want him to get suspicious.

without warning, two guys behind you suddenly lift you up, throwing you into the pool. your other friends that are there, manage to get everyone inside, locking them in with ice.

everyone except sunghoon.

as you turn, your worst fear comes to life as sunghoon looks at you in shock, or what you assume to be horror.

“what the hell is going on?” he says, backing away from the pool. you stutter as you try to explain, but you can hear the others trying to get back outside.

“help us sunghoon!” your friends beg, as they try to pull you out of the pool, but you’re too heavy.

he just stands there, frozen in place. you hold out your hand, “i’ll explain everything. just please, help me.”

your pleading eyes seem to snap him out of it, and then he’s helping pull you out of the pool onto the concrete. your friend quickly uses her power to begin drying your tail. it burns but you don’t complain.

when you’ve successfully changed back, you and the others rush out of there, not wanting people to question how you’re dry.

once away from the others, you explain yourself to sunghoon. the other girls backing you up. “are you upset?” you ask. sunghoon shakes his head, “not at all, just shocked and amazed. but don’t worry you’re all safe with me.” he takes your hand, kissing the back of it.

KIM SUNOO

you and sunoo have been dating for a few months and you’ve been trying to find a way to tell him you’re a mermaid.

you decide to take him to mako island, where you know no one else will see.

“i don’t understand why we’re here. you know i don’t like hiking.” he’s complaining and you can’t help but giggle at his attitude. you promise him you’re almost there, and once you reach the opening you send him down first, following afterward.

“i damn near broke my ankle! what are we doing down here?”

you lead him to the moon pool, and he looks around in awe. “what is this place?”

“that’s what i wanted to show you,” you say before gently lowering yourself into the moon pool. sunoo just looks at you confused and starts to talk, “why are you getting in the water—"

he’s interrupted by the bright glow of your transformation. once your mermaid form is visible, he gasps.

“what the fuck? what is this? what are you? you’re a mermaid?” his mouth is moving a million miles a minute, throwing out question after question.

you finally manage to calm him down and explain what happened. his widened eyes eventually soften, “oh baby, why didn’t you tell me sooner? i’d never be upset or betray you.”

“i know, i was just scared.”

“you never have to be scared with me, i’ll never hurt you.” with that, he leans down, giving you a kiss.

YANG JUNGWON

jungwon was the human equivalent of a nerd. his interest in mythology of all kinds amazed you.

his latest fascination, mermaids. he tells you all about their “possible” existence, sightings, origins, everything there is to know. which is why, when you finally decide to show him your other form, he’s more than ecstatic.

“i fucking knew it, i knew they were real! holy shit my girlfriends a mermaid!”

you answer all his questions, confirming and denying facts and misconceptions. once he’s finally calmed down and not so jittery, you ask him, “you’re not gonna tell anyone, are you?”

“and let them take you away to experiment on you and shit? no way! i’d never do that to you, i love you.”

you coo, “i love you more.”

you let him touch your tail, and he’s amazed by the luminescence of your scales. how they shine in the sunlight.

you tell him all about your abilities and power. showing him how you can manipulate water and speak to sea creatures.

“promise me you’ll take me swimming with you one time? i’d love to see you in action.”

NISHIMURA RIKI

riki was worried when you texted him, telling him you needed to talk. he expected the worst, that you were breaking up with him, not this by a long shot.

as he stares at your tail, his gaze unwavering, his face almost emotionless, you get nervous.

“riki, are you okay?”

he looks up at you finally, and just says, “you’re a fucking mermaid.” before going back to look at your tail.

you snort, “gee thanks for letting me know.”

he doesn’t even react to your sarcasm, just continues to stare.

“my girlfriends a mermaid. this is the coolest day of my life,” he says after a solid 5 minutes of silence.

you take his hand, bringing it to your tail to touch. he’s gentle, treating you as if you’ll break.

“this is the coolest day of my life,” he repeats.

you laugh, “we got that the first time. are you gonna tell?”

he shakes his head, “i don’t want anyone knowing about this except me. it’ll be our little secret.” he brings you forward for a kiss. letting you go, he jumps into questions, and you answer them all gratefully.

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vxsellie · 5 hours ago

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KINDLY, DARLIN' - 𝐸.𝑊

summary. after seemingly endless days on the road, you find yourself at a random country bar in the middle of nowhere. entering with the sole goal of getting your hands on come kind of alcohol, your attention is soon drawn elsewhere. to a girl and her guitar. notes. ok funny story! this idea came to me from a 5 sec interaction i had with a complete stranger. i went out to a bar, gave ten bucks to the singer, & he said the line that the title is based off of , which the prompted my brain to conjure up an entire love story (he's prob double my age lets be so fr) Also! idk if any of u will like this comparison (if not, just ignore this). but, as i wrote this, i imagined ellie's voice like lucy gray's from the hunger game's. like the slight country drawl, strong vocals, yes yes yes yes Also x2! anyone who follows me should know that im absolute SHITTT at writing smut. but, for some reason, that doesn't seem to stop me from creating works of garbage for my own amusement. anyway, if you reach the smut & realize that it's literal trash, i won't blame u for clicking off of this. just a warning! warnings. brief mention of creepy old men at the bar, depictions of alcohol, public flirting ???, eventual smut, drunk sex in a bathroom LMAO, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r!receiving) wc. 5.1k

𝓕uck your back hurts. Well, if you're being honest, everything hurts. Your neck, back, stomach, legs, hands. Everything that's capable of aching, does.

However, rather unfortunately, you suppose that's to be expected after driving for nigh two days straight in your shitty truck. It's a 90s pickup, the white paint peeling and the tires in desperate need of care. The beige seats are worn and stained, evidence of age having taken its toll on your poor vehicle.

In spite of your truck's needs, you're far more interested in your own ⎯ getting a damn drink.

You're currently coasting through the backroads of some small western town, streets made of dirt and buildings all decrepit. You've never heard of this place before, the name having already slipped your mind due to how utterly foreign it'd been to your mind.

Your headlights cast a yellow glow onto the dirt before you, your tires crunching against fallen leaves and loose rocks. You pass gas stations, wooden homes, dollar stores, an immeasurable amount of churches, and no liquor store. Most shop signs are staked into the dirt, the few billboards all dilapidated in some way ⎯ broken letters, flickering lights, or completely torn from the ground somehow.

Then, by either the grace of God or a wondrous turn of fate, your eyes stutter on a certain sign. A broken wooden one advertising a bar. Your interest is instantly piqued, wheel turning toward the building without hesitation.

You don't give yourself the chance to even think before you're hopping out of your truck and walking into the bar.

The moment you push open the wooden double doors, the sound of boisterous laughter and heavy cowboy boots meet your ears. Perfect.

You stand in place for a moment, craning your neck with narrowed eyes are you examine the atmosphere. To the left, there's a bar with almost every stool occupied by an overweight old man. To the right, there's a pair of barn doors with the word 'restrooms' carved into the wood. In the center of the space, there's bucking machine ⎯ a drunk teenage boy holding on for dear life while his group of friends cackle at him from the sidelines.

Then, on the side of the building opposite you, there's a small stage. It's only elevated a foot or so, wood rotting a bit on the edges. But you hardly care for the conditions of the stage itself. What you find yourself drawn to is the person on it.

In the center is a stool, an auburn haired woman perched atop it with an old guitar situated on her lap. She strums the instrument in an upbeat tempo, leaned forward slightly as she sings into the microphone before her. There's a small crowd in front of the stage, girls admiring and boys whistling.

Considering how run-down this town is, you hadn't expected to stumble across a bar that's so fucking packed. There's barely any open stools at the bar, the bathroom doors are rarely sitting still as people continue to pass through them, the mechanical bull being gifted coins non-stop. But you can't complain.

After so long alone on the road, it's nice to be in such an active atmosphere. It's not calming, of course, but you welcome it lovingly nonetheless.

Watching the auburn for a few moments longer, you then turn on your heel and saunter over to the bar. You're forced to sit beside someone as the lack of stools forbids you from not having a neighbor.

"What can I get'cha, hon'?" The bartender asks you with a tip of his cowboy hat. In his other hand, he wipes the outside of an octagonal glass cup.

"Got any whiskey?" You inquire, leaning your elbows on the sticky countertop.

"Mhm," He hums, turning around to grab a bottle from the shelves behind the bar. He sets the glass onto the counter with a light clink, popping the bottle open. "'N' how would ya like it?"

"Neat."

He nods once more, pouring the liquid into the glass with a flourish before sliding it across the wood toward you. The moment you grab it, he's turning away to tend to another patron. You drink it quickly, downing the glass in one large swig.

As you place the glass back onto the counter, you feel eyes boring into you. Hoping it's someone of interest to you, you turn only to find a duo of old men chuckling at you. Their cheeks are rosy, bellies full ⎯ therefore likely drunk. You roll your eyes as the bartender refills your glass without a word.

Now with an entirely new bit of determination, you down that glass even faster. Another refill. Another singular gulp. Another refill. Another gulp. Another. Another. Another.

You're now swaying a bit atop your stool, feeling pretty good all things considered. The men continue to gossip among themselves, pointing at your ass. You feel disgusted ⎯ not at yourself, but at them for their fucking audacity. Part of you wants to knock their teeth out. But you're not that drunk.

So, instead, you take the mature approach and simply pick up your glass and exit the scene. As you walk away, you hear their chuckles increase and you suddenly regret not punching them.

Your heavy boots thud against the wooden flooring as you walk aimlessly around the bar. You push through an amass of bodies, everyone too drunk to care for your harsh shoving. Then, before you know it, you find yourself situated in the very front of the stage, glass of whiskey in hand.

The woman's voice is laced with a slight country drawl, her boot tapping against the leg of her stool to count the beats of the song. She nods her head as she sings, a small grin lighting her features.

The dim lighting of the bar doesn't do her justice. But you still manage to notice the freckles that dot her face, the cupids bow to her upper lip, the small scar on her right eyebrow. Or maybe you're just drunk and enamored by her. God, what if she finds you creepy? What if she thinks you're some fucking creep? What if she⎯

She looks at you and you swear your heart gives out right then and there. And, if that weren't enough, she winks. You feel your cheeks heat up and you blame it on the alcohol. You down the rest of your whiskey, suddenly feeling very hot. A light chuckle shakes her chest, ringing throughout the space. Nobody else thinks anything of it, of course, all too drunk and preoccupied to give a shit. But you find yourself fantasizing about all the other ways you could make this woman laugh like that again. Oh fuck you are a creep.

In a desperate attempt to salvage the residual bits of dignity you have left, you pull twenty bucks from your back pocket and step forward to drop it into her open guitar case.

She raises a brow, tipping her cowgirl hat in your direction with a smirk. "Thank ya kindly, darlin'."

Somehow, she'd managed to thank you in tune with the song, keeping the beat going without missing a second. It's almost impressive. Okay, it's super impressive. In fact, you feel your heart speeding up again, mind playing on loop the sound of her addressing you. Her country drawl, her smirk, her long fingers grabbing the bridge of her hat. Fuck.

Impulsively, you end up turning on your heel and heading right back to that damn bar. The bartender just grins as he pours you another serving, likely having noticed the flush to your cheeks and the desperation of which you placed the glass down.

"Mind if I give y' some advice?" He asks, leaning forward a bit.

In an act of self pity, you don't have the energy to deny him. "Why the hell not?"

"I ain't gotta clue who you're blushin' over, but my advice is that." He nods toward something behind you. You cast a glance over your shoulder, eyes landing on the bucking machine. You almost laugh, turning back to him with an unimpressed expression. "Listen, y' ain't gotta be good. Y' jus' gotta move your hips right n' I swear he's all yours. Trust me. I've seen it work hundreds of times."

You don't dare to correct him on the gender of your current infatuation, instead deciding to take a few more drinks for a bit of liquid courage. I mean, seriously. How else will you get this woman's attention? Plus, what do you have to lose? You'll never see her again after tonight. The least you could do is try.

After another few drinks, you're staggering over to the mechanical bull with a few coins clutched tight in the palm of your hand. The wait for the stupid thing is way longer than necessary, everyone competing for the longest time lasted on the machine.

You lean your empty hand on the frame of the wooden fence that encircles the rider, watching with reddened eyes as yet another person is flung onto the ground with a heavy thud. He rubs his head with a groan, though his sounds of pain quickly fade into laughter as he brushes off his jeans and stands upright, returning to his boisterous friends with a crooked grin.

Unease begins to lick up your spine, the logical part of your brain wondering why the fuck you're doing this for some country chick you don't even know the name of. You're strong, sure, but your luck would lead you to breaking your neck.

You look over your shoulder casting a glance in the direction of the bar. The bartender gives you two thumbs up, flashing you a grin with missing teeth. As encouraging as that is, what really pushes you to continue is seeing those two old men. They're sitting side-by-side, lustrous smirks on their face as they stare at you, leaning over every few seconds to mutter something in the other's ear. Yeah. Fuck them. You're doing this.

As you make it to the front of the line, you're overcome with naught but confidence. Whether that be due to the sound of the woman's singing growing nearer or the sight of the gross old men, you don't know. Though, honestly, it's likely because of the sheer amount of whiskey you've downed in the past hour.

"Coins." The blonde woman demands, palm of her hand facing you like a bill you've been avoiding. You place the coins into her hand and she opens the gate, hinges squealing as the prior rider stumbles out with a streak of dirt under her eye.

You walk into the ring, feet staggering a bit already from your drunkenness. You hoist yourself onto the bull, situating yourself until you feel a bit less awkward atop the back of the metal animal.

It begins rocking slowly back and forth. You find it easy at first, not really needing to use your hands. You still do, though, not much trusting the machine to not throw you off the moment you let your guard down. It picks up the speed, more. More. More. More. And, before you know it, it's thrashing back and forth. You hold onto the saddle, a dazed smile spreading across your face as you find yourself having fun.

It spins in a circle, your eyes suddenly catching on the woman on stage. She has the perfect view of you from her pedestal, her stool bringing her higher than the crowd just as the bull brings you.

She's still singing into the mic, her voice drowned out by the sound of chatter and cheers ⎯ though you're not sure if they're directed toward you or her at this point.

You've stayed on longer than you anticipated, the ache in your back returning as the bull yanks and dives under you. But you hold on, suddenly remembering the bartender's advice. You don't want to switch up whatever tactic you accidentally built into habit, but the point of this is to get the woman's attention.

So you wait until it spins back around. Then, while her eyes are pinned to yours, you shift a bit, back moving more fluidly as you roll your hips against it. Nobody else would think anything of it, the act so subtle that you simply appear to have altered your position. But she noticed. You know she did. Because her voice caught in her throat, causing her to have to take a sip from her water and apologize into the mic before resuming.

Your confidence spikes at this, suddenly feeling much more egoistical than you did when she was a complete stranger you made eye contact with once. Now you know you have an effect on her.

So you do it again, maintaining eye contact as you roll your hips against the bull suggestively.

Just as before, nobody else pays any mind, far too focused on the fact that you're stayed on for so long to give a fuck about technique. Honestly, if anyone were to notice, it'd be those creepy old men. And, hopefully, they're aware that it's pointed at this woman and now them. Though you doubt they'd care. Creeps like them rarely do.

The singer, with her eyes now pinned to you ⎯ though, everyone's now are ⎯ switches her tone a bit. Her song alters from an upbeat bar tempo with little meaning to having more directed lyrics to a girl with mesmerizing eyes. Again, nobody else picks up on this. She sings about a random girl with stunning eyes, never digressing past that.

But you know; and she knows. And that's all that matters.

She sings a certain line, something more lustful about the way you look at her. Something suggestive about the way she's imagining you. You instantly falter, your grip slipping.

You fall to the ground with a thud, the entire bar making a sound of disappointment and empathy. You don't care, though, not giving a single damn about the bull riding. All you care for is that fucking singer.

You hit the ground, breath knocked from your lungs. You cough, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. Your head spins, the alcohol finally catching up to you. Another cough is yanked from your heaving chest as you groan.

The blonde coin-collecting woman allows the next person into the ring, not waiting for you to give your say. As the next man enters, he offers you his hand. You, desperate for assistance, take it with a grateful smile. He hauls you to your feet, muttering quick compliments on your performance on the bull. You thank him before brushing past him and exiting the ring with staggering steps.

A few people from the crowd compliment you, offering words of encouragement for the 'next time you go up'. You give them half-hearted smiles, chest still aching slightly from your fall.

You shove through the crowd, nearing the restrooms you'd seen at the entrance. You push the doors open and head into the women's side.

You brace your hands on the edge of the sink, glancing in the mirror for a brief moment ⎯ examining the small cut on your cheekbone and the bruises that are beginning to form on your shoulder and hip. You then lean down, positioning your mouth under the faucet before turning on the water. You drink it, relishing in the taste of cool liquid rather than burning alcohol.

"Mm, look who it is."

You smack your head on the faucet with how quickly you straighten. You groan, rubbing your temple as you turn to face the person standing behind you. The singer. Well fuck, that makes the head smack twenty times more embarrassing.

Somehow, she's even more alluring up close. Her pale green eyes bore into you, lashes lidding them slightly. Her skin is lightly tanned, freckles likely produced from a life spent under the sun. Her forearm has a tattoo covering the rippled skin there, lean muscles adorning the rest of said arm.

You play off your staring by narrowing your eyes at her, "Followin' me, are ya?"

"Nah." She shakes her head, stepping forward to wash her hands in the sink beside yours. She tips her head down, looking at her hands as she scrubs, hat coming to block her face from your view. Unfortunate. "Jus' comin' t' wash the filth off my hands. I wouldn't worry, though, darlin', I'm sure that Smilton boy'll check up on ya."

Your brows furrow at this. "Smillin boy?"

"Smilton." She corrects you rather harshly, looking up to meet your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. "Farmer's boy. Rich. Brunette. Helped y' up after the bull."

Realization hits you like a brick. She's jealous. This woman that you've never met, this woman that you stressed over impressing, this woman that you bruised yourself to get the attention of. She's jealous because some farmer's boy helped you stand up. A smirk tugs at your lips, an idea lighting your mind.

"Hmm," You hum lowly, brushing past her to dry your hands on one of the scratchy white towelettes. "He is quite handsome, ain't he?"

"Suppose." She replies shortly.

Your smirk only deepens, drying your hands achingly slow. Because you know she's aware that she has no right to be jealous. And that only serves to make her more pissed off. How interesting.

"What's his first name, if y' don't mind me askin'?" You speak casually, talking with her as though everything that passed between you two prior to this hadn't happened at all. It's driving her insane and you can tell.

"I dunno." She says, turning the faucet off to dry her hands beside you. "Somethin' with a J?"

"Oh, c'mon," you coo, turning to her with those eyes you know she adores. "I know y' know more than jus' his last name."

She looks away, clearing her throat with a set jaw, "you're right. Know his first initial too. It's a J."

You chuckle lightly, releasing the towelette to trace your fingertips along the soft skin of her bicep. "Yeah? And what's your first initial?"

Her entire body seems to tense, breath hitching in reaction to your touch. She looks at you from under the bridge of her hat, green eyes glinting with something informal. Something unfit for a casual conversation between two strangers in the women's rest room. You feel your heart stutter at the sight, having to make an effort not to fall to your knees before her in this very moment.

"E," is all she whispers.

"Last name?" You whisper back, matching her for quietude.

"Williams." She manages.

You hum, eyes following the movements of your hand. Had you not been so drunk, you'd likely never have the balls to be so flirty to her. But, as it turns out, your intoxication is good for something. Well, something aside from staying on some metal bull.

"How pretty," you whisper, leaning forward so your mouth is now right beside her ear. Your breath fans across her skin as you continue. "Now tell me your full name, will ya?"

Her eyes are pinned to your face, pupils tracing your features as your hand traces her arm. She finds herself mesmerized by you, entranced by your every detail ⎯ the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheek, the arc of your brow, the height of your cheekbones, the line of your jaw. She imagines running her tongue along each of these points, imagines committing your to memory using naught but her mouth.

"Ellie." She replies finally, watching closely as your eyes raise to meet hers. Her heart stutters in her chest at that, as it always does when you make eye contact.

Your gaze flicks between her eyes and lips, hand slowly inching up her arm. "Ellie?"

The sound of her name rolling off your tongue is enough to send a spark of heat to her core. That paired with the way your fingers are lightly tracing up, up, up. You move your hand over her shoulder, along her collarbone, up the side of her neck, and finally rests to cup her cheek in your palm. She leans into the touch, eyes fluttering.

"You're such a fuckin' tease," she mutters, voice low as it's weighed down by desire and a deep need to feel your skin on hers.

You ignore her words and move to lean in close enough that your noses brush. Then, with your breath fanning across her skin, you ask, "this okay?"

She doesn't say anything, instead abandoning the towelette completely and grabbing your face in both her hands. With a sudden sense of ferocity, she presses her lips to yours, pulling your body flush against hers.

"I'll take that as a yes," you chuckle between kisses.

"Quiet," she murmurs, too needy for your touch to have time for conversation. As much as she loves hearing you talk, shed much rather talk via action rather than actual words.

You giggle against her lips, your arms coming up to wrap around her neck. She hums, hat falling to the tiled floor with a light brush. With each passing second, her actions become more and more desirous, suddenly pushing your back against the nearest wall. You let out a huff of air from the impact, your lips quirking up to form a small smile, regaled by Ellie's sudden desperation for you.

She tilts her head, peppering kisses down your chin and along your jaw. They're harsh and hungry, nipping your skin in some places purely to see your brow furrow at the feel of her teeth.

As she trails down to your neck, you tip your head back against the wall and open your eyes to blink up at the wooden ceiling. Your hands fist Ellie's hair as she leaves bruises down the column of your throat.

Still well and drunk, the room swirls around you. The lights seem to shift with each blink, making this all so much more intoxicating. Your nerves are already on edge due to the alcohol, so the feel of Ellie kissing them is absolutely maddening.

You feel as she presses kisses along your collarbone, tongue grazing the taut skin there. You shift, legs pressing together as she grows more sensual in her act of quick intimacy. This movement doesn't go unnoticed by her, however, her lips quirking into a small smile against your skin as she feels rather proud of how quick she's turned you to putty under her.

She moves across the bare skin of your chest, plump lips taking time to memorize each detail that adorns you. You move again, the heat between your legs growing harder to ignore.

"Patience, darlin'." She instructs. "I'll get there when I get there."

You frown at this, "well get there faster."

Her kisses suddenly cease, looking up at you through her lashes. She tilts her head at you innocently, blinking as she waits for you to correct yourself. To reword your restive demand. "Don't be rude, now."

You can feel your dignity push at the back of your throat, pride yearning for a moment to speak. Seeing as you're normally the one making orders, this feels quite stranger. But, after the long journey you've taken, you suppose you've earned a bit of time to sit back and let someone else take the lead.

Ellie draws a line of kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, kneeling before you as her head comes to situate itself in front of your waistband. You can't help but admire how she looks from here, hair in your hands as her eyes are pinned to your denim jeans as though it's a buffet and she's a man starved. After a moment, she lifts her head to look at you.

Eye contact. Sparks shoot through your body. Somehow, something as simplistic as meeting Ellie's gaze can make you feel indescribably nervous. Pale green irises bore into you, waiting for you to utter words of consent. You do so, giving her the go-ahead.

As soon as you do, Ellie wastes no time hooking her fingers through your belt loops and pulling your jeans to your knees. She leans forward, eyes lidded.

"Wait." You pant, tugging on her hair to halt her movements. She seems rather annoyed by your sudden interruption, but looks up at you kindly despite her own irritation. You rolls your eyes at her evident pique. "What if someone walks in?"

She sighs heavily at that. "I locked the door."

"Oh, okay." You nod. Though, just as she's about to lean forward again, you stop her once more. "Wait. How did you know to lock it? You were all pissy when you first came in here."

"I didn't know." She explains hastily. "I simply hoped."

You huff out a chuckle, shaking your head fondly at her admittance. Then, finally, you don't stop her when she leans forward.

She traces her tongue along the outside of your underwear, the fabric between you only adding to the pulsing in your pussy. A shiver wracks through you, causing Ellie to grab you by the hips to hold you still. She traces circles into your hips with her thumbs, a gentle motion when compared to the needy movements of her tongue as she draws small circles into your clit.

You tighten your grip on her hair, drawing a grunt from the back of her throat. The vibrations from her mouth against your pussy makes it hard to keep back your own noises.

When she finally shifts your panties to the side, you nearly collapse at the feel of her mouth against you. She licks a long stripe up your vulva, a shaky breath yanking from you. The sound only urges her further, taking one hand and drags her middle finger up your center. You shift, leaning heavily against the wooden walls as standing upright suddenly seems impossible. Then, without warning, two fingers shove right into your hole.

Your hips jolt, moving far more than initially seeing as Ellie is now only holding on with one hand. Whilst thrusting her fingers in and out of your needy pussy, her tongue circles your clit with that same neediness, mirroring you for desperation.

Your head falls back, thudding lightly against then wall. At the sound, Ellie ceases. You almost whine at her sudden stopping.

"My eyes are down here, darlin'." She says lowly. "Let me see you."

Begrudgingly, you oblige, lowering your head to make eye contact with Ellie. She's on her knees, legs folded against tiled flooring as she resumes her lapping. You huff out an airy moan as you have to actively stop yourself from tipping your head back again. She holds your gaze the entire time, adding to the intensity of the feel. Her eyes are lidded, shoulder moving as her fingers recommence.

This all paired with your dizzy head and swimming vision makes for quite the climax, core knotting progressively as Ellie doesn't dare to stop. "Fuck," you pant as you buck your hips against her face, forced to watch as you do so. With another heavy breath and an arching back, you utter, "I'm⎯"

She seems exponentially proud as she hears you say this, regardless of if you finish your sentence or not. She pauses only for a moment to say, "yeah?"

"Mhm," you hum, though it comes out more of a moan than anything.

"Do it, darlin'."

And you do, coming undone right atop her face. She, admittedly, relishes in it, hydrated only by what you're able to provide her with. You see stars and they're swimming too, circling your head in a celestial body of pleasure. And Ellie watches, for once allowing your head to fall back as she deems this a one time exception. Because there will be a next time.

You're panting as you lower your head to face her once more, her gaze never having left your expression. She makes out with your pussy sensually as to bring you down from your high. Then, as gently as she can, she situates your panties back on correctly and pulls your jeans to rest as your hips, remaining knelt in front of you as she zips and buttons them just as she'd found them.

You watch with a twinkle of fondness behind your irises, unable to look away from the expression of adoring concentration she wears. She then uses your hips as a support system to haul herself back to her feet, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. You can nigh taste yourself on her.

"Not bad for a stranger at a sketchy bar." You muse, picking her hat from the floor and situating it atop her auburn tufts of hair. She watches you, analyzing your every move.

"I'm not just a stranger." She reminds you as your eyes find hers, your hands coming to drape around her shoulders. "I'm a stranger who wrote a song about you."

"Mm," you hum, "so you're a stalkers stranger?"

"I prefer the term passionate." She says, shooting you a playful scowl.

You chuckle, "passionate for what? Stalking and preying on drunken women?"

"Pfft-" She scoffs. "You're not drunk."

For a moment, you consider agreeing with her. To save her the pain of realizing you hadn't been sober for this. But you know better than to lie to her. So, through lidded eyes ⎯ ones that should have been a rather telltale sign of your intoxication ⎯ you give her a look, not even needing to voice the truth aloud for her to understand.

"Well fuck." She groans, taking a step backward and causing your arms to fall to your sides.

Frankly, you'd expected her to be much more angered than that. Because you know you would be. After writing a song, chasing down, then tongue-fucking someone in the bathroom, the worst news to receive would be that they'd been wasted the entire time.

"I'm sorry," you're quick to apologize, for some reason feeling the need to earn her forgiveness.

"How're you planning to get home?" She asks.

"I hadn't thought about that." You admit.

"How about this," she suggests, "I give you a place to stay to apologize for fucking you while drunk and you let me take you to dinner tomorrow to apologize for not telling me beforehand. Deal?"

A smirk works its way to your mouth, "deal."

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