#someday i will casually mention to someone

[ballsballsbowls]

.

[prael]

Day 6: Revenge Or Fate

IOI/Gugudan Sejeong x male reader smut

words: 5,611 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"What's that look for?" you ask with all the whimsy you can muster. "I only said that I bought your favourite popcorn. Why are you staring at me as if I just got down on one knee and proposed?"

"You did say you'd marry me someday," Sejeong jokes. Then she does that thing she always does when she's nervous—tugging at the lobe of her ear.

You roll your eyes. "Yeah. I mean when we are both in our sixties. When you have become the crazy cat lady and I the bachelor with a penchant for wine and cigarettes. It's not even close to that time yet."

"Why would you be smoking?" Sejeong wrinkles her nose. She knows you can't stand the smell.

"Because I'll be an ageing bachelor, duh," you answer with a dismissive wave of a hand as you sit by her on the couch. She's got her legs curled up against her chest, the way she always does when it's cold outside. You'd know—she's been sitting like that on your couch every winter since the beginning of time.

She lets out the softest of laughs before it quickly dissipates into silence. She's staring across the room, but not really looking at anything. Her face is painted in melancholy. You know her well enough to know that look, and you hate it. Hate everything it represents. You sigh. The first time you saw her like this was back as teenagers, after the dog she grew up with had been hit by a car. It still hurts your chest.

"You've got that look again," you tell her. "Like there's a million and one things in your mind and none of them particularly good."

"I'm okay. Just tired." Sejeong's smile doesn't quite convince you.

"I wasn't going to say anything. I thought you'd tell me if you wanted me to know, but it's been months since you asked me to come over on a Friday night, so something has happened. I haven't seen this much annoyance behind your eyes since the end of Game Of Thrones. What is it?"

"I'm just feeling overwhelmed, that's all. I wish you weren't so observant."

"You should be used to it by now."

Sejeong flashes a half-hearted smile and takes hold of your hand as she used to do when you were kids. You feel guilty for the way your stomach flutters.

"I guess we have always known each other better than anyone else," she admits, her hand still clasped around yours. It's warm and familiar. You feel the urge to push away, but how can you? It would give far too much away. She has always had this effect on you—you could never distance yourself from her warmth. "He's an asshole."

"You don't need to tell me twice," you chuckle. Then: "Tell me what happened."

"I think he might be cheating."

The air escapes from you at once. The way Sejeong said it is so casual, almost as if she'd resigned herself to this fate a long time ago. And here you are, trying your best to keep your anger under control, like always. But not for her sake—rather, for yours. You know where your feelings belong, and they have no place in the situation at hand. Not today, and definitely not ever. You take a deep breath and look her square in the eye.

"What did he do?"

"I shouldn't have mentioned it," she laughs nervously. She doesn't want to put any more weight on your shoulders than she already has, because that's who she is, you suppose. But how can she expect you to ignore it when she looks like a sad dog staring into the rain on someone's front porch?

"We're best friends. I want to hear everything," you insist.

"He's been acting differently lately." Sejeong pauses. "Distant. Like there's something he isn't telling me."

"Do you think there might be?" you ask carefully.

"It's always something with work. Or a friend that really needs him. Or a family member or—fuck. I don't know."

"I'm sorry."

Sejeong sighs and runs a hand through her hair. There are unshed tears in her eyes. This bastard is making her cry. You want to smash something, preferably his head.

"I don't wanna bother you with this shit," she whispers. She sounds exhausted.

"Don't say that," you retort softly, squeezing her hand in yours. It's clammy. "Don't ever say that again."

She gives a curt nod.

"God knows I've told you enough about my romantic misadventures over the years," you joke. Your chest tightens when Sejeong lets out the tiniest of laughs. Maybe you can still make this right, whatever this is. "Misery loves company."

"You know," she begins, pausing to look at you properly. There is something unreadable in her gaze, something that you've never seen before. It makes you hold your breath in anticipation of whatever is to come. "If there's one person I could choose to be miserable with, it would be you."

For a brief second, you forget that time exists.

"Well, I'm very honoured," you reply eventually. There's another pause where you ponder what to say next. Then, simply, because that seems like the easiest answer: "Do you want me to go beat him up?"

Sejeong laughs and punches you in the arm.

"I thought you were a pacifist?"

"Yeah, but exceptions must be made sometimes."

She raises an eyebrow at you. You can't tell what she's thinking. "For me?"

"Yes."

It feels like standing on a cliff. You want nothing more than to jump, to feel freefall in your whole body. The only problem is that you'll most certainly die. The ground below is made of jagged rocks and bad ideas. Yet, here you stand, willing to do anything in the world for the beautiful girl next to you. Even if it means lying broken beyond repair.

Sejeong breaks your trance when she explains, "There's this girl he works with. We had dinner together with some people from their office two weeks ago, and... I don't know. They just seemed off. She kept looking at him. You know that look? The one where they linger on someone just a bit too long."

"So that's what gave it away?"

"Well, that and the rumour. They had a thing before he met me. It's over now, or it was." A single tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly, seemingly irritated at herself. You frown. Sejeong has no reason to be ashamed of being hurt. She should be allowed to shed tears, even buckets full if necessary. You wouldn't judge. "At least that's what he said. He promised me it was over. But... God."

You reach forward to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Her lips tremble, so you quickly move your eyes back up. Staring at her lips is dangerous territory.

"You don't deserve this shit," you say resolutely.

Sejeong chuckles sarcastically. "Then why do I keep ending up here?"

That question stings. Not because it's directed at you—it isn't—but rather because you know the answer. Sejeong has been in this kind of position too many times to count. She attracts guys like honey does flies; every single time, with no exceptions. Only the worst seem to make it past the rest. Sejeong gets caught in their deceitful net time and time again, only to inevitably break her heart after months and months of manipulation disguised as devotion.

"Want my honest answer?"

"Yes."

"I think it's because you're the sort of person that believes the best in everyone. And that is a beautiful trait. I love that you do that. I really do. But sometimes..." you trail off, not quite sure how to continue without sounding accusatory.

"Sometimes I get screwed over," Sejeong finishes. You nod in response. "You're right. I guess it's my fault for trusting too easily."

"No," you shake your head. "It's not your fault. That part is absolutely wonderful. It's just..." You're suddenly hesitant. What if Sejeong takes this the wrong way and shuts you out?

"What?" she probes.

"Have you ever heard the expression 'you can't see the tree for the woods'?"

"Sounds stupid."

"It means you can't see what's right in front of your nose," you explain.

Sejeong stares at you for a long time. You think she understands, but it's impossible to know. It would probably be better that way—if she understood and did nothing about it. You aren't supposed to feel this way about her. How many times haven't you imagined what it would be like if things were different? If circumstances were perfect, if her current guy hadn't appeared out of anywhere and swept her off her feet before you'd even realised what was happening.

But that's just your luck.

"Thank you," Sejeong whispers. "Can we, um, watch something? I don't wanna think about this right now."

You let out an awkward cough. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. Do you remember when you forced me to watch Twilight, and I spent the entirety of the movie complaining about how terrible it was?"

"You still watched all of them with me." A tiny grin appears on her face. Thank God.

"That was truly the highest form of torture," you joke. "I hope you brought something better today. Please don't tell me you downloaded another movie about sparkly vampires."

Sejeong punches your arm. "I'll have you know I am extremely cultured nowadays."

"Yeah? Show me then."

A couple of hours pass and everything feels decidedly normal. You rest against the arm of the couch and Sejeong rests against you. You make jokes at the expense of the film as you always do and she laughs that soft, carefree laugh of hers. The credits roll and Sejeong sits up, stretching her limbs like a cat after a nap. You smile at the familiarity of it all. For a moment it doesn't matter what she has—or hasn't—been crying over.

"I'm tired," she says. She blinks slowly as if to prove it to herself. It's quite endearing, actually.

"Yeah?" you ask nonchalantly.

"Will you let me stay here tonight?" Her voice is small, unsure. But why? It's not the first time she has stayed here. This place is practically a second home to her.

"Like you need to ask," you retort lightly as you stand up and look down at her.

She opens her mouth to speak, but that's when her phone rings. When she sees his name flashing across the screen, she visibly freezes. Annoyance seeps into you like acid rain. His nerve—to call at such an hour, and expect her to pick up. Sejeong just watches, almost paralyzed, until eventually, she does pick up.

"Hey," is all she says. The reply is much longer. You can't make out the words he's saying but the tone tells you all you need to know.

"I was going to," Sejeong replies tersely. Silence. Then: "I told you already, I went over to—" Pause. She swallows thickly. "You didn't tell me you were going out." A longer stretch of silence, during which his voice gradually increases in volume. Suddenly Sejeong sits bolt upright. Her eyes grow wide with confusion and disbelief.

"Me!?" She shouts. "He's my best friend! I wouldn't—" Another pause. She takes a deep breath. "No. No, that isn't fair. You can't—"

It sounds like he hangs up. Sejeong doesn't move. Her hands are shaking violently.

"Do I even wanna know?"

"I should go home," she murmurs flatly.

"To him? To the guy who's probably just fucked his co-worker?"

Sejeong turns to glare at you, eyes cold as ice. You immediately regret your words.

"I'm sorry," you quickly amend. "That was uncalled for. It's none of my business. I shouldn't have said that."

"Why?" she asks bluntly. Your heartbeat picks up in a hurry. There's anger in her eyes. Anger that could turn against you so quickly.

"Why what?" you reply defensively.

"Why don't you wanna be with anyone? You've rejected every single person who's tried to get close to you since we were sixteen. There's got to be a reason."

The world grinds to a halt. Time, space, and life itself stop existing for a minute while you consider your options. On the one hand, you could lie; come up with a suitable excuse and maybe she won't push for more. On the other hand, you could simply admit to the truth that's haunted you for years.

You open your mouth. Close it. Fuck.

Sejeong stands up, wading in the silence towards you. You can't help but take a step backwards. In that split second, you're sure she knows—and yet you cannot tell.

"Have you ever loved anyone?" Sejeong demands to know.

Your heartbeat roars in your ears. "I don't understand why you're asking me this," you choke out. A part of you wishes you were back there on the cliff. At least then you could've jumped off of your own accord, with a little dignity left intact.

"I need to know," is all Sejeong says. Her gaze is relentless. You hate it. It makes you want to claw your own skin off—and there are truths under there that you plan to take to the grave.

"Why?"

"Because I need to know if what I'm going to do next is the right thing."

She stands beside you now. On the edge of that cliff, though it's starting to feel more like you're on the roof of your car. Staring up at the stars on some forgotten summer night. The jump seems more like a flight.

"I have," you admit. Somehow it seems easier than to try and fight whatever force is controlling the both of you. It feels strangely liberating.

"But you won't allow yourself to do anything about it." You know her well enough to discern a question from a statement, no matter how carefully she might try to veil them as the latter.

"It's complicated," you say quietly. She's so close to you now that you can hear the hitch in her breath. Why is she pushing this? "Why are you doing this?"

Her eyes flit from yours to your lips, then back again. So quickly. One, two. But you saw it. And your entire body tingles in anticipation. You'll dare move away—not now, not when the leap of faith feels more like a hop.

She doesn't say anything else. One more small step and her body collides with yours. Lips press against lips and suddenly, all thought scatters. Sejeong tangles her fingers through your hair and pulls. A gasp escapes you before you regain control and kiss her properly. It's frantic, rushed. Years of pining bleed out with every touch. You grab her, pull her as close to your body as possible, and lose yourself completely. Something is swelling inside you. A feeling so large and uncontainable that you think your chest is going to explode any second.

It is indescribable.

All of it—the sensation of kissing her, holding her—surpasses description. You're falling from that cliff, but she's holding you, and before you can hit the rocks she's dragging you to the couch and climbing on top of you.

It feels unreal. The entire world disappears as your lips find hers again and again and again. You don't care to question what happens after. This moment is yours, forever branded in your memories, and nothing can take that away from you. Even if it ends here—even if she were to walk away now—it would've been worth it. Completely and irrevocably.

When you finally part to catch your breath, you can't help but stare at her in awe. She's so beautiful. A masterpiece. Your hand moves to her cheek almost automatically. Sejeong lets her head fall against it with a soft sigh.

"Wow," she whispers.

"Yeah," you croak.

"Please don't regret this in the morning." Her voice is so quiet, filled with so much pain, that it breaks your heart. Your own fears are secondary.

"I never could," you breathe. Then you lean in to kiss her again, slower this time, savouring every sensation as if it might be the last. By some miracle she responds eagerly, fingers wrapping around the collar of your shirt as she holds you steady. You have no idea where this leaves the two of you, but you want her closer—now. You reach around and slide your hands under her thighs, pulling gently upwards. She follows your lead, settling against your lap in a way that makes the situation undeniably real.

As you kiss, her hips start moving back and forth. Soft, shallow movements. Little whimpers escape her throat and fall directly into your mouth. Fuck. She moans—actually moans—into the kiss and a violent shiver travels through your whole body. You break away momentarily to look at her face, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes staring back at you.

"Do that again," you whisper against her lips.

"Make me," she pants.

The next kiss is searing, open-mouthed, and accompanied by Sejeong grinding her hips against you. Harder now. Unrelenting. Your hands travel up her waist, slipping beneath her blouse to feel warm skin underneath. You feel every tremble of her body when your fingernails drag lightly across her flesh. A gasp—then she leans backwards, with her arms outstretched and clinging behind your neck, to look you dead in the eye as she continues moving her hips against you.

"Sejeong... What are we—"

"Shh."

Your hands snake further up her shirt. Her back arches in response as she grinds down hard, moaning loudly. Your eyes flutter shut briefly to enjoy the sensations—the sounds—coming from her. You force them open once more because you can't miss this show for anything. You push the shirt up and over her chest. Her hands slip from behind your neck momentarily so that you can get the garment over her head. And then she is there before you, bra and sweatpants-clad, panting softly and waiting.

"Sejeong—"

"Fuck me." It is barely more than a whimper, but it rattles the very core of your being.

"What?"

She lunges forward and kisses you forcefully. There are tears in her eyes—tears you didn't notice until now. Her desperation bleeds through.

"Please," she whispers into your mouth, her voice breaking slightly. "Please."

You can't deny her. How could you? You're unfastening the clasp of her bra and your hands are everywhere on her. Pulling her closer, exploring every inch of bare skin you can get your hands on. Her fingers start unbuttoning your shirt—clumsily, but getting the job done. Once open, her nails dig into your bare shoulders, as if testing out whether you're really here, tangible and real. As if you could disappear at any moment and leave her stranded. A loud groan escapes her when your fingers brush against her nipples.

"You're so fucking beautiful," you murmur into her ear. She whines at the words, nails digging deeper into your skin.

The friction between your legs is driving you mad. You've got the burning urge to pick her up and slam her into the nearest wall, but you savour what you have. First, you kiss her neck, then it's a trail down her collarbones. Your teeth nibble playfully at the skin until she moans, begging you to do something. You obey, leaning in to flick your tongue across a nipple before swirling it around the bud. Her fingers fly into your hair and hold you against her breast.

"Holy shit."

Your mouth latches on tighter. Sucking. Biting. The heat pooling between you grows more intense. Eventually, you detach and move on to the next, eliciting more delicious sounds from the girl above you. All those nights spent fantasising about exactly this don't come close to the real experience. You're supporting her, around the waist and the small of her back, while she leans back in your lap, presenting herself to you.

You appreciate every inch of her slender figure. By eye and then by tongue. You draw constellations along her skin, your touch is feather-light. Across her toned stomach to her hips, then right up the side of her body. She throws an arm above her head and giggles lightly as you lick all the way up underneath it. You follow a path to her armpit. Sejeong giggles more when you begin to nibble there too. When you raise your eyes to meet hers she blushes fiercely.

"Weirdo."

"Just appreciating you," you murmur, pressing soft kisses against her shoulder and up to her neck.

"Mm. I like it," she replies hoarsely.

So you spend some time like this. Appreciating her bare body and making her squirm. Kissing, licking, and biting everything that you can possibly reach until her writhing becomes borderline violent. Then she grabs a hold of your jaw, looks you deep in the eyes, and utters the most sinful words you've ever heard her say.

"Enough teasing. I want to ride your cock now."

Every inch of you lights on fire. From your forehead to the tips of your toes, you feel flames lick at your insides. Sejeong climbs off you without another word and starts pushing her sweats from her hips. You watch, spellbound, as she wiggles out of them. Her panties follow suit.

Then she turns to face you. Standing fully nude, absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word. A goddess. Every bit as perfect as you had imagined. Even your fantasies weren't this good; nowhere near as intoxicating as this moment right now.

"You have ten seconds before I sit on your face instead," she deadpans, you both laugh. At least she hasn't lost her humour.

You unbuckle your belt and shuffle them down as best you can while still seated. Enough that she can reach down and pull your cock free from its confines. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull when she wraps her slim fingers around it. Pumping up and down. You're hard already, unbelievably so, and when she drags her thumb across the head of your dick it actually twitches. You suck in a deep breath, willing yourself to focus.

And then she sits on your lap, sliding along the length of your cock. Fuck. She repeats it a few times. Back and forth, slicking your cock with her wetness.

"I always pictured this," she admits.

"Really?" you croak.

"God yeah, I remember back in college. I must have rubbed one out to you more times than I can count." She smirks at you then—a wicked smirk that makes your entire body shiver. A filthy admission to you and you only. She does it again, drags her wetness along you. How on earth are you supposed to remain composed when she says things like that and does things like this? You wrap an arm around her back and pull her closer, staring at her as if seeing her for the very first time.

"You can't say things like that, I'm gonna—"

She cuts you off with her tongue in your mouth. Kissing you like it's the last thing she'll ever do, and your lips the only form of sustenance she'll ever need. It gives way to her frantic little moan, desperate and unrestrained. For the life of you you can't comprehend what is happening, only react, and fuck if it isn't the most incredible experience you've ever had. Her skin is burning against yours, hungry and yielding to your every touch.

Sejeong shifts slightly and grabs a hold of you properly. Your eyes widen when the tip of your dick brushes against something wet, warm, and soft. The very centre of her. She repositions herself, now holding you carefully against her, and then... slides down the length of your cock, pausing halfway down. The pleasure is so acute that you cannot control the way your back arches off the couch, and neither do you control the profanities that spill out from your lips.

A sinful grin spreads across her face. As her legs are pinned around your waist, you cannot move, but Sejeong certainly can. And boy, does she know how. She starts bouncing herself up and down, riding you so expertly and looking so good doing it. You've thought of this so many times—having sex with your best friend, of all people—but you did not picture it like this.

"This okay?" she murmurs in your ear. You hear the smile in her voice.

You utter the only word you can muster: "Yes."

She laughs airily, placing a kiss on your temple as she continues her rhythm. When she moans—a long, drawn-out moan, half-pained, half-pleasured—and throws her head back, you stare up at her, eyes drinking in the beauty that is in a position so incredibly vulnerable yet completely in control. How you long to capture this moment and keep it somewhere safe forever. She looks down at you now. Her heavy-lidded eyes pin you to your spot as much as the physical manifestation of her pinned against your skin. She traces her fingers down your jaw, your neck, and the top of your chest.

"I wish he could see me now," Sejeong hisses, anguish evident in her voice.

"You look so fucking good."

"He doesn't know what he had," she laughs bitterly. "Fuck him."

"Fuck him," you echo. Sejeong smirks and moves her hips more fluidly. Goddamn. Her tight little cunt feels so perfect clenched around your cock.

She watches your face closely as she keeps riding you. As you keep clutching her hips and help her along, grinding deeper. Groaning when she throws her hips forward faster and faster. Her cunt is so hot and tight. She sucks at the life seeping out of your pulsating cock and squeezes it with her inner muscles in ways that no one has ever done before. Sometimes she pulls completely off you, her breath shuddering as you twitch, only to take you deep inside her again.

Your hands have a mind of their own, sneaking upwards to grip her neck. You give it a gentle squeeze, just enough to get her attention. All the while you're staring intensely into her eyes. They've become glassy, intoxicated, more than just wanting but longing for it. Her voice is hoarse, strained, as she says, "How have I been so stupid? All this time—you're right here, and I never—"

"It doesn't matter. None of that matters."

"You're so—fuck."

Her body trembles and she falls forward onto you. She's gripping your arms, nails sinking into your flesh. Sejeong's breath grows increasingly laboured. After a long string of expletives, she lets her head rest on your shoulder as you snake an arm around her back and support her. Her whole body is rigid, teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

"Never felt this good," she forces the words out amid moans as you buck your hips up into her, picking up the slack as she begins to falter. The rhythm is quick now, urgent, filled with unbridled passion and everything left unspoken for too long.

When Sejeong cums, you feel it all around you—her pussy quivering, leaking her arousal around you, dripping down your thighs and saturating you, almost drowning in the intensity. It makes her moan into the crook of your neck and rock her hips, fucking herself while trying desperately to quiet the sounds of her ecstasy against your body. But that is unthinkable, to silence someone like that, and you tell her so. Whispering the filthiest things in her ear as she throbs around your cock, dragging out the last tremors of pleasure of her orgasm as much as you possibly can. She spills everything out into your shoulder, every word, every whimper. Until at last, you can feel her sagging in your lap, breathing heavily and spent.

"Keep going," she pants, tightening her grip on your arm. "Don't stop."

She throws herself to the side, pulling you with her, and somehow lands flat on her back with your body on top of her. You wince at the sudden shift. But not for long. Because Sejeong opens her legs wide, hooks her calves around your hips, and tells you again not to stop.

You smirk and lean forward, trapping her beneath your body and capturing her lips in a sensual kiss. It is deliberate, lingering. Her arms fly up and tangle themselves through your hair, locking you together. When your tongues meet, you sigh deeply against her. There is a warmth settling over you. Languid, dream-like. Like you're both floating through clouds, carried away by the sweetest of breezes.

There is nowhere else in the world that you would rather be than right here, between her legs.

You rock into her, once, then twice, each time more intense than the last. The angle is entirely different. You grab a hold of one of her legs and hitch it up a bit, allowing yourself to thrust deeper inside her.

"Are you okay?"

"Mm. Move slower. Nice and slow," she instructs.

And you do. Eventually, a hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck. Sejeong stares into your eyes and your breath catches. Then you're kissing, again and again, but there is not so much desperation and anger anymore, but something else. It is the feel of her hips meeting yours, the way you press your bodies together, the softness of her lips and the taste of her mouth. Her breaths rush from her lips to yours, from hers into you.

Sweat starts to bead at your temples as you rock into her. Slow, deep, patient strokes. It is not desperate fucking anymore, or an attempt to pour all of your heartbreak into some meaningless action. It's almost reverential—the way you're holding each other, soft and sure. A sweet torture, a sublime suffering, for as long as time allows.

You don't talk. Your mouths say nothing, at least. With your bodies, however, your fingertips whisper praise against her skin. Spirits float free and serenade each other. Sounds escape her that you haven't even dreamed of. Broken, wanton, as if wrenched out of her. They rise above and meet in a higher plane of reality, where two minds are one.

It takes time. A slow build to the crescendo. You know when you've struck the final note by the way she cries out, over and over again, her pretty little hole convulsing, spasming around your cock. She wants to squirm away but has nowhere to go. You refuse to let her. You smile against her neck and sink your teeth into the skin there.

Soon you follow, groaning her name into the warm flesh. It's a flood—your insides are melting, pouring out from your loins and into her heat, her insides contracting, trapping every ounce inside. Hot, sticky, yours. This feeling. It is as if your heart has grown wings, a phoenix born anew from the ashes of who you used to be. You don't have to be lost anymore. She will carry you, always, her fingernails tracing patterns in your damp skin. There is nothing to fear.

Sejeong whines and moans softly as you fill her. One more careful thrust and you still, collapsing on top of her as the waves subside. All the while she is there, stroking the back of your neck and quietly reciting every piece of filth that she can think of.

You wonder whether this will last longer than the night.

God. Would you be okay with that?

When you eventually move back to look at her, to make sure she's okay, there are tears in her eyes. Uncertainty overwhelms you. Before you can react, before you can ask what is wrong, Sejeong cups your cheek. "Thank you," she whispers, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. This girl. All these years. All the wasted time. It feels right being with her; everything is finally where it should have been all along.

"You were worth the wait," you breathe. You place a kiss against her brow before rolling off and settling next to her.

"Do you..." Her voice fades. She runs a finger along your collarbone, eyes anywhere but yours. "Do you want this to be a one-time thing?

"No," you answer without hesitation. You catch her hand in yours, entangling your fingers, willing her to understand everything that you're unable to tell her.

Sejeong smiles. Genuine, unapologetic. For the first time in months, she looks happy. Fuck him, indeed. "Good," she says with a soft laugh that evaporates any of her lingering doubts. Her eyes flick to your lips and she whispers, "So, uh, we've got some lost time to make up for."

"Yeah?" you whisper while rolling her back over and climbing over her. "If there's a debt to be paid..." You start trailing kisses down her neck, down her sternum, grinning at the tiny shivers it elicits. "What better time than now?"

Your kisses lead you over her toned stomach. Once you reach the juncture between her thighs, you pick up her leg and set it over your shoulder. Sejeong is already squirming, anticipating what is to come. You take a look at her—mussed hair and flushed cheeks, mouth slightly open, beautiful, tempting. It feels almost gratuitous—that you're able to see her like this. It makes you pull her even closer, and stick your tongue into her center. Her upper body lifts almost immediately and her eyes fly open. A shaky whimper leaves her lips.

She's right. There is a lot of catching up to do. Luckily for her, there's still the whole night ahead of you and a lot more you'd like to show her.

[faebled-stories]

The Echo of Three

Kinkvember Day 22: Cuckolding (Cuckqueen)

Kiss of Life Haneul and Belle x Male reader

13k words

AN: A bit later than usual, sorry about that 😅. It’s been a rough day, but I still wanted to make sure I got this out to you all. Thanks for your patience and understanding!

Haneul had always had a knack for knowing you better than you knew yourself. She noticed every little thing, from how you liked your coffee—three sugars, a splash of cream—to the way you hummed certain songs under your breath, not even realizing you were doing it. She’d pick up on the subtle shifts in your mood, the tells you didn’t even know you had. But one thing she had picked up on early in your relationship was your admiration for Belle.

Belle. The world-famous soloist with the hauntingly beautiful voice and the kind of stage presence that seemed to demand the world’s attention. Her performances felt intimate despite their grandeur, as though every note was meant for you, even when heard through a screen. You’d always been open about your love for her music, gushing over new albums, replaying live performances late into the night, and casually mentioning how much you’d love to see her in concert someday. It wasn’t just the music; it was her. Something about Belle’s presence—her confidence, her poise, the way she commanded a room with effortless grace—captivated you in a way Haneul couldn’t miss.

At first, Haneul had rolled her eyes. It was cute, she supposed—the way your face lit up when any of Belle’s songs came on, how you’d hum along with an almost reverent smile. But that cuteness came with a faint sting. She couldn’t help feeling a little twinge of jealousy every time Belle’s name slipped into conversation. Belle was glamorous, untouchable, someone who could capture the attention of millions with a single note. How could she not feel overshadowed by that?

But as time went on, those feelings softened. Haneul began to see your admiration for what it was: a harmless celebrity crush, a fantasy so far removed from reality that it didn’t threaten the deep, personal connection you shared. And in truth, the way you talked about Belle was endearing—your unfiltered enthusiasm for her talent, the way your excitement bubbled over whenever she released something new. It made Haneul love you even more, seeing this side of you that was so earnest and unapologetically passionate.

Even when you jokingly added Belle to your “hall pass” list, Haneul had laughed, calling you ridiculous. “Good luck with that,” she’d teased, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all. But the idea lingered in her mind, a tiny spark of curiosity that never quite faded. It wasn’t jealousy anymore—it was something else. A mix of playful indulgence and genuine understanding. She wasn’t blind, after all. Even she could see the allure of someone like Belle.

So, when your birthday came around, Haneul knew exactly what to do. She wanted to give you something unforgettable, something that captured not only how much she loved you but how well she knew you.

-----

The faint flicker of candles cast a warm glow across the dimly lit room, the flames dancing in tandem with the soft scent of vanilla cake that filled the air. It mingled with the faint, familiar trace of Haneul’s floral perfume—something light, with a hint of jasmine—that always made you feel at home. Haneul stood across the table, her dark hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders, her voice lilting gently as she sang “Happy Birthday.” Her tone was playful, teasing on some notes, but there was a warmth to it that made your chest ache in the best way. She wasn’t a professional singer, but to you, her voice was still amazing—especially when it was paired with the way her lips curved into a smile between verses. It made every note feel like it was meant just for you.

“Make a wish,” she said softly, her dark eyes sparkling as the candlelight danced across her face.

You closed your eyes, letting the moment settle over you. The warmth of the candles radiated faintly against your skin, the flickering light behind your eyelids matching the comforting steadiness of Haneul’s presence. The soft hum of her voice still lingered in the air, wrapping around you like a blanket. You took a deep breath, the scent of the cake mingling with the faint jasmine of her perfume, and made your wish: to spend forever with her, your loving girlfriend.

When you opened your eyes, the sight of her was enough to make your heart swell. Haneul, the woman who had brought so much light into your life, who knew you better than anyone else, stood there smiling at you, her expression warm and full of love. The soft flicker of the candles seemed to frame her in golden light, her dark eyes gleaming with the kind of joy that made everything around her feel secondary.

When you exhaled, the candles flickered and went out, the flames vanishing with a quiet whoosh. A thin wisp of smoke curled lazily upward, the faint scent of burned wax mixing with the sweetness of the cake. For a moment, the room held its breath, as though even the air itself was savoring the moment. Then Haneul clapped her hands together, the sound sharp and cheerful as she broke the stillness with a bright, playful grin.

“Okay, so…” she said, dragging out the words with a teasing lilt. “Are you going to tell me what you wished for, or do I have to guess?”

“You know I can’t tell you,” you replied, leaning across the table to steal a quick kiss. Her lips were soft and warm, carrying the faint, sugary sweetness of the frosting. “It won’t come true if I do.”

“Fine, keep your secrets,” she said with a dramatic sigh, though the playful twinkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. She picked up the cake knife, her movements deliberate and precise as she slid the blade into the frosting. The soft scrape of metal against ceramic filled the room, a small sound amplified by the quiet intimacy of the moment. She nudged a slice onto your plate, sliding it toward you with a smirk. “Here. Try not to inhale it all at once.”

The cake was perfect—soft, moist, with just the right amount of sweetness. Each bite seemed to melt on your tongue, leaving a lingering vanilla warmth. You couldn’t help but glance at her as she served herself a slice, the faint hum of her voice as she worked making your chest ache with quiet gratitude. The flicker of the candles reflected in her dark eyes, adding an almost magical quality to the moment. Everything about her—the curve of her lips, the casual confidence of her movements, the way her presence filled the room—made you feel impossibly lucky.

Haneul had always known exactly how to make you feel loved. But tonight felt different. There was something almost electric in the air, a subtle charge that made the moment feel bigger than it seemed. It wasn’t just the cake or her attention to detail—it was something unspoken, something you couldn’t quite put into words. It felt like anticipation.

As the last crumbs of cake disappeared from your plate, Haneul leaned back in her chair, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder in soft waves. The glow of the candles illuminated her profile, catching the mischievous glint in her eyes as she tilted her head, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Alright,” she said, her tone teasing. “Time for phase two.”

“Phase two?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

“Presents, obviously,” she replied, standing and walking over to the small table near the couch. She moved with an unhurried grace, her hips swaying slightly as she bent down to pick up a small stack of neatly wrapped gifts. Each package was unique—some wrapped in bright, playful patterns, others in muted, elegant tones—all perfectly folded with crisp corners and tied with coordinating ribbons. She carried them over with a sense of ceremony, setting them down in front of you with a flourish.

“Wait, all of these are for me?” you asked, eyeing the stack with mock suspicion. “What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Well, you did turn another year older,” she teased, sliding the first box toward you with a playful smirk. “And I guess you’ve been tolerable enough this year.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you picked up the first package. It was small and rectangular, wrapped in bright green paper that shimmered faintly under the soft light. You tore it open carefully, your fingers brushing against the smooth paper as you revealed a leather-bound journal with gilded edges. The leather was soft to the touch, its scent of fresh material mingling with the lingering sweetness of the cake. As you opened it, the faint smell of clean, unused paper reached you, a quiet promise of possibility. On the first page, written in her familiar handwriting, was a note: For all the dreams we haven’t dreamed yet.

You looked up at her, the weight of the gesture settling over you like a warm blanket. “This is beautiful, Haneul. Thank you.”

She shrugged, though the faint flush on her cheeks betrayed her pride. “I just thought… you’re always talking about ideas, so now you’ll have somewhere to put them.”

The next gift was smaller, wrapped in silver paper that gleamed in the candlelight. Inside, you found a sleek pair of wireless earbuds. The polished surface caught the light as you held them up, and you couldn’t help but grin. “I figured these might come in handy,” she said, leaning her chin on her hand with a mischievous look. “You know, for drowning me out when I nag you.”

You laughed, holding them up to inspect them. “Or for listening to music on those walks you’re always making me take.”

“Exactly,” she replied, her tone light but affectionate.

The final small package was the most understated of the three, wrapped in soft cream-colored paper tied with a delicate ribbon. Inside, nestled in a velvet box, was a simple chain bracelet. It gleamed subtly under the flickering light, its design understated but elegant—exactly your style. She reached out, her fingers brushing against your wrist as she leaned forward to fasten it. Her touch was warm, her focus intent as she secured the clasp with care.

“For luck,” she murmured, her voice softer now. She sat back, her eyes studying your face as you admired it. “It’s simple, but I thought it’d suit you.”

“It’s perfect,” you said, your voice quiet as you looked up at her. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Haneul. I don’t even know what to say.”

Her smile widened, a mix of pride and playfulness lighting her face as she leaned back in her chair. “Don’t worry,” she said breezily, waving a hand. “I’m not done yet.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Not done?”

She laughed, the sound light and teasing, as she stood and walked back toward the couch. This time, she returned with a sleek white envelope in her hand. The paper was pristine, the edges sharp, as though it had been carefully guarded. The faint rustle of the envelope in her hands seemed amplified in the quiet room, building the anticipation swirling in your chest. She set it down in front of you with a flourish, her grin widening in a way that made your heart race.

“This,” she said, tapping the envelope with her finger, “is the real present.”

Your heart skipped as you reached for it, your fingers trembling slightly. The paper felt smooth and crisp under your fingertips, the slight weight of the contents inside making your pulse quicken. You broke the seal, the faint sound of tearing paper almost echoing in the stillness, and pulled out the contents. Two glossy concert tickets gleamed in your hands, the bold, stylized name Belle printed across them in her signature font. The logo glittered faintly in the light, catching your eye like it had been designed just for this moment. Beneath the tickets was a smaller slip of paper, gilded with gold. The words BACKSTAGE ACCESS were embossed in elegant, raised lettering.

For a moment, the words didn’t register. You stared at the tickets, your mind slowly piecing together what they meant. It was like trying to solve a puzzle while your heart pounded in your chest, the pieces clicking into place one by one. “No way,” you whispered, your breath catching in your throat. “Is this…? Did you…?”

Haneul grinned, her dark eyes dancing as she leaned her chin on her hand. “You’re going to see her live. Front row seats. And after the concert, you get to meet her.”

You blinked, the reality of her words crashing over you like a wave. The world around you seemed to tilt, and for a second, all you could do was stare at the tickets in your hands, the weight of them feeling almost surreal. “Haneul, I—this is—” Your voice faltered as your emotions welled up, a knot forming in your throat. “I don’t even know how to thank you.”

“Well,” she teased, standing and walking over to your side, her tone as casual as if she’d just handed you socks. “You could start by not crying.”

“I’m not crying,” you muttered, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you. Your vision blurred slightly, and you quickly set the tickets down before pulling her into a tight hug. Her body was warm and solid against yours, grounding you as you buried your face in her hair. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Seriously. This is the best gift anyone’s ever given me.”

She laughed softly, her arms wrapping around you with a reassuring squeeze. “You’re welcome,” she murmured, her voice soft against your ear. “I figured it was about time you got to see your celebrity crush in person.”

You groaned, pulling back just enough to look at her, though the smile on your face betrayed your exasperation. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” she replied, her grin widening, mischief twinkling in her eyes. “Besides, I want to see if she lives up to the hype.”

The two of you laughed together, the weight of the moment giving way to an electric sense of anticipation. The tickets sat on the table, gleaming in the candlelight, a tangible reminder of what awaited you tomorrow. Finally, you’d see Belle live—an experience you’d dreamed about for years. And thanks to Haneul, it was going to be even more unforgettable than you could have imagined.

-----

The concert is electric, the kind of performance that leaves the air humming with energy long after the final note fades. Belle’s stage presence is commanding, magnetic, as though the entire venue bends to her will. Her voice carries through the space like a force of nature—raw, powerful, yet impossibly intimate. Each note seems to wrap around you, as though meant for you alone. The stage lights flare and dim with every shift in tempo, casting her in a glow that feels almost ethereal. You’re completely enraptured, caught in the pull of her undeniable charisma.

But what surprises you most isn’t your own reaction—it’s Haneul’s. She’s usually composed, steady, the picture of quiet confidence. Yet tonight, there’s something different in her demeanor. She watches Belle with an intensity you rarely see, her dark eyes following the singer’s every movement. There’s a tinge of admiration in her expression, subtle but unmistakable, and it catches you off guard. You notice the way her lips part slightly during a particularly sultry note, the faint rise and fall of her chest as she leans forward in her seat, as though caught in the same spell that has ensnared you.

By the time the concert ends and you head backstage, a shared excitement buzzes between you. It’s an unspoken thing, lingering in the quickened pace of your steps, the faint blush on your cheeks when Haneul glances at you with a knowing smile. The backstage area feels quieter than you expected, the air still charged with the energy of the performance. The faint roar of the departing crowd filters through the walls, a distant echo of the electricity that filled the arena moments ago. Overhead lights cast long shadows across the room, and the faint scent of sweat and faintly floral perfume lingers in the air like a reminder of Belle’s presence.

And then there she is.

Belle is as radiant up close as she was on stage, her charisma somehow even more potent in the intimate glow of the backstage lounge. Her dark hair is pulled into a loose, slightly tousled style, a few strands falling artfully across her face. The soft sheen of sweat on her skin catches the light, making her look both human and larger than life, her beauty almost surreal. She’s dressed casually now, in a loose-fitting top that clings in just the right places and snug jeans that highlight her long legs, but she wears them with the kind of effortless grace that makes them feel like a designer ensemble.

Her laughter fills the room like music, light and genuine, a perfect counterpoint to the quiet hum of post-performance energy still lingering in the air. She moves with an easy elegance, her gestures fluid as she pours drinks and chats with her team. But as you step into her orbit, her attention shifts.

Her gaze lands squarely on you, and suddenly, it feels like the room has shrunk. Her eyes are sharp, focused, as though she’s appraising you in a way that makes your chest tighten. She tilts her head slightly, her smile widening into something teasing yet calculated. "So," she begins, her voice carrying that same sultry edge you’d heard on stage, "you’re the big fan, huh?"

The words hit you like a spotlight, and your heart stutters in your chest. Her attention is magnetic, pinning you in place as your mind scrambles for a coherent response. "Uh…" You struggle to form words, your throat inexplicably dry. "Y-yeah," you manage after a beat, your face flushing under her scrutiny. "You were… incredible."

Belle’s laughter spills from her lips, soft and teasing, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she steps just a little closer. "Incredible?" she repeats, her tone lilting as though savoring the word. "I’ll take that." She lets the pause linger, her gaze dipping briefly before meeting yours again, sharper this time, like she’s testing your limits. "Though you look like you weren’t expecting me to be that good."

Her hand brushes your arm lightly, a fleeting touch that somehow feels deliberate, calculated to send a jolt of nervous energy through you. Her fingers are warm against your skin, leaving a faint trace of heat that lingers even after she pulls back. "Relax," she says, her voice playful but carrying an undertone that’s far more suggestive. "I don’t bite." She lets her smile linger for a beat before adding with a low laugh, "Not unless I’m invited."

The air between you shifts, growing thicker, charged. Her proximity makes it hard to focus on anything else, her perfume—soft with a faint musky undertone—wrapping around you like a net. Your hands twitch slightly at your sides, your mind racing with a mix of awe and nervousness. You glance toward Haneul, desperate for some kind of grounding, but what you find isn’t exactly what you were hoping for.

Haneul is sitting nearby, watching the exchange with a quiet smile that gives away nothing. There’s a glimmer of amusement in her expression, but beneath that, something else—something curious, almost approving. When she notices your panicked glance, her grin deepens, and she tilts her head slightly, as if silently telling you to keep going.

You’re about to stammer out another awkward attempt at conversation when Haneul decides to step in. "He’s more than a fan," she teases, her voice light but purposeful as she rises from her seat. She walks up beside you, slipping an arm around your waist in a way that feels both comforting and mischievous. "You should’ve seen him watching you tonight," she continues, her tone dripping with playful exaggeration. "I thought he was going to pass out at one point."

"Haneul!" you hiss, your cheeks burning with fresh embarrassment as you glance at her, your wide eyes begging her to stop.

Belle chuckles, clearly entertained by the dynamic. "Oh, really?" she asks, her smile widening as her gaze flicks back to you. "Well, I guess I made an impression."

"He couldn’t stop talking about you for weeks after I got these tickets," Haneul adds, clearly enjoying herself now. She looks up at you with a grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "He even practiced what he’d say if he ever got the chance to meet you. Something about wanting to thank you for inspiring him?"

Your hands fly up in protest. "I did not!" you protest, your voice cracking slightly, but your flushed cheeks betray you. You glance at Belle, who’s watching the exchange with open amusement, her eyes alight with curiosity.

"Don’t worry," Haneul says, patting your chest as though to reassure you. "I think it’s cute." She looks back at Belle, her grin softening slightly. "He’s been looking forward to this for a long time."

Belle’s expression shifts slightly, her teasing smirk taking on a hint of warmth as she studies you. "You’ve got a good one," she says to Haneul, nodding toward you. There’s a flicker of something sly in her expression as she adds, "If he weren’t taken, I’d probably have jumped on him by now."

Her words land with a weight that seems to linger in the air, bold and unapologetic, resonating like the echo of a drumbeat. Your blush deepens, creeping to the tips of your ears as your pulse quickens under the intensity of her gaze. You try to respond—to say something clever, to deflect—but the words tangle in your throat, refusing to form. The tension in the room presses against you, thick and tangible, like a storm waiting to break.

Haneul’s calm voice cuts through the charged air, steady and deliberate.

"Is that so?" she says, her tone light but deliberate. Her head tilts slightly, her gaze steady as she looks at Belle. There’s a confidence in her voice that you don’t expect, a calmness that feels deliberate. "What’s stopping you?"

Belle’s eyebrows shoot up, her usual confidence flickering as surprise flashes across her face. "Wait, are you serious?" she asks, her voice a mix of laughter and disbelief. Her eyes dart between you and Haneul, searching for any sign of a joke.

Haneul pauses, the weight of her words settling over her as Belle’s question lingers in the air. Her calm exterior belies the storm of thoughts rushing through her mind. The idea—watching you with Belle, this untouchable, magnetic performer she’d admired from afar—felt like it should spark jealousy, like it should tighten in her chest in that all-too-familiar way. And there was a flicker of it, faint and fleeting, but what surprised her more was everything else.

Excitement. Thrill. A low, unexpected hum of arousal that made her breath catch for just a second. It struck her as strange, almost absurd, but she couldn’t deny the way her pulse quickened at the thought. She could picture it so vividly—your hands on Belle, the way you’d look at her with that same hungry intensity that sometimes set her own body aflame. It made her stomach twist in a way that was as exhilarating as it was unsettling.

Her gaze flicks to you, catching the uncertainty in your expression, the way your shoulders are just slightly tense as though you’re waiting for her to pull back. But she doesn’t. Instead, she shrugs, her lips curling into a small, almost teasing smile. Her voice is steady when she speaks, but there’s a softness beneath it, a quiet acceptance of the strange mix of emotions surging through her. "I mean, I’ve seen how you’ve been looking at him." Her gaze softens slightly, her eyes flickering to you as though grounding herself. "And honestly…" She pauses, her voice lowering just enough to draw Belle’s full attention. "The idea isn’t as crazy as you might think."

Her words send a rush of heat through you—confusion, excitement, and something else that twists low in your stomach. You glance between Haneul and Belle, unsure of what to say, unsure if you should say anything at all. The silence that follows feels alive, buzzing with possibility.

Belle leans back slightly, her lips parting as she processes Haneul’s words. She looks between you and Haneul, a slow, mischievous smile spreading across her face. "Well," she murmurs, stepping closer to you, "if the lady insists… who am I to say no?"

Haneul lets out a soft laugh, her cheeks faintly flushed. Despite her calm exterior, you can see it now—the rush of excitement sparking behind her eyes, the slight rise and fall of her chest as though she’s steadying herself. She glances at you again, her gaze warm but charged, and you realize this isn’t just about Belle. It’s about you. About the thrill of watching something unfold that neither of you had planned but both of you are suddenly open to.

Her hands brush against yours, her touch light yet deliberate, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. She leans in closer, her lips hovering near yours. "Are you okay with this?" she whispers, her voice low and inviting, her breath warm against your skin.

Your throat feels tight, and for a moment, you can’t find your voice. You glance at Haneul, who is sitting on the couch, her gaze steady and filled with warmth. She nods encouragingly, her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly parted. Her reassurance steadies you, and you turn back to Belle, nodding softly.

With your consent, Belle closes the distance between you. Her lips meet yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, her movements confident and commanding. It’s unlike anything you’ve experienced before, and it leaves you breathless. Her hands slide to your waist, pulling you closer as she deepens the kiss, her tongue teasing yours in a way that makes your knees feel weak.

As the moment stretches, Belle pulls back slightly, her breath mingling with yours. "Why don’t we make this a little more private?" she murmurs, her tone sultry yet casual, as though it’s the most natural suggestion in the world.

Haneul rises from the couch, her movements slow but deliberate, her gaze locked onto yours. There’s a shared understanding between the three of you now, an unspoken agreement as Belle gestures toward a door in the back corner of the room. Her hand slides into yours as she leads you both toward it, her touch firm and steady, her confidence pulling you forward.

The room you enter is dimly lit, with a plush couch in the center and soft, ambient lighting casting warm shadows across the walls. The door clicks shut behind you, sealing the three of you in a space that feels intimate, almost sacred. Belle turns to face you both, her smirk softening into something more inviting as she steps closer, her movements fluid and deliberate.

"Now," she says, her voice dropping lower, her gaze flicking between you and Haneul, "where were we?"

The weight of the room’s privacy settles over you, amplifying every glance, every touch, every unspoken word. Haneul steps closer, her hand finding yours as her other rests lightly on your arm. She glances at Belle, her cheeks still flushed, her expression open and eager. The anticipation in the room is electric, the boundaries between the three of you dissolving as the night takes its next step.

You can’t help but glance at Haneul again, seeking her reassurance even as Belle consumes your focus. Haneul’s eyes meet yours, her expression calm but undeniably aroused. She nods again, her lips curling into a small smile, as if to remind you that she’s there, fully supportive, fully in control.

Belle pulls back slightly, her lips brushing against your jaw as she murmurs, "Relax. You’re doing fine." Her hands begin to explore, slipping beneath your shirt, her touch warm and deliberate. One by one, pieces of clothing fall away—yours and hers—until you’re left stunned, standing before her.

Your breath catches as your gaze roams over Belle’s bare skin. She’s everything you’ve admired for so long: radiant, confident, and breathtakingly real. For years, she’s been a distant fantasy, a figure on a screen or in your headphones, and now she’s here, naked before you. You’re too stunned to move, your eyes wide, your body frozen in awe.

Belle notices your reaction and smiles, her confidence unwavering as her eyes sweep over you. Her gaze flickers downward briefly, pausing, and a subtle shift in her expression betrays her thoughts—her smile widening slightly, her brows lifting just enough to suggest admiration. When her gaze returns to your face, there’s a flicker of something playful and knowing in her eyes, the kind of look that makes your chest tighten.

She glances toward Haneul, who is still seated on the couch, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and arousal. Belle tilts her head slightly, giving Haneul a knowing glance—a silent, almost conspiratorial expression that says without words: You’re a lucky girl.

Belle takes your hand and guides you to the couch, her touch firm yet unhurried, every movement exuding confidence. She nudges you to sit, her eyes locked on yours with a smirk that sends a thrill through you. Her graceful form lowers between your legs, her movements deliberate as she kneels. "Let’s see how much you can handle," she murmurs, her voice low and teasing, every word dripping with intent.

Your breath catches sharply as her hand wraps around your length, her touch warm and deliberate. Her fingers glide over you with practiced precision, each motion sending ripples of sensation up your spine. The faint trace of her perfume—subtle and musky—lingers in the air, mingling with the heat of the moment. A soft gasp escapes your lips, unbidden, as her grip tightens just slightly, perfectly calibrated to draw the first hint of tension from deep within you. Belle doesn’t rush; her eyes flick upward, locking with yours, and for a moment, it’s as if the world narrows to just the two of you. Her gaze is intent, assessing, drinking in every shift in your expression. The faintest smile tugs at the corners of her lips, a quiet show of confidence, before she leans forward, parting them to envelop you in her warm, wet mouth.

The sensation is immediate and overwhelming, a rush of heat and pressure that leaves you breathless. Her tongue moves with deliberate skill, teasing and exploring as it swirls along your length. The contrast between the firm seal of her lips and the soft, wet heat of her tongue is electrifying, sending shivers coursing through your body. Your fingers instinctively grip the edge of the couch as you try to steady yourself against the onslaught of sensation. Each flick of her tongue against the sensitive underside of your tip feels impossibly precise, perfectly tuned to unravel you. Her movements are controlled, calculated, and maddeningly slow, as though she’s savoring every moment—and daring you to do the same.

From the corner of your eye, you catch Haneul shifting on the couch. At first, her gaze is fixed on Belle, her dark eyes following the rhythm of her movements with a mix of fascination and intrigue. Her chest rises and falls steadily, though her breath catches ever so slightly when Belle’s head dips lower, taking you deeper. The faint flush on her cheeks deepens as she watches, her lips parting subtly as if to echo your own shaky breaths. But soon, her attention drifts upward—to you.

Haneul’s eyes widen slightly as they meet your face, and her breath hitches as she takes in the rawness of your expression. Your head tilted back, your jaw slack, every part of you consumed by the sensations Belle is drawing from you. There’s a hunger in your gaze, an unguarded intensity she’s rarely seen, and it sends a wave of heat coursing through her. Her thighs press tightly together, her own arousal building as she drinks in every detail: the faint sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, the tension in your arms as you grip the couch for stability, the way your lips part with soft, uneven breaths. It’s as if she’s seeing a side of you she never has before, and the sight ignites something deep and primal within her.

Belle’s pace shifts, the languid rhythm giving way to something more insistent. Her lips slide along your length with increasing fervor, her tongue teasing you mercilessly. The slick sounds of her movements fill the room, mingling with the soft gasps escaping your lips. Her hand joins the effort, stroking you in perfect sync with her mouth, her touch firm yet tantalizingly smooth. Each stroke feels like a deliberate test, designed to push you closer to the edge. Your breathing grows ragged, shallow inhales interspersed with low groans that you can’t suppress.

You glance down at Belle, and the sight alone nearly undoes you. Her dark eyes are locked onto yours, gleaming with satisfaction and something deeper—possessive, teasing, utterly confident. Even as she takes you deeper, her cheeks hollowing with effort, her lips curl into a subtle smirk, the look of someone who knows exactly what she’s doing. Her tongue flicks against the most sensitive spots with maddening precision, each motion sending jolts of electricity racing through your core.

Behind her, Haneul’s gaze is transfixed. Her breathing quickens, her chest rising and falling with visible urgency as she watches you unravel. One hand rests against her thigh, trembling slightly, while the other lingers near her folds, her fingers twitching as though tempted to join the intensity surrounding her. Her lips part slightly, soft sounds escaping her as her arousal mirrors your own, her body responding to the raw display of pleasure before her.

Belle’s rhythm intensifies, her mouth and hand working together in perfect tandem. The wet heat of her lips contrasts with the firm, deliberate strokes of her hand, the combination almost unbearable. Your fingers dig into the couch, your body tense and coiled like a spring as the fire in your stomach builds. A deep groan escapes you, raw and unrestrained, echoing in the room as Belle’s relentless pace pushes you closer to the brink.

Haneul’s eyes remain locked on you, her own breathing quickening as she watches the moment unfold. The sight of you trembling, completely lost in the force of your climax, sends a jolt of heat straight through her. She feels her thighs press together involuntarily, a rush of slick arousal pooling between her legs as her own body responds to the rawness of the scene. Her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, her fingers curling against her thighs as she watches, captivated and overwhelmed by how unrestrained you’ve become.

Belle pulls back slightly just as you reach your peak, her hand stroking you with firm, deliberate movements. Your release comes in hot, thick waves, spilling across her lips and cheeks with startling intensity. Belle tilts her head slightly, her mouth parting as she lets the remnants land on her tongue, the streaks of your climax glistening against her skin. She doesn’t flinch or hesitate, her expression one of pure satisfaction. A smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth as she slowly drags her tongue along her lips, savoring every drop.

Haneul lets out a soft, almost imperceptible gasp, her body reacting before her mind can fully catch up. Her thighs shift, a faint ache blooming between them as she feels a flush spread across her chest. The sight of you—completely undone, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath—is impossibly arousing. And Belle, kneeling there with your release dripping down her face, wearing it with an unapologetic confidence that makes her look even more untouchable—it’s almost too much.

Belle meets your gaze, her smirk deepening as she licks one final drop from her lower lip. "Not bad," she murmurs, her voice low and rich with satisfaction. Her fingers trail down your thigh briefly, a playful reminder of the control she wielded just moments ago.

Haneul’s breath hitches as her eyes dart between you and Belle, her own arousal impossible to ignore now. The heat, the tension, the sheer audacity of the moment—it all swirls together, leaving her both awestruck and deeply, undeniably turned on.

Belle leans back slightly, her gaze flickering toward Haneul, her lips curling into a wicked grin. "I think he enjoyed that," she says, her voice smooth, teasing, and dripping with satisfaction. Her eyes flick briefly to you, then back to Haneul, as though gauging her reaction. Haneul doesn’t respond immediately, her breath shallow, caught up in the rush of her own thoughts. Her heart races as the moment lingers, a strange thrill mingling with the heat coursing through her body.

Belle rises with fluid grace, moving to the couch. Every step is deliberate, each motion exuding a confidence that seems to fill the room. She sits on the side, reclining back against the armrest, her legs spreading slowly, confidently, as she positions herself. Her bare skin glows faintly under the dim light, every curve and line of her body sculpted as though by an artist’s hand. Her poise is magnetic, her gaze unwavering as she locks eyes with you.

You stand there for a moment, frozen. Your breath catches as the surreal nature of the scene washes over you in waves. Belle, the woman you’d admired for so long, was waiting for you, her body open and inviting, her smirk daring you to act.

Noticing your hesitation, Belle’s smirk softens slightly, something warmer flashing in her expression. "Come here," she murmurs, her voice low and velvety, carrying an unspoken command that sends a shiver down your spine. The authority in her tone leaves no room for doubt, yet there’s a tenderness beneath it, an acknowledgment of your hesitation.

You move toward her, your legs feeling heavy as your heart pounds in your chest. Kneeling between her legs, you look up, meeting her gaze as her dark eyes bore into yours. She’s utterly in control, even as she spreads herself before you, her confidence radiating in every deliberate movement. For a moment, you almost blank out, staring at her with wide eyes, overwhelmed by the reality of it all. Belle, this untouchable goddess of a performer, was here, her legs open, waiting for you. The thought leaves you dizzy, your breaths shallow as you try to ground yourself.

You lean in slowly, your breath brushing against her skin as the faint, intoxicating scent of her arousal fills your senses. It sharpens the edge of your nerves, each detail of her more vivid than the last: the glisten of her skin, the subtle quiver of her thighs, the soft rise and fall of her chest. You hover there, so close and yet frozen, as though one wrong move might shatter the spell. The surreal nature of the moment presses down on you, leaving you suspended in sensory overload.

Belle notices immediately. Without hesitation, her hand shoots out, her fingers tangling in your hair with a firm, possessive grip. She pulls your head forward with deliberate force, pressing your lips firmly against her folds. The suddenness of the gesture snaps you out of your trance, the taste and warmth of her flooding your senses as she holds you there.

Her hand lingers, her fingers tightening slightly as if to make sure you’re fully engaged before releasing you. The soft vibration of her moan travels through her body, pulling something primal from deep within you. Instinct takes over, and your lips begin to move against her, brushing tentatively at first. Your movements are slow and deliberate, each stroke of your tongue light and exploratory, as though savoring the taste of something rare and exquisite.

Belle’s moan deepens, her voice low and unrestrained, a sound so intimate and raw it sends a jolt through you. Your member twitches at the sound, your arousal building with each note she releases. Encouraged, you grow bolder, each movement of your tongue more confident, more deliberate. You start slow, savoring every inch of her, your strokes measured and intentional as if this were a feast meant to be lingered over. The warmth of her, the way she reacts to each flick and swirl of your tongue, is utterly intoxicating.

Belle’s hands grip the armrest behind her as her head tilts back. Her breathing grows heavier, her chest rising and falling in time with your movements. The soft, melodic sounds she makes pull you deeper into the moment, every moan spurring you to explore more, to find new ways to make her lose herself.

Her thighs tremble faintly under your touch, and you steady her, your hands moving to her hips to keep her in place. Her soft gasps grow louder, her voice dipping into raw, unguarded cries of pleasure. You press closer, your confidence mounting as you lose yourself in the rhythm of her body, every sound she makes driving you further.

Belle’s back arches slightly, her breathing quickening as your tongue swirls around her sensitive nub before dipping lower to tease her entrance. The way she reacts—her hips shifting toward you, the way her fingers grip tighter against the couch—sends a fresh wave of desire surging through you. You keep going, pulling every ounce of pleasure from her as her soft cries fill the room, each one a melody more beautiful than the last.

With each moan, your confidence builds, the initial hesitation melting away. Soon, your movements grow less restrained, driven by an almost primal need to pull more from her, to hear her voice climb higher. You press your tongue more firmly against her, each stroke hungrier, more desperate. The desire to make her lose herself completely consumes you, fueling every motion. You focus intently on the way her body responds—the slight tremble in her thighs, the way her hips instinctively shift toward you, chasing every sensation.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Haneul shifting on the couch. Her breathing has deepened, the subtle hitch in each exhale betraying her growing arousal. When you glance briefly in her direction, your heart skips. Her thighs are pressed tightly together, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her skin flushed with heat. Her dark eyes are locked on you, a mix of fascination and hunger, drawn to the intensity with which you’re worshiping Belle. The sight of you so consumed, so eager, is clearly affecting her.

The realization sends a thrill through you, but you return your focus to Belle, determined to elicit even more from her. Each movement of your tongue becomes calculated yet frantic, teasing the edges of her folds before delving inside. You savor the way her body reacts, the faint shudder that ripples through her as you alternate between swirling around her entrance and flicking lightly against her clit. Every motion pulls another sound from her lips, a fresh wave of breathy, unrestrained moans that fill the room like music.

Your hands grip her thighs to steady yourself, your fingers digging into the soft flesh as you hold her open. When her legs begin to tremble, instinctively trying to close against the overwhelming sensations, you tighten your hold, refusing to let her escape the intensity. Belle’s moans grow louder, her voice breaking into gasps as her back arches, her hands gripping the couch tightly. The usual control she carries so effortlessly is unraveling before you, every sound she makes spurring you on.

From behind you comes a soft gasp, breaking through the haze of your focus. You pause, turning your head slightly, and your breath catches. Haneul is completely naked now, her clothes discarded and forgotten in the growing pile on the floor. Her hands move over her body, one slipping between her thighs, her fingers working rhythmically as she watches. Her gaze is locked on you and Belle, but there’s something deeper in her eyes—a connection that pulls you back toward her every time. Her breath is uneven, her lips parted, her expression a mix of arousal and admiration.

The sight of her—the way she’s looking at you, her body glistening in the low light—ignites something even hotter inside you. As much as you want Belle, as consuming as this moment is, Haneul’s presence grounds you, intensifies your desire. You turn back to Belle, your determination redoubled. If this was your moment to impress, to give them both something unforgettable, you weren’t going to hold back.

Your attention zeroes in on Belle’s clit now, your tongue moving with rapid precision against the sensitive nub. Each flick and press earns you a sharper gasp, a louder moan. Her hips buck against you, her movements desperate as her body chases the pleasure you’re giving her. Your hands hold her legs firmly in place, spreading her wider, ensuring she can’t escape the onslaught of sensation. Belle’s cries grow louder, her usual poise dissolving into pure, unrestrained pleasure.

"Don’t stop," she gasps, her voice high and trembling, her chest heaving with every word. Her fingers dig into the couch, her thighs quivering beneath your grasp as she teeters on the edge. You don’t relent. Your tongue is relentless, teasing and pressing and flicking with a rhythm that drives her higher and higher. Her legs strain against your arms, her muscles taut, but you hold her open, refusing to let her pull away from the intensity.

Belle’s climax builds rapidly, her moans turning into sharp cries as her body begins to quake. You can feel it—the way her thighs tighten, her hips jerk involuntarily, her entire body preparing for release. When it hits, it’s like an explosion. Her voice breaks into a loud, unabashed cry as her back arches, her fingers clutching the couch for dear life.

A sudden rush of liquid warmth drenches your face and chest, Belle’s release coming in an overwhelming wave. It’s powerful, unexpected, and utterly intoxicating. The sharp, heady scent of her arousal fills the air, thick and unmistakable, as her body jerks uncontrollably beneath your grip. You pause for a heartbeat, stunned by the rawness of the moment, the sheer force of her climax leaving her trembling violently. Her soft whimpers fill the air, each one high-pitched and shaky as the last waves of pleasure crash through her. Her thighs quiver, her knees giving out completely, and the tension in her frame melts into exhausted surrender as she slumps forward, still twitching from the aftershocks.

Behind you, Haneul lets out a choked cry, her voice breaking with the intensity of her own release. You turn your head just in time to see her arch back, her body taut as if caught in the grip of something uncontrollable. Her hand moves frantically between her legs, her fingers glistening with her arousal as her hips buck against her touch. Her thighs clamp together momentarily, her movements erratic as her climax overtakes her with full force.

Her moans are raw and unrestrained, filling the room as her body trembles violently. Her free hand grips the edge of the couch. She fights to keep herself grounded, but her body betrays her—every muscle quakes as wave after wave of pleasure floods her senses. A sudden gush of her release escapes, slicking her thighs and pooling beneath her, the scent mingling with Belle’s and creating an intoxicating blend of musk that saturates the air.

Her head tilts back, her mouth open in a silent scream before another loud, broken moan escapes her lips. Her entire body shudders as the peak finally crests, leaving her slumped against the couch, her chest heaving and her skin glistening with sweat. Her cries mix with Belle’s lingering whimpers, creating a shared symphony of pleasure that echoes off the walls, binding the three of you in the raw, primal intensity of the moment.

The air feels heavy now, thick with the scent of release and the echoes of your shared sounds. The moment stretches endlessly, each of you caught in the lingering aftershocks, bound together by the raw intimacy of it all. Belle reclines against the couch, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath, her body still trembling faintly from the intensity of her climax.

Her gaze flickers to Haneul, who is slumped back on the couch, her flushed skin glistening in the dim light. Haneul’s breaths come in shallow gasps, her body visibly relaxed yet humming with the residual heat of her release. Their eyes meet briefly, a shared look passing between them—something unspoken, an acknowledgment of the rawness and beauty of the moment they’ve just shared. Belle’s lips curl into a faint smile, her confidence glowing in the aftermath, and Haneul mirrors it with a soft, breathless laugh.

As Belle’s gaze shifts, it lands on you, still kneeling between her legs. Her eyes drop slightly, taking in your form, and then lower still. She notices your member, back at full strength, glistening faintly with a mix of exertion and her previous attentions. A mischievous spark lights in her eyes as an idea begins to form. She straightens slightly, her body language shifting back into one of command, her movements deliberate and poised. Her gaze flickers between you and Haneul, her lips curling into a smirk.

"Alright," she murmurs, her voice low and commanding. Her eyes lock onto Haneul with an air of playful authority. "Haneul, lie down for me—right here."

She gestures to the space where she had just been, the fabric still warm and damp from her release. Haneul hesitates for only a moment, her eyes darting to yours, seeking silent reassurance. When you nod, she mirrors the gesture, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks as she moves to the couch. There’s a nervous grace in the way she positions herself, her movements tentative but unresisting. She leans back against the armrest, her legs spreading slowly, exposing folds already glistening with arousal. Her breathing quickens, and her gaze alternates between you and Belle, anticipation written across her face.

Belle shifts to the opposite end of the couch, bending over the armrest so she’s facing Haneul. The position stretches her body out provocatively, her curves taut and inviting, her flushed, sweat-slicked skin catching the light in a way that makes her look almost otherworldly. Despite her disheveled state, her smirk remains confident, teasing, as if she were still performing. She lifts her head slightly, her eyes locking onto you as she gestures with a lazy wave of her fingers. "Behind me," she says, her tone firm but laced with playful authority. "Let’s make sure your girlfriend has the best seat in the house."

Your breath hitches as you step forward, positioning yourself behind Belle. From this angle, the sight before you is almost too much to take in—Haneul reclining in front of you, her flushed face framed by her tousled hair, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. Her legs remain spread, her folds pulsing faintly as her fingers move over herself in slow, deliberate circles. Then there’s Belle, bent over in front of you, her body radiating heat, her hips tilting slightly to give you better access. The combination—the contrast of Belle’s commanding confidence and Haneul’s vulnerable allure—sends a rush of heat surging through you.

You guide yourself to Belle’s entrance, your tip brushing against her warm, slick folds. The sensation is immediate, electrifying, and for a moment, you falter, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the moment. Belle lets out a low hum of approval, her body shifting back toward you in encouragement, the motion subtle but unmistakable. She glances back at you with a smirk, her gaze equal parts amused and urging, her confidence pulling you forward.

Taking a steadying breath, you press forward, easing yourself inside her with slow, deliberate movements. The first push is exquisite, her tight warmth enveloping you inch by inch. Belle’s breath catches, her soft gasp breaking into a low moan as you stretch her. Her fingers clutch at the armrest, her knuckles whitening briefly as she adjusts to your size. The sound sends shivers down your spine, the rawness of it matching the tension coiling in your body. She exhales shakily, her voice low and laced with satisfaction. "There we go," she murmurs, her tone teasing but edged with need.

Your eyes flick instinctively toward Haneul, seeking reassurance in this surreal moment. She’s watching intently, her lips parted as her chest rises and falls in rhythm with her quickening breaths. Her hand moves boldly now, her fingers gliding against her folds as her arousal heightens. The wet sounds of her pleasure mingle with Belle’s breathy moans, creating a symphony of desire that fuels your movements.

You start with a slow, measured rhythm, your thrusts deliberate as you focus on the way Belle responds. Her body moves with yours, her hips rolling back to meet each motion, a soft hum escaping her lips with every push. The grip of her walls around you is overwhelming, each stroke building the tension higher. Your hands grip her hips firmly, grounding yourself as the moment threatens to sweep you away.

But it’s Haneul’s gaze that keeps drawing you back. Her heavy-lidded eyes flicker between your face and where your body connects with Belle, her expression a mix of awe and unfiltered arousal. Her fingers quicken between her thighs, her soft, breathy sounds spurring you on. The sight of her like this—completely enthralled, her body trembling as she watches—is almost enough to undo you.

Belle shifts beneath you, her movements growing more insistent. Her body rocks with your rhythm, her back arching slightly as she pushes against you, trying to match your thrusts. The soft, slick sounds of your connection fill the room, each movement drawing a quiet gasp or low moan from her lips. But it’s not enough. Her hips press back harder, meeting yours in a way that makes your breath hitch, her determination to draw more from you undeniable.

She turns her head slightly, her dark eyes locking onto yours over her shoulder. There’s a heat in her gaze, a challenge sparking behind it that sends shivers through you. "Faster," she murmurs, her voice breathy but commanding, every word dripping with need. Then, with a smirk tugging at her lips, she adds, "Harder." The words land with weight, her tone tinged with expectation, daring you to give her everything she’s asking for. The tension coils tighter in your chest, and you feel the pulse of heat shoot straight through you.

You adjust your rhythm, your hips driving forward with more force. Each thrust sends a jolt through Belle’s body, her gasps turning into louder, more desperate cries as her hands clutch the armrest for support as she braces herself, her back arching deeper with every movement. But Belle isn’t content to let you take full control. Her hips grind backward into you, the motion deliberate and hungry as she matches your pace. The sheer effortlessness of her movements, the way she works her body to meet yours, leaves you breathless.

Her moans grow louder, more frantic, as the intensity builds. Her legs tremble beneath her, her knees shifting against the floor as she struggles to maintain her balance. Her hips buck against you, her movements urging you to go deeper, harder, her body demanding more. The force of each thrust pushes her against the edge of the couch, her body pressed firmly into the armrest. The soft fabric does little to muffle the sound of her cries as they rise higher, turning into sharp, high-pitched whimpers with every deep stroke.

But something still holds you back—a faint hesitation lingering in the back of your mind, the weight of the moment pressing on you. Your gaze flickers toward Haneul, seeking her grounding presence, and the sight of her makes your breath catch.

Her eyes glisten with arousal, her gaze flickering between your face and the way your body moves with Belle. Her chest heaves with every breath, her own arousal climbing as her fingers work with increasing urgency. Her thighs tremble, her movements growing bolder as she watches you, completely lost in the rhythm you’ve created. When she notices the slight falter in your thrusts, her lips curl into a soft, knowing smile.

"Give her everything, baby," Haneul whispers, her voice trembling but full of certainty. Her words carry no jealousy, only a quiet thrill, the sincerity in her tone sending a fresh rush of desire through you. "Don’t hold back."

Her words break whatever was holding you back. You grip Belle’s arms firmly, your fingers wrapping around her toned biceps as you pull her back toward you. The strength of your hold sends a jolt through her, her breath hitching in surprise. The first thrust with this newfound confidence hits a spot deep inside her, and the sharpness of her reaction is immediate—a loud, high-pitched squeal that escapes her lips, raw and unrestrained. Her body rocks forward, her legs losing their grip on the floor as the force of your motion propels her into the couch’s edge.

Belle braces herself instinctively, her body jerking forward with each powerful thrust. But with her arms pinned securely behind her, gripped firmly in your hands, there’s nothing for her to hold onto, nothing to ground her against the relentless rhythm. Her head tilts forward, dark strands of hair clinging to her damp neck and shoulders, the strain in her posture only amplifying the vulnerability of her position. Each thrust sends her rocking into the edge of the couch, the plush fabric sandwiching her hips, forcing her to take every inch of you with no escape.

The angle leaves her completely at your mercy, her body arching slightly as each deep, unrelenting stroke sends shockwaves through her. Her voice rises in pitch, raw and breathless, every sound spilling from her lips a mix of desperation and pleasure. The force you drive into her keeps her pinned against the couch, her body unable to resist the steady, punishing rhythm.

Her cries grow louder, more broken, the lack of control heightening her response. "Oh—God, Yes!" she gasps, her voice cracking as her legs quiver beneath her. Her body seems to melt into the moment, yielding entirely to the intensity of your movements, her form trembling as each thrust pushes her further into the edge of bliss. The tension in her thighs gives way, and she surrenders fully, the curve of her back accentuating the way she takes you, completely open, completely consumed.

Haneul watches the two of you, her eyes wide with arousal as her breathing grows shallow. Her gaze roams over your body, the sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, highlighting the way your muscles flex with every deep thrust into Belle. Her thighs press together briefly, her hand pausing before resuming its circular motions as she takes in the sight. The sheer hunger in your movements, the raw force of your rhythm, sends a fresh wave of heat surging through her. She can’t believe how arousing it is to see you like this—so primal, so utterly consumed.

Her fingers move faster as she gives in to the sight before her. Every sound—the wet slap of your bodies connecting, Belle’s unrestrained cries, the ragged rhythm of your breath—pushes her closer to the edge. Her thoughts spiral into a chaotic mix of disbelief and desire. She never imagined she’d feel this way, watching you with someone else, but the reality is undeniable.

Belle’s cries shift, her voice breaking into choked moans as the intensity of your thrusts makes it impossible for her to keep her composure. "Fuck, you feel so good." she gasps, her voice trembling. Her back arches further, her body instinctively seeking more even as the couch forces her hips upward, heightening every sensation. Her legs tremble uncontrollably now, the floor offering no anchor as her knees slide slightly with each powerful thrust.

The pleasure coursing through Belle is relentless, each motion driving her closer to the brink. "Don’t stop," she cries, her voice a ragged mix of plea and demand, her words breaking as her breaths come faster. You can feel her trembling under you, her body tightening with each deep thrust. Her arms strain against your grip, but there’s no escape. She can only take what you’re giving her, her fingers curling helplessly in the air as her legs quiver beneath her, barely holding her up.

Haneul’s eyes flick between Belle’s flushed, sweat-slicked body and yours, her gaze darting to the way your muscles flex and shift with every motion. Her own arousal mounts uncontrollably, the tension in her body coiling tighter and tighter. Her breathing grows shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly as soft whimpers escape her lips. Her fingers work furiously between her legs, her thighs trembling as the pleasure surges higher, threatening to overtake her. Her flushed skin glows in the low light, her lips parted as though trying to find air in the heated haze of the moment.

Belle notices Haneul’s struggle, the way her fingers falter slightly, her movements becoming erratic as the edge looms dangerously close. Between her moans, Belle lets out a shaky laugh, her voice breaking under the strain. "Not yet," she gasps, her words sharp and commanding despite the tremble in her tone. "Hold it."

Haneul’s eyes widen, her body freezing momentarily as the words sink in. Her hand stills, and her legs clamp together instinctively as she fights the rising tide threatening to crash over her. Her body trembles violently, her teeth sinking into her lower lip in a desperate attempt to hold on. Her hands clutch at the couch as she pushes back against the overwhelming wave of pleasure, refusing to let it consume her. Every nerve in her body feels like it’s on fire, her muscles straining as she teeters precariously on the edge.

You feel it too—Belle’s body clenching around you, her cries turning into breathless, frantic whimpers as her climax builds to an unbearable peak. Her head tilts forward, dark strands of hair clinging to her damp skin as her body trembles uncontrollably. Her voice cracks as she repeats the command, her tone desperate and insistent. "Hold it. Not yet."

The tension in the room is unbearable, a shared anticipation that binds the three of you together. Every sound, every movement feeds into the moment, the energy coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. Belle’s voice finally cuts through the haze, gasping out in a tone laced with both authority and desperation. "Now, Haneul. Let go."

The release is immediate, and the room erupts in a symphony of pleasure. Haneul cries out loudly, her voice raw and uninhibited as her body arches off the couch, the intensity of her climax washing over her in crashing waves. Her hands clutch the fabric beneath her, nails digging into them as her thighs tremble violently, unable to contain the force of her release. Her head tilts back, her lips parted in a series of broken gasps and cries as the pleasure consumes her completely.

Belle’s body tightens impossibly around you as her own climax hits. Her cries rise in pitch, her voice breaking into a series of unrestrained moans as her legs give out completely, leaving her suspended only by the couch’s edge and your firm grip on her arms. Each deep thrust pushes her further into bliss, her body trembling violently as she surrenders entirely to the overwhelming sensations. Her head tilts back, her mouth open in a silent scream before another loud, desperate cry bursts from her lips, the force of her release echoing through the room.

The intensity of the moment sends you over the edge, the sight of both women undone by pleasure pushing you past your limit. With one final, deep thrust, you empty yourself inside Belle, the warmth and tightness surrounding you heightening every sensation. A guttural moan escapes your lips as your body trembles with the force of your release, every muscle taut before the wave of pleasure washes through you, leaving you breathless and shaking. Belle’s body clenches around you, milking every last bit of your release as she shudders beneath your grip.

The room fills with a harmony of moans, each voice blending together in a perfect, raw symphony of shared ecstasy. The sounds—Haneul’s cries of pleasure, Belle’s desperate moans, and your own guttural groans—echo off the walls, amplifying the intensity of the moment. The mingling scents of sweat, arousal, and release create a heady, intoxicating musk that clings to the air, making the atmosphere feel thick and electric.

You stay there for a moment, catching your breath as the room grows quieter, the echoes of your shared moans still lingering in the thick, musk-filled air. The three of you are trembling, spent, your bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction. When you finally pull out, Belle’s body jerks slightly at the motion. She tries to straighten herself, but her legs give out beneath her, leaving her slumped against the armrest. She lets out a soft laugh, her usual confidence momentarily replaced with breathless exhaustion.

"Here," you murmur, stepping forward and gently guiding her to sit on the couch. She shifts carefully, her movements languid as you help her settle into a position facing Haneul. Belle leans back, her legs spreading lazily, her body still radiating heat. Her eyes flicker to Haneul, and her smirk returns, teasing and wicked. "Come here, sweetheart," she purrs, her voice low and inviting. She gestures downward, her fingers tracing idly along her inner thigh. "Clean up your mess."

Haneul hesitates for only a moment, her eyes darting to yours as though silently seeking permission. When you give her a subtle nod, her lips part, and she moves forward on shaky knees, positioning herself between Belle’s legs. Her hands glide along Belle’s thighs, her touch delicate but deliberate, her fingers brushing over the slick remnants of your release. Belle shivers at the contact, her breath catching as Haneul leans in closer.

Haneul’s lips press against Belle’s folds, tentative at first, her tongue sweeping softly along her. Belle gasps, her body twitching slightly as the sensation sends fresh tremors through her. Haneul becomes bolder, her tongue moving with slow, deliberate strokes, cleaning every trace of you from Belle’s warm, sensitive skin. Her fingers follow, slipping carefully inside to scoop out the remaining seed. Haneul brings her fingers to her lips, licking them clean with a precision that makes Belle let out a shaky moan.

"God," Belle murmurs, her voice unsteady as her body shudders under Haneul’s attention. "You’re thorough, aren’t you?"

Haneul doesn’t respond, her focus entirely on the task at hand. Her tongue and lips continue their work, moving with a mix of care and hunger that draws soft, breathy sounds from Belle. Each stroke of her tongue sends aftershocks through Belle’s body, her thighs trembling uncontrollably as her head tilts back, her damp hair clinging to her skin. By the time Haneul finishes, Belle is slumped against the back of the couch, her chest rising and falling heavily, a long, satisfied sigh escaping her lips.

When Haneul sits back, her lips glistening and her cheeks flushed, she meets your gaze. You’ve been watching from nearby, leaning against the armrest, your heart pounding as you take in the scene. The intensity of the moment is reflected in her expression—a mix of awe, satisfaction, and a lingering arousal that hasn’t entirely subsided.

Without a word, Haneul rises onto her knees and turns toward Belle. Her hands rest gently on Belle’s thighs as she leans in, her lips brushing Belle’s in a soft, exploratory kiss. The contact deepens quickly, their mouths moving together, sharing the mingled taste of you. Their kiss grows more fervent, their bodies pressing together briefly before Haneul pulls back, her chest rising and falling as she turns toward you.

You sit back on the couch, the cushions soft beneath you as you watch her approach. Haneul climbs onto your lap, her knees straddling you as she presses close, her arms wrapping loosely around your neck. Her lips find yours immediately, and the kiss is warm, insistent, filled with a mix of tenderness and lingering heat. You can taste Belle on her mouth—the traces of her release and your own mingling on her tongue—and it sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you, even in the haze of exhaustion.

Haneul melts into you, her body fitting perfectly against yours as she snuggles into your chest. Her head rests on your shoulder, her breathing evening out as she presses soft kisses to your neck. Your arms wrap around her instinctively, holding her close as the weight of the night settles over the three of you.

Belle shifts beside you, her movements unhurried, her body still radiating the warmth of exertion. She reclines lazily next to you, her smirk softening into something gentler. With a quiet sigh, she leans in, resting her head on your opposite shoulder. The scent of her hair—sweet with a faint musky undertone—fills your senses as her body relaxes against yours. Her fingers idly trace along your arm, her touch light and content.

The three of you sit in comfortable silence, the heat of the moment giving way to a warm, shared intimacy. Haneul’s soft kisses continue, her lips grazing your skin as her body molds against yours, her warmth seeping into you. Belle’s breathing steadies, her head nestled on your opposite shoulder, her hair tickling your neck as her eyes flutter closed. The satisfied curve of her lips lingers even as her body begins to relax fully. Your arms tighten around Haneul, one hand brushing lightly against Belle’s arm, grounding all of you in the quiet connection of the moment.

The aftermath unfolds in a haze of gentle movements and shared smiles, the intensity giving way to an almost surreal calm. Eventually, Belle stirs, her head lifting from your shoulder as she stretches with a languid grace. Her legs are still unsteady, and she steadies herself briefly on the edge of the couch before smirking. "You two are something else," she murmurs, her voice carrying a teasing warmth as she reaches for a nearby robe. She drapes it over herself loosely, tying it at her waist before turning back to face you and Haneul.

Belle steps closer, her dark eyes meeting yours with a quiet intensity. Without a word, she leans in, her lips brushing softly against yours in a lingering kiss. The gesture is simple, but the tenderness behind it leaves you breathless, your chest tightening as she pulls away. Then, she turns to Haneul, cupping her face gently in her hands. Their kiss is just as soft, just as deliberate, and when Belle pulls back, there’s a glimmer of affection in her smile.

"You’re lucky," she says, her voice low and sincere, her gaze flicking between the two of you. "Both of you."

She reaches for a small bag on the nearby table, her movements unhurried. From it, she pulls out a pair of sleek, laminated passes, their glossy surfaces catching the dim light. "Here," she says, holding them out. "These will get you backstage at any of my shows. Consider it my personal VIP invitation." Her smirk softens slightly, a hint of mischief in her expression. "I hope I see you again."

With a small wave and a final glance over her shoulder, Belle steps out of the room, leaving behind the faint scent of her perfume. The door clicks softly shut, and the quiet, dimly lit space feels heavier, more intimate, as you and Haneul are left alone together.

As you both step out of the venue, the cool night air wraps around you, a stark contrast to the heat and intensity of the evening. The adrenaline from the night begins to fade, leaving behind a pleasant exhaustion that settles deep into your bones. Haneul leans heavily against you, her arm slipping around your waist as her steps falter slightly. She lets out a soft laugh, her cheeks still flushed and glowing.

"My legs feel like jelly," she mumbles, glancing up at you with a sheepish smile. "I don’t think I can make it to the car without collapsing."

You chuckle, steadying her as she stumbles again. "Want me to carry you?"

She pouts, her tone playful but tinged with genuine need. "Would you? Please? I’ll be the best girlfriend ever."

You crouch down, laughing softly. "You already are. Come on, hop on."

With a giggle, she climbs onto your back, her arms wrapping securely around your shoulders. Her warmth presses against you, and her face nestles against the side of your neck, her breath tickling your skin. "You’re the best," she murmurs, her voice soft and affectionate.

The walk across the large parking lot is quiet at first, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the stillness. Haneul sighs contentedly, her cheek resting against your shoulder as you carry her, the weight of her feeling comforting and grounding.

After a moment, you break the silence. "So… what did you think?" Your voice is hesitant, unsure, as the memories of the night replay vividly in your mind. "Was it… okay?"

Haneul shifts slightly, tightening her arms around you as her lips brush against your ear. "Okay?" she repeats, incredulous. "That was… I don’t even have words for how hot that was."

Her words send a wave of warmth through you, a mix of embarrassment and relief flooding your senses. "Really?" you ask, glancing back at her. "I mean, I thought you’d like it, but I wasn’t sure "I didn’t think it would be so hot," she says suddenly, her tone earnest and spilling over with excitement. Her words come quickly, like she’s unable to contain them. "But watching you—" She pauses for a moment, a small, almost shy laugh escaping her lips before her voice picks up again, stronger. "Watching you let go like that, after I told you to? God, it was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen."

Her arms tighten around your shoulders, and you can feel her breath hitch slightly as she continues. "You were holding back at first—I could see it in every move. But then you looked at me, and I could almost feel it—the exact moment you stopped hesitating. And when you did, it was like you became someone else. All that strength, that power—you just used it. And I knew I’d done that. I gave you that permission, and you didn’t just take it—you owned it."

Her voice lowers slightly, but the excitement lingers in every word. "And Belle," she breathes, a soft laugh escaping her. "To see her like that. She’s so strong, so confident—this larger-than-life presence—and yet, you had her completely undone. She wasn’t the performer anymore; she was just… vulnerable, giving in completely. Watching that happen, knowing you were the one doing it, it was…" She trails off, shaking her head slightly against your neck before whispering, "I don’t think I’ll ever forget it."

She shifts slightly on your back, and her voice grows softer, tinged with awe. "Seeing you like that, knowing you could let go so completely—it was amazing. I didn’t know I’d feel this way, but I loved every second of it. It was… more than I ever expected."

You glance back at her, your brow furrowed slightly. "You’re sure? I mean, you’re not just saying this to make me feel better?"

Haneul chuckles softly, her breath warm against your neck as she presses a kiss to your cheek. "I’m sure," she murmurs. "Really. Every second of it was amazing. I didn’t know I’d feel this way, but I loved it. And… seeing you happy, seeing you like that… It made me happy too."

Her words settle over you like a warm blanket, filling you with a quiet, undeniable joy. You press a kiss to her arm, your heart impossibly full as you continue walking. The night feels surreal, the world around you fading into the background as the two of you bask in the afterglow of what you’ve shared.

By the time you reach the car, Haneul’s head has grown heavy against your shoulder, her soft breaths tickling your neck as she begins to drift off. You carefully lower her into the passenger seat, her sleepy smile barely visible in the dim light. The drive home is quiet, the silence filled with a new kind of intimacy. The memories of the night replay like a vivid dream, each detail etched into your mind.

When you finally reach your place, Haneul is half-asleep, her head resting against the window with a small, contented smile. You carry her inside, her arms draping loosely around your neck as she stirs slightly. As you gently set her down on the bed, she shifts slightly, her lashes fluttering as she blinks up at you.

You brush a stray strand of hair from her face and lean down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Thank you," you whisper, your voice quiet but filled with sincerity.

Her eyes flutter open briefly, and she smiles, her voice barely audible as she murmurs, "For what?"

"For everything," you reply, your thumb tracing her cheek lightly. "For tonight. For… all of it. I’ll never forget it."

Her lips curve into a sleepy smile, and she closes her eyes again, nuzzling into the pillow. "You don’t have to thank me," she whispers, her words fading as she drifts off. "You deserved it."

As you climb into bed beside her, the weight of the night finally settles over you. The events replay vividly in your mind, and you can’t help but smile as you watch her sleep. It’s a memory the two of you will treasure forever.

[cheesiedomino]

Second Chances ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: your old situationship from many years ago just moved back in town and of course, he has to text you. but it’s not just any normal text — he’s asking you out on a proper date this time. will you give a second chance to Cupid? or will you be left here feeling stupid?

genre: lee minho x fem!reader | exes (??) to lovers wc: 4.6k tags/warnings: fluff, some light angst, slightly suggestive but nothing srs, mild cursing, kissing, small mentions of crying T-T

now playing 🎧: from the start by laufey

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“Why don’t you give Tinder a try already? I’m sick of hearing you nagging all day about being lonely!” Areum abruptly suggests mid-convo , resting her palm on the side of her face.

As you both casually wait for the food to arrive, you end up on the dreadful topic of dating again. You got into a real heated discussion with her, sitting in a booth at this new restaurant one of your coworker’s recommended. It wasn’t super well known but they wouldn’t stop raving about how delicious their breadsticks were. The place wasn’t too jam packed but definitely had a decent amount of people. What you weren’t anticipating on was seeing dozens of couples here, it kind of threw your whole vibe off since it only reminded you of your current sad relationship status. Maybe you were putting far too much thought into it but everything seemed so highly unfair. Glaring in envy while they all happily rub in your face that they’ve found their forever companion.

Life really can be cruel at times.

“You can’t be for real right now..” you instantly side eye your friend from across the table. Feeling personally triggered whenever she mentions online dating. You refuse to try it, never wanting to partake in such a vain concept where you swipe left and right based solely on looks. “That’s not the same as real romance. I want to meet someone naturally, wanna tell my kids when they grow up how I met their dreamy, hunk of a father in aisle 39 at Whole Foods.”

One could say it’s almost pathetic in a way— this burning desire you harbor within, longing for a pure, quaint, and beautiful love. Constantly catching yourself daydreaming about finding your life partner, the person you’re going to marry and possibly create an eternal family with. That day has yet to come unfortunately, but you still hold onto the thought of you someday meeting the one.

You thought you found them before, but thou shalt not speak thy names out into existence.

“Well, good luck finding ‘real romance’ in the big age of 2024-” Areum snorts in amusement, taking a pause to sip on her mango strawberry lemonade. “I need whatever drugs you’re on that’s making you this delulu so I can fantasize about my knight and shining armor that’s never coming!”

God you hate that word. Delulu. Why are you suddenly “delusional” for wanting a picture perfect romance? It doesn’t need to be perfect per se, but you want to feel adored, swept off your feet and embraced like the true queen you are. Was that too much to ask? Considering the current state of dating in this day and age, it might just be.

“I mean, let’s face it girl. You literally don’t know the first thing about love ___, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows like in the K-dramas y’know! Haven’t you only had like one boyfriend in high school? You barely even dated that guy for a month-”

“That’s because he dumped me to go move to LA and become a dumb YouTuber!” You snapped back, cutting her off to get all the facts straight.

It was hard not to grimace while thinking of such old memories. Dating a Minecraft streamer definitely had to be one of the most embarrassingly cringe choices you’ve ever made.

“Whatever that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to get at here is you don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. Remember that other guy you were seeing before we graduated? I thought y’all would’ve dated for sure but he turned out to be a dickhole just like the rest of ‘em…” Areum shakes her head in disbelief, recalling all those times you’d call in a frenzied panic about things not working out.

“What was his name again? Min… Minwoo? No, that’s not it.. it was definitely Min something.” She attempts on remembering but keeps drawing a blank.

“Minho.” You answer almost instantaneously. His name still rolled off the tongue smooth as velvet.

It felt weird though. Saying it out loud after so many years of blocking it from your immediate vocabulary. A name you thought would never escape your lips again.

“Damn, you really still think about him don’t you?” She dares to ask, knowing how difficult it is for you to even talk about this anymore.

You only respond by nodding slowly, unable to bring yourself to look at her. It was far too intense; bearing the emotions of hurt and guilt from a past fling that meant more to you but nothing to the other. That’s how most of your tragic stories end— always too overly into them while they barely reciprocate any of that energy towards you. The thing is, you thought Minho actually liked you, even so far as wanting to date in the near future. Considering he brought you over his parent’s house (to hook up of course), and though you didn’t meet them you still think that meant something. Most men don’t just bring any woman they’re seeing to their parent’s place without somewhat thinking a potential relationship could happen down the line.

“So that’s why you should download Tinder and start swipin’ on some other cuties! It’ll at least distract you for a bit and get your mind off that asswipe,” Areum pitches her idea once more, “there’s plenty other fish in the sea ___. Not everyone online is some crazy serial killer, plus you clearly don’t seem to be having much luck out in the real world.”

You wanted to jump up from the table and erase that smirk from her face but instead you roll your eyes at that last remark. “I don’t need those shitty dating apps. I’m very capable of finding someone in real life for your information!” You quickly retort as a means to defend yourself. Even though she did have a point, her delivery could’ve been a little bit nicer.

It’s not easy being a hopeless romantic, you can’t help but yearn for that special someone to enter your life and change it for the better. You won’t feel wholly satisfied nor complete until you do. The sad reality of the matter was that you are still painfully single. No one’s interesting enough to cease your attention, let alone go on any actual dates. Areum’s had enough of your bitching and whining though, there’s only so many rants and tirades she can keep listening to about your vicious hatred for men before she loses it completely. Your nonexistent love life has become more of a nuisance as that time of year approaches— Valentine’s Day. A god forsaken holiday you’ve always loathed with a passion. Wanting nothing more than to be one of those girls on the receiving end getting flowers and chocolates. A day full of the utmost joy and pleasant surprises from your loving significant other.

Must be nice..

Speaking of surprises.. The buzzing in your ear echoes from your phone pinging loudly, indefinitely startling you. Grabbing it to check the sudden notification, your eyes go absurdly wide at the contact name displayed on your screen. Blinking numerous times from shock, you stare at your phone in incredulity; making sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

Lee Minho. The Lee Minho?

What kind of sorcery is being conjured where the instant you bring him up, he somehow texts you after all these years of not speaking? This coincidence was more than unsettling to you. A part of your inner thoughts still believes this is all some elaborate joke being played on you, waiting for a cameraman to pop out of some curtain to announce you’ve just been pranked. But nothing happens, life proceeds as normal. Now you’re left with the most puzzling notification you might’ve ever received.

It was your last year of college and the pressure of your academics along with appeasing your family was getting to you immensely. You needed an escape from all of it, desperately. Which you found through none other than Lee Minho, the boy who worked as a barista at Cozmo’s; this coffee shop you used to frequent a lot. It was a cute, small family-owned establishment and they made the best matcha lattes— in your humble opinion. You’d pick one up almost every day along with a slice of freshly baked cinnamon bread. It started off as only playful banter with him in the beginning, then it lead to more as time went on. One day, as you reached out to pay he blocked your hand from moving any closer, letting you freely walk away without spending a dime. This soon became a regular occurrence, as you’d start seeing Minho outside of work, getting to know more and more about him. You remember so desperately wanting to date back then, pitying your past self for thinking there was even a chance.

‘Maybe he’s just texted the wrong person’ you psyche yourself into thinking, but when you unlock your phone to finally read the message — an uncomfortable lump forms in the pit of your throat.

Minho 🐈:

Hey is this still ___’s number?

You honestly don’t know why you still have his number saved, let alone allowing a whole emoji to be next to it. Though it never was like you to delete anything, no matter how painful it may have been. More lingering questions makes you want to seek out the possible solutions. Why would he text you of all people ? None of this adds up in your mind realistically. Furrowing your brows in concentration, you think of what to say as you draft out a response.

Yes… who’s this?

After a tedious struggle of typing out multiple paragraphs and immediately deleting them, you went over your words a few more times before sending a final reply. It would’ve been strange had you knew exactly who he was off the bat, that’ll just be dead giveaway you still had his contact info saved this whole time. But with that logic, doesn’t that make Minho just as odd for still keeping your number after all this time has passed?

Your phone dings again.

Minho 🐈:

Srsly -_-

Did you really delete my number??

Bet he didn’t see that one coming. He probably thought the moment he texts you, you were gonna kiss up to him like you’ve always done in the past. Mentally giggling to yourself at the image of him getting flustered by you not knowing who he was at first. Feels good to know you knocked his confidence down a peg.

Lol, chillax.. I know it’s you Minho :P

Not even a minute later, a flood of incoming messages appear. Biting your lip out of nervousness, your heart couldn’t stop beating so fast— anxiously checking your phone as the atmosphere around you suddenly gets stuffier.

Minho 🐈:

Better be lucky I didn’t block you after that ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Guess who’s back in the city btw. Did ya miss me? ;)

No need to answer that, I already know you did. You should stop by at Cozmo’s again sometime!

Also what’re you up to this week? I need you to clear out all your plans because I’m taking you out on a date.

You always knew Minho was the bold type but this was on another level. The sheer audacity he has to even ask something like this after not reaching out for almost 3 years was more than ballsy on his part. It felt like a surge of butterflies erupting in your stomach, getting lightheaded as you think about seeing him again. He really had an effect on you like no other.

Glancing up from your screen to finally pay attention to Areum again, you assure her everything’s going to be just fine. “Looks like I won’t be needing to download Tinder after all.”

Later on that day you ended up going to Cozmo’s and meeting up with Minho. It never really took much convincing from him to get you to budge, though it was a hell of a lot worse back then. You used to blindly follow along with anything he said just to seek his approval, hoping that eventually he’ll see you as the girl he wants to settle down with. Alas, nothing ever blossomed into something more, and you knew deep down that this was headed nowhere— but that still didn’t stop you from fantasizing about a future with him. Getting lost into deep thought, head heavy in the clouds as you imagine the idea of Minho confessing his undying love for you. You’ll be so caught off guard as he gets down on one knee, looking at you with the entire solar system in eyes while he proposes in the most charming way. It really is pitiful how much you still daydream about a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend but would constantly act like he was, then up and leaves without mentioning a single word about it.

You convinced yourself he ran off with someone else to have a better life with, even hearing through town gossip that he’s moved to South Korea to pursue becoming an idol. Whatever the case may be it still weighed heavily on your mind that he never bothered to tell you anything, even a simple ‘goodbye’ would’ve sufficed the empty hole in your heart. The main reason you agreed on meeting up with Minho was to finally ask, why? Why did he pretend to like you? Why did he act like your boyfriend when he never had intentions on seriously dating? Why was he so good at making you fall so hard for him..?

“You look great.” You subconsciously blurt out, affixed in a daze as you stare in awe at the man in front of you.

It’s been a while since you came here— never able to fully bring yourself to try and go back. Though you knew this place first, and they really did have the best Mactha lattes in the universe. It reminded you too much of him and you sadly had to let it go.

You weren’t proud of it but you did go home quickly to change clothes and redo your makeup. Usually you wouldn’t care but this was the only guy you’ve been consistently crushing on for years, you had to feel good inside and out. Minho was just as gorgeous as you remembered, if not he looked even more ethereal — which seemed impossible in itself already. He’s grown up so beautifully, his facial features became more sharp, especially his jawline which looks so defined and sculpted by the Gods.

Minho lightly chuckles at your timidness, some things just never change. “You look way better.” His lips drew into a faint smirk as he admires your presence.

He meant every word of what he said, you looked really good, and it was making him even more frustrated that so much time has passed. Regretting the way he handled things so many years ago, wishing he could take it all back and do everything differently. Seeing you again made it easier for Minho to suppress the guilt he’s borne for so long. This moment feels like a second chance to make amends for his past mistakes.

You couldn’t help but blush when you hear his compliment, feeling your ears grow hot as you look at the ground. There was a silent pause between you that lasted for what seemed like ages. Weirdly enough the conversation flowed well after he finally broke the awkwardness, the chemistry was overall still there and were able to pick up right where it left off.

“I’m so glad you came ___, I’ve been dying to see you since I got here. I’m surprised you even still responded to my lame ass.”

Minho’s light confession puzzles you. If he really was dying to see you, why’d he wait so long to get in contact with you? To be fair, you don’t know the exact time he came back.

“Oh, is that so? When’d you come back? Also show me pics of Korea, I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like there.” You fondly inquire, leaning against the side of the wall as he’s still behind the counter. He mentioned to you he’s only working part time because his parents would rather mooch off their son for free labor than to hire and pay a new employee.

“Yesterday,” he quickly states before taking out his phone to scroll through his gallery, “guess my sister must’ve told you I went there huh?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I haven’t talked to Elle in a while. She’s tried hitting me up a few times though.. but I found out through Areum ‘cause she was seeing Hoseok back then.”

They were definitely “seeing” each other alright, but mostly in the bedroom. Areum didn’t want anything exclusive with Hoseok and neither did he, it was the perfect friends with benefits situation. Minho and Hoseok were good friends who’ve known each other for a while, so naturally he’d tell Areum everything and overshare at some point.

“Agh, there’s a customer gotta take this. One sec, sorry!” He briefly apologizes before bringing his attention to the new person heading inside. You nod, signaling he’s good to go. “I’ll be waiting over there,” you point to a small wooden table with 2 chairs in a corner.

Once Minho comes back you notice he’s no longer wearing his purple work apron; back in his regular attire now and sporting an oversized dark grey hoodie that was three times too big. He was holding a large cup with green liquid and a paper bag in his hand, that’s when it clicks for you— he still remembers your favorite meal.

He’s grinning the whole time he’s handing you the matcha latte and cinnamon pastry, smiling from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas Day. This was the most you’ve seen him be so enthusiastic about something, even back when you were “with” him you can’t recall him beaming with such energy like this.

“Awh, thank you. I haven’t had either one of these in years!” You wanted to give him the biggest hug but you refrained from doing so, feeling as though it may be too early for that.

“Of course dear, anything for you.”

Why does everything he says have to make you melt from the inside out? It’s not fair! >:(

Glancing down at your yummy beverage, you see a message written on the side of the glass with bold permanent sharpie. Tilting your head to read it, the words are bit jumbled together but you get the gist. You’re almost left speechless after it reads: ‘___, Will you be my valentine?’

Your most dreaded and least favorite holiday is here, yippee! But, there’s a twist on this year’s turn of events; you actually have someone to celebrate this wretched tradition with. You should be excited but all you’re feeling is the sudden urge to vomit as you were nervous out of your mind. This was kind of weird to you, going on a date with your ex boyfriend who was never even your real boyfriend. Looking back on it now you shouldn’t have tolerated a relationship dynamic like that, Minho was clearly taking advantage of your passiveness by not explicitly saying what he wanted. On the contrary, you had no one to blame but yourself, you never spoke up or criticized anything even if it didn’t coincide with your personal morals.

The fact he never took you on an actual date until now speaks volumes, you obviously didn’t have enough self worth back to demand better treatment. It took you years of figuring out what a real, healthy relationship is supposed to be like through trials of therapy and that was an emotional rollercoaster in itself. All your uncertainties soon faded away once you became more secure and knew exactly what you wanted for yourself. It took every ounce of patience and acceptance to unlearn all your bad coping mechanisms and other toxic behaviors that were only stunting your inner growth. You’re happy to be in a position now where you’re able to express wholeheartedly what you deserve, it’s the best feeling ever to feel like you’re in control of your own life.

You spent almost 3 hours getting ready and your bedroom now looked like a war zone. The outfit you chose was super girly, a frilly white dress with pink platform heels— Minho’s going to drool in amazement when he sees you. When you sent Areum photos of you before heading out, she responds right way with a series of hearts and other sweet comments— hyping you up to no end like the best friend she is. She’s also able to help pull you out of your doubtful headspace, when you felt unsure if you could really go through with this she quickly psyched you out of it. Reminding you exactly who you are and why you are the prize, not him. ‘He should be the one who’s nervous, not the other way around’ you assure yourself over and over as a mini ego boost.

His jaw dropped when he spotted you walking up to his car, infatuated by how pretty and perfect you looked in every way possible. It angers him so much to know he took all this for granted, he didn’t appreciate all of you the way he should’ve but now he gets another chance to redo everything and right his wrongs. It’s a lot of pressure but he bravely accepts it, he could never mess up another opportunity like this again. The car ride was fairly silent in the beginning, you were vibing in peace as the only thing you could hear was Minho’s soft indie playlist as background music.

You ultimately chose to be the one to speak first, breaking the ice with a simple inquiry about the date. “So where are we going?” Looking out at the scenery from the window, all you is trees and more trees. If it’s something to do with nature you surely don’t want any parts of it, you’ve never been too fond of the wilderness.

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you.” He keeps a tight seal on today’s destination without dropping a single hint, forcing you to go completely blind into this. As he goes back to focus on the road, you sigh anxiously after hearing him refuse to disclose anything.

Did he seriously forget what kind of person you are? Anyone who’s close to you at all knows you’ve never been into those types of things. Ever.

“You know I hate surprises Minho,” you remind him, attempting to pry for more information. Even shooting him a doe eyed look along with poking out your bottom lip, but he doesn’t falter.

He simply nods, “I know but you’ll like this one, just have a little bit of faith me.” Flashing an innocent smile at you, he seems to be overly confident in whatever his plan consists of.

After almost half an hour passes the car finally comes to a stop, you scan the area and instantly notice a sense of familiarity among the place. Across from you was an ice cream parlor you thought didn’t exist anymore. But there it is, still standing with dozens of customers waiting in line. The small shop was famously known for its fish-shaped ice cream cones, you’ve always wanted to visit the place and try it when you were a little from seeing it on TV all the time. When you told Minho about it, you said how your parents would say it was too far but it actually closed down and they didn’t know how to tell you. From time to time you’d still think about that place, but you would’ve never thought they relocated. Being here with Minho brings an indescribable amount of happiness to your spirit.

“I mentioned this place like one time in passing, how’d you even remember?” You wonder in amazement, after all these years he still remembers something as minuscule as this.

“It may not have seemed like it but I paid attention to every little detail you told me ___, all it. Of course I know you don’t like surprises but how else would I have been able to take you here?” He sweetly expresses to you, not wanting to hold back anymore.

You wanted to cry right here, right now. All your emotions came crashing down at once and it’s hard to keep them concealed. A lot has changed within these years, things feel so different with him now, especially with how much he’s matured. You notice how he doesn’t act like the typical fuckboy in his early 20’s anymore, he’s much more interested in getting to know only person — that being you.

“I’ve rehearsed this in my head like a million times and I don’t think I’ll ever say it the right way I want but it’s time I start being as transparent as possible with you…” Minho takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve always liked you ___, from the start actually,” he keeps going, “I was just scared, of what I don’t know.. Commitment maybe?”

Slightly looking in another direction, your vision faintly blurs from tears welling up, “I- I honestly don’t know what to say..”

“Then don’t say anything at all, I don’t need you to. I may not know the first thing about how to love someone, but I want to learn all of it with you.” He feels all the remorse of leaving you alone for all these years, unable to process the pain you must’ve endured at him not getting into contact with you. “I’m so sorry ___. For everything, I’m going to make it all better I promise.”

Your eyes subconsciously flutter shut when he comes in contact with you. Connecting in perfect symmetry with your lips to sync together in motion. His gentle hands cupped your face delicately; his touch was so warm and inviting. Your fingers were deeply tangled in his brunette locks, relishing every minute as he tilts his head to capture more of you. He genuinely couldn’t believe he went this long without kissing these luscious lips again. His tongue grazed the bottom of your lip to subtly ask for entry and you comply. Dopamine floods both your senses like a series of fireworks going off, feeling intoxicated by each other’s taste. It was probably that vanilla bean chapstick you always wore— an old favorite of his and is still your go-to flavor of choice. He wanted to savor you in this moment for as long as he could, cherish the fact he has you in his hold again.

“Want to know something funny?” He asks out of nowhere, still smirking from that heated kiss that just happened seconds ago.

“Hm?”

“You’re the reason I ended up coming back here.” Minho states bluntly, no hesitation detected in his voice whatsoever.

You struggle to comprehend anything, overwhelmed by all his sudden confessions. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I never want to leave your side ever again ___. I’m staying here with you, I already made the biggest mistake of losing you once I can’t let the same thing happen twice.” He spoke tenderly from the bottom of his heart, it felt so genuine you couldn’t not believe him.

Going back to rewind time isn’t possible, but “do-over’s” are, and sometimes we’re able to get those second chances to make things right when we get them wrong the first time.

[End <3].

[randomshyperson]

Five Times Carol Danvers Kisses You

Summary: The five times Carol Danvers kisses you until you two finally get together. 

Warnings: Mentions but nothing explicit, a lot of fluff, mutual pining (and typical angst of trope), best friends to lovers, pre-canon-compliant (takes place before Carol is taken), kissing, happy(ish) ending. | Words: 4.836k

A/N-> As mentioned on this blog before, I absolutely love the dynamics of "Five Times Something" and after watching The Marvels I became obsessed with Carol Danvers, and here I am with something about my beloved blondie. It's short and sweet, and I didn't want to write anything too angsty but you can get hints of what's to come from the canon (Dr.Lawson being a Kree in disguise and what will happen to Carol). But the fic doesn't address this directly and ends up with a happy scene. Let's all live in denial.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

One.

“This is not a place to raise a child” was the justification your father used when he left. Funny enough, he didn't take the child, you, away from all the high-tech military weapons that he described as inadequate for a child to grow up around. 

His lost, it what your mother said, an easy smile on her lips while she offered you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. She still had some grease on her jacket and a lot of dust on her hair but she looked beautiful. That was just how things were for Wendy Lawson.

And because she was the best mom anyone could ask for, or at least that was what you would perceive it with your limited references of healthy families. She was the best because she would let you sit around while she worked for the Shield, casually teaching you advanced engineering like it was the same homework you had from secondary school.

That was the only life you knew: Afternoons of trying to stay out of the way of Shield Agents and their big weapons until you were old enough to have a gun yourself.

But before that time came, some of them worried you weren't having a decent childhood. Away from guns at least.

You don't know which of the Agents suggested to Doctor Lawson the kart track, but you wish you could thank them. Your mother, as the busy cientist she always has been, was not available to be around all of the evenings you wished to spend there but she trusted your independence to use the bus after school. Besides, you had the impression that there were always Shield Agents keeping an eye on you no matter where you went.

Só for three whole years, that old place was your favorite. You would run out from the classroom with the first ring of the bell to get to the kart track as fast as you could, and for all those three years, you were also the best runner there.

Of course, it cost you some bloody noose and bruised hands. Especially with sore losers little boys who were very unpleased to be second placed by some random girl. There were also the parents, who would whisper not very lowly on how absurd it was to let an unsupervised little girl in such a violent activity.

As luck would have it, someday you were no longer the only little girl around.

The Danvers were local, and you always thought there were only three of them. The grumpy father and the loud and popular sons. But one day, the one with the warmest smile, the youngest son brought someone with him.

His little sister's name was Carol. She had her blonde hair tied down and she looked ready to punch anyone who gave her a hard time. All the Danvers kind looked the same to be fair. Blonde, strong and angry.

Unlike her brother and their free pass to do as they please, Carol was constantly reprimanded by her father. Even there, in front of the whole crowd and runners, he would scream and pinch her ear, adding to the fury that shone behind Carol's little blue eyes.

The other children would whisper just like their parents but growing up with spies and secret agents gave you this second nature to sneak in and out of places without being noticed. You weren't supposed to hear some of the adults whispering how Mr.Danvers drank more than he should or how his older son was leaving next summer for the army with a purple eye he didn't get in the training. You weren't supposed to but you did.

So the next time Carol crashed a car with one of the other runners, you messed up your perfect record to help her.

Her dad screamed again, as usual. But he left, muttering she could find her way home since she was so clever and Carol had those thick tears in her eyes that made them bluer, so you were helping her before you could give a second thought to it.

She didn't mind that you took her hand and brought her to the administration lobby. She's more interested in knowing how the hell you knew how to get there in the first place.

When you told her you grew up with spies she laughed thinking you were joking. You decided to tell her more stories in the hope it would distract her from the pain of the cuts she got in her legs from the crash.

It worked.

Carol had colorful patches on both her knees when you two sneaked out of there to the bus stop. You could take her home if she wished because you knew a lot about public transport but Carol smiled and said she could do it alone; Her dad was often not around and with soldiers brothers, she knew a lot about doing things by herself.

Yet, she appreciates the gesture and the thought. Her bus should be here in 25 minutes so you sit next to her and let your healthy knee brush her bruised one.

“My name is Carol Danvers by the way.” 

You have to chuckle at her line.

“I know who you are, Danvers.” You retort with an easy smile. She looks up with curiosity. You chuckle again. “You know your name is on the scoreboard, right?”

She laughs, almost shyly. You don't know that yet but Carol is not the best at making friends. Especially girlfriends because apparently, every girl hated how not 60s girly behavior she acted on as much as any boy.

You didn't mind. If anything, it kinda made you like her more.

“You didn't have to do that back there you know?” She starts over, fingers tugging at the bandaid you put above her knee. “Lose the race to check on me.”

You shrug, eyes on the road. “No worries. There'll be other races. Besides, you're the only real competition I get there. If you're not participating, what's the fun in winning?”

Carol's cheeks grow a little hotter, but you're both too young to know it has nothing to do with the sun above your heads. You offer her a smile and she gets up to signal to the bus.

But before she leaves, she turns to you again.

It's quicker than her crash that morning, the thank you little peck on your right cheek but is as meaningful as losing a three-year Invictus status on a track race for someone.

Carol nearly flees the scene once she catches the first glimpse of surprise in your expression. You were caught off guard, that's all. But all you can do is laugh to yourself as you watch her run to her bus.

Tomorrow, when you are back here, you'll find Carol so you can share your lunch with her. Today, you would walk home with no clue why the spot she kissed was tingling.

-&-

Two.

Shield Academy is not the army. 

It is, as the name suggests, an academic program for the gifted-minded. It's a place where a child who grew up surrounded by the brightest minds on the planet can get it easily.

Well, of course, there's a lot of studying and tiring exams that you wouldn't describe as easy but when taking everything into consideration, the only place a brainy - or huge nerd as Carol would call it - could end up was there.

So while you had big dark blue sweaters with the Shield logo on them, Carol had worn out public school uniforms. 

But she was doing okay. In fact, if anyone asked you, even though you were the nerd one in that friendship, for you, Carol was quite brilliant. She had a quick mind and such a strong, well, everything. She was as clever as she was kind. She was passionate about anything she cared for and she was easily your favorite person.

The kart track gave space for the public library and the green plains behind Shield Academia as you two grew up. Carol would take her bike from across town and spend the whole day after school in those green yards with you. Often, she had a football with her while you had a book.

And while you tried to escape your Shield colleagues, Carol would find her spot at your side. She would watch those training agents and wish to be like them, while both of you knew she would follow her brothers to the military when the time came.

But for now, you're sixteen. And Carol has been your best friend for almost 6 years now. You're not sure if friends have anniversaries or if it's something reserved for dating, and since you're not gonna ask any of the agents around, especially not Doctor Lawson, you just assume is okay to get Carol a gift.

She had been wishing for a walkman for so long - she had three already, all broke down during some of her naughty antics, from jumping into the reservation without remembering to take them off her backpack to get into a fight with older kids who thrown her stuff just for the fun of it. So yes, she had those before and she loved music but somehow she always ended up breaking them so you thought maybe because you were the one gifting it, she would be more careful.

You were right of course, but that's hardly the point.

Carol started to act strange after the gift. Even days later, during movie night at her house, she got quiet, which is definitely not a Carol Danvers kind of attitude, so you started to wonder if the present was a good idea at all.

That of course, until Carol clarified the whole thing.

“I got you something too. For, hum, the anniversary thing.” 

You pinched her ribs, the nearly shy behavior was such an odd thing to testify that was actually terrifying you. Carol has been your best friend for way too long for that or anything to be awkward between you two.

But then again, adolescence makes everything weird.

You don't open the gift very graciously. Because you were in the middle of movie night, of course, hands full of popcorn butter and Carol was being weird and suspect that you just wanted to put an end to it.

You chuckle at her worn-out team jacket there.

“So your gift to me is your jacket?” You asked with a confused frown, watching your friend struggle with her words the next moments.

“No, I mean yes. But not, just that.” She starts and it's quite the scene. Carol Danvers not being able to talk when that's all she does. “It's my favorite jacket. I… really like it.”

“Do you want it back then?” You suggest with a confused laugh but Carol shakes her head immediately, her cheeks rosy.

“God, no, that’s not…” she takes a deep breath. “I like the jacket, a lot, but not as much as I like you. So I thought, maybe if I can give you something that I really like, it will mean…”

“Oh, I get it.” You say with a smile, holding the jacket against your chest as Carol switches the weight in her foot. “Thank you, blondie. But you don't have to give me your favorite stuff to show me you like me. You don't have to give me anything at all really. Perhaps, all you have to do is say it and I'll believe you.”

Carol nods, shallowing dryly, and without missing a beat, she repeats her words from before: “I really like you.” It's nearly a whisper, and the way she struggles to hold your gaze tells you everything you need to know.

You smile, aware of the warmth spreading in your cheeks and ears.

“I really like you too, Carol.” You tell her and with no hush, you put her jacket on. The blonde in front of you takes a shaky breath once the jacket is properly around your body. You're distracted with the new outfit to take notice of the new dark shine her eyes hold. “Gotta admit it, Danvers, I could totally worm the athletic style. I mean, I look super cool don't I?”

But your question goes unanswered. Carol moves forward, her hands grab the collar of the gifted jacket and just like the first time, she kisses you quicker than you can manage to process.

Her lips are dry against yours because she's nervous. Trembling and terrified. You pull away, and Carol has her eyes closed tightly, breathing unevenly.

You take a deep breath and lick your lips to moisten them a little and the second kiss is much better. 

There's this soft noise she makes when you move your mouth but the second you feel her tongue on your lower lip, there's noise around you two.

As if getting electrocuted, Carol jumps away just in time for her evidently drunk father to stumble inside the garage.

Carol is not eight anymore, but she's the only one left in that house. Her older brother taught her five different ways to break someone's noose, but Carol still shakes like the leaves if her father is around with his harsh words and angry looks.

This time, however, he takes a long glance at you both. The guilty looks, accelerated breathing, and he just laughs.

The only thing he says is a slur that makes Carol flinch. Then he turns his back and climbs the stairs to his bedroom, passing out in the hallway before he can make it through.

“Carol, I-” You try but she forces a smile and nods at the door.

“Please go.” She asks. “I have to take him to bed and you don't have to stay.”

“But-”

“Please.”

You leave. And Carol doesn't bring up that night for the next two years.

-&-

Three.

Graduation means Army. More specifically, the Air Force because of course Carol Danvers wants to fly away from everything and everyone.

“Not everyone.” She frowns when you tell her that. Then she smiles, legs brushing yours at the back of her truck. “I would love to have you up there with me.”

You chuckle, giving her shoulder a little bump with your own.

“Sorry Blondie, you know I hate planes.” You joke but the shine in her eyes is deeper now.

“What about spaceships?” She insists it.

You sigh into the night, pensive for a second.

“Well, Mom would probably love it if I ever suggest anything that involves flying.” You say, breaking into a chuckle as your hand moves to the leg you have bent in that position, which allows you to trace your fingers toward your ankle. “Of course, anything other than my secret little Pegasus.”

Carol gives a compliance smile at the mention of the secret tattoo you got on her seventeenth birthday but continues to watch you in silence.

The stars are shining bright above you two, and the parked truck gives as much privacy as one could get in that neighborhood. If you and Carol weren't girls, people would make conclusions.

Perhaps they’ll do it anyway.

“What would I even do up there, Danvers?” You ask her because Carol is so passionate about flying that you're starting to wonder if she is able to see a whole different world up there that you can't.

This time, her hand finds you before her lips. She brings her fingers to yours resting on the truck and locks them. She gets closer and closer and gives you all the time in the world to push her back.

But she's Carol, and she's beautiful and she's your best friend. Why wouldn't you want to kiss her?

There's tongue this time. Hesitant at first then curious, until finally hungry. Of course, Carol Danvers is a good kisser, this asshole.

You break apart, to complain with a husky tone that is unfair but Carol only chuckles before kissing you again. And again. Until somehow you end with your back against her truck, painting into her mouth.

And Carol is seventeen years old and she's a huge virgin like you who really wants this to change tonight. Not just that, of course, but she's still a teen and that's exactly what she chooses to say in order to make this less life-changing than it is.

Because sleeping together as a way of ending high school without the V Card has a completely different meaning than sleeping together because you really want to ruin a friendship.

You swallow at her suggestion, aware that the heat in your veins doesn't cover for the way your heart just broke inside your chest.

But you smile and tell Carol you love her, making sure it sounds platonic. Just to hurt her just as much.

It works, but she kisses you anyway.

-&-

Four.

Maria Rambeau is the most incredible person you have ever met. She's clever and fun and kindhearted. It's so easy to love her and it comes so naturally, that you can't really blame Carol.

You also have no right to be jealous, you tell yourself.

After all, Carol asked more than once for you to at least consider following her to the Air Force. You both had military families, so it made sense for her that you both ended up following the same path.

You were not entirely excluded from that, of course. But unlike Carol with her soldier training, you had medical classes. And while she and Maria learned to shoot people, you learned to heal them.

That of course until the third year, when Carol's training moved to space crafting and yours moved to biological charts. The Pegasus was not the only military project available for you, and being home was good but every time you caught a glimpse of the empty fields near the station, you remember afternoons with Carol and the lack of her ache a hell lot inside your chest.

But visiting her at the base and then at a local bar was a bittersweet occasion.

Because time went by and Carol made a new friend. A lovely and brilliant and apparently less confused woman new best friend. Maria who made her laugh and blush and was such a great company that you couldn't hate her no matter how much the jealousy burned inside your veins.

Somehow, no matter how many dove eyes Carol threw at Maria, she didn't catch them. Immune to her charm entirely. You kinda wished she would teach you that.

The last free week you had was spent visiting Carol and ending up in a bar. But Maria's night was continuing with a good-looking soldier somewheres else, so yours and Carol's would continue with cheap drinks.

It was probably common sense, not to mix alcohol with feelings but you and Carol clearly skipped that class.

You ended up pressed behind the bar's wall in a messy attempt of drunken make-out with your former best friend.

Carol tasted like beer and the army's year changed her. Even drunk, she knew her way around a woman's body now and you had to force your stupid brain to stop wondering about who she had been practicing with. Perhaps Maria was not immune to her charm as you thought she was.

Just as things were getting out of hand, that is, it was probably against some army rules to have sex behind one bar in the military area, Carol pulled away.

She looked so good like that, with messy hair and flushing cheeks, her lips swollen due to the whole thing.

But her eyes were so sad. And you couldn't push the alcohol and the lust away to have clear thoughts on that.

“We can't do this again.” She declares with a seriousness that makes you swallow hard. “I can't.”

She stumbles away and you nearly slip down the hall on your shaky legs. Carol is looking for her car keys but she will definitely fall asleep on the seat.

To be fair, you kinda wished that night would end in her car seat, just in very different scenarios.

“Why not, Danvers?” You manage to question once the anger pushes a little of the alcohol away. Carol sighs tiredly. “Why?” You almost scream and she stops in her tracks, turning to give you a hurt look.

“I can't do this again, okay?” She retorts and she's drunk but she's so hurt. You can see it in her eyes and it kills you to think it is something you have done it. “I don't have the strength in me to get over you again”.

Your world freezes for a whole second. Your mouth is bitter suddenly.

“O-over me?” You repeat her words, confusion mixing with the pain you feel growing in your chest. “When… When were you under me?”

The question is the best of what your drunk brain can come up with but it's enough for Carol to understand.

She lets out a sad chuckle. “C'mon, Lawson. How could you not know? Everyone did. Even my dad, especially my dad.” She corrects herself then, bitterly before taking a deep breath. “It's past. It doesn't matter anymore. We are no longer kids, messing around with things we don't understand. I know what am I. And I know we shouldn’t. I won't jeopardize our friendship again for someone I cannot have.”

There are tears in your eyes, and Carol has the fucking worst timing in the world because your brain simply can't catch up with the meaning of this conversation with all the booze in the way.

“Carol, what are you even saying?”

She just smiles, giving a nod to the bar.

“Let's get inside, I'll get you a cab back to your hotel.”

She doesn't let you question further and the next morning, when the hangover barely allows you to open your eyes, Carol says the worst thing you did last night was try dancing with a Statue.

-&-

Five.

Doctor Lawson has been acting strange lately. She says it's work stress when she returns your calls and ignores your advice about her retiring.

You use your mother's stress as an excuse to come home, and it seems ridiculous that you have to invent reasons to see Carol, but she gives you no choice. Things have been very strange between you in recent months.

The house is a mess, and it's the first time you've worried about the possibility of dementia.

Strange phrases, disconnected words. You think about calling the head of Shield when you put Dr. Lawson to bed after making her some hot tea, but you end up calling Carol.

Your former best friend brings her old truck into your garage.

"Hey, blondie." She hugs you first at the greeting, and you sigh with satisfaction at the contact. You almost forget the stress of the whole meeting with your mother. "It's good to see you."

"I missed you." Carol says with a smile, squeezing you tighter before letting go. "What happened? You sounded worried on the phone."

You sigh before telling her everything you saw, standing there leaning on Carol's truck in the dim light of the garage. It's her turn to sigh when you finish.

"Good thing I brought beer." She comments, getting a laugh out of you. 

You don't even notice the time passing that night, but it's like being back in senior year, sitting side by side in the back of Carol's truck, forgetting the world around you for a moment.

When the case of beers is about to run out, you've said almost everything you have to say. Carol thinks she needs to add something more.

"I know the circumstances aren't the best but... I can't say I'm sad." She begins, looking straight ahead, a half-full can of beer in her hands. "With the possibility of you coming to live here again, I mean. I've kind of hated Washington since you left. And Shield too, for taking you away."

You giggle shyly at this and don't know what to say to Carol, so you just decide to hug her. But you're a bit dizzy after the third beer and miscalculate your approach. You end up too close to her face and can see almost in slow motion how the blue darkens or how Carol chokes on her breath.

"I'm sorry, I-" you begin in a hoarse voice, but she doesn't let you finish. The beer can slips out of her hand as she uses both to pull your face towards her.

It's an intense, messy, and passionate kiss. Carol swallows all the sighs that escape your lips as she presses her mouth to yours. Her tongue doesn't ask for passage. You melt against her and try your best to match her energy, suddenly feeling very dizzy, unrelated to the beer.

Her hands move from your face to your neck and down to your waist. Carol mentions pulling you onto her lap, but the balcony lights flicker on and she grunts as she pulls away.

You're still blinking spellbound at the whole thing, trying to catch your breath as she stands up, adjusting her hair.

"Fuck, I shouldn't have done that." She mutters more to herself than to you, hoarse and upset. You swallow dry. "I'm so stupid."

"Carol."

"You're so fucking stupid, Carol Danvers, I swear to God." She ignores your call, continuing to curse quietly to herself. You frown, but end up looking at the porch; your mother has woken up and looks just as lost as before and you really need to check on her.

When you get out of the truck, you touch Carol on the shoulder, and she turns around almost in despair.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, I'm leaving-"

"Carol, shut up." You cut her off and don't let her say another word.

She shuts up immediately. "I really have to get back inside, and make sure my mom doesn't turn on any water or store the cat in the fridge again." You chuckle apologetically, stroking her cheek. "But I need you to understand that this isn't a mistake, an accident or a thoughtless act after a few beers. At least it isn't and it never was for me. We need to start talking to each other."

Carol nods quickly, swallowing as she looks down at your swollen lips. "Yeah, talking is good."

You smile, and hear the sound of the cat in the house and think you'd better start running. "Later, okay?"

"Later."

But your mother doesn't have dementia. She's not even allowed in a regular hospital. Shield is strangely private about everything, but you're practically coerced into signing confidentiality papers about the current state of Dr. Lawson, who seems to miraculously improve after spending an hour in a room with other agents.

Carol is the only person you can talk to about things, and she has news of her own.

"Maria is pregnant." She tells you, with a twinkle in her eye, without waiting for you to finish absorbing the news. "And she wants me to be the godmother!"

You're happy for Maria, especially perhaps because she's seeing that handsome soldier and she and Carol have nothing going on. Also, you need to tell Carol that you can go back to Washinton now that your mother is better.

"Oh, I thought..." The blonde hesitates as she hears the news, trying not to look upset by forcing a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "I thought you'd decided to stay."

You're having breakfast in the living room of your house, Dr. Lawson is working upstairs. You swallow the bitter feeling of hurting Carol again.

"I would, for Mom. But why would I stay in Louisiana?" It's a rhetorical question because you both know very well what would make you stay. Carol laughs sadly, looking down. You get tired of pretending. " I would stay for you. I would stay for... us."

She looks at you in silence, a conflict of emotions on her face. "Don't be ridiculous, you can't just give up your career for a friendship-"

"Carol." You cut her off seriously, and she choked on her sentence, her eyes as tearful as yours. You give her a small smile, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest. "You know that's not what I'm saying."

She swallows dryly, and despite reaching out to take your hand, she insists; "I'm gonna need you to say it."

"God, you're such an asshole." You gasp with emotion, laughing as tears of happiness escape yours and her eyes. Carol also laughs but waits. "Okay, Danvers. You've got me. I'm completely, irrevocably in love with you. I have been for a long time, maybe since the first time I saw you. And I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you."

Carol almost knocks over the coffee table when she moves in to kiss you but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[haobubbles]

get to know you

pairing: nonidol!gunwook x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of food, slight swearing, lmk if i forgot anything!!!

word count: 1k

roxy's sidenote: um this made me feel so alone hahaha

an evening in a cafe is a life pleasure that sometimes, just sometimes, you were able to enjoy. about a 5-minute walk from your apartment, you were now seated in an armchair of your favourite cafeteria, delune.

if you looked around, you could clearly see the vintage decoration that gave an old, rustic but comfy environment to the area. the old plants, the little paintings..every single detail could made you think it had been decorated by a professional interior designer; however, it was a lady around her sixties that took all the credit for it.

you were just explaining to ricky, your best friend, about your life. while trying to catch up with someone whom you saw after three months (his fault for not organising himself, you say) a ding caught your attention.

it had been long enough to spend time with an ordinary friend but with the chinese boy, you felt like a week with him full of gossip wasn't enough. if there was nothing to tell about his life, normally being the other way around, he would always spill the most recent gossip or information that he had been able to gather.

drifting your attention to your phone, you saw a message from your boyfriend, gunwook, that instantly brought a smile to your face.

'r u home? i miss and wanna talk to uu'

"what did that boy of yours say now?" ricky asked, slightly amused at the youngest's talent to catch your attention that fast. even before you realised what you were doing, you shot a sheepish smile at the boy sitting in front of you and started gathering your things (your phone for the most part)

"i will make it up to you, ricky, I promise, but we've been here for almost 4 hours. i also have my girlfriend duties, you know?"

a few laughs and some pinky promises later, you were walking through the entrance door of your apartment, immediately catching sight of the head of your boyfriend resting on the soft, grey sofa.

"did i make you wait for too long?" was the first thought you voiced out while taking off your shoes.

"where was the warning of your arriving y/n??!! fuck, you will kill me someday" you laughed at his surprised and slightly frightened state.

while the citizens were too busy with their own lives, they weren't able to appreciate the sunset, not even you. while keeping a conversation with gunwook about your day and telling him whatever gossip ricky said to you that came to your mind, you lost track of time and didn't realise until you were sat down at the table, eating a homemade pizza with your partner.

you had realised that while talking, gunwook had been eager to let you talk all the time and he took advantage of the situation to stare at you, but as the simple thought made you giggle internally, you let it slide.

however, when you asked him about his day while having dinner and you received no response, you started to slightly panic.

"wook, did you hear what i said?" still no response.

even if that wasn't usual in your casual meet ups or dates, you decided to take it more on the safe and not hysteric side and continued eating, hoping that he'd get out of his trance soon.

while keeping a close eye on him, a few minutes later, you saw him shoot an energetic smile at you, which left you quite baffled.

"i called your name four times and you didn't answer. not even once. what's up with you?"

"you." gunwook answered rather quickly, which left you more puzzled.

"what?" you dared to ask, too caught up in your own turmoil of thoughts and emotions to muster up something better.

"i was just admiring you. you know the song completely, of jaehyun?" he carried on when you nodded to his words "well, i've been listening to this song on repeat for a few days, and i realised i know nothing about you"

"what do you mean you don't know anything? i've told you things about me and we've been dating for almost two years now.." you trailed off, not knowing what his point was

"yeah i do, but not everything. i realised i will never be able to get to know you completely. you'll be constantly changing and a lot of you will be lost.that thought scared me and made me a little bit sad, but i decided to get to know you deeply, get to know your soul."

"that's why you wanted me to talk this whole time?" you asked, looking deeply into those chocolate-like eyes that you loved.

"kind of. i also enjoy hearing your voice, it's like a serenade for me" he admitted while scratching the nape of his neck, quite embarrassed "but yeah i spent the whole time analysing what you said to get as much info as possible! by the way, your pyjamas are very cute" he pointed out while looking at where your bedroom is

"you looked through my-" "NO i could never! i was trying to see if you had any picture of us that i didn't have and i saw your pyjamas laying on your pink mattress" he said with a hint of playfulness in his voice

"don't you dare to say anything about my mattress" you tried to sound stern but failed miserably when you remembered what he had confessed not even 5 minutes ago "why are you doing all of this either way?"

before you had finished the sentence, he had gotten up from his seat and walked over to where yours was, engulfing you in a huge hug.

with a small voice he stated "because i love you? just listen to the song i told you, i think you'll understand more than what my words can say" gunwook had a giant smile on his face, which you could only guess by the giggles you could hear behind your back.

[devildom-drabbles]

Snippet - Last Name

How would each of the demon brothers react to MC saying that they’ll give him their last name?

“There aren’t any demons or angels that have last names, right?” MC randomly questioned the demon brother they were spending time with.  “Why is that?”

The demon explained how the beings in the Devildom and Celestial Realm were given one-of-a-kind names to distinguish them from others, unlike how many humans can share the same (first) name.  As such, having a second name was unnecessary.  Titles were more common to further establish their individuality, such as “Morning Star” for Lucifer and “Jewel of the Heavens” for Asmodeus when the two of them were angels.

“Do you wish you had a last name?” MC inquired.

The demon was mostly indifferent on the matter, but he did mention how he particularly liked MC’s last name. 

“In that case, I’ll give you my last name someday,” MC remarked in a casual manner.

He opened his mouth to reply but paused upon realizing what MC might’ve been implying.  A human typically would only share their last name with someone else when they were getting married to that individual.

Lucifer felt a surge of pride in his chest at the notion that MC intended to offer their last name (and their hand in marriage) to him alone.  Still, from how nonchalantly they had presented the notion, he had to make sure that both of them understood it in the same way. “You’re aware of what that would mean for us, right?” he asked them.  “It’s not something to take lightly, even if I’m not human.”  After watching MC nod their head confidently, a small grin tugged at Lucifer’s lips.  “Good.  Seeing as how you already belong to me, MC, it’s only natural that your last name would become mine, as well.  I look forward to when that day officially comes.”  (Time to start planning a real marriage proposal, Lucifer thought to himself.)

Mammon managed to choke on his saliva when he pieced together what MC likely was implying, which, on the bright side, provided him with an excuse as to why his cheeks were flushed.  All the money and rare treasures in the Devildom could never compare to the value of having MC’s last name all to himself.  “Th-The Great Mammon accepts your gift!” he declared once he finished coughing.  “If you’re gonna give your last name to anyone, obviously it’s gonna be me.  That means no one else can have it, got it?  No changin’ your mind, either!  A-And...don’t take too long to hand it over to me, ‘cause I’m ready to take it anytime.”  (Well, first, Mammon just needed to narrow down the best ring to give MC from his secret growing collection.)

Leviathan could've probably rattled off the long title of a human world anime that had a scene similar to this—that is, if he wasn’t currently short-circuiting in front of MC.  “Y-Y-Y-You’d give your l-l-last name to a gross shut-in otaku like m-me?!” he asked incredulously.  “You mean it?!  Are you sure?!”  Once MC reaffirmed their promise, Levi was certain he could die happy (but not right now!).  “Oh man, it feels like I just unlocked the highest ranking class in an RPG!  MC, I’ll wear your last name proudly and do everything I can to make sure you won’t regret choosing me to have it!  ...Uh, when I do get your last name, I mean.”  (Levi started focusing more on anime and game content that included marriage as references for how to be a good husband for MC in the future.)

Satan was left dumbfounded for a moment as he processed what MC was telling him.  “So then, you’re saying...you want to marry me at some point, correct?” he bluntly questioned them.  MC confirmed his suspicion, which brought a light blush to his face coupled with a pleased smile.  Although there was no record of a demon and human ever marrying each other, he couldn’t deny that he also wanted this with MC.  “All right.  I’ll make your dream a reality, and in return, you’ll share your last name with me.  This means we’ll spend the rest of your days together, too.  Let’s build a love so strong it’ll be the envy of all romance novels and poetry.”  (Afterward, while he was researching human marriage customs, he suddenly wondered if the cats he wanted to adopt with MC would also acquire their last name.)

Asmodeus squealed and bounced cheerfully in place before wrapping his arms around MC in a tight embrace.  Normally the concept of being permanently tied to someone would be unappealing to Asmo, but those qualms became nonexistent when it involved MC.  “I love you so much, MC!  I’ll make you the happiest human in all the three realms as Asmodeus [Last Name]!  Oh wow, my name was already gorgeous by itself, but with your last name added to it, it’s even better!  Come on, let’s get a pre-engagement photo together.  I can’t wait to brag to everyone on Devilgram about this.”  (Since MC already offered him their last name, Asmo decided that he’d be the one to get them an engagement ring.  But if MC buys him one, too, he certainly won’t complain.)

Beelzebub’s eyes twinkled with pure joy at MC’s promise.  “Really?  I’d like that a lot, MC,” he told them.  His words may have been a bit of an understatement, considering MC’s declaration filled him with so much glee that it was enough to satisfy the seemingly endless void in his stomach.  He couldn’t hold back his wide grin as he took their hands in his own and continued, “When I have your last name, we can finally be our own family.  We’ll wake up together, make breakfast together, go out for lunch together, eat dinner together...  Oh, yeah, I guess we mostly do that already, but it’ll be even more special than it is now.  Hehe, I can’t wait.”  (Despite the frequent distractions of thinking about wedding cake, Beel did take active steps to ensure that he’d be able to actually receive their last name.)

Belphegor perked up in surprise from MC’s words, the constant nagging urge to sleep vanishing in an instant.  He feared he may have accidentally dozed off mid-conversation and only dreamed of MC wanting him to have their last name.  Fortunately, the look on their face assured him that he had been awake, so his expression softened into genuine delight as he replied, “Okay, I like the sound of that.”  Rather than ending it there, his mischief (and inner excitement) got the better of him, causing him to add, “Although, if you’re planning to give your last name to me, then that also means I can take it anytime I want, right?  Even if it’s sooner than you expect?  Because I might just do that.”  (Belphie now had an unusually high level of motivation to take the next step in his relationship with MC.)

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 3 . Abandoned, Adopted (2) - Cale/Reader

tags: abuse as the norm, reader sees nothing wrong with what they've experienced

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

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Sigh

“I was gonna reveal him later while we’re talking but might as well.”

Cale casually stated as he handed _____ a towel. It sounded as if he was describing the menu for lunch. As if he didn't let out an exasperated sigh before speaking. Contrary to his nonchalant voice and demeanour, Cale is actually a bit worried. He is worried at the high possibility of the healer not being able to compose themself at the sight of a dragon.

“I am the great Raon Miru and my great self is now 4 years old!”

“Hello Raon Miru-nim, it’s nice to meet such a great and mighty existence.”

_____ bowed respectfully at the cute dragon that Cale is currently drying with a towel. The bow only lasted two seconds before the healer grabbed a new and unused towel.

“You dried Hong but didn’t dry yourself On.”

Their gaze asked On if it was okay to dry them to which the silver kitten nodded before moving closer to _____.

Cale finds this development unexpected, but good unexpected. In fact, he likes it so much. He likes _____’s calmness despite the visible surprise in their eyes.

Some minutes and towels later the two can finally get to the main topic of today’s conversation.

“Your adoptive family has proclaimed you dead, what is your plan now?”

“Uhm, honestly young master Cale-nim-”

“Just Cale is fine, even if that shitty family of yours proclaimed you dead you are still a noble. We are still equal in status.”

“Huh? Uh uhm, okay…”

_____ was flabbergasted as this was the first time someone said they were a noble. Well, not that they have much reference as most of their conversations are with their adoptive family, but it was still shocking to the healer.

“Then Cale-ssi..? No? Uhm, Cale-sunbae[1]..? I have no concrete plan. I knew that someday I was gonna be thrown away when I was deemed useless. I just didn’t expect my usefulness to end this early.”

The healer was hesitant in their new way to address the young master. However, Cale looked more relaxed being called sunbae so _____ deemed it okay to call him as such.

“Then you just have to find a new place that will see you as useful right? I think this is the perfect place for that.”

_____ looked at Cale in disbelief. They may not know much information about… well almost everything, but they have also heard about the rumours of Cale being trash.

Whether that was real or Cale was faking it didn’t matter. 

The point still stands that someone who made a name for themself as trash would not need someone like _____. Not with all the burdens and hard work that comes with them as a package. Not only that but the young master seems to have some sort of power that lets him have full vitality at all times.

So why would such a person take in _____ who is only good at healing others?

“Cale-sunbae taking someone in like me is bound to cause trouble. I am aware that taking me in means hiding me as I cannot reveal myself right now. I am also aware that requires a lot of effort to do.”

“Don’t worry about that, I’m not the son of a rich noble for nothing. All you have to think of is whether you’ll accept my offer and what you want to do. Do you want to take revenge?”

The black dragon that’s lying down on Cale’s bed with the kittens perked its head up at the mention of revenge. He may not know what _____’s story is but he feels a kinship with them at the known fact that the human his human is talking to also had a hard life before meeting Cale.

“Revenge? Oh no that has never crossed my mind. Why would I when they provided for me? It’s not like they did anything wrong?”

“THAT’S NOT TRUE LITTLE _____!!! This great and mighty being that has lived for 4 years could tell what they did was not right!!”

Everyone else in the room got a whiplash while the black dragon was enraged. Cale was confused at how such a thing could be considered normal.

“In any case, if you don’t want to make them pay it’s fine. If you ever change your mind just tell me.”

Cale Henituse is now responsible for this person, and that responsibility includes supporting them in their endeavours. 

So Cale lets it be… at least for now.

Tap

A silver kitten taps Cale’s arm using her paw. It was nighttime, and the children averaging seven years old were already lying in bed with Cale. The other two children are already asleep, leaving only the redhead and the silver kitten awake.

“What is it? Can’t sleep?”

“No that’s not it. About _____…”

The half-asleep Cale woke up at the mention of the newest addition to their group. Cale is pretty sure the healer is harmless but if the children say otherwise then further evaluation is due.

“Well, they’ve been adjusting well here in Harris Village and get along with everyone.”

Cale agrees with On’s evaluation. It has been a few days since came back to Harris Village and _____ has been doing well so far. Actually, they’ve been thriving as everyone seems to like them. 

They’re shy and don't speak unless someone else initiates the conversation. However, they are respectful and helpful to everyone. Because of that, they get along well with Cale’s people.

If that’s the case then why does On’s face say that there seems to be a problem?

“There’s something weird about their body- no I think it’s their ability. We don’t know how it exactly works right?”

On had been the closest to _____ during these past few days along with the other two children. Partly because the three have taken it upon themselves to observe the healer more, and partly because their mere presence comforts the children.

The healer doesn’t smile or laugh but everyone can tell that they truly enjoy themselves whenever they are out playing or exploring with the kids and Mary.

Even though they can’t see a physical smile on the healer’s face, them being happy still lifts everyone’s moods. 

Even Cale’s

He may try to deny it, but On has caught him a couple of times already.

Speaking of the man, he is just currently petting On’s fur while waiting for her to tell him more.

“At first I thought it was just their old wounds. They were hurt pretty badly so it wouldn’t be surprising if it takes a long time to heal since they can’t heal themself. But the wounds seem to be changing places.

I’m not so sure about that one because they wear long sleeves so it's hard to see, but I also noticed that their mood seems to drastically falter when they heal someone. More than any healer I’ve seen during our travels. It’s almost as if they seem to be in pain.”

It was true, it’s hard to see any part of _____’s body because they wear a hooded robe like Mary. The healer even went as far as covering everything but their eyes with cloth[2]. This was because they didn’t want to bother Raon with a disguise.

“We can’t be sure yet about the wounds but the other things might just be because they aren’t in optimal condition yet. They have always had a weak body. For now, I’ll them to lessen their use of their healing powers.”

With that On’s mind was put to ease and she finally fell asleep.

However, another person’s mind is not at ease.

Cale who was supposed to be slacking off felt a sense of worry. Experience from reading so many fantasy novels gave him an inkling as to how _____’s ability might work.

But nothing is confirmed yet so he set his worries aside for now and resorted to observing.

While they were in Harris Village nothing seemed out of place. Well, honestly how could there be when everything is so peaceful? The only things they were healing were minor scratches and wounds that mostly stemmed from accidents or training.

When they got to the main territory though…

To be precise it was during the festival when they were looking for hidden experts in the territory. _____ noticed the scratches and wounds on Lily’s body from training and wanted to heal them.

Of course, they didn’t say anything but at this point, Cale knows them well enough to see what they want.

So Cale told the healer to go ahead and heal Lily, and replenish her energy while they were at it too.

They did and Cale didn’t see anything unusual. But then again it’s not like Lily was badly injured. The worst thing she got was this long scratch-like wound from her forearm to below her elbow. Therefore Cale that would be the end of it and he’d have to find another chance to see if his suspicions were correct.

“Healer-nim are you okay? That scratch looks pretty fresh.”

Hans’ voice made Cale turn around to see what he was talking about.

All of them are currently roaming around the night market. _____ in particular was looking at a stall that sells hand-made stuffed toys. It ranges from fluffy teddy bears to cute crocheted dolls. 

When Cale turned to see what was going on, he did so in a way that looked as if he was just looking around the market and not listening to their conversation. He could see the healer midway to reaching a red teddy bear that was holding some kind of silver shield. 

Is it just him or does that toy oddly look like him?

Anyways ignoring the cute but oddly designed teddy bear, Cale could see that the healer’s sleeves rolled down because the placement of the teddy bear was pretty high. Because of that, their arm could be seen, and that arm was full of scars.

“Ah yes, Hans-ssi- I mean Hans. I got this earlier but it doesn’t hurt.”

“I see, but it would still be better to put some bandages over it.”

“Yes, I’ll make sure to do that when we get home.”

The scars kind of look like Lily’s scratches but one could argue that it was from _____’s wounds a few weeks ago.

However, there was no denying that a big scratch looked just like Lily’s wound from earlier.

Sure it looks better than what Lily had but Cale knows it’s the same thing.

But accusations are just accusations, Cale still doesn’t have solid proof. It could be that it wasn’t actually Lily’s wound and they just got injured earlier as there were a lot of people.

Cale also doesn’t think he should suddenly just bring it up. He doesn’t want to cause unwarranted worry and panic when he and On are still speculating things.

So he lets it go for now.

He continued strolling at the night market to look for hidden experts and buy whatever the kids wanted.

And if that shopping haul included that one red teddy bear with a shield that’s current in Raon’s spacial dimension so they could give it later to _____ even though they didn’t ask for it?

Let’s just go with Cale’s reasoning that the kids persuaded him to buy it.

[1] was gonna use -ssi at first but the rules for using ssi confuse the more I read about it. I didn't want to use Cale-nim because it's Choi Han's signature. Anyways just think of their relationship as like a sunbae and hoobae at work since reader is working for Cale now.

[2] kinda like alberu's appearance when he went to the jungle as a dark elf.

[suite-hearts-hotel]

✎ breastfeeding m! Kylar like he deserves ♡

. . . ˚✧.⊹ tags ⊹⁺. ೀ

2.5k words (wow im a horny bastard), informal writing, m! Kylar with cock, unprotected p in v sex, unrealistic sex, Kylar is a very submissive and pathetic (/affectionate) top, lactating pc from cow transformation, BIG GIANT TATAS and AFAB anatomy terms. u got coochie n it'll b called cunt and pussy but Kylar doesn't call u by either feminine terms or masculine terms so it's,,, gender-neutral reader-ish??

. . . ⋆ ꮺ˚⊹ notes ⊹ ༘˚

WHY BOTHER HAVING A BREAST MILK MECHANIC IF U CANT GIVE IT TO ANY OF THE LOVE INTERESTS... SMH VREL GET ON IT /LH also dis is a shoutout to da fellow transmascs like me that don't mind hvin big tatas 2 feed kylar <33 my first full fic i tink!! enjoy!!!

♡ ┆ u 2 are on a date at the park as usual. when u casually suggest it, his brain just stops working. his mouth hangs open and u have to shake him to snap him out of it. 

"uhh, haha, sorry, darling... c-could you repeat that?"

with a smirk, you do. you lean in and suggest going somewhere private so he could enjoy your milk directly from the source. all the blood in his cheeks rush to his cock almost immediately. he is so down bad for u, he's fucking floored u even suggested it.

♡ ┆ he gets more cocky, confident, and possessive during sex, but at this point, he's only squeezed your chest so far, not sure how he could even begin to explain himself. he’s seen u lactate when u cum, he just didnt know if it was overstepping a boundary to just dive in. its early into the relationship so he doesnt know if youre comfortable with that part of your bovine biology. hes a perv but hes also a polite boy!!  well... most of the time ♡ he couldnt just walk up to u and say i want ur milk babe, you deserve better than that, he just didnt know how to ask... so ofc he's over the moon you're the one who brought it up

♡ ┆ absolutely solidifies in his mind that you're an angel sent from heaven to protect him and love him

♡ ┆ he's a stinky little anime nerd /pos. pre-relationship, after you saved him from bullies, he draws u and ur cute fluffy cow ears and massive anime-like tits in all sorts of erotic ways. does all the hentai tropes. fists his needy, leaky cock at night to the drawings he's made of u. when you start dating, it was like he was walking on cloud 9 when you wanted to recreate some of his erotic drawings (bc ofc u pushed to see his sketchbook when he mentioned it was full of only u lol)

♡ ┆ cant go to the manor, kylar isnt comfy w that yet. cant be in pc’s bedroom, kylar doesnt even want a single chance of someone who knows you and lives with you to see u giving him milk, it's his and only his in sight, sound,,, and ofc taste. hed get jealous if other orphans u live with saw yall doing it, bc if they see he thinks theyre never gonna forget the sight..... which could lead 2 all sorts of trouble since they live with u and he doesnt. he wants it to only be his even in memory. PATHETIC /POS so yalls only option is a cheap-ass love hotel. maybe someday youll fuck somewhere nicer but this’ll have to do… not to mention kylar is thrumming w/ excitement. he’s fucking trembling at the mere thought of getting to taste your sweet milk, directly from your heavy chest which was always tempting him… PATHETIC /POS (1)

♡ ┆ at first, kylar cant get his bearings. he sits next to u on the bed, hands politely on his lap while his cock strains against his pants. hes strangely silent until u snap him out of it with a kiss on the cheek. “ah… d-darling, you don’t know how much this means to me.” he says in a shaky voice. you chuckle and slowly begin to lift your shirt, making sure to give him a show. the way your heavy tits laden with the milk he craves always looked like they were spilling out, your bra barely being able to hold them back never failed to do a number on kylar’s psyche. 

♡ ┆ ”c’mon, you’ve already seen me lactate. get me wet first, babe, then it’ll come out.” you tease as you unclasp your bra effortlessly and toss it to the side, your tits swaying with every movement you make. kylar is hypnotized. just a lot of spacing out in general until you two really get into it.

♡ ┆ your back is laid on the bed, and Kylar moves to get your pants and panties off. the sight never fails to make him breathless. he figures the quickest way to taste your sweet milk is to eat you out, so he does, very diligently. he dives in and devours your pussy like a man starved, he does this every time. he just can’t believe someone as perfect as you would willingly give yourself to him, and he wants to show his gratitude properly, always…

♡ ┆ this mf latches onto your cunt with an intense need and desperation. not only is he making his beloved feel good, he’s working to get your milk flowing as well… it makes him especially ravenous. licking up and sucking on your sensitive folds, using his hands to part your lips and plunge his tongue into you deeper… when you pat his fluffy, unkempt hair and moan… “fuuuuck yes, that’s it, good boy…” he goes absolutely ballistic in his brain. it goes w/o saying that he has a praise kink, loves giving and receiving it. he’s especially emboldened when he feels his head sandwiched between the softness of your thighs, he’s going delirious with need at this point, eyes all half-lidded and bleary, focused on nothing but lapping up the fluids your cunt makes. he's fucking groaning against your folds, can't get enough of your sweet taste. his cock is straining to be free right now, but your pleasure takes precedence.

♡ ┆ eventually, he takes your clit into his mouth and sucks hard, tongue swirling around it as he’s making you scream. “K-Kylar!!” it fills him with a sick thrill, like he’s letting all the strangers in this damn sleazy love hotel know that he’s the one making his darling cry out with pleasure. he pulls back for a moment, a string of saliva connecting between your cunt and his lips to smirk confidently at you. “that’s it, darling, let it all out.” he says, as he’s licking a broad stripe up your pussy, “let them all hear how much you love what i’m doing to you.”

♡ ┆ the moment he sees your tits drip with milk, he unlatches his mouth from your cunt with a soft pop, halting the intense suctions for now. his eyes sparkle with curiosity and hunger, seeing you laid out on the bed with your cheeks flushed, mouth hung agape from moaning so much just does something to his fucked up brain. he wastes no time capturing a nipple into his mouth and giving a hard suck, groaning when your milk hits his tastebuds. it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted…

♡ ┆ he kneads at your tit, trying to coax more and more milk out of you as your cow ears flicker atop your head. needless to say, he’s getting off on your moans, the taste of your creaminess, and the softness of your chest… he loves it. all of this, it’s only for him and him alone. he laminates your nipple with spit using his tongue, moaning as he drinks up every last drop. keeping a hand on your pussy, he gently bites down, making you yelp, yet he also felt your cunt twitch at the action… that gives him an idea for later. he shows love to your other breast, licking up all of the milk that had been dripping off to the side as his fingers rub at your pussy, the slick sounds making his head spin. his breaths are heavy and erratic as it fans over your exposed skin, adding a layer of eroticism from his desperation being conveyed this way. 

♡ ┆ finally… the moment he’d been waiting for. he releases his mouth and cups both of your heavy breasts, pressing them close together and sucking on both your nipples at the same time. wow… just like in his hentai mangas. the sensation makes you feel embarrassed, but you can’t deny how good it feels, either… as his fingers dig into your plush, large chest, he suckles, licks, and bites, doing anything to get more milk into his mouth again. some of it drips in between your chest, and it gives him a devious idea…

♡ ┆ he retreats for now, taking a finger to swipe up a drop of milk on his chin and lick it, a crazed hunger in his green eyes. he pulls down his pants and boxers… out comes his cock, blushed at the tip and leaky with pre-cum. “darling… would you be willing to hold up your chest for me, please?” he asks in a sweet voice, and you comply without question. you already knew what he was planning without him having to outright say it.

♡ ┆ he holds the sides of your breasts securely and moves up on the bed, positioning himself under your chest. you feel something hard underneath your boobs… and without further ado, Kylar thrusts his cock in. he moans so loud, breathing sooo heavily as he pistons his hips… he’s just in pure disbelief. the milk that had dripped between your chest earlier aids him in creating a slick passage between your pillowy tits. it takes him all his willpower to not immediately cum… which he inevitably fails. his cock splatters all over your chest, and a little bit gets on your face. “ah…!! i-oh no, i’m so sorry… i couldn’t help it, it just felt too good…” he pouts with a voice whinier than usual. you reassure him that it’s more than okay with a sultry smile, and you collect his cum with your fingers, licking it all up.

♡ ┆ the sight of you doing that of your own volition without him even asking to… grrr he’s going feral! and he realized you hadn’t cum once! that just won’t do. so while waiting for his cock to stiffen up again, he pulls out and lowers himself back down and thrusts a finger into your dripping entrance. he gets off on the sound of your moans, and he reaches down to take a nipple into his mouth again, the dual sensation of kylar’s suction and his finger curling inside you driving you mad. he establishes a rhythm with both actions, and it’s not long before he adds another finger into you, the squelching noises from your naughty pussy tempting him making his cock twitch back to life very quickly. as your inner walls tighten around his fingers, he searches desperately for your sweet spot while feverishly lapping up any milk from your breasts. and finally… he finds that one gummy mass inside you and just absolutely goes to town on it, making you cry out loudly. he reluctantly detached himself from your tit, and as his fingers were pressing down on your sweet spot, he held his hand firmly over your pubic mound, pressing down and quickening the pace of his fingers going in and out of you. it’s not long before you scream his name and cum on his fingers, soaking his hand in your precious nectar… not to mention your chest flowing with milk as well.

♡ ┆ he’s now hard again… and you take a moment to catch your breath. he’s too impatient this time, however, he wants to thrust into you now. you feel his cock press against your overly sensitive entrance but you manage to gently push him down onto the bed to take control of the situation. “ah ah ah. not so fast.  just came, ya horndog.” you tease lightly, while kylar groans and pouts. you reach down and press a kiss to his lips, your tongues meeting each other once again as they get entangled. you taste a hint of your own milk. kylar can feel your breasts pressing up against him, the weight making him get more needy and feverish with his kissing. his breath hitches when you start grinding your cunt onto him, tip of his cock leaking with cum onto his tummy as your pussy presses down on it. your hips buck back and forth on top of him as you take control, allowing yourself to rest while keeping kylar sated.

♡ ┆ when you’re finally ready to have sex, you teasingly bounce your cunt on the tip of his cock, and you see tears in his eyes. “pc- my love, come, on, let me in, pleasepleaseplease- ah!!” 

his babbling is interrupted by you finally giving him what he wants. as your velvety walls sink down onto him, threatening to overwhelm his senses, you press your breasts onto his face. “you know what to do.” you say with a flirtatious smirk. kylar immediately gets the memo, he’s been dying to do this since you first saved him. he latches onto your nipples and tugs down at your breasts while you start bouncing your pussy on his cock, the dual sensations driving you both mad.

♡ ┆ you’re expertly riding him as he whimpers helplessly beneath you, humping into him so hard the headboard slams into the wall from your passion. his mouth is overflowing with your milk like he wanted… his brain is just melting, much to your delight. your cow tail swishes behind you playfully as he grabs your plush hips and thrusts up into your movements, the sounds of your moans and wet slapping reverberating in the room. 

♡ ┆ the warmth and softness of your cunt makes him wanna cum again. poor boy… he was never good at lasting long. “kylar, hold yourself back right now or else i’m pulling myself off.” you tease, but he takes that to heart and whines in disappointment. “i’ll be good… i’ll be good, pc, i promise, just please dont, ah… leave me!” you smile at him. “i’m not leaving you dummy, ever.”

neuron activation time……. his eyes widen in disbelief as affection floods his heart. he grips your hips more firmly, thrusting up into you at such an animalistic pace that the poorly constructed bed almost sounds like it'll break. the plush of your ass bounces back on his lap, and it makes him grit his teeth trying to hold back. he has a fire in his eyes, as if his life’s whole purpose now was to make you cum on his cock. he bites down on a nipple like earlier and feels your cunt clench around him. he alternates between bites and hard sucks as his hips thrust desperately upward while you struggle to keep riding him. “that’s a promise, okay? dont! ever! leave! me!” he punctuates each word with a thrust deep into your womb, hell-bent on breeding you. 

♡ ┆ it’s not long before stars crowd around your eyes as you two climax together with your own loud moans, his semen flooding the depths of your warmth while your own cum coats his cock and drips down to his balls. your milk drips down your breasts again, and even though kylar is weak, he still manages to find it in himself to lick it up. as you catch your breaths, you two giggle conspiratorially, pressing your foreheads together and exchanging words of pure love and affection for one another… right before going back in for another round. you two rented out this room for an extended period of time, after all.

♡ ┆ now kylar takes whatever opportunity he can to bite and suck on your precious chest, pulling you in school closets or dark alleyways just so he can have a taste of your milk.

♡ ┆ ofc it’s not long until you both rent out a room at the hotel again, you going along with one of his crazy hentai recreations. it ends up with him on your lap and you, jerking off his sensitive cock, rubbing his pre-cum all over his shaft as he has his fill of your milk.

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ with you next to him ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by anons ˚₊ ⊹

ft. ver vermillion x f! reader — xsoleil, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ he’s trying to sleep, but his needs overpower his fatigue┊1.5k words

contains: smut!! dom reader & sub ver┊somnophilia, sleepy sex, wearing his shirt & lacy panties, mentioned masturbation, intercrural/thigh fucking, riding, implied breeding kink, orgasm denial & slight brat-taming? cut-off ending

➤ author's note: unfortunately, i couldn’t figure out how to make him a dom in this one & i have no idea why it took so long to write, so sorry for continuously pushing back when i would post this when i promised it so ages ago. it’s not even that good or long because i’ve been dragging it out for so long, but fuck it, we ball

juggling several heavy responsibilities was something that ver grew accustomed to ever since he was elected student council president in freshman year and carried the occupation until now, but only being able to return back home at any time past sunset during early summer should be illegal. he can’t complain though, it was his own decision to continue helping out xsoleil institute after he graduated and to guide the person who would take his title when he left for college. there were simply too many memories and too many friendships created within the walls of the building for him to let go so quickly. one of them included meeting you, his high school sweetheart whom he positively believed was the love of his life and the one he would end up marrying someday.

since his parents were on a business trip and wouldn’t be home for the next few days, you were actually already waiting at his place after he invited you over a few hours earlier. quality time nights like this were infrequent and risky since you had to wait until the entire family was out to call the other over and could have gotten caught in any moment, but that hasn’t happened yet so these sleepovers still go on behind their backs. besides, both of you were quickly able to navigate the other’s home like it was your own and even knew where to escape just in case someone unexpectedly showed up, there was no fear about it anymore.

he was so goddamn exhausted that he wasn’t sure if it was possible to spark enough energy to do anything that wasn’t simply cuddling and dozing off in each other’s arms. fortunately, it was one of your many favorite bonding activities and you were tired as well. you were found lounging in his bed on your stomach with your legs kicking around while scrolling on social media, smiling and rolling over with outstretched arms to welcome him but looking like you were about to pass out at any moment. it looks like you had a long day at work today and ver greeted you with a kiss on the forehead, telling you that he was going to take a shower, that you could finally sleep now, and how he’ll join you once he is done.

all he planned to do was to doze off in your embrace and to get down to whatever shenanigans you could think of in the morning after a revitalized rest, he swears that he originally had no other intentions. perhaps stepping out into the cold air after being splashed by warm water woke him up, but he only noticed something particular about your choice of clothing right as he was about to lay down next to your slumbering form.

you were wearing a t-shirt of his, a casual one he wore around the house that had the name of the event he got it at for free plastered across the front and back with big bolded letters. it’s nothing too serious, you probably just forgot to bring something more comfortable than your work uniform to wear, and it’s not like it’s the first time you stole something of his to wear.

it wasn’t really the shirt itself that caused something to stir within him, falling at your upper thigh and hiding your curves with its loosely rectangular shape, it was actually the way your legs were positioned to flash your cute lacy red underwear to his eyes. 

he needed to blink a few times to process it before instinctively covering his face to hide his blush, tilting his head to get a better glimpse of it like the closeted pervert he is— or maybe you’re the pervert who did this intentionally to get a rise out of him. he has no way of knowing, but he does know that there’s a little damp spot that stained the fabric a little darker color which was driving his imagination wild about whether you were having a wet dream or were playing with yourself while he was away.

whatever the answer was, it’s safe to say that he was now way too horny to sleep.

laying on his side of the bed, pressing his face into the pillow, slowly jerking himself off, trying to muffle the sinful noises threatening to spill from his mouth. it’s different from when he’s alone, a lot more intense when the object of his desire is resting a mere few inches away from him. he can’t remember if he’s ever been in a situation similar to this one before and how he got out of it if he did, his mind is too fogged to recall and it’s becoming borderline painful to continue this way.

he turned on his side to meet you face-to-face after tucking himself back into his briefs, his gaze falling on your kissable lips, and his eyelashes fluttered shut knowing he couldn’t keep this up for much longer. “babe? are you awake?” he whispered, hoping that you weren’t too deep in slumber so that he could gently wake you and then beg to fuck you like the loser he was being.

you murmured something and turned to the other side at the minor disturbance, but remained mostly unmoved by his efforts. guilt started to settle in for trying to wake you up, leading him to decide his next move in a frenzy of horniness where desperate times call for desperate measures.

he wrapped his arms around you and pulled the two of you closer together, movements slowly and languid to avoid rousing you any more than he already had. you smelled of his shampoo and faint remnants of the vanilla perfume you sprayed early in the morning, making him slightly dizzy as he inhaled the scent. his hand snaked around one of your thighs to part them, slotting his pre-cum and spit-slicked cock into the little gap.

your skin was softer than flower petals compared to his hands which were slightly calloused and worn away from gripping pencils while studying most of his life. heaven truly was between your thighs, he almost felt like he could have busted right there and then.

still overwhelmed with fatigue, his pace was pretty sluggish, completely immersed in the feeling of his twitching length being massaged by the silky smoothness of your skin. it was like floating on clouds, crossing the lines of reality and the realm of dreams, warm and cozy with mixtures of sinful pleasures and tired lust-induced hazes. 

he wasn’t going to last long, grip tightening onto your sides as his sloppy thrusts became quicker to chase his orgasm, panting like a dog with sweat beads forming on his face to stick his red hair to his pale skin. just when he was on the precipice of ecstasy, he felt you stir in his arms before he found himself face-to-face with you once again, looking into your eyes sparking with mischief despite the weariness behind them.

“hm? what’cha doing?” you teased with a little giggle, words slightly slurred together, moving your head to kiss him.

“‘m sorry for waking you…” he murmured into your mouth, pink from both exertion and embarrassment.

it was a bit late to ask, but you didn’t mind, arching your back to press the curve of your ass further into him teasingly, “aww, couldn’t have waited until morning? poor baby…” you covered your mouth in a yawn before turning around to press a lazy kiss on his lips, pushing him back on his back to situate yourself in his lap and placing one on his chest. “do you want me to help you out?” you smiled as he nodded furiously, allowing your hand to reach into your panties which were getting more soaked by the second and pumping two of your fingers into your needy cunt. “don’t worry, i’ll take care of you…” 

although sleep pulled at your eyes, you still tried to keep them open to look at your handsome boyfriend’s face as you lined up his erection with your slit and eased him into you with a sigh. he wasn’t the biggest, but still the perfect size to fill you up and make you gasp as you took him inch by inch until he bottomed out. you shifted your weight to keep him still, preventing him from squirming or trying to buck his hips up into yours.

“oh, no, baby, i’m setting the pace this time. you need to be punished for waking me up, so you can cum when i say so.”

“please?”

you tutted in disappointment, “no, i’ll stay up all night if i have to until you learn your lesson. just be good for me, okay? who knows, maybe i’ll even let you cum inside of me as a reward— you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

request one [ if your goods with it! dom!ver x reader somnophilia! <3 common prompt but, ver comes home tired from work/student council duties p late and stuff and really just wants to spend the night with reader but! unfortunately, reader's sleeping :( oh wtv would he do :( you can hv full rein of wtv else :33 i would just like to ask that it isn't non-con (dub-con okay!) :D and that's all! hope u have fun w this !! :33 ]

request two [ i just wanted to say that, i love your works! my request is maybe riding ver? also breeding kink if possible idk just don't overwork yourself 💕 ]

[pickingupmymercedes]

Under an Ipê tree - Lewis Hamilton

The three times your annual visit to Senna’s tomb brought something different

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Senna! Reader

warnings: mentions of death, mourning, AD 21', Lewis at Ferrari (rubbing salt into every open wound apparently)

wordcount: +1k

a/n: Not gonna lie, started this one with something in mind and it took a life of its own. I know Senna! Reader isn't everyone's cup of tea, so please, proceed with caution, because there is mention to real events and real emotions envolved with mourning. Also, AD 21', I'm sure as hell not over that, so here's another trigger warning.

a/n. 2: Those trees are how pink Ipês look in blossom, I know Brasil is not known for its colder months but those beauties come alive after the few cold weeks.

_______________________________________

Like most traditions it started without any intent on actually becoming a thing. You and Lewis would take a couple hours off on Wednesdays before the Brazilian GP every year, the destination a known one to everyone in the paddock. It was a journey you used to do by yourself until Lewis had been the brave, and first one, to ask you if he could tag along. He’d been to Senna’s tomb before, you knew that much, but the respect and adoration he held for your late father had you deciding he should be good company.

_______________________________________

“I swear I had never seen my mom angrier. Can you imagine her with the speaker at Interlagos shouting to everyone with an ear that I shouldn’t be racing and if anything happened Ayrton was to blame cause I wasn’t even old enough to be there” You told a laughing Lewis while remembering when your father faked an ID so he could sneak you to the track and teach you how to race in your brand new - Mclaren themed – kart. A Christmas gift he went out of his way to get to the famous Brazilian track circuit in time to open day.

“You know, my favorites snippets of his life are the ones you talk about, Sundays at the pool, ice cream dates, kart running without your mom knowing. Whenever someone talks about him it’s always about his wins, his hardships, his cars and battles … it’s almost as if he didn’t exist beyond formula 1, like we froze just a fraction of him and forgot all about the rest.” 

You smiled at him, you liked how Lewis never questioned your feelings towards f1’s out of this world idolatry on your father, mainly because at the end of the day, to your 8 year old past self, Ayrton was first and foremost “pai”, the dude that thought you not to be afraid by throwing you into the ocean when no one was looking, the one that cooked instant noodles for dinner in spite of your mom’s pleads, the one that constantly tried to show you that love is a feeling we should act upon in the present and never wait for a so promised tomorrow.

“He would’ve liked you I think… would’ve hated to race you, for sure. But as a person, he would have probably seen you as one of the good ones, pointing out bullshit, fighting fia every chance you get, protecting the guys back at the garage, focusing on racing and not talking, looking out for everyone.” You answered truthly, as he respectfully held his hands behind his back looking at the tomb stone, while you casually sat in the edge of the stone, almost too comfortable around the place from all the visits you’ve done over the years.

“I think you should meet Galisteu someday, she’ll have way more interesting stories about him to tell you than I do.” You absentmindedly noted, remembering all she’s told you about your father, this other side to him you never got the time to see.

“Nah… we’re our truest around kids, his best version was the one you got to see. Now, what was that time he sneaked a stray dog onto your apartment?” he asked while reaching for your shoulder so you both could walk along the path back to the car awaiting to take you both back.

_______________________________________

“I don’t think I really remember the sound of his voice” you sighed looking up at the Ipê tree just beside the tomb. You had shown Lewis a photo of what it looked like once in full blossom before, in the Brazilian winter, and he promised you he would eventually find the time to come see it in its full glory in late June.

The walk in the cemetery, the light hearted banter, him opening his heart on dreams and the future and the confessions you would eventually make to Lewis about Ayrton were part of the annual occurrence you had both unspokenly agreed on, but that one line seemed to have hit him hard enough he just motioned you to go on, no answers or remarks. 

“I mean, I know what his voice sounds like because there’s a thousand and one interviews with him, but I don’t think I can truly remember what he sounded like in real life … how he talked to me.” You explained it further, now looking at the Briton.

He engulfed you in a hug, the kind only he knew how, your tears leaving marks on his shoulders. You would rarely cry over anything related to your father, at least not in front of people anyway, but Lewis was… well, Lewis. You and Niki were the one who pushed, like hell, to sign him to Mercedes back in 2014 against everyone’s better judgment, and while you knew he would be every bit the driver and phenomenon he was, neither of you anticipated the friendship that came out of seeing him almost every GP you attended. A relationship that had crept its own way into your hearts, slowly allowing to see each other as something more than just good friends.

“He’s proud of you, wherever he is. I know that much” He whispered, leaving a soft kiss to your temple and bringing you even closer to his body.

_______________________________________

“He would’ve crashed into Verstappen back in 2021, wouldn’t he?” He prompted out of nowhere, gazing seriously at the tomb as you observed him pondering over the possible outcomes of a race that, like a ghost, had been following him nonstop, specially with the São Paulo GP fast approaching and with it his chances of securing his 8th title, two races before the end of the season.

“Start another Senna vs. Prost ?! ” You thought out loud, trying to read into his expressions and mannerisms, a talent of his you weren’t quite as good.

“Maybe I should’ve done it”

“You’re not like that Lew. You’re you and no one, not a single person, wants someone else” Your exasperation clear in your voice, hands reaching for his chin as his eyes locked into yours and he nodded, an unspoken agreement between the two of you, one you had to hammer into his head from time to time, that he may have Ayrton as his idol but he was just as much of an icon to the sport, and to a million of kids out there.

“On Sunday you’re going to reach that top step in your red suit, fulfill Ayrton’s dream and claim a championship for Ferrari. You. Not him, nor anyone else” and come the end of the race, he did just that. Smiling down at the sea of people in a mix of old Mercedes merchs and new Ferrari ones, dedicating his trophy to all the other people who believed in the impossible with him. 

[cheynovak]

Complicated

Characters: Soldier boy x Y/N Female character     

Summary: Y/N, a young personal assistant to Soldier Boy (Ben) and Crimson Countess, is caught in a whirlwind of events that shatter her sense of stability. After accidentally witnessing an intimate moment between Ben, Crimson, and another woman, she’s left shaken and unsure how to process it. The following day, Crimson casually invites her to join them, which only adds to Y/N's confusion.

Warnings: 18+ hurt pain TRIGGER WARNING: mentioning of rape/ sexual abuse. If you don't want to or can't read this, please skip to next part in this story.

English is not my first language 

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

part 6/?

He just opened the door and walked out, leaving me alone with nothing but the empty space he’d left behind.

Weeks passed, and I hadn’t seen or heard from Ben, officially statement: secret mission. At first, I tried to push it out of my mind, telling myself this was just what he did—he came and went on his own terms. But the longer I went without seeing him, the worse I felt. Worse than when I’d left Kevin, even. At least with him, I’d known why it ended. But Ben had left me without a single explanation.

What did he mean when he said, “You are loved”? The question haunted me, playing over and over in my mind. Did he mean he loved me? Was it some twisted way of telling me he cared? Or was he saying that I’d be loved someday, by someone else? That thought was like a knife to my chest—because what if I’d already given my heart to someone who wouldn’t give his back?

I tried to keep my distance from any member of Payback at work, hoping they wouldn’t ask about it, hoping they wouldn’t even notice I existed. The last thing I needed was to be asked why I hadn’t been around Soldier Boy or why he hadn’t been around me. I couldn’t face the humiliation of admitting I didn’t know where he was or if he was even coming back.

As days turned into weeks, the silence between us grew unbearable. So I packed my bags, leaving behind the life I’d been building with him—or rather, the life I’d been building in his shadow. I found a small, cramped apartment on the other side of the city. It was nothing like the glamorous place Ben had provided me. It smelled like damp wood and cigarettes, the walls paper-thin, the floors uneven.

But it was mine. And at that point, I was angry enough to prefer it. Angry at Ben for disappearing. Angry at myself for caring so damn much.

In the middle of that anger, though, there was something else. A deep, aching emptiness. I kept picturing Ben giving his loft to some other girl—someone else to play with when he was bored, someone else who’d wait around for him like I had. Maybe someone who wouldn’t ask for more, someone easier to forget.

I hated the thought of it, hated the idea of being so easily replaced. But no matter how hard I tried to move on, that cold, hollow feeling wouldn’t leave me. And the worst part was knowing that, even though I was furious, I would’ve taken him back in an instant if he just showed up and gave me a reason to.

But he hadn’t.

And maybe he never would.

Tonight was my first night off in ages, and after sitting in my small, smelly apartment for what felt like hours, I knew I couldn’t stay cooped up any longer. I needed to get out. Working for Vought had turned my social life into something non-existent, leaving me with no friends to call up for a night out. But it was 1979, and I didn’t need an excuse to go out by myself.

I pulled on a short skirt and high boots, the outfit giving me a small boost of confidence. I left my place and wandered into town, the neon lights of the city buzzing above me, drawing me in. Eventually, I found a nice pub with good music, a place that seemed alive, filled with strangers dancing and laughing. It felt like the escape I needed.

But as soon as I walked in, I spotted Kevin. My stomach dropped. He was with a group of his friends, sitting at the bar, laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world. At first, I tried to act like I hadn’t noticed him. I didn’t want to run off and look like I was afraid. But I felt his eyes on me the moment he spotted me.

He kept looking, and I could feel the tension building with each passing second. The way he stared, the familiar intensity, sent a chill down my spine.

I tried to ignore it, ordering a drink and pretending like I was just another patron, but the awkwardness became unbearable. I kept stealing glances over my shoulder, knowing he was still watching me. After a couple of drinks, the atmosphere of the pub no longer felt exciting or freeing. It felt suffocating.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to leave.

As I pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped out into the cool night air, I breathed a sigh of relief. The sounds of the city felt less pressing out here, and for a moment, I thought I’d managed to escape him. I started walking down the street, eager to get home and forget the whole night.

But little did I know, Kevin had followed me.

Before I realized what was happening, he caught up to me, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me into a small, dark alley. The suddenness of it knocked the breath from my lungs, fear rushing through me like ice in my veins. His hands were all over me, rough and insistent, and no matter how much I pushed or squirmed, he was stronger.

"Kevin, stop," I pleaded, my voice shaking, but he didn’t listen.

I didn’t want this, but he didn’t care. His grip tightened, his hands roaming over my body like he had some right to me. The fear was paralyzing, every inch of my skin crawling as I struggled against him.

I needed to get out of there, needed to fight back, but his strength and his size kept me pinned in place. I could feel the cold, damp bricks of the alley behind me, the rough texture scraping against my back as he pressed me into the wall. Every inch of me screamed to run, but I was trapped.

I tried to scream, but Kevin’s hand clamped over my mouth, silencing me. Tears streamed down my cheeks, my heart pounding in my chest as panic took over. Oh, please, God, no, was all I could think, the words like a desperate prayer echoing in my mind.

In a moment of frantic instinct, I kicked him as hard as I could. My boot connected with his shin, and for a brief second, I thought I had a chance. As he stumbled back, I turned to run, but before I could even take a step, another pair of hands grabbed me roughly from behind.

His friends.

They had turned the corner, and now I was trapped between them, my escape cut off. Fear washed over me like ice, my body trembling as I realized I was completely surrounded. My voice broke as I started begging, the words falling from my lips in a desperate, shaking sob. “No, please… please, no…”

Tears blurred my vision as I backed up, only to bump into Kevin again. His breath was hot against my face, and his voice dripped with cruel satisfaction as he leaned in close.

“Let’s see what you’ve learned over these past months, you slut,” he sneered, his voice thick with malice.

I froze, my entire body going numb. His words were laced with all the hate and control he’d always tried to have over me, and in that moment, I knew what he was planning to do. I tried to pull away, to fight, but the weight of his friends’ presence and the fear coursing through me made my limbs feel weak, powerless.

I was trapped. Trapped and alone. And all I could do was beg for it to stop.

--

I tried to walk home, but my legs felt like they were moving on their own. My mind kept repeating what had just happened, the memory of their hands on my body, their grins, their laughter—it was twisted pleasure for them. They enjoyed it. I wanted to cry, to scream, but it was like I’d run out of tears. The emptiness was worse than the pain.

Somehow, I ended up in front of Ben’s building. I didn’t even realize I had come this far until I was standing at the entrance. My feet had carried me here, to the only place I could think of. I stumbled into the elevator, leaning against the cold metal walls as it took me up to his penthouse. I didn’t know why I was here. Maybe I just needed to see a familiar face, to feel something other than the hollow, aching void that had settled into my chest.

When I reached his door, I knocked once, weakly.

From inside, I could hear the unmistakable sounds of moaning, women’s voices tangled with each other. I flinched, a fresh wave of nausea hitting me. My body tensed, and I immediately regretted coming here. What was I thinking? Just as I turned to leave, the door swung open.

Ben stood there in nothing but a silk bathrobe, his expression already irritated before he even fully saw me. “What? Miss the luxury already, princess?” he snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His eyes were cold, dismissive, like I was just another annoyance interrupting his night.

I turned my head over my shoulder, trying to hide my face. “Sorry… this was a mistake,” I whispered, or at least I tried to. My voice was barely audible, cracking under the weight of everything.

But as soon as he saw me—really saw me—his expression shifted. The irritation vanished, replaced with something else. His eyes scanned my face, taking in the smeared makeup, the cracked lip, the red, swollen eyes from crying. The bruises that were probably forming under my skin.

He didn’t say a word. His face tightened, his jaw clenching as he turned away from me. “Wait here,” he muttered, his voice low and tense. He walked back inside, and I heard the confused murmurs of the girls still in his penthouse.

A few moments later, the door opened wide again, and I saw them—half-dressed, their clothes hastily thrown on, their makeup smudged from whatever they’d been doing with Ben. They didn’t even get a chance to put their shoes on as they stumbled out, looking irritated but confused, clutching their things to their chests. Ben stood behind them, his face hard, his hand gripping the door frame so tightly his knuckles were white.

Once they were gone, he turned to me, his green eyes burning with something I couldn’t quite place. “Get in here,” he said, his voice rough, but not angry anymore. Not like before.

I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. But my legs gave out before I could think, and I collapsed into his arms, the weight of everything finally catching up to me.

Ben stood there, his usual cool, detached demeanor gone as he took a long look at me. He noticed everything—the ripped skirt, the bruises on my legs, the smudged makeup. His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he walked over to the bar and poured me a drink, offering it to me without a word. I took it, my hand trembling as I brought the glass to my lips.

He watched me for a moment, and then he knelt down in front of me, his gaze softer than I’d ever seen it before. “What happened?” he asked, his voice quiet, low.

I couldn’t bring myself to answer. The words were stuck in my throat, a knot of shame and fear keeping them locked inside. I stared at the floor, my fingers gripping the glass like it was the only thing keeping me together.

Ben waited, his eyes searching my face for a clue, for anything that would explain what had happened. But when the silence dragged on, he didn’t push. Instead, after a beat, he asked gently, “Do you want to shower?”

I nodded. It was a small movement, just a slight dip of my head, but as soon as I nodded once, it was like something broke inside me. The tears came all at once, harder than before, and I couldn’t stop them. I shook my head, trying to get it together, but it only made the sobs worse.

Ben’s face softened even more, and he reached out, gently placing his hand on my knee. “Shh, shh. It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, a stark contrast to his usual harsh tone. “You’re safe now, alright? You’re safe.”

I couldn’t stop crying, my body shaking as the weight of everything came crashing down on me.

“I’ll get the water running,” Ben said, standing up slowly. “It’s okay now. Just take a minute.” He paused for a second, looking at me like he wanted to say more, but instead he just nodded to himself, walking toward the bathroom.

The sound of running water filled the silence, but Ben’s words echoed louder in my mind. It’s okay now. But I was not.

I stood there in the bathroom, the warm steam from the shower slowly dissipating, but it did nothing to ease the cold pit in my stomach. When I looked down at my body, I noticed the bruises—dark, ugly marks that trailed up my thighs and near my core. My chest tightened, and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face again, silent and unstoppable.

Ben had left a babydoll dress for me to wear. Normally, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but now… I couldn’t even imagine putting it on. Not after what had happened. Not with these bruises on my body. I stared at it for what felt like forever, unable to make myself leave the bathroom.

Hours passed. I lost track of time, sitting on the cold tiles, feeling more exposed than ever. Eventually, there was a soft knock at the door.

“Y/N,” Ben called gently from the other side. “You okay?”

I hesitated for a moment, then stood up and slowly unlocked the door. When I opened it, Ben stood there, concern etched across his face. He took one look at me, at the towel wrapped around my body, and then at the babydoll dress still untouched.

“Why haven’t you changed?” he asked, his voice soft but curious.

My lip trembled. I wanted to answer, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud. The words wouldn’t come. Instead, I took a step back, my hands shaking. I felt like a small child, vulnerable and terrified, but all I could think was maybe I could show him?

Ben’s eyes narrowed as he watched me. His gaze shifted, and then it happened—he saw them. The bruises. His expression changed in an instant, his eyes widening as the realization hit him. His face, once filled with concern and confusion, twisted into something darker. Pure fury.

“Who?” he demanded, his voice low, dangerous. “Who did this, Y/N?”

I backed away, my whole body trembling now, and I started crying again. I couldn’t stop it this time. The memories came flooding back, overwhelming me, and I couldn’t get the words out. I just shook my head, trying to catch my breath between sobs.

Ben’s hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening as his face contorted with rage. “Tell me who the fuck did this!” he shouted, taking a step forward. His voice was thunderous, raw, and filled with a burning anger I’d never seen in him before.

I collapsed onto the bathroom floor, shaking my head. I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t say it out loud. But Ben’s fury didn’t waver. He knelt down beside me, trying to pull me into his arms.

“Please, Y/N, you have to tell me who did this,” he said, his voice quieter now, but still shaking with barely controlled rage. “I’ll make them pay.”

But I couldn’t stop crying long enough to respond. All I could think about was the horror of what had happened, and the terrifying thought of what Ben might do next if he knew.

Ben let go of his anger for a moment, the fire in his eyes dimming as he looked at me. Without a word, he left the room and returned a few minutes later, holding an old shirt and a pair of sweatpants—his own clothes. He handed them to me gently, his expression still tight with restrained fury but softened by something more protective.

"If you tell me where you live, I’ll pick up some clothes for you," he offered, his voice quieter now, trying to keep calm.

I shook my head immediately, panic rising in my chest. My hand clamped onto his wrist, desperate and trembling. "No, please don’t leave me," I whispered, my voice hoarse but clear. It was the first real sentence I’d managed to speak all night, the first words that didn’t feel broken by the weight of what had happened.

Ben’s eyes softened further, and his body seemed to relax as he knelt in front of me again. He reached up, covering my hand with his. "Alright," he said softly. "I won’t leave."

There was something different in his tone now—not the arrogance or the frustration I’d grown so used to, but something steady, grounding. He stayed still, waiting for me to decide what I needed, not pushing, not demanding. Just being there.

The tears slowed, and for the first time since everything happened, I didn’t feel completely alone.

--

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[mattspoetdepartment]

Pumpkins adoption day

This is a collaboration with the incredible and insanely talented @harlowcomehome 🩷🩷🩷 thank you so much for working with me and just everything 🩷🩷

Jack had been having a tough time lately, adjusting to life back home after the whirlwind of his life the last three years.

“Baby” you kissed his shoulder blades as he softly snored beside you.

You knew he had only just fallen asleep after yet another sleepless night. Christmas was around the corner, and he had been overworking himself to get this album done, intending for a late January or early February release.

You went into the guest bathroom and got ready hoping to leave the house before he woke up for the day.

Your phone vibrating as you had finally gotten the call you’d been hoping for.

Jack had been casually mentioning how much he wanted a dog for the past couple of months, often reminiscing about his childhood pet. You had been going to an animal shelter looking for a specific breed, hoping that you’d get lucky.

You remembered how often Jack would tell you how much he loved his family dog and how he wanted the have one of his own someday. Considering how much he had been going through you thought getting him a dog now would somehow make him feel better, or ease the load.

After you had been consistently showing up at the shelter for a while, one of the girls who worked there reached out to you asking what you were looking for and putting you on a list to be called if a dog in that breed ever came in.

You were starting to give up hope until you had gotten the call this morning. Once you had finished getting ready you went into the bedroom to check if Jack was still asleep. When you saw him sleeping you kissed his head gently before quietly leaving, eager to go to the shelter first thing.

You drove down to the shelter, worried they’d place her with someone else if you didn’t hurry.

When you arrived she was up front with the staff, being passed around from arm to arm.

“Where do I sign?” You asked, holding the puppy close to you worried someone would take her away.

The employees smiled at you, printing out the necessary paperwork.

“Would you like to pick out a collar? We usually give out free ones with any adoption!”

You nodded looking through their options before picking out a silky purple one with a bow on it. You slipped it on her admiring how adorable she looked.

“Such a beautiful girl!” You cooed at her, kissing her on the curly head.

After you signed the paperwork she was officially adopted and all yours. You had carefully placed her on a pile of blankets in your passenger seat and wrapped her up in one for security.

You went to the nearest pet store to buy her all the things she needed, knowing full well you were going overboard the second you walked in.

“Your daddy is gonna love you so much,” you said, reaching your hand out to pet her head. You softly giggled noticing her and Jack had matching hairstyles.

Once you had gotten to the pet store you put her in the cart like she was a child.

You were definitely taking this mothering thing to a whole new level with her already.

“Okay, little missy what kind of bed do you want? Looks like we have a sad beige color” You looked at her and smiled when she didn’t find your antics amusing.

“Yeah, I don’t blame you girl, oh what about this pink one!” You held the bed out to her and her tail wagged so you took that as a yes.

“Pink it is! Let’s go find you some toys” Once you had picked out quite a few toys she liked you of course picked up a pink leash to go with her bed.

You also got treats, puppy food, food bowls, and puppy pads thinking you were likely all set.

When you left the store you could hardly contain your excitement.

You made it home safely leaving the bags in the car as you wrapped her in a blanket and walked inside with her.

Jack was in the kitchen making himself something to eat when he heard the door shut.

“I’m making omelets!” He shouted over the music he was currently playing.

“Babe, can you turn that down? You’re scaring her” you stifled a giggle.

“Scaring who?” He turned the music off as he questioned you. Emerging from the kitchen with a spatula in his hands.

He immediately stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes hyper-fixated on the small puppy in your arms.

“Babe” his voice cracked. “Babe, you didn’t.”

“I did” You walked toward him, trading him the puppy for the spatula he was holding.

She started licking his hands immediately, he held her up in the air above him.

“Hi pretty baby” he spoke to her in a soft baby voice that you’d never heard before.

“Is she ours?”

“Yes,” you smiled, going to the kitchen to tend to his food before it burned. You quickly plated it and turned the stove off returning to the living room where Jack was now sitting on the floor with her.

“We have to get you a bed and some food. Yes, we do” Jack spoke to her in the same tone as he booped her nose.

“I actually got all of that, it’s in the car” you smiled before sitting down beside the two of them.

Jack's eyes were glossy and filled with emotion.

“You didn’t have to do this” he whispered as he watched his new fur baby hop around your shared apartment.

“I wanted to” You leaned your head on his shoulder as he kissed the top of your head.

You both had only looked away for a moment before you realized the puppy was out of sight.

“Pumpkin?” Jack panicked the name rolling off his tongue without thinking.

Pumpkin was chewing on a pair of fresh new balance laces in the corner of the room.

“Pumpkin huh?” You giggled as you followed Jack over to her.

“Is that okay? Do you like it? We can change it” he continued rambling only making you giggle once more.

“It’s perfect. Pumpkin is perfect.”

[nastyaromatherapy]

Hiii I love ur work mwah mwah

Could u make some stuff for Gf Ethan as the readers Bf . Like a list of the different things happen to reader that they're unaware is by Ethan to trap her with him.

Ex: As Gf making the reader break her leg or arm so she has to relay on Ethan to take care of her.

Just a list of stuff like that

bf ghostface ethan headcanons 😽

wc: 700+ cw: mentions of sex, sociopathic ethan, reader's colorblind, a little dark but not rlly

๋࣭ ⭑ you met Ethan in econ class when your teacher paired you two for a project. you both hit it off instantly. it didn't take long for y'all to start dating, you making the first move of course.

๋࣭ ⭑ after that, the two of you were inseparable, two peas in a pod. you were never seen without ethan, and you never realized it was all subliminal.

๋࣭ ⭑ ethan was a master manipulator, a sociopath if you will. he wasn't toxic, he wasn't trying to use you, but he needed you. to be around you at all times. he knew someday you would leave him. girls like you didn't like to settle down, and often nice guys finished last. that was his ideology.

๋࣭ ⭑ first, he had to turn you away from your friends. he had to be your only emotional outlet. besides, since your friends were pretty sane, he knew that they would worry for you at some point, and maybe try and drive you away from him, which couldn't happen.

๋࣭ ⭑ he would casually talk about how he didn't like them while on dates, and he'd find the smallest things about your friends to turn you against them,

“the one with the wavy hair, yeah, i think she was kinda, laughing at me. it's okay if i'm embarrassing you, i'll wait in the car.”

๋࣭ ⭑ in turn, you would give the girls a piece of your mind and continued with your life, your long life in his captivity.

๋࣭ ⭑ now friendless, the only person you could talk to was him, which he loved. he loved whenever you were vulnerable and confided in him, even sometimes spilling a bit too much. you knew he had issues and was angry, but you never thought he'd ever actually kill for you.

๋࣭ ⭑ he could never let you know that he's killed before though. he knew you were soft and not like him. he was aware that if you had found out there would be no saving it, no coming back.

๋࣭ ⭑ so he did everything in secret, chalked it up to coincidence. you puked in bed, leading him to have to nurse you back to health? must've been the shrimp. the town is on lockdown due to the deaths recently, all of them being people that you despised or despised you? karma.

๋࣭ ⭑ the sweet boy persona worked so well, even having you fooled. even when he dicked you down into the mattress, claiming you, making you say you'd never leave him and that he was the only boy for you, you thought he just cared about you.

๋࣭ ⭑ he cared about nobody but himself. you were the closest he's ever got to caring for someone. he wanted to hurt anybody who hurt you, going lower than those who went low. but that was because he knew if they really hurt you, you'd be gone, and that wouldn't be good for him. it was always about him.

๋࣭ ⭑ even once, you insisted to go roller skating with some classmates you didn't even classify as friends, yet, but you would. so, he followed you. he couldn't just force you to stay home, but you needed to learn a lesson.

๋࣭ ⭑ he would cower around the rink as Quinn, his accomplice, "accidentally" crashed into you. For safe measure, she cushioned herself with knee and elbow pads. You, already great at skating, had nothing to help break your fall.

๋࣭ ⭑ you yelped loud enough for the whole plex to hear, your arm broken. Quinn was quick to apologize for the "mistake," it all being a face as she shared the same sociopathic traits with her brother.

๋࣭ ⭑ your friends took you to the hospital, and you called him unaware that he was still following you, already on his way.

๋࣭ ⭑ he coddled you when he saw you laying in bed with a cast on your arm, and you were quick to hug him as much as you could.

“I let you out of my sight for a couple of hours, god, promise you won't leave me again.”

“I won't Eth, I'm so sorry. I promise.”

[yumeka-sxf]

I was surprised we got another Yuri-focused chapter so soon, considering we just finished the Mole Hunt arc...but it was a good chapter nonetheless!

Chloe is a great character to help with Yuri's development, the reason being because she not only knows his true identity, but she also has known him for many years, as this chapter reveals. Unlike his superiors, Yuri seems more comfortable with Chloe, probably because she doesn't have authority over him, but she's also not afraid to point out his flaws. So yeah, I'm glad she's becoming a reoccurring character. Yuri really needs someone he can talk to with whom he doesn't have to hide anything from, but who also sticks with him despite knowing how cringe his personality is. I do hope we'll see more of Chloe bringing out Yuri's relatable side in the future.

Speaking of which, Twilight has Franky (and Sylvia somewhat) who fills this role for him - someone he can talk freely with who knows his true identity, but they also sense the goodness in him that he tries to hide. Yor, however, doesn't have anyone like this, at least not yet. Olka filled that role well during the cruise arc, but it's very unlikely we'll see her again. While McMahon and Shopkeeper know Yor's true identity, their relationship with her has been very business-like, not casual like Twilight/Franky and Chloe/Yuri. It almost seems like Melinda could fill that role for Yor, except for the important detail that she doesn't know Yor's true identity...OR DOES SHE???

Anyway, back to today's chapter, we find out that Yuri can also withstand getting hit by vehicles, and both siblings can smell/sense the other's presence!? And yet, a slap from Chloe hurt Yuri more than getting hit by a truck?! I would say that's too much, but I guess it's not that unusual for characters in shonen series 😅But I have to agree with Chloe on this line...

I also find it a bit sad that Yuri thinks Yor wouldn't like the idea of him having a girlfriend. I wish they discussed more about this, but it just goes to show that, as close as Yuri and Yor are, there are some very obvious things about each other that they don't know. Of course we as well as Chloe know that Yor would be happy if Yuri is happy with a girlfriend, or any friend really. But to Yuri, it seems like having an intimate relationship equates to not being diligent enough at his job, maybe? Or maybe he thinks Yor would see it as a betrayal of his dedication to her? Either way, he's flat-out wrong about that obviously. Hopefully he'll realize it someday.

I cracked up when we got the glimpse of all the Yor photos in Yuri's house 😂 I hope Anya visits his home one day...would love to see her expression about this! (also he names his attacks after Yor too, I can't 🤣)

Even though Yuri misunderstood what Chloe meant when she told him not to be so reckless, by the end of the chapter he did have a thought on his own about how getting rid of Loid would make Yor sad. Of course he tries to deny that by bringing up the gripes she supposedly had with him, and of course Yor, who's always so flustered about her feelings, can't straight up tell him that she likes/loves Loid. So back to square one I guess...?

But even though this chapter may turn out like the last one and just be a standalone that doesn't lead to the next big arc, I can't help but think it's hinting at a "Yuri discovers who Twilight really is" scenario. For all we know that could be the first identity reveal of the series. It makes sense since, unlike identity reveals among the Forgers, this wouldn't necessarily result in the series heading towards an end. Even if Yuri discovered Twilight's identity, he could choose to keep it to himself for a while and nothing else would change. I don't like to speculate too much, but I feel this is a possibility with all the "Yuri vs Twilight" mentions we've had lately.

As always, just gotta wait and see!

[tenkasato]

HIIIII HOW ARE U LOL

so uh I love Akashi and I've always wondered what if his two personalities were twins? Oreshi (original) named Akashi and Bokushi (2nd persona) named Seijuro? And they had 1 s/o? This can be anything you like, hcs, one shot, I don't mind. Some ideas could be like their dynamic, the relationship between brothers and how s/o handles it, the difference between personalities of the twins and their own relationship with s/o? If you wanted to add a little nsfw you can as well- really anything you want

THANK YOUOUUUU❤

Dear anon, there are too many things we could cover and unfortunately I couldn't write all of them. This is a great concept. Maybe someday I could explore more and write them (such as interactions with the rest of the GOMs), but for now, here's what I came up with. Hope you enjoy! And again, apologies for the delay. ^^

Pairings: Bokushi x reader, Oreshi x reader

Having a twin could be a double-edged sword. On one hand, Seijuro was glad he had someone to hold intelligent conversations with (let’s be honest, the only mentally stimulating exchanges he had was with his brother). On the other hand, someone else knew his imperfections more than he did. For example, he owned an old, atrocious-looking stuffed donkey and hugged it to sleep. Akashi never uttered a word about it, but the judgemental looks the elder twin gave always left a bad taste in his mouth. Such things like these were blackmail material.

Seijuro and Akashi were both geniuses when it came to strategic board games. Their classmates placed bets whenever they clashed in the club. The twins both knew this. So, they would sometimes ocherstate a scripted game just so they could fool around with their classmates who bet their whole allowance for the wround. The two were just mischievous like that.

(It was only Midorima who knew, being the one who played the two most often.)

They go to different sections—Seijuro in Class 2B and Akashi in Class 2A. Sometimes, they’d be in a mood to prank people (again). “Nee-san, how about we exchange places today?” A chuckle, followed by a shake of the head. “How childish. Let’s do it.”

(This time, not even Midorima caught wind of it. The twins just knew each other so much not one person had looked twice).

Whenever he felt safe and relaxed, Akashi snored, quite loudly and ungracefully like a sleep deprived wild boar. Seijuro kept this secret to preserve the family name, but when push came to shove, he’d have no qualms using this as his blackmail material.

Akashi and Seijuro rarely lost their cools against each other. Sure, they disagreed a lot, but they always respected each other. (They absolutely adored and cared deeply for each other, pun unintended). They’d try to give way to each other as much as possible… except when it came to you.

It was Akashi who met you first, meek and thoughtful as you read a book from the library which he’d been looking for all morning. You raised your eyes when you noticed him, then you delivered him a half-smile. Akashi swore he had never seen anything this beautiful since his mother.

One day, Seijuro had not so casually mentioned about you. “I will pursue her.” Akashi had so many questions. How did he meet you? How can he be so sure about you this early, when Akashi was just starting to get to know you? But one look into those heterochromic eyes, Akashi knew Seijuro was dead set on making you his. With pursed lips, Akashi  decided he wasn't simply going to hand you over.

It was cute at first. You couldn't deny that you actually liked them and that you enjoyed their company. But you’ve heard how intense the two could be. You hadn't expected that it was applicable to them trying to win your attention. 

Akashi would gift you with grand bouquets of roses. Seijuro would bring you home every day (how is it that they have two different cars). Akashi would play the violin for you. Seijuro would write you poems. 

“They're a bit old-fashioned, huh? Akashi-un and Seijuro-kun,” Momoi pointed out. You stared at the latest handwritten letter from Seijuro, blushing profusely as you did so. You shook your head and surrendered to a soft chuckle. “Unfortunately I’m into those types.” 

No one directly confessed to you, but one didn't need those when he had been so blatant about their feelings towards you. 

You were there during the fall out. —“You didn't have to hurt them like that.” “If I hadn't, the team would've fallen apart. You were simply too weak to handle them. I had to step forward.” “Watch your words, Seijuro.”—And it had hurt you as much as it hurt Kuroko and the others. Your heart bled for them. You tried to be there for both Akashi and Seijuro, but what could little old you do anyway?

“Akashi, how can I help?” A smile,one that was strewn with grief and regret. “You being here for me is enough help.”

“Seijuro, talk to me.” He leaned towards you, head resting on your shoulder as your breath hitched. “There isn't anything wrong.”

Honestly, if you could give them both half of your hearts just to steal some of the pain, you would.

Years later, when friendships were mended, resentment vanquished, you stepped into a quiet coffee shop that Momoi showed you. A reunion with the rest of the gang wasn't something you expected to happen, but you were grateful. So grateful you had to hold back the tears when you came inside and see them bickering and laughing like old times. 

The twins were first to notice your presence. “Hey,” they both said in unison, and you had to stifle the laughter as you ambled forward. An empty seat was situated between the two, and you knew they had reserved it especially for you. Sighing good-naturedly, you plopped down in the middle and said, “I swear, you two.”

What a pain.

Bonus

Akashi absolutely abhorred Seijuro cutting his bangs unevenly like that on his own. Being the more “mature” brother, he made no comment. It was a difficult time for Seijuro after all. 

However, years after that, Akashi would bring it up, and call it his “rebellious stage”. 

Watch Akashi show pictures of said rebellious stage every high school reunion.

Watch Akashi send pictures of Seijuro's hideous bangs to your messenger 3AM in the morning.