#truly that is just the nature of the studio | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mephisto-reporting · 4 months ago

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In Those Little Things With Rafayel

Plot: You adapt and adjust your routines to make your fishie more comfortable, more loved. But little did fishie know that these things were what makes you indispensable to him. This request was the reason for this fic Pairing: Reader x Rafayel (can be MC or non MC) Note: Rafayel and reader are in a relationship. This is purely fluffy. If you want to be included in my taglist, please let me know in DMs, Comments or my inbox.

The art studio smelled faintly of turpentine and paint, a mingling of chaos and creation. Rafayel sat cross-legged on the floor, a canvas propped against his knee, his brush moving with a flourish as streaks of fiery orange and deep indigo merged into a seascape that looked more like a dream than reality. He hummed a low tune to himself, though it faltered as you set a mug of coffee—exactly how he liked it—on the small table by his side.

He didn’t acknowledge you at first, too focused on his painting, but the slight tilt of his head told you he knew you were there.

“You’re predictable, you know,” he said after a moment, his voice dripping with his usual teasing tone. “Let me guess. Coffee, my way?”

“You’re welcome,” you replied, crossing your arms. “And yes. Two sugars, no cream. But I made sure it’s not too hot this time. You complained last time, remember?”

He glanced at you then, his dual-toned eyes catching the light, a spark of amusement dancing in their depths. “Oh, so you do listen. How charming.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t miss the faint blush that dusted his cheeks. You sat a few feet away, cross-legged on the floor, a book in your lap as you stole glances at him. It had become your routine to quietly occupy yourself while he painted. You knew better than to disturb him when he was in the middle of a creative streak, but you also knew he liked having you nearby. There was something grounding about your presence, something that softened the sharp edges of his usually aloof demeanor.

“Do you ever get tired of just sitting there?” he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. He didn’t look at you, but the faintest smile played at the corner of his lips.

“Do you ever get tired of painting the same thing over and over again?” you shot back, smirking.

“Touché.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder at you. “But for the record, my work is timeless. Yours is… well, questionable at best.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a laugh. “My ‘questionable’ work brought you snacks, didn’t it?” You gestured to the small plate of fruit and crackers you’d set beside him earlier.

“Hmph,” he muttered, grabbing a piece of fruit and popping it into his mouth. “Fine. I’ll allow it.”

This was how it always went—Rafayel’ s bratty attitude paired with your patience. Over time, you’d learned to see through his barbs and teases, recognizing the warmth he tried so hard to hide. It showed in the small things: how he never truly asked you to leave, how his brushstrokes slowed when he noticed you were watching, how he’d sigh dramatically but let you adjust the light in the studio so he wouldn’t strain his eyes.

And it wasn’t just in the studio. It was in everything you did. You couldn’t pinpoint the moment you’d started making small changes for him, but they had become second nature.

You remembered your last trip abroad. While you had picked up the usual trinkets and souvenirs, you’d gone out of your way to find something special for Rafayel—a small, intricately carved figurine of a Lemurian charm. When you’d handed it to him, his eyes had widened, and for a moment, he’d just stared at it in stunned silence.

“It’s nothing special.” you’d said, trying to downplay it. “I just thought you’d like it.”

He’d scoffed, his ears turning red. “Obviously. You have decent taste, cuite.”

When you’d brought him a rare shell from a coastal village a few months back, he’d stared at it in stunned silence for so long you thought you’d done something wrong.

“Where did you even find this?” he’d asked, holding the shell up to the light.

“I saw it in a shop and thought of you,” you’d replied casually, as though it hadn’t taken half a day of bargaining with a grumpy shopkeeper to convince him to part with it. Rafayel had turned away quickly, muttering something about you being “too much.” though you didn’t miss the way his fingers lingered on the shell, tracing its delicate patterns.

From that moment, it became a habit. Wherever you went, you’d return with something small but thoughtful—a book on ancient Lemurian myths, a sketchpad made from handmade paper, even a piece of driftwood that reminded you of one of his paintings. Each time, his reaction was the same: a scoff, a dramatic roll of his eyes, and a mumbled, “You’re insufferable.” But the way he carefully placed each gift on his shelf told you all you needed to know.

Then there was the time you cooked shellfish for him, even though you were allergic. You remembered how his jaw had dropped when you set the dish down in front of him.

“Are you insane?” he’d asked, staring at you like you’d grown a second head. “You could die just touching this!”

“I’m not that fragile…” you’d replied, laughing at his exaggerated concern. “And I made something else for myself. Relax.”

“Relax?!” he repeated, his voice rising a pitch. “You’re literally risking your life just to feed me! This is madness!”

You’d only shrugged, brushing off his dramatics, but the way he devoured the meal told you he appreciated it more than he let on.

Then there were the major changes you made for him, for things he probably thought went unnoticed by you. Like how you moved your rental apartment from the third floor to the ground floor after you realized his fear of heights. He’d never said it outright, of course, but the way he avoided your balcony like the plague was a dead giveaway. He’d pretended not to notice at first, but one morning, as you sat together on the balcony with coffee, he’d murmured, “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“I know,” you’d said, smiling. “But I wanted to.”

He’d gone quiet after that, fiddling with his mug as a faint blush spread across his cheeks.

There were so many moments like these. You’d always make time for his galleries, no matter how busy you were, standing in the crowd with a proud smile as he presented his latest masterpiece. You’d memorized how he liked his coffee, how he sometimes liked snacks while he painted and other times didn’t, and how he’d pout if you didn’t let him go first during a game of Kitty Cards.

And then there was the way he indulged you too, even if he’d never admit it. He’d listen (mostly) patiently when you rambled about your hobbies, offering the occasional sarcastic comment but never actually telling you to stop. He’d pause his painting to help you carry something heavy or fix something in your apartment, grumbling all the while but never refusing.

You were different for him. He’d never say it outright, but you could see it in the way his teasing softened around you, in the way he let you see parts of himself he kept hidden from the rest of the world. To others, he was aloof, cunning, and untouchable. But with you, he was bratty, dramatic, flirty and—when he thought you weren’t looking—vulnerable.

But lately, you’d noticed something a little different.

It started with small, subtle things. Like the way he’d hang around you more often than usual, offering “advice” on your projects when he wasn’t even asked. He’d randomly appear by your side when you were reading, throwing his arm around your shoulder and acting as if he had better things to do—despite clearly not wanting to leave.

“You’re reading that again?” he’d scoff, his chin resting on your shoulder as he peeked at your book. “Couldn’t you pick something better?”

You’d grinned, nudging him off. “Says the man who stares at the same canvas for hours.”

The more you did for him, the more he found himself unable to ignore the fact that you were slowly but surely becoming indispensable to him. He’d always been used to taking care of things on his own, to relying on his own charm and wit to navigate the world. But you? You were different.

He never expected you to be the one to adjust your life to fit into his, but somehow, you’d managed to do just that. At first, he’d brushed it off, telling himself that it was nothing special. After all, it was just a few adjustments. Moving your apartment to the ground floor, bringing him snacks, going to every gallery opening without complaint. Nothing too remarkable, right?

But then it started happening more and more.

You stood in the doorway of your guest bedroom, surveying the space. You had cleared out the clutter, shifting furniture around to make room for his materials. The bare walls, once adorned with your own eclectic taste, now felt like a blank canvas for his work.

As you worked, you heard him outside the room. “Is this it?” Rafayel asked, peering in from the doorway, looking at the setup you had prepared for him. His eyes moved over the rearranged furniture, the large desk by the window, the extra shelf you had cleared for his materials.

You nodded, giving him a slight smile. "Thought it might make for a good workspace. I’m sure it’ll be cozy enough."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Cozy, huh? Well, as long as it’s functional, that’s all that matters.”

He stepped inside, glancing over the scattered papers and books you had placed neatly on the desk. “I’m starting to think you have a secret obsession with me. First, the little things, now this.” His voice was laced with teasing, but there was a certain warmth to it too. You didn’t respond, instead turning to gather the last of the supplies for him.

He caught your eye as you worked, his expression changing ever so slightly. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. But I guess I do appreciate it.” He offered you a quick, almost awkward smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks. Just, don’t expect me to start painting you any damn portraits or anything.”

You chuckled under your breath, watching as he turned toward the desk, already eyeing the pile of books you had set out for him. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you teased back.

The room felt less like a guest bedroom and more like a space that belonged to him now, the air thick with the scent of books and paint. It wasn’t exactly what you had imagined, but somehow, it felt right.

Even your habits started mimicking his. It wasn’t intentional at first. You had simply chosen a deep purple scarf to go with your outfit that day—an old piece you hadn’t worn in ages. As you checked yourself in the mirror, adjusting the soft fabric, you realized that you had unconsciously paired it with a sea-blue blouse and white pants.

When Rafayel arrived, you could almost see the flash of recognition in his eyes. He stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at you as if trying to piece something together.

"Is that...?" He trailed off, eyebrows knitting together in confusion before he smirked, that trademark playful gleam in his gaze. "Matching my colors now, are we?"

You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled out of you, adjusting the scarf once again. “I didn’t think it was a big deal,” you said, shrugging nonchalantly.

He crossed the threshold and came closer, eyeing the colors of your outfit. “No, it’s definitely intentional,” he teased. “Purple, white, sea blue... You’re starting to blend in with my aesthetic.”

You shot him a playful glance, shaking your head. “I didn’t realize you had such an ‘aesthetic.’”

He gave a dramatic sigh. “I’m a man of style. You should try to keep up.” His voice held that familiar mix of arrogance and amusement, but there was a subtle pride in the way he looked at you, the corner of his mouth twitching as if trying to hide something more genuine.

“Don’t get too excited,” you quipped, running a hand through your hair. “It’s just a coincidence.”

“Sure, sure,” he muttered with a knowing grin, giving you one last scrutinizing look before turning away. “But I’ll admit it—seeing you in my colors isn’t half-bad.”

The comment made your heart flutter, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you simply smiled and shook your head, feeling a warmth spread in your chest.

And then there was your enthusiasm to learn Lemurian. You sat across from Rafayel, the soft hum of the evening filling the air as the warm glow of the lamp illuminated the pages of the text, he had given you earlier. You were holding the ancient Lemurian textbook with a certain amount of awe, the foreign symbols dancing across the pages in an almost hypnotic swirl.

"Okay, let’s try this one again," Rafayel said, his voice a little softer than usual, though you could still hear the playful edge beneath it. "You’ll need to pronounce the vowels differently. Remember— ‘a’ is ‘ah’, not ‘uh.’"

You squinted at the strange script, nodding with determination. “So… ‘Rala… rah’?” Your attempt was far from perfect, but you felt like you were getting somewhere.

Rafayel’s lips twitched at the sound, and you could see a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He leaned forward; his arms folded across his chest as he tried to hide the soft amusement in his eyes. "Not bad," he teased lightly. "Though it’s more like… ‘Raaa-lah’… with emphasis, like you mean it. You sound like you're hesitating."

You let out a groan, embarrassed, but refused to give up. “This is harder than it looks! How did you learn it so quickly?”

He chuckled, leaning back and giving a shrug, his smile widening at your frustration. "I’ve had more practice, that’s all. I’ve been hearing it for as long as I can remember." His voice dropped just slightly, becoming more thoughtful. "It’s my native tongue, after all… though a dead one, unfortunately."

You furrowed your brow, half-sensing the weight behind his words. He’d been raised with this language, but you could tell there was something more to it than mere fluency.

Rafayel raised an eyebrow, his voice becoming teasing again. "You just need to relax. And don't rush it. Take your time."

You focused, clearing your throat. “Fine. Fine. Rala… rah…”

You could swear that this time there was a subtle blush creeping up his neck, though he quickly masked it with a grin. "Hmm… not bad, but you’re still not quite hitting the right tone," he said with an exaggerated sigh, though the teasing lilt in his voice betrayed his soft spot for you.

You couldn't help but smirk at his response. "Oh? And what's the right tone, then?"

Rafayel leaned in a little, his voice turning even softer as he spoke the word again, his accent almost melodic. "Rala… rah…" His lips curled in a smile that seemed both fond and slightly embarrassed.

For a moment, you just stared at him, surprised at how his voice seemed to change when speaking the words in his native tongue. There was something almost sacred about the way he spoke the syllables, and you could tell it was a part of him that wasn’t easily shared with just anyone.

“You sound…” you hesitated, unsure of how to phrase it. “You sound different when you say it.”

He blinked at you, his smile fading just slightly before he leaned back and cleared his throat, trying to regain his usual confidence. "I’m just making sure you’re doing it right." But the blush on his face was undeniable now.

“Sure, sure,” you said teasingly, feeling a little triumphant. “You just don’t want me to butcher your precious language.”

Rafayel huffed and rolled his eyes, but you could tell that the teasing wasn’t entirely genuine. "Oh, please. As if you could ever butcher something so beautiful." His voice was a little more sincere than you expected, and you caught the wistfulness behind it, even though he tried to cover it up with his usual teasing demeanor.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him—trying so hard to maintain his usual bravado but failing to hide the warmth in his eyes. It was moments like these that made the lessons feel less about learning a language and more about getting to know him in ways you never expected.

“Well, I guess I’m improving,” you said lightly, trying to steer the conversation back to something playful.

He smirked, though there was a soft flush still lingering in his cheeks. “Yes, but you’re not getting away that easily. Try again, but this time, put some feeling into it.”

You mimicked his earlier attempt, this time adding a little more of the tone he was asking for. As soon as the words left your mouth, you saw his blush deepen, and his teasing smile waver.

"Now you’re just trying to make me blush, aren’t you?" he said, though his voice had softened with something almost tender. You caught a glimpse of something that looked like admiration—and embarrassment—flashing in his eyes before he quickly turned his gaze away.

You chuckled softly, enjoying the way the lessons had become more than just learning a language. They’d turned into something a little more... intimate, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful for it. "Guess I’ll have to keep practicing then, huh? I can do so after work. I’ll put in a few hours for it."

You always made sure he had what he needed, even if it meant sacrificing your own comfort. His heart had raced, and he knew that something had shifted. The way he felt about you was no longer something he could hide behind his usual aloof exterior.

From that point on, his clinginess began to show in all sorts of subtle ways.

During your usual gallery visits, Rafayel would no longer keep his distance as much. He’d stand close to you, hovering near your side, his hand occasionally brushing against yours. He’d pretend it was by accident, but the way he lingered was all too obvious.

“You can’t leave me alone for a second, huh?” you teased one afternoon when you felt his hand settle on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd.

He scoffed, but his ears flushed pink, his eyes avoiding yours. “You’re just... distracting, okay? I can’t focus with you looking all... cute.”

“Cute?” you echoed, surprised by his admission.

He immediately turned away, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Forget I said that. You’re not cute. You’re—”

“Not cute at all?” you finished for him, amusement in your voice.

His response was a dramatic huff, a slight whine escaping him. “Fine. You’re perfect, okay? But stop distracting me. I have work to do.”

You chuckled, noting how tightly he kept his arm around you as you walked to the next room of paintings.

On your next business trip, he found himself waiting by the door when you got back from your trip. He’d pretended to be busy with something on his phone, but the moment you walked in, his usual playful demeanor slipped.

He couldn’t help himself. He’d gone up to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you close in a way that was unmistakably clingy. It wasn’t like him at all, but when you’d leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, he’d quickly turned his head and stolen a kiss on your lips instead, his heartbeat rapid.

“You’re late…” he muttered, his voice low and slightly sulky.

“I wasn’t even gone that long.” you teased, smiling as you pulled away, but his arms stayed firmly wrapped around you. He didn’t want to let you go.

“I missed you.” he said, his voice soft and surprisingly sincere for someone who usually wore such a careless mask.

You raised an eyebrow at him, noticing the slight blush creeping up on his cheeks. “Oh? You, the great Rafayel, missed little ol’ me?”

He let out a dramatic sigh, though the playful edge in his voice was gone. “Yes, yes, it’s terribly tragic. I’m just a lovesick fish now…” he teased, though the hint of vulnerability in his voice made it hard to believe he wasn’t speaking the truth. “Do you realize how long you’ve been gone?” he whined; his voice muffled against your shoulder. “It’s been forever. I almost went insane.”

You smirked, patting his back as if consoling a child. “I was only gone for a few days, Rafayel.”

“I don’t care. Days is as good as an eternity” he grumbled; his voice muffled against your shoulder.

And you realized, in that moment, that your small, quiet acts of affection for him had transformed into something more than either of you had anticipated. You knew that you were just as much a part of his world as he was a part of yours.

When you looked up at him, a soft smile on your face, he’d finally admitted what he’d known for a while but couldn’t bring himself to voice:

“I think I might be in trouble.”

“In trouble?” you asked, your voice teasing but with a hint of curiosity. “With what?”

He sighed, his grip tightening slightly around you, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. “With you,” he murmured, barely above a whisper, as if admitting it out loud made it more real. “I’ve been trying to ignore it, but... you make everything harder to ignore. I don’t know how to make sense of it, but I don’t want to fight it anymore.”

You blinked, processing the words that fell so freely from his lips. Rafayel—aloof, sarcastic, always in control—had just admitted to being unsure. And it wasn’t just about his work or his usual stubbornness; it was about you.

The realization hit him like a wave, crashing against his chest, and suddenly the studio didn’t feel like just a place of creation anymore. It was a place where something deeper was growing, something between you both that had been simmering under the surface for a while.

“I’m saying you’ve been on my mind,” Rafayel said, his tone half defensive, half earnest. “More than I’d like to admit. I’ve never been good at handling things like this, and I don’t really know what it means. I just know I don’t want to mess this up.”

His usual bravado was nowhere to be found, and what remained was the side of him that you rarely saw—the side that needed to let down his walls, if only for a moment.

You blinked again, processing his words, then a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “Rafayel...” you started, as if tasting the sound of his name in this context was something new. “You’re not messing anything up. I’ve been... I’ve been right here all along. And well,” you said softly, “if it makes you feel any better, I think I’m in the same kind of trouble.”

His gaze flickered to yours, and you could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He looked at you as if he was waiting for you to laugh, to dismiss it as some sort of joke. But you didn’t.

“I think I’m in trouble, too,” you repeated, your voice steady and sure. “Maybe even more than you.”

A beat passed, and Rafayel let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing for the first time since you’d walked through the door. The corners of his lips curled upward, that familiar, teasing smirk returning, but now it had a different kind of warmth to it.

“You’re not as good at hiding it as you think,” he said, his tone still playful but with a hint of affection. “You’re just as bad as I am.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Guess we’re both in over our heads then.”

“You’ve ruined me, you know that?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying the weight of something much heavier than just simple frustration. “I was fine before you came around, convinced I didn’t need anyone. But now? Now I can’t seem to get you out of my head. You’ve completely messed with my mind, and I can’t—” he paused, a low exhale escaping him. “I can’t imagine being without you anymore.”

He reached up, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers trembling ever so slightly against your skin. “And, honestly, I don’t think I want to. You’ve ruined me for anyone else. Not that I need anyone else when you’re around.” His voice cracked just slightly as he admitted it, the weight of his words hanging heavily between you. You could hear the love in his tone, the longing, the quiet desperation he always tried to bury under layers of sarcasm and bravado. But now, in this moment, it was all laid bare, raw and unfiltered.

It wasn’t just his admission of vulnerability—it was the way he stood there, so completely bare and open in a way he never had before.

“Well,” you said with sincerity, “lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere.”

"You don't have to say anything," he said, his voice hoarse, pulling you closer. "But just know that I’m ruined for anyone else. I don't want anyone else, and I don't ever want to let you go."

There was no teasing in his voice now. No sarcasm. Just the overwhelming sincerity of someone who had let their guard down, vulnerable and exposed. And for once, you could see him for what he truly was—entirely yours. And you? You were unapologetically his.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace @sinsodom

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nazo-kg · 6 months ago

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'The Sun Rises Once More'

That Okami sequel announcement, man...

There were tears....I'm so happy.

Also I merged all the layers to check something and then couldn't undo it because I'm stupid so if something looks a bit weird, it's probably because of that.

For context, Okami is my favourite game of all time.

It holds a lot of emotional weight for me, and it really inspired younger me to look at art, and honestly even video games, in a different way.

I adore that it's a love letter to nature and Japanese mythology, and even though it's a long game, I wouldn't have it any other way. I feel like if it weren't as long as it is, it wouldn't feel as grand and climactic. The opening, with this in mind, echoes this fact, as though it's foreshadowing.

However, thanks to this, the ending leaves you feeling like you really went on a big adventure, and met loads and loads of different characters.

It's such an important piece of media, and a treasure to not only the medium of video games, but also just art as a whole. There hasn't been anything like it before, and hasn't been anything quite like it afterwards either (Okamiden doesn't count).

One thing that really made me emotional is that the new studio developing the sequel is called Clovers...as a tribute to Clover Studio; a studio that truly deserved better for making such unique, innovative and charming games. Its legacy lives on.

Everything about the announcement felt magical; Geoff choking up presenting it. The first shamisen pluck that opened the scene, the notes reminiscent of "A Giant Monster in Wait" from the Okami soundtrack. The goosebumps hearing the instruments. The tentative shots of a creature sprinting through a forest, cleverly masked. And then finally getting the full view of Ammy, and the rest of the instruments join in unison to recite a blissful rendition of "The Sun Rises"...Then it's shown Kamiya is at the helm.

It felt as though the stars had aligned.

It was a stunning, magical reveal, and to put into words just how ecstatic and excited I am, is impossible.

#fanart #digitalart #videogame #painting #okami #okami sequel #okami amaterasu #okami fanart #amaterasu #artists on tumblr

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aeristudios · 4 months ago

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Stupid Cupid

➻❥ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You are madly in love with your best friend and it's eating you alive. One day you will tell him how you feel, but you have to deal with his girlfriend first.

➻❥ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: best friend!hansol x reader

➻❥ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 18+, roommates au, best friends to ?, angst, fluff, smut

➻❥ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, jealousy, fight is kind of intense, kissing, protected sex, nipple play?, fingering, oral (f. receiving), masturbation, missionary, multiple orgasms?

➻❥ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 9.1k

➻❥ 𝐀𝐍: This for the collab "Lonely Hearts Cafe", hosted by @camandemstudios. This story truly stressed me out and I couldn't have gotten through it without @yoongihan, @seokgyuu, @okiedokrie and & @haologram for looking at this for me. I don't do well with deadlines and the words just weren't coming to me naturally. It was eating me up and giving me headaches lol. I hope despite that, you all like this labor of love 😭

You are in love with Hansol.

Hopelessly, stupidly, trip over your feet when he’s around, butterflies in your stomach kind of love. He’s everything you could want in a guy and your best friend, someone you can just chill with no expectations. You both love Star Wars, attend anime cons together, and are allergic to peanuts. You share a home with him and it feels like home in your heart when he’s near. You’re in love with Hansol. There is only one problem: he has an on-and-off girlfriend.

A girlfriend you particularly hate.

Kelsey is always around, taking up your space, and it’s aggravating. You wish you could say that it’s not serious, but to your chagrin, they have been on and off for a couple of years. It’s bad enough that you can’t tell Hansol how you feel, but then you have his girlfriend, a huge social media influencer, always at your condo every time you’re there. You would think she would like to take her “influence " elsewhere. It’s exacerbating.

“Hey there girl,” Kelsey calls out as you walk to the kitchen. She is sprawled out with her laptop on your living room floor rug, wearing a cut-off shirt, the tiniest shorts you have ever seen, and knee-high socks. Where does she live again?

“What’s up?” you respond, barely hiding the irritation in your voice.

“Oof, you’re definitely not a morning person,” she scoffs. “Do you think you can stay out tonight? Vernon has this Hollywood thing he has to attend to tonight, and he is stressed about it. So I want to help him relax if you know what I mean.”

You raise your eyebrows at her referring to him as Vernon, which he only tells his coworkers to call him. Hansol is a cinematographer, and a damned good one. He works for a major film studio and is invited to parties all the time. He only goes for the free food and booze, he says, because those people don’t care about anything but themselves and their pockets, let alone pronouncing his first name correctly.

Kelsey is not a coworker; she is, unfortunately, his girlfriend. Why doesn’t she call him by his preferred name?

“What does you wanting to help Hansol relax have to do with me being here?” you ask, making yourself a cup of coffee.

“Well.” She clicks her tongue. “It’ll be pretty awkward for me to be blowing his brains out while you’re here, ya know?”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from saying what is on your mind, instead focusing on making your elaborate coffee with whipped cream and caramel syrup on top. This girl really has some nerve.

“Kelsey,” you let out a small sigh. “I’m not leaving my house because you want to fuck. Do whatever you please.” You slam the whipped cream can on the container. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”

Irritated, you walk past her and speed into the hallway, almost running into Hansol, who is leaving his bedroom. Wearing a red shirt and pajama pants, he has bedroom hair and a hint of sleep in his eyes. He looks adorable.

“Where are you running off to?” His voice is deep and groggy.

“I am running away from that peach of a girlfriend you have in there.” You roll your eyes. “Plus, I have to get ready for work.”

“Oh no, what did she do now?”

“Nothing, aside from asking me to stay out of the condo that I pay for tonight so she can fuck you as loud as she wants,” you say bluntly.

Hansol’s eyes widen in shock, the little sleepiness he had evaporated. “She didn’t say that?”

“She just about said that,” you sigh, leaning on the wall. “Look, I have to get ready for my day, but we have to have a conversation later. Not tonight, because I know that party is happening. But at some point, we do.”

“Okay,” he says, looking at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” you sigh again, deeply this time. “Let’s just chat soon, okay?”

You step into your room and shut the door, your heart beating out of your chest. That was not a conversation you want to have early in the morning, and Kelsey being around more and more makes you erratic. Eventually, a conversation will have to be had about how much time she is spending here and everything. But right now, you will sip your elaborate coffee and try to get through the day.

You met Hansol on the first day of college. You needed help finding your classes and ironically you shared some classes required for your majors. You wanted to be a film director and figured a film studies degree would get you there. Hansol loved being behind the camera, recording the magic in front of him. You shared the same study group and met your other best friends, Minghao and Wonwoo. Minghao has a good eye for design and wanted to work on set designs and costumes while Wonwoo is equally obsessed with cameras, often geeking out with Hansol about the different models they wanted to collect one day. You even lived together at one point, your friendship group known as the “core four”, until one by one, everyone moved out and it was just you and him.

You didn’t fall in love with him right away. It was a slow, simmering thing that snuck in and robbed your heart and mind before you realized it. You were together all the time and enjoyed the same things. You’ve seen each other at your worst, depended on each other, and celebrated your successes together. Hansol was your go-to for everything, and you didn’t realize until he started dating Kelsey that you were in love. But how can you tell him that?

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

Minghao sits next to you during your lunch break the same day, bringing you meat and stir fry that he brought from home. His girlfriend, Mei, who is an excellent cook and very sweet, sent you a text this morning that she was bringing some with him to the studio today. You worked for a major studio as an SFX artist, falling in love with prosthetics and makeup in one of your courses and deciding to pursue that instead. You still have your bachelors in film studies and your love for film hasn’t changed; you just went on a different path. You’re happier for it.

“Thank you for the food,” you breathe, purposely dodging his question.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, handing you Tupperware of colorful stir fry. “What’s wrong?”

“What makes you think anything is wrong with me?”

Minghao raises an eyebrow with a familial side-eye as he distributes utensils, the kind of look parents give you when they know you’re telling a lie. He knows you so well, and he has always been good at reading people. You can talk to him about anything, and he is going to give you the hard truth, even if you don’t want to hear it. After a moment, you tell him what happened this morning and he is silent, taking it all in.

“She is really getting on my nerves,” you huff, accidentally slamming your plastic fork on the table. Your colleagues around you look in your direction nervously, and you are mortified, wishing you could wiggle your nose and disappear like the genie on the old TV show.

“Are you sure it’s because of her, or is it because of him?” Minghao asks casually, taking a sip of his tea.

“W-what do you mean?” you play aloof, not wanting to open another can of worms. “This has nothing to do with Hansol, though I wish he would tell her to not come over to our place all the time. I don’t get what he even sees in her.”

“Sure,” he says with a smirk, barely containing his amusement. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you are in love with him.”

“Ugh,” you groan, sliding further in your seat. “I wish I never told you that.”

“You didn’t have to.” His smile widening into a teasing grin. “Even the blind could see your bleeding heart for him.”

“Yeah, apparently everyone can but him,” you mutter, taking a stab at your food.

Minghao chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Well don’t take your frustration out on the food. Mei put a lot of love into that.”

You mumble “sorry”, feeling guilty and eating your food in silence. If it were another day and you were in a better mood, you would savor it more. But all you want is for the work day to end, so you can curl in your bed and figure out how to navigate this unrequited love.

“What if I told him how I felt?”

You look up slowly at your friend, gauging his reaction. He already has the look of disapproval, and your stomach is in knots.

“Yeah, that’s a terrible idea,” he says firmly. “Do you really want to start drama in the middle of the busiest season for us? Not to mention Kelsey will blast this all over social media.”

“I’m not scared of her,” you shoot back defiantly, crossing your arms.

Minghao chuckles again, but it is lighter and paired with concern in his eyes. “Just think it through okay? Things are already complicated, and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

He places a supportive hand on your shoulder as he packs up what’s left of his lunch and goes back to work. You sigh, knowing that he’s right, but it still doesn’t make it easier to hear.

You planned to sleep through whatever escapade Kelsey had in mind with Hansol. You had your nightly tea with cinnamon horchata and set your phone to play ambient/vaporwave music to drown out whatever noise they might bring. They aren’t exactly the quietest people when they are in the mood, and you have been dreading it since this morning.

A lot of times you have wondered what it would be like to experience him for the first time. You’ve heard enough of them to have an idea of what he is like, but it’s different from actually feeling him inside you, with his hands caressing your body. You want to feel his lips on yours and your skin against his. Is it possible to crave something that you’ve never had? You are tired of hearing the headboard banging against the wall and the moans that follow soon after. You are irritated with it all— You wish it were you instead.

You heard the security system beep when the front door opened, and you lay in bed, waiting for the inevitable shuffling of feet and sloppy kisses that would follow after. Your stomach turns at the thought of her hands all over him, whispering sweet things in his ear that have no meaning. Silence ensues, leaving you confused, and your nosiness gets the best of you. Slowly getting out of bed, you slip into your house shoes, exiting your room quietly as you brace yourself for the grand display of affection you were used to seeing. Instead, you find Hansol on the couch, taking a hit of his vape, tiredness etching around his eyes.

“How was the party?” You probe, taking a seat next to him and crossing your legs. “You look partied out.”

“It was alright,” he mumbles, taking another hit of his vape.

“Alright?” You quirk an eyebrow. “You have been talking about this party all month and it was just alright?”

You noticed his disposition and you don’t want to pry, but his nonchalant attitude is eating at you. Hansol can be hard to read sometimes, but you know him. He’s quiet with everyone else but not with you—he tells you everything.

“Tell me what’s happened.”

Hansol reluctantly answers, sighing heavily as he takes one more vape hit before setting it on the armrest. You move closer to him, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Kelsey and I broke up again,” he said, the heaviness of his words linger in the air. The sadness in his voice is clear, and it hurts you to see him upset. “She wanted to bring a friend to the party and you can’t exactly do that. So when I told her no, she got all pissed at me, we argued and she broke up with me.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the right words. “I’m really sorry, Hansol. Despite how I feel about her, I know you really love her, and being broken up with sucks.”

He looks at you, his brown eyes reflecting a mix of tiredness and frustration. “She said it was more than just not letting her bring her friend to the party. She says I never consider her feelings and that’s not true. It just feels like we’re always going in circles. One minute, we’re good; the next, it’s like… it never even mattered.”

“Yeah, that can be exhausting,” you pause, wanting to say more but unsure how to articulate the feelings that bubble beneath the surface. This is not their first break up, but it affects him all the same. Seeing Hansol be madly in love with someone who keeps taking advantage of him burns you to your core. He doesn’t deserve that. He deserves someone who will take care of him with love and respect. Someone who values his ideas and cares about him as a person. You would give him the world if you could.

“I hope I am not overstepping,” you say cautiously. “But this isn’t your first rodeo. Why do you keep going back?”

His silence is deafening, and he has an uncomfortable expression on his face as he tries to find the right words to say. “Look, Kelsey can be a lot and full of herself, but she cares in her own way. When it’s just us, she is so attentive, funny, and warm—sort of. She has her moments,” he sighs again. “She makes me feel good in a way no one else has. I love her.”

Hearing him declare his love for her leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth. It’s bad enough that you didn’t realize you were in love with him until after he started seeing her, and now after hearing this, you can never tell him how you feel. It’ll fuck up everything, despite it gnawing at you inside.

“For what it’s worth, I hope that you two will be able to talk it out and figure out what you want to do.” You tell a strong lie, but you don’t want to hear more about his love for her. You can’t take it. “Do you want to chill for a bit? We can watch Revenge Of The Sith if you want.”

He cracks a small smile, and for a moment, the weight in his eyes lightens. “Yeah, let’s just chill for a bit. That sounds cool.”

“Cool,” you reply, scrambling from the couch. “I’ll make some popcorn.”

Tears threaten to break free as you beeline it to the kitchen, your heartache paining worse than before. “She makes me feel good in a way no one else has… I love her.” You keep replaying it in your head over and over. You almost wish you never left your room, and went to sleep like you planned. At least you would still have a bit of hope, instead of a cracked heart.

A few weeks pass, and as the season change, so does the light in Hansol’s eyes. He is getting back to his normal self and is laughing again. As happy as you are for him, it feels like your heart is being pierced by shards of glass. It was foolish of you to think you could ever be with him, and Minghao was right: it will just complicate everything.

You know he isn’t completely over Kelsey, and it’s going to take more than a few weeks to get over someone you love deeply. You used to have daydreams of cuddling with Hansol on the couch, watching horror movies, and being madly in love… you have to put it to bed, for good. You start distancing yourself, little by little. Whether it’s staying late at work or finding different excuses to be out of the house, it doesn’t matter. You’re still there for him as a friend, but you want to be free from this unrequited love. It was fucking with you.

So here you are, at a bar, sitting with your date Seungcheol, who you met on a dating app. You just wanted a quick fix for your heartache, and they say the best way to get over someone is to get under another, right? He’s the one to fulfill that.

Within an hour of talking to him, you learned he was the typical tech bro who went to an Ivy League school, liked to mansplain everything, and thought he was God’s gift to women. Whatever. It’s not like you planned on seeing him again after tonight.

“You look real nice in that outfit,” he says, practically drooling over your little black dress and heels.

“Do I?” You flirtatiously quirk an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Seungcheol nods, taking a sip of his gin. “I can’t wait to see what you look like underneath.”

It takes every fiber in your being to roll your eyes and walk out of there. Guys like Seungcheol annoy you, and you deal with them in small doses and go about your business. But he is a means to an end, and you will bat your eyes and tell him what he wants to hear to get what you want. You will deal with the consequences in the morning.

You gaze at the clock displayed on the wall and it’s a quarter till eleven. Tired of hearing him talk, you lean in and whisper in his ear, your lips barely touching him. “Do you want to get out of here then? You said your place isn’t that far, right?”

His eyes are lit with desire, and you excuse yourself to the bathroom while he settles the bill. Stepping into the dimly lit bathroom, you take a good look in the mirror, adjust your dress, and apply the last bit of cherry red lipstick. The soft glow of the overhead light illuminates the traces of perfectly good makeup that you only bring out for special occasions.

“Is this really what you want?”

Your words echo against the walls, your question answered by silence. With a deep breath, you straighten your posture, taking one last look before exiting the bathroom. Of course, this is what you want— you wouldn’t have gone this far if you didn’t. Seungcheol waits for you at the bar, biting his plump bottom lip as he scrolls through his phone. Seungcheol is as hot as they come, and it certainly makes this decision a bit easier.

“Are you ready to go?”

He looks up as you close in on him, linking your arm through his. “Of course, I’m going to pull the car around front.”

You watch him walk away, twiddling your fingers as you wait in suspense. The bar smells of wood and stale beer, the heat pushed on blast to counter the cold outside. You slip on your coat, walking towards the front door when you hear laughter, a familiar one that brings butterflies to your stomach. Turning to your left, you see Hansol, walking into the same bar you’re leaving, with Wonwoo and a girl you don’t know. He was always a simple guy, wearing jeans and his favorite “Revenge Of The Nerds” hoodie with a goofy grin on his face. It’s your favorite thing to see.

All the feelings you keep trying to push aside rise in you at once, and when your eyes lock with this, you feel warm. Getting over him will not be easy.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Hansol says curiously.

“She probably has a hot date,” Wonwoo teases and nudges your shoulder.

“Well actually… I do.”

Wonwoo’s mouth spreads into a wide grin, happy to be right. His girl companion tugs onto his coat, mumbling that she is freezing. She’s a short thing with jet-black hair and wears a nice shirt and a skirt that shows off her legs. Wonwoo isn’t the serial dater type, so it is a high possibility he’s on the same mission you were: fuck and move on.

“Really?” Hansol’s voice peaks an octave higher than normal. “Who’s the guy?”

“O-oh, um, you don’t know him,” you stumble through your words. “He’s just someone I met. We are heading to his place actually.”

“W-what?” Hansol looks surprised, his expression etched with concern. “Are you sure it's a good idea?”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, looking down at your heels. “I’ll send you my location when I’m there, okay?”

In the nick of time, Seungcheol pulls up in his Mercedes, opening the car door from his seat to let you in.

“There he is,” you announce, walking towards the luxury car. “I’ll text you later, yeah?”

Hansol stares intently at Seungcheol before looking at you, his eyes softening as you get into the passenger seat. You wave as he pulls off, the bar becoming out of view as you drive through downtown. Your nerves are shot, and you feel rattled. Of all the places to be, you had to see him at the bar? The universe has a sense of humor.

“Who were those people back there?” Suengcheol’s deep voice breaks through your thoughts. “The one with the hoodie looked like he was going to pound me.”

“Oh they are my best friends from college,” you say casually. “Well, I don't know the girl but yeah. Besides, Hansol, the one with the hoodie, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

You can confidently say out of all the years you have known him, Hansol, you have never seen him get aggressive with anyone. The most emotion you see from him is when he talks about cameras, film, or his love for Kel—.

“I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?”

Shaking your head and changing the mood, you strategically place your hand on his thigh, smiling mischievously. “Now are we going to talk about my friends all night, or do you want to do something more exciting?”

To say Hansol is bothered is an understatement.

You didn’t come home last night and even though he knew where you were, it still gnaws at him. It was unlike you. You always came home. It’s irking him. You are always there.

Hansol noticed that you hadn’t been around as much, and he assumed it had something to do with work, which he understood since you both work in the same industry. But seeing you with that guy with the fancy Benz, dressed in clothes you rarely wear and your hair different from your usual look—it was all he could think about. You looked beautiful last night, and he wasn’t sure why he didn’t see it before. What maddened him the most was that he couldn’t figure out why. He just knew that you were not there, and it didn’t feel right.

Hansol slowly got out of his bed and checked the time on his phone, 9:37 am in bold letters on his lock screen. His head raged from the hangover he caught from last night’s drinking. He is a lightweight and he knows he drank more than he should, but he was still dealing with the aftermath of the breakup with Kelsey. It’s been a few weeks and though he was feeling better, he still cared about her. He just wanted to not think or feel for a few hours. Now his thoughts are plagued by you.

He sauntered out of his room, the sunlight hit him like a wall, momentarily blinding him. He reached for a bottle of water, hoping to ease the throbbing in his head. A few moments later, Wonwoo opened the spare room, yawning and adjusting his glasses. Hansol was too drunk to drive, and Wonwoo was sober enough to take him home. The date that he brought last night, who he learned was named Jules, sheepishly appeared behind him, adjusting her dress as she took her walk of shame. Hansol heard murmuring but couldn’t make out what they were saying, but shortly after the door shut with a click, with Wonwoo leaning against it, an amusing grin on his face.

“Is that your next victim?” Hansol teased.

“Eh, maybe,” he shrugged. “She is more tolerable than the others.”

“Uh-huh,” he surmised, drinking the last bits of his water. “We’ll see how long this one lasts.”

Wonwoo is a notorious dater if you want to call it that. He has always had the philosophy that being tied down isn’t for him and he would rather run through the mill than be with someone he always likes. He is a fine art photographer who travels quite a bit, and he is always bragging about how it wouldn’t make sense for him to be in a relationship. He blows where the wind goes, and Hansol has always respected that he stayed true to himself.

Wonwoo chuckled as he grabbed the water next to Hansol, clutching it as he drank it empty. He looked at your closed room door, his eyebrows raised curiously.

“She isn’t here?” Wonwoo probed, pointing at your door.

“No,” Hansol mumbled, followed by a slight ping in his chest. “She might still be out.”

“Uh, huh,” Wonwoo concluded, eyeing him oddly. “Sounds like she had a good night.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Hansol said bitterly, his fingers rubbing his right temple. “It’s not like her to stay overnight at some douche’s house. Something is up.”

“A douche, huh?” Wonwoo curved into a sly grin. “How do you know the guy is a douche? He could be a cool guy.”

“Come on, he drives an S-class Mercedes and wears an Apple watch. I’m willing to bet he’s some tech bro.”

“And?” Wonwoo challenged. “That doesn’t make him a bad guy. If I don’t know any better I would say you are jealous.”

Hansol rolled his eyes at his accusation, though the thought of you canoodling with the tech bro made him feel a certain way. “I’m not jealous. I am just… concerned, that’s all.”

“Yeah, let’s call it that.”

The alarm beeped from the front door and you walked in slowly, looking as put together as you did last night. Hansol paled as if he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, and Wonwoo looked amused, folding his arms as he leaned against the counter.

“Oh hey, party girl,” Wonwoo greeted you. “We were just talking about you.”

“Were you now?” You said with raised eyebrows, slowly taking off your heels.

“Y-yeah, we were wondering if you made it home,” Hansol said nervously. “Well, you’re here now so.”

“Did you have a good time?” Wonwoo probed you further. “Will you see him again?

You look down at the floor, your face heating up from embarrassment. They typically don’t ask about your dating life, so why does it matter now?

“Maybe,” you murmured, biting your lip. “I’m going to go shower and get out of these clothes.”

Hansol watched you as you walked into your room, shutting the door behind you quietly. He is relieved that you made it home safe, but he still feels conflicted about how he feels. Is he in fact, jealous?

“I’m going to go home and get some sleep,” Wonwoo announced, clapping a hand on Hansol’s shoulder.

He let himself out and Hansol went back to his room, collapsing on his bed. Stirred emotions and thoughts rumbled through his head, and he closed his eyes, determined to think things through with a clearer head.

His phone buzzed on his nightstand, and he sluggishly grabbed it, groaning at his notifications. A new message from Kelsey flashed as he swiped up on his screen. “I miss you.”

It’s been over a week since you saw Hansol, and you would be a liar to say that you were fine. You miss him.

Your night with Seungcheol was fun, and he was a good fuck, but your mind kept drifting back to Hansol… imagining it was him. Seungcheol was nice enough to let you sleep in if you wanted and made sure you were good before you left, but you know it’s not going to go anywhere. Deep down he knows that too.

God, you are a mess.

You decided to keep busy with work and find things outside of your condo that made you happy, and that’s what led you here tonight, at the local movie theater. Around this time every year, they play five showings for free as a thank-you for the community supporting the theater for the past ten years. Princess Mononoke is the movie of the night, and you are standing in line, waiting to buy your ticket. It’s one of your favorite comfort movies in the world, and you never miss a chance to watch it, especially when you are feeling down.

The weather is cooler than what was forecasted, and the slight breeze makes you tug on your coat tightly. You and Hansol did this every year together—and it feels weird alone. Unnatural even. You remember having long discussions about the movies you saw and what made them great. You love seeing the twinkle in his eye when he talks about the type of camera lens that was used and what it took to get certain shots. In return, he would listen to you vividly as you rambled about the time and craft it took to create special effects or a certain mask. Those times made you feel connected with him in a way no one could understand, and it's one of the main reasons why you fell in love with him.

You purchase your ticket and walk inside the old building, the smell of buttery popcorn attacking your senses as soon as you open the door. The interior has been the same since you have been coming here, with high lights in the ceilings, vintage movie posters, and the same plush crimson carpet that matches the drapes on the windows. It has character and it feels cozy, like you are a kid again.

You give the attendant your ticket and he rips the lower stub, pointing you in the direction of which theater room you need to go to. Your stomach rumbled with a slight ache, reminding you that you have not eaten since this morning. You were never really the breakfast type, as you normally just wake up and go about your day. You have a million things on your mind, and just for a little while, you want to shut it off. Princess Mononoke usually does that.

Your phone buzzes slightly in your jacket and you look at Hansol’s name on the screen, hesitant to answer. It wouldn’t hurt to hear his voice for a little bit, right?

“Hey, you,” you say, biting your lip.

“Hey, turn around,” he replies, his voice sounding louder than it should.

Turning around slowly, you watch him walk through the doors, the sunlight trailing behind him like a halo. He sports an old college hoodie, faded jeans, and a smile, and in this moment, he almost takes your breath away.

“I would ask what you are doing here, but I know better than that,” you joke lightheartedly.

“Yeah, you know I’ll never miss this,” Vernon says, looking around at the theater. “Man, this place still looks the same.”

“I know,” you agree, fidgeting with the ticket in your hand. “How did you know I was here?”

“Because I know you,” he shrug. “I tried calling you to see if you wanted to come tonight, but you never picked up. So I came here.”

“You called?” You give him a puzzled look. “I don’t remember you ca—”

You scroll through your notifications, seeing the three missed calls from him throughout the day. Even texted you but you didn’t see it. You had your phone on do not disturb mode, and you didn’t think to check any of your messages. Maybe you are just being childish.

“See,” he nudges your shoulder playfully. “I told you.”

“Yeah, yeah” you roll your eyes teasingly. “Are you watching Mononoke too?”

“You know it,” he nods. “I’ll grab the popcorn and nachos. Go find us a seat?”

You watch him make his way to the concession stand, butterflies swirling in your stomach as the familiar feeling of home swells in your chest. You head to the third room on the right, snagging seats in the middle row that give you a perfect viewing of the movie. The lights dim as you sit down, with the old previews from 1997 playing on the screen giving you a major flashback to the past. In this moment you feel good and content, despite wanting to come here alone and avoid Hansol at all costs. You wouldn’t call yourself a fickle person, but you are glad your plans did change. Being around him feels just right.

The movie starts a few minutes later, and Hansol appears right as it starts, searching the rows until he finds you. His face softens and his lips curve into a smile, taking a seat next you and handing you a popcorn and a cherry coke.

“I haven’t missed anything, have I?”

You shake your head softly, avoiding his gaze and the pitter-patter he gives your heart.

“No, you made it just in time.”

Hansol had a good time with you.

It felt comfortable and familiar to be with you while he watched one of his favorite movies. He didn’t actually know that you were going to be there; he just took a chance and hoped you would be there, and like fate, you were standing in the middle of the theater. There was no awkwardness, he didn’t feel like he was walking on eggshells every time he had something on his mind. You just got him, and it felt like a breath of fresh air.

It’s been a couple of weeks since then, and you have been hanging at the house more. Before he was lucky to catch you in the mornings when you left for work or you would come home late at night when he was already asleep. Even though things were getting back to normal, his thoughts of you continued to grow, and even though he wasn't sure of a lot of things, he knew one thing: he had missed you.

“Earth to Vernon, hello?”

Hansol snapped out of his thoughts, refocusing on Kelsey as he sat across from her at her house. She asked him to come over and talk, and after thinking it over, he agreed, setting up a time to talk when she came back in town. Kelsey looked beautiful, sporting a white halter top and blue jean shorts, her skin sun-kissed from the vacation she took to the Cayman Islands. Her raven-black hair fell past her shoulders, swaying slightly as she talked about her trip.

“Where is your head at today?” Kelsey pouted, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “I feel like you aren’t listening to me.”

Hansol shook his head, shaking you out of his mind. “I’m listening. All I do is listen.”

“No, you don’t,” Kelsey retorted. “You didn’t listen to me about the party or kick that girl out of your condo—”

“I already told you, that’s not happening,” Vernon pushed back. “ And that girl has a name. Why would I kick her out? It makes no sense.”

“You know why Vernon.”

“No, I don’t. You’re being unreasonable.”

Kelsey rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in the air. “We have been together almost three years and you haven’t asked me to move in. I asked you plenty of times to think about our future and to limit your time with her. You refuse to do it. Why is that?”

“Whoa, that’s bullshit!” Hansol’s anger rose through his chest. “You have never said “let’s move in together” or anything like that. If anything, all you have talked about lately is getting you into industry parties to build your brand. Also, I did start spending less time with her. What are you on about?”

“Because I am supposed to be your best friend!” Kelsey shouted. “You don’t even do the same things with me that you do with her. I bet she leaps with joy every time we have a break.”

“She’s not like that,” Hansol said defensively. “She’s always been there for me and encouraged me to work it out with you. To your other point, every time I ask you to do something with me, something I want to do for once, you say it’s childish and that I need to grow up”

“Because Vernon, who the hell still watches Star Wars?” Kelsey scoffs. “You are not a nine-year-old boy. You’re a grown man. Fucking act like it.”

Hansol sighed, feeling drained and defeated. Star Wars meant a lot to him, as it was the main inspiration for why he wanted to get into cinematography and study film. It’s how he bonded with his dad. She knew that and still decided to insult him about it every chance she got. He wasn’t sure what the future looked like before he arrived, but the tension he felt in his chest and the ache in his heart made things a lot more clear. He still cared about Kelsey, more than he should, but it’s time to move on

“This… isn’t going to work,” Hansol rubbed his temple. “The fact that you still call me Vernon, knowing how formal it makes me feel, says a lot. I don’t know what happened to the girl I fell in love with, but clearly she’s gone. We’re done.”

“Yeah, right,” Kelsey said incredulously. “You aren’t leaving me—”

“Yes, I am.” Hansol resolved. “This relationship has been one-sided for a while now. I’m sick of this.”

Hansol got up from the table and handed her his copy of her apartment key. Kelsey looked bewildered, realizing that he was serious, and he wasn’t coming back this time.

“So that’s it? You are just going to throw this all away? For her? She’s in love with you and you don’t even see it. All the times you have let her disrespect me and put up with her crap. I bet this was her idea.”

“You weren’t exactly nice to her either,” Hansol retorted, his heart beating out his chest. “She has been there for me when you weren’t. She cares about what I’m interested in. We like the same things. I don’t have to wonder if she cares about me and my family loves her. She’s smart, kind, beautiful and I love he—”

He stopped himself before he completed his sentence, shook at what was about to come out of his mouth. He was still grappling with his feelings for you and what that meant, and he still couldn’t put any words to what it all meant… until now.

“It’s not just about her,” Hansol said. “It’s everything with us, and the fact that you still don’t get it, tells me everything I need to know. Take care, Kelsey.”

He left the apartment before she started her next tirade, with a storm brewing in the night sky. He hated the way she talked about you like you were insignificant. You didn’t deserve the vitriol Kelsey spat every time you came up in conversation. You weren’t the warmest person, but you always made him feel seen and were there for him no matter what. You got his humor and his late-night thoughts about the latest webtoon he just read. His thoughts of you biting your lip when you’re nervous or the quirky thing you do with your eyebrow when you tell a story; he loved it all. It took for this to happen to see what he had in front of him all this time. He missed you when you aren’t around and it drove him crazy to see you on a date with that tech bro.

Realization hit him like a punch in the gut as he turned the ignition: he’s been in love with you this whole time. Now how the hell does he tell you that?

The harsh sound of thunder makes the hairs on your neck stand up, dropping your iPad on your lap. It’s suddenly dark in your room, light from the partly cloudy day gone and replaced by storm clouds and flashing lightning. Your condo sits on the 10th floor, and the sound is much more elevated, sending chills down your spine. You hate being alone when it storms.

You heard Hansol leave earlier and you wanted to clear your head, and so you decided to work on some sketches for a project that is happening at work. You are creating a few masks for an upcoming horror movie, and you are throwing out a few ideas that may interest the producers. The only problem is that you never got around to actually work; instead you were drawing doodles around you and Hansol’s name like a teenager.

Every attempt you have made to distance yourself from him has become futile, and you decide to just accept the situation for what it was. Maybe one day you will work up the courage to tell him how you feel, but not being around him is agonizing, and you would rather have your best friend back than not have him at all. You can’t help the way he makes you feel, and until something changes, you’re okay with where things are… for now.

Another crackling sound of thunder makes you yelp, knocking your iPad on the floor and cracking the corner of the screen.

“Shit,” you mumble, looking at the damage.

Your nerves are shot, and you decide to make some tea to calm yourself while the storm rages outside. You place your iPad safely on the bed and slip out of your room, heading to the kitchen as the wind picks up and hurls rain against the windows. It amazes you how the day can go from sunny and hopeful to dark and tragic within a few minutes. Mother nature must be on one today, you think to yourself.

The alarm door beeps and Hansol walks in, completely unscathed by the storm. He slides off his black beanie that covers his short brown hair and lets out a sigh of relief as he locks the door behind him. His eyes met yours, and a small smile spread across your face.

“You made it just in time,” you say, pouring water into your teapot. “It’s about to get ugly out there.”

“Yeah.” he nods, his gaze fixed on the darkened windows.

You could tell something is bothering him, as you watch him take off his shoes and put up his jacket, but you don’t know what to say. Things have been so good between you two, yet the last time he opened up, he shared something you weren’t ready to hear. Despite everything, your concern for him remains strong, and you can’t help but ask, “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” Hansol replies, lost in thought. “Kelsey and I are done for good.”

“Oh?” you exclaim. “What’s changed?”

Vernon sits on the couch and you follow him, sitting cross-legged and across from him as he shares his feelings. “I went over there to talk to her, and I just realized that she just used me. She didn’t care about me or what I liked. It was always about her and what he wanted… plus she said some ridiculous things about you.”

“Did she now?” You quirk an eyebrow in curiosity. “What did she have to say about me?”

You aren’t surprised that she probably said some rude things about you. It’s not like you were her biggest fan either and you didn’t hide it. Kelsey wouldn’t ever say it to your face though, and that always made you chuckle.

“She said you were in love with me and that you were happy every time we broke up.”

The words don’t register right away. You can’t have heard him say what you think he said. “She said what now?”

“She said that you were in love with me,” his words tumbling out like a confession.

Your heart starts racing, the feelings of disbelief and anger stirring in your chest. That wasn’t her secret to share. “I.. can’t believe she said that.”

“Neither can I,” Hansol sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s not like you have feelings for me, and wouldn’t tell me… right?”

Your breath catches, a deep ache forming in the pit of your stomach. This is something you longed for and dreaded for a long time. You could deny it and keep things the way they are, or finally tell him how you feel and change your dynamic forever.

“Hansol, I—”

“Are you in love with me?” He interrupts, his gaze intense. “I need to know if this is real.”

“What do you mean? And why does it matter?” You say bitterly. “ You are in love with Kelsey and will just go back to her. You always do.”

“What if I don’t?”

Your heart is pounding, and you take a deep breath, trying to make sense of everything. “What do you mean if you don’t?”

“I told you, I am done with her,” Hansol reiterates. “These past few weeks without her opened my eyes to a lot of things, and while I have been thinking about her less, you’ve been on my mind more.”

“What are you saying, Hansol?”

“I don’t want to be with her. I want to be with you.”

The air is thick with uncertainty as his words echo in your head. You should be happy, relieved even that he wants to be with you. But in the midst of that, you are scared. What if it doesn’t work? What if he regrets all of this in the morning and decides to take it all back? You couldn’t handle that.

“I… Kelsey wasn’t far off,” you admit, biting your lip. “I wasn’t necessarily happy when you were sad about her, but I have always felt like you deserved better.” You pause to gather your thoughts. “I am in love with you, Hansol. I tried to put my feelings away and move on, date, or whatever. But every time I’m near you, it just hurts.”

Hansol pulls you into a warm hug, and you fully embrace his scent and the comfort you feel. You’ve imagined times like this when he would hold you in his arms and caress your face. You craved it even, wishing you could hear his heartbeat and feel him in ways you haven’t. But this feels too good to be true, and in the back of your mind, you wonder if this is real, or another dream.

“Are you sure you want to be with me?” you speak up. “You just broke up with her and I don’t want to be some rebound you’ll regret later—”

He kisses you. His soft lips press against yours earnestly, and you melt against him, losing the remaining inhibition you had in you. He leans you back against the couch; his kisses becoming deeper, igniting a fire in you that you thought would stay dormant forever.

“Does that feel like I’m unsure about what I want?” He breathes heavily.

“I don’t know,” a smile creeps on your lips, a mix of joy and relief flooding through your veins. “I think I might need another one just to be sure.”

He kisses you again and you return his vigor, your fingers entangled in his hair as you savor the moment. His hands glide down to your waist, touching the hem of your shorts that you hope he’ll tear away. You pause, nodding that it’s okay, watching him slowly slide your shorts down your legs.

“No panties?” His need is evident, almost salivating at the mouth.

Your face heats up as you briefly become shy. “It’s laundry day,” you mumble.

You gaze at each other before erupting into laughter, any remaining tension that was there gone immediately. This is how it always is with him, easy and light. He doesn’t have second or third questions, he just immediately understands. You couldn’t have fallen in love with a better person.

“I-I love you, Hansol,” you managed to say. “You don’t have to say it back yet, I know we have to figure this out. But just know, I love you.”

Hansol leans in for another kiss; this time it’s sweeter, tender, with enough meaning to know what it meant, “Don’t worry, I love you too.”

And with that, he stands up, taking your hand and leading you to his room. Kicking the door shut, you tear off each other's clothes, excitement and lust pouring through you as you lay on his bed, watching him climb over you. His body presses against yours, your arms wrap around his neck and back, your need for him growing stronger as he leaves kisses on your neck. “I need you so bad.”

Hansol groans as his hands grab your breasts, mesmerized by your hardened mounds. He sucks on each other carefully, his eyes closed as if he is savoring the taste. He worships your body, his tongue trailing down your stomach until he reaches your core, spreading your legs apart. You’ve played so many scenarios on what your first time with him would be like, and what kind of lover he would be. This is better than you’ve imagined.

“You’re so wet… for me?” he says in disbelief. “I get you like this?”

You bite your lip, nodding slowly as you anticipate his next move. He slips a digit inside of you, watching you squirm as he fingers you slowly.

“Oh god,” you praise him as he adds another one. “Just like that, please.”

Hansol leans down and lashes his tongue against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body. The sheets bunch in your fists, your knuckles stretching out as his relentless mouth laps up your essence, savoring every drop. He explores every inch of your softness, removing his fingers and replacing them with his tongue. His hands stroke his cock which is leaking with precum. You are ascending to a high that you never want to come down from.

“H-Hansol,” your voice is grained with need. “I’m so close.”

He moans in response, his breath hot against your skin, and the sound vibrates through you, intensifying the coil of tension within. Your orgasm crashes over you, a tidal wave of bliss completely taking over you, whimpering his name as your legs tremble around him. White starts clouding your vision and you feel like you are on air, floating away into paradise. You feel him groan against your thigh, and you look down slightly, his cock dripping with his load as it coats his hand. You collapse on his pillow, trying to catch your breath, slowly coming down from cloud nine. You hear him leave and come back a few moments later, wiping you down with a warm rag.

“Aww, that’s sweet of you,” you tease him, closing your legs slightly.

“I’m sorry for that being short,” he says, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I usually can last longer than that, you know… I don’t know what happened.”

You prop yourself up, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. “It was perfect. Don’t apologize.”

You pull him into a hug, softly kissing his cheek and motioning for him to lay down with you. He climbs over you and hugs you from behind, cradling you so close you can feel his heartbeat. The sunlight peeks through the window, a sign that the storm finally passed. Happiness can’t even describe the word you are feeling right now.

“Fuck. R-right there.”

Hansol wanted to make up for last night’s performance, so he woke you up with kisses to your face, your neck, the curves on your body and most importantly, in between your legs. The way you grabbed his hair went his tongue went deeper, or the way you begged for him to fuck you. He was addicted to all of it. It was like he was making love for the first time.

“Please Hansol, I need you.”

He quickly slipped on a condom and slowly entered you, watching the way your lips parted as he inched in a little more.

“Are you okay? I am not hurting you, am I?”

You shook your head slowly as you held onto his arms, looking into his eyes with a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay,” you bit your lip. “I can take it.”

He almost came right then and there, hearing you talk like that. Feeling safe with him. He never experienced that with Kelsey, the feeling of being wanted, and truly loved.

He moved slowly, wanting to make sure you could handle it, and he was mesmerized by the way you looked when you were being pleasured. You goaded him for more, and he did that, stroking deeper while your nails dug into his back. You were tight, warm and welcoming like you were made for him. He loved the way your breasts bounced when he thrust harder and the blunt curses that left your lips when he lifted your legs.

If Hansol could, he would fuck you all day and night to make up for the past time wasted. He wanted to show you how much you meant to him, and he wasn't the best with words, so this would do… for now

“I’m gonna cum—”

His mouth covered yours as your legs shuddered underneath him, your orgasm ripping through you like a hurricane. Your body glistened with sweat, your eyes wet from tears from being fucked out and he couldn't hold back anymore, his thrusts becoming erratic as he emptied himself into the condom.

Hansol thought he was in love before, and maybe it was because it was you, but he hadn't felt this alive in a long time. You were precious to him, and all he wanted to do was lay with you and watch movies all day, talk about mundane things…it didn't matter as long as he was with you.

“I… have a confession to make,” you said breathlessly.

“Yeah?”

“I always wondered… what it would be like. With you.”

He watched you bury yourself in his sheets, feeling shy about your confession. Hansol chuckled, slowly pulling out of you and riding himself of the condom.

“So, did I live up to your expectations?” He asked tentatively.

You gently pull down the covers, smiling at him softly. “This is better than anything I could’ve imagined.”

tagging: @heechwe @junniesoleilkth @iheartnonie @jaeyunsprincxss

#lonelyheartscafecollab #kvanity #kwritersworldnet #svthub #lapydiariesnet #ksmutsociety #svt oneshot #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt fic #svt fanfic #hansol x reader #hansol fluff #hansol angst #hansol smut #svt x reader #svt smut #svt angst #svt fluff

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catiroll · 5 months ago

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𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ

Ambessa Medarda x Personal Assistant Reader

Synopsis: Her protective and possessive side shows when you want to leave her side. A/N: Contains possessive behavior, Manipulation, Power dynamic, Alittle sexual tension. also hint of yandere behavoir. Reader is younger than her

You had always been more than just a tailor to Ambessa. From the very first time you entered her life, you had become something irreplaceable—not only to her but to her daughter Mel as well.

You weren’t as young as Mel, but you were closer to her age than Ambessa’s, a few years older, just enough to serve as a bridge between the ferocity of bessa and the fragility of Mel’s youthful spirit. Your bond with Mel had always been gentle—nurturing, protective, and maternal in a way that Ambessa was never able to provide. While Ambessa’s presence in Mel’s life was powerful, intimidating, and sometimes suffocating, you had quietly stood in the background, a safe haven when Mel needed someone to lean on.

You were the one who had whispered to her when she was struggling with a design, the one who had reassured her when her dreams seemed too big for this world. You were there on the days when Mel couldn’t approach her mother, when Ambessa’s fierce nature pushed her too far away, leaving Mel to retreat into herself.

Your relationship with Ambessa, however, was a different matter entirely. You were more than just a confidante, more than someone who crafted her most beautiful and lethal designs—you were her family, her trusted ally. You’d stood by her side for years, helping to shape her image and her empire, and over time, you’d become as indispensable to her as she was to you.

But it was your role as a mother figure to Mel that set you apart, the one thing that had always been a subtle thorn in Ambessa’s side. She had never let anyone get too close to her daughter, never trusted anyone with Mel in quite the same way. Yet, somehow, you had slipped through the cracks. You had earned that trust—not with grand gestures or fiery speeches, but with quiet devotion and years of loyalty.

For years, you had been a constant in both their lives, a silent protector for Mel and a quiet but irreplaceable ally for bessa. It was a delicate balance, one that you had always maintained without truly questioning it. But lately, something had shifted. You could feel it—a slow burn building under the surface, a need to break free and see what else the world had to offer.

It was a late afternoon when bessa arrived for a fitting. She walked into your studio with the same imposing presence she always carried, her steps measured, her eyes sharp. Yet today, something about her demeanor was different, more tense, as if the usual calm confidence she exuded was laced with something unspoken.

she reached for the fabric you were smoothing over her body. She didn’t speak immediately but instead let the moment stretch, her eyes watching your hands. Ambessa’s gaze softened, and a faint smile tugged at her lips.

You were adjusting the hem of one of her gowns when she spoke, her voice breaking the silence in a way that caught your attention.

"You have such gentle hands," she said, her voice unexpectedly tender. "I love how your smaller hands mold the fabric to me... it’s like you’re shaping not just the gown, but something deeper. Your touch is... different. It’s like you hold the power, even in these delicate movements."

You froze, momentarily caught off guard by the praise. It felt heavier than usual, as though her words weren’t just about your skill with fabric, but something more personal. The sensation of her words lingered in the air, and you felt the weight of the trust she placed in you.

"…although, You’ve been distant lately," she said, her tone casual, but there was an edge there. "What’s going on with you?"

Ambessa stepped a little closer as you continued to adjust the gown. Her muscles shifted beneath the fabric, and you couldn’t help but notice how the strength in her body contrasted with your own gentleness. Your fingers brushed lightly over her skin as you continued your work, but this time, the touch felt charged. You tried to block out the growing sense of desire, but her presence, her body, made it hard to focus. She was right—there was power in these small movements, in the way you shaped her, the way she allowed you to.

You straightened up, meeting her eyes. "Nothing," you replied easily, but your voice betrayed you. The exhaustion in your tone was unmistakable, something Ambessa always noticed. "Just... thinking."

She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Thinking?" she repeated, as if the word itself didn’t quite fit. "About what?"

You set the fabric aside, your fingers brushing against the soft silk as you turned to face her fully. "About the future," you said, your voice steady despite the undercurrent of uncertainty within you. "I’ve been doing this for years, Ambessa. It’s not that I’m tired of it—it’s just... I’m starting to wonder if there’s more out there for me."

Ambessa tilted her head slightly, her gaze never leaving you. She was sharp, perceptive, and you knew the moment she realized what you were getting at. "More?" she echoed, her voice quiet but laced with something darker. "Are you saying you want to leave?"

You shook your head, trying to ease the tension. "No. I’m not saying that. I just..." You paused, trying to find the right words. "I want a new challenge. Something else to work toward. Something different."

"you sound like mel" she said faintly, more like she was saying it to herself. understanding this you ignore the comment.

Meeting the older women’s gaze you notice how she’s studying you with that sharp, calculating gaze. You could feel her eyes tracing the lines of your body, picking up every detail, every nuance in your behavior.

“What could you possibly need that I don’t already provide?" she asked, her tone suddenly sharp, like a blade hidden beneath velvet. Her eyes flickered with something that resembled anger—then something else, something harder, darker.

You met her gaze, unfazed by her sudden shift in attitude. "Nothing," you said, your voice even. "But I’m not just a tailor. I want to push myself further. Explore what else is out there."

Ambessa’s silence was thick, and you could feel her studying you, her calculating gaze boring into you as though trying to dissect the very essence of your words. "You’ve been with me for so long," she said slowly, each word heavy with meaning. "I’ve trusted you, depended on you. And now, you’re telling me you want more? What does that mean for us?"

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you turned back to the gown, letting the silence hang between you. The air felt thick now, the quiet oppressive, like the calm before a storm.

"You’re not going anywhere," Ambessa finally said, her voice a low growl, her presence more forceful now, as though trying to anchor you in place. "You belong here. You belong with me."

Her words rang out with an undeniable authority, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of them—the possessiveness in her voice, the unspoken claim she laid on you. It was a truth you had known for years: Ambessa didn’t take kindly to anyone she considered hers stepping away. You had become too entwined in her life, in her world, to simply walk away without consequence.

You tried to ease the tension, offering a small, reassuring smile. "I’m not leaving, Ambessa. I’m just... considering my options. It’s not about you. It’s about me."

Her gaze softened ever so slightly, but the tightness in her jaw remained. "I won’t let you go," she murmured, her words almost a promise. "You’ve been with me for too long. You’ve helped me build this. You are mine, and I won’t let anyone take you from me."

You knew then, in that moment, that she wasn’t just talking about the work. She wasn’t just talking about the gowns you created for her. Ambessa was speaking of something deeper—something far more dangerous. She was speaking about possession.

You tried to ease the tension, offering a small, reassuring smile. "I’m not leaving, Ambessa. I’m just... considering my options. It’s not about you. It’s about me."

Ambessa’s gaze softened ever so slightly, but the tightness in her jaw remained. "I won’t let you go," she murmured, her words almost a promise. "You’ve been with me for too long. You’ve helped me build this. You are mine, and I won’t let anyone take you from me."

Every glance, every word, felt weighted with something unspoken, a quiet understanding that things were changing. She could feel it, and so could you.

And so, when she invited you over for dinner that evening—an offer that had once been casual, familiar—you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. There was an unspoken challenge in the air, a game being played without either of you fully acknowledging it.

As you arrived at her estate, the familiar scents of cooking wafted through the air, but there was an unusual stillness to the house. Ambessa had already set the table, the atmosphere quieter than usual, and you could tell she was waiting for something—waiting for you to make a move, to finally say the words that had been hanging between you for days.

Dinner passed in relative silence, save for the occasional clink of silverware against porcelain. The food was delicious, as always, but there was something off about the whole evening, an underlying tension that neither of you could ignore. You felt it in the way Ambessa’s gaze lingered on you, how her eyes followed every movement you made. It was as though she was waiting for you to finally let the mask slip and reveal your true thoughts. But you weren’t ready to speak the words yet.

The silence stretched on, filling the space between you both, until the last plate was cleared. Ambessa’s voice broke the stillness again, her words carefully measured, but the sharpness in them was unmistakable.

"You still haven’t told me what this... new challenge of yours is," she said, her voice soft but edged with a possessiveness that sent a ripple of unease down your spine. She wasn’t asking out of curiosity anymore. She was testing you, trying to push you into revealing what had been hanging over you like a shadow.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers lightly tapping on the edge of your glass as you weighed your words. "I’ve been thinking of working with someone else. Maybe... someone who needs a new direction. Someone who needs my skills, my creativity. Something different."

Ambessa’s hand froze on her glass, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around the stem. The subtle shift in her demeanor was enough to make your heart race. Her eyes, once warm and steady, were now colder, sharper, calculating. There was a moment where the world seemed to stop, where you could feel the pressure in the air growing heavier, as though she was waiting for something more, something she knew she might not like.

"What do you mean? Who is this ‘someone’?" she asked, her voice cold now, laced with a possessive edge. "Who else could possibly need you more than I do?"

You knew that the question wasn’t as much about the "someone" as it was about your answer. She wanted to know where your loyalty truly lay. The words hung in the air, and you found yourself considering just how much you were willing to reveal.

"I’m not sure yet," you said, your voice steady, but there was a subtle edge of defiance in it. "But I have to find out. For myself."

Ambessa’s gaze didn’t waver. Her eyes narrowed, and the familiar storm cloud you had been anticipating began to form behind her composed exterior. She leaned forward just a fraction, her gaze darkening. The silence between you now was thick and suffocating, and you could feel her struggle to maintain control.

A thought flitted through your mind—a fleeting image of someone who had been in touch with you recently, Cassandra Kirriman. You hadn’t spoken about it aloud, but the idea of working with her, moving to Piltover, was starting to seem more appealing. The prospect of a new challenge, a fresh environment, of doing something entirely different was becoming increasingly tempting. You hadn’t voiced it, but it had been there—something in the back of your mind. You didn’t have a specific person or place in mind, but Piltover… it felt like it could be the place where you could carve out a new path.

Ambessa’s sharp eyes caught the fleeting thought in your gaze, the shift in your posture. Her lips pressed together into a thin line. The quiet understanding between you felt like it was cracking.

She was aware of your connection with Cassandra, of course. You had kept it brief, but Ambessa, ever observant, had picked up on the mentions, the small exchanges between you and the Kirriman family. Piltover. The city that had lured her daughter away. The city that had taken what Ambessa had treasured most. That realization was the turning point, the unspoken truth that hit her like a wave.

But Ambessa didn’t say it aloud. She couldn’t bring herself to. Not in front of you. Not yet. The connection was too raw, too personal. Her daughter had left for Piltover, leaving Ambessa to wrestle with the hollow ache of abandonment, a feeling she hadn’t been able to name until now. And now, here you were, talking about leaving—not for another person or nation, but for Piltover. The idea twisted in her chest. She didn’t want to admit how it stung, how it felt like a betrayal of the same kind she had experienced years ago.

Her voice, though still soft, became more insistent. "If you leave me," she whispered, her words almost a warning, a final threat laced with the kind of sorrow that could only be felt by someone who had already been left behind once before, "I won’t let you go. I will make sure of it."

" we will see"

Masterlist

#ambessa x reader #arcane season two #arcane #sevika #sevika x reader #ambessa medarda #arcane medarda #jinx arcane #greyson arcane #caitlyn kiramman #cassandra kiramman #arcane ambessa #ambessa league of legends #mel and ambessa #yandere x reader #yandere arcane

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bikiniarmorbattledamage · 1 year ago

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This is truly stiff competition for the worst case of willful false equivalence we've ever seen.

So, for those not aware: Ongoing embarrassment to gamers and the gaming industry, Mark Kern (former lead on FireFall), has been desperately trying to get Gamergate 2 going on X/Twitter... well after others have given up. If you need to get caught up on Mark, I recommend this video by documentary maker and experienced game developer, Dead Domain:

youtube

One of the latest fiascos in this mix has been the comparison of responses to character designs from Hades 2 (Aphrodite, left) and Stellar Blade (protagonist Eve, right). The post isn't by Mark, but is part of the general harassment campaign he's trying to lead.

If you're somehow not familiar with Aphrodite, she's the Ancient Greek goddess of love, lust and hot girl shit. It is absolutely perfect characterization for her to show up to a battle (or anything else) nude but for her hair teasingly covering the intimate parts of her body. But the buried lede here is, you don't fight her in Hades and nothing about Hades 2 indicates she'll fight there either, she just likes the aesthetic and has no reason not to indulge.

Stellar Blade will release on 26 April 2024, so we can't really give an informed discussion of her character. But what we do know is the studio head is the illustrator from Blade & Soul, Eve is described as being a member of "the 7th Airborne Squad" engaged in an "operation to reclaim the planet from the Naytiba", and the promotion material promises "an enthralling narrative filled with mature themes, mystery and revelation. Embrace the relentless pace, with no time to pause between moments where critical, story-changing decisions are made."

It's to be compared to games like Nier: Automata, Devil May Cry 5, Jedi: Fallen Order and Sekiro. And the screenshots look like this:

And yeah, unlike Bayonetta she's not supposed to be an unstoppable force of nature (and fashion) who is immune to self-doubt, she's supposed to be the scrappy underdog last survivor of her team.

Weird they gave her a costume that conveys... the opposite of literally everything they're supposed to be trying to tell you about her.

-wincenworks

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veebeeboo109 · 18 days ago

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[Read on AO3]

Continuation of Cleaning up the Timeline

[10.6k words - Poly!Lads x Reader: Rafayel is acting weird, and why does everyone seem to know what's going on except for you?]

Tags: Scenting, BREED!NG, Heat, Merman!Rafayel, Polycule Love and Deepspace MxM and FxM.

Ebb Day

“You smell .” Rafayel hisses when you return home on early spring evening. You’re surprised to see him lounging on the couch, and more surprised still when he jumps up and approaches you.

“I was running around all day.” You defend with a sigh. It wasn’t a particularly hard day, but the nature of your job was a physical one; you would think Rafayel would be used to it by now. “I just walked in, geez. ”

Xavier steps close behind you and audibly sniffs, “You don’t stink to me.”

You laugh at his gentle tone and wave him away, “Thank you, Xavier, but clearly I’ve offended Rafayel’s sensitive nose.”

You speak teasingly, but the scowl on Rafayel’s face doesn’t falter. It’s an odd day when your resident sea god isn’t tucked away in his studio when you get home, and even more bizarre when he doesn’t entertain banter.

His comment on your scent leads to him stripping you before you’ve even entered your bedroom and crowding you into the shower. It must be serious when he forgoes the bath. In another odd turn, Rafayel picks through the lineup of body wash you’ve collected, sniffing each one and scowling until he finds one he can tolerate.

Rafayel scrubs at your skin with a fluffy pink luffa, and the determination in his eyes confuses you. He looks at you like you’ve betrayed him somehow, and so you grab his hand before he can continue his chafing. “What’s the matter? Did something happen?”

Rafayel’s eyes widen at your audacity to grab him. When he looks up at you, there’s an eerie blue tinge to his usual alexandrite eyes. Your heart twists in both fear and anticipation.

“You stink.” He says curtly, twisting his wrist to detach your hand. You’re aware of Rafayel’s power, on a surface level, and the danger could pose to you, but you always forget what being at the receiving end of his ire feels like.

You’re a mackerel in a swarm, swimming wildly as the shark cuts through the water. You’re neither faster nor stronger than he is. You’re hardly a proper meal to chomp between his teeth.

There is less than one second where you realize something’s definitely not right before your cheek smacks against the tile wall. The icy cold sending shocks down your spine, contrasting against the scalding water.

Steam has coated the glass walls of the shower, creating the illusion of being hidden. A sense of privacy that you know doesn’t truly exist in a house such as yours. Rafayel never really minds it. He, like a few of the others, enjoys the idea of the others hearing you.

Though, today seems different. There’s an unhinged edge to your lover’s eyes, something has come loose inside him and it leaves him in shambles. Jaw open and panting as he pushes your shoulders into the wall but draws your hips back.

With one hand, he grabs a fistful of your behind. Squeezing your flesh and looking drunk while he does, like the malleability is this new, novel, enchanting thing.

“How dare you…” Rafayel’s voice is a growl– a deep, predatory sound. “How dare you…come here…like this…”

“What are talk–” Your words are cut off as Rafayel moves his hand and presses the tip of his thumb to your folds. The breath inside you falters, and escapes as a stuttering gasp.

“It’s too hot.” He huffs and with the hand not teasing you, he reaches over to the shower controls and twists it to cold. It takes a moment for the spray to catch up, and when it does you squeal.

The icy cold water is a shock to your system, and reflexively you wiggle away from it, pushing closer to the wall. “ Ah ! What’s wrong with you!? Turn it back!”

“Don’t run from me.” Rafayel croaks, sounding much less aggressive than before and much more desperate. The growl in his voice has turned to a whine.

You turn, too concerned now to entertain Rafayel’s seduction. Grabbing the siren by the sides of his face, you hold him still, letting the water cascade over his back.

“Are you sick?” You ask gently, tilting his face from side to side.

He doesn’t look flush, at least, no more than usual. There’s a pink tinge to his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, but you could write that off from his arousal– which is currently resting against your hip and tapping you in time with the beat of his fast-paced heart.

His eyes search your face and then drag down. Down the line of your neck and collarbone, sweeping across your chest and back up again. Lazy and unfocused like he can’t help himself.

“Rafayel,” You say when he doesn’t reply. Shaking him slightly, you try again, “Rafayel what’s going on?”

Rafayel blinks slowly and then squeezes his eyes closed tight. He grabs your upper arms like he might slip right down the drain if he doesn’t. “It’s nothing. It’s…I’m fine.”

You’re not convinced, and continue to hold him. The temperature in the shower is making you shiver, but you’re not going to be the first to let go. If something is wrong– and there clearly is– you won’t let him suffer alone.

“Are you feverish?” You ask a little quieter. Nearly whispering.

Rafayel’s shoulder jerk, and his head lifts suddenly. Snapping back to himself, he takes a quick breath and turns the shower off completely, “The water’s freezing. Let’s get you dry.”

The diversion makes you frown, but you follow him out of the shower anyway. The rosy tint to his cheeks remains, and somehow gets worse when he grabs a towel and begins to pat you dry.

“I’m not letting this go,” You say firmly, grabbing the towel from his hands and wrapping it around yourself.

“Ehh…” Rafayel makes a whiny, petulant sound, “Can’t you? It’s fine. I promise.”

You frown pointedly at him. It’s not like him to be so secretive. Usually, if something is bothering him, he’s chatting your ear off about it. Rafayel is guarded with most people, viciously so, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. Have you lost his trust somehow?

You get dressed and mull over this for a moment. Rafayel kisses your cheek and then your temple. He inhales deeply, like he’s trying to press your scent as far as it can go in his mind. Although that would normally amuse you, you’re only more perturbed.

Rafayel retreats to his studio, mumbling to himself. While you head back downstairs, frustrated and confused.

Things only get weirder from there.

Rafayel’s already keen senses seem to be even sharper. He refuses to let anyone sleep in the bed unless they’ve bathed with scentless soap.

Your room has somehow become his room, and your bed has become his bed. A safe spot that you have to have permission to enter. Rafayel refuses to entertain sass, and physically kicks Sylus out of the bed one night when the dragon teases a little too hard about him being needy.

Zayne hardly gets a moment to himself, the poor guy. The cool aura the doctor exudes has Rafayel glued to his side. At night, you’re sandwiched between them, shivering despite being surrounded from tip to toe. One afternoon, after another day of hunting, you arrive to find Zayne on the couch with Rafayel in his lap. The artist has his arms beneath Zayne’s shirt, pressing as much flesh against him as possible.

Finally someone acknowledges that something is wrong, but it comes in the form of a plane ticket and an already-packed suitcase being handed to you.

Rafayel is buzzing about the house, prepping for this impromptu (but not-so impromptu) trip to your isolated beach house. He fusses over Caleb’s choice of traveling clothes, and the fact the pilot is only bringing a single duffle bag.

Xavier follows the two of them around, mediating between the slightly neurotic artist and the too-casual pilot. Xavier’s suitcases sit beside yours in the entryway, and he’s been spending the better part of an hour trying to coax the two towards the door.

Sylus coordinated the driving service and the airport for your flight (because all six of you won’t fit in the cars you currently have), grumbling on his phone about keeping things discreet. He’s got Mephisto on his free arm, typing what looks like some instructions to Luke and Kieran about an upcoming job. Always busy, that one.

This leaves you and Zayne waiting near the front door. Everyone else seems to be on board, and you’re beginning to wonder if they held a family meeting without you. Not that you’re complaining about having a week off, but this doesn’t feel like a vacation for some reason.

Xavier is finally able to get the two bickering parties out the door, and the poor prince is exhausted. He falls asleep on the way to the airport and thankfully misses Rafayel’s hissy fit about the temperature inside the vehicle.

Sylus leaves the driver a heavy tip.

Surprising to no one except you, Caleb is going to be flying the luxe private plane Sylus has procured. He puts on his fancy aviators and enters the aircraft first, meeting the other few members of crew that had been hired.

Rafayel pulls you onto the plane and into a seat next to him near the back. Silently, he buckles you in and then begins to fidget with the air vents. He’s so on edge you can almost feel it radiate off of him, and you’re close to smacking him upside the head and demanding answers.

You feel the plane whir to life beneath you. The intercom overhead statics before Caleb’s voice comes through, slightly muffled, “Lady and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Looks like we’ve got good weather on our trip. We’ll arrive at our destination at about 0800 hours local time.”

The plane begins to move, rolling slowly from the tarmac where you boarded to the runway.

Caleb’s distorted laugh continues, “Probably a bad time to mention I haven’t flown a passenger aircraft since I was in flight school–”

A tight unamused silence falls.

“ – anyway! Sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight.”

Sylus finishes off his glass of wine in one swig. “Hold tight.”

“If he pulls a barrel roll, I’ll kill him.” Zayne grumbles, not even looking up from the shopping catalog he snatched in the airport.

Thankfully, Caleb doesn’t pull a barrel roll. Despite not having flown a passenger craft in a while, you weren’t able to tell at all.

The last time you were here, you’d been hopped up on painkillers and surrounded by men so worried that your keel over from a harsh breeze you could barely enjoy it. You still had a wonderful time, but you were ready to experience your beach hideaway to the fullest this time.

Only, you’re more worried about Rafayel to enjoy the scenery right now. It’s late when you arrive, and Rafayel insists on a bath. He pushes past the rest of you to shamble inside, and you’re dragging your suitcase so fast behind you it clacks against the sidewalk.

You abandon the suitcase at the door and follow him, “Rafayel!”

He doesn’t turn, climbing the stairs and shoving open the hall bathroom. You hadn’t seen the upstairs on your last visit, and you're surprised by the large window that overlooks the ocean. The free-standing white tub sits just in front of it.

Rafayel turns on the cold tap and starts to fill the tub, stripping off his shirt without looking back at you.

You grab his arm before he can take off his pants, “Rafayel, what’s– oh god, you’re burning up!”

Before he can even reply, you’re reaching out to place your hand against his forehead and then his neck. The heat coming off his skin is sweltering– searing like the flames of his evol.

“I’ll get you some medicine or something.” You say, hating the way his eyes seem unfocused. There’s a pink blush spreading across his face, down to his neck and to his chest. You don’t want to leave him, but the desire to help was too strong.

You hear the splash of water as you escape the bathroom, and nearly stumble down the stairs in your rush.

“Zayne!” You call, and find him with your suitcase in his hand, bringing it to your bedroom. You scurry past a concerned looking Caleb to approach your doctor, “Do you have something for fever? Rafayel is sick.”

Zayne’s brow furrows, “Sick?”

“Kitten…” Sylus drawls, coming up to nearly press into your back. He too is rather warm, but even the heat from a dragon’s form pales in comparison to the fever you’d just felt coming off of Rafayel. “He’s not sick.”

You whirl to give Sylus a sharp, unamused glare– while Zayne roots through his carry-on bag for some medicine. Scowling at the amusement on the dragon's face, you poke him in the sternum harshly, “He’s burning up, and he could hardly keep eye contact. He’s clearly ill.”

“Here.” Zayne offers you a white pill bottle. An over-the-counter pain reliever, “I’m not sure if it will help with his different physiology, but it’s what I have. Though, is a fever not to be expected?”

Sylus chuckles like they’re all in on a secret, and you’re close to fuming. Xavier comes up and places a gentle hand to your back, giving both Zayne and Sylus a stern look, “Don’t be cruel. You know she wasn’t told anything about this.”

“Told about what!?” You screech, throwing your hands up and rattling the pills inside the bottle. “Somebody better start talking or I’m gonna start throwing hands, I swear to god.”

Zayne exchanges a look with the others, a silent exchange that looks too much like should we? Another scathing remark burns at the tip of your tongue, ready to kick these too-tall men into shape if they keep playing coy with information. If something’s wrong with Rafayel, then why can’t you know about it?

However, your snark disappears as Caleb comes shambling down the stairs, looking a little wide-eyed and startled. ��Uh, pips? Rafayel wants you.”

You turn and find that Caleb’s clothes are both wet in places and scorched in others. He brushes through his hair and sighs, like he barely escaped with his life.

“What the hell happened to you?” You ask.

Caleb laughs sheepishly and shrugs, “He doesn’t want me, clearly . Told me he’d turn me into an apple fritter if I bothered him again.”

You huff, and turn to the others. “I’m going to take care of Rafayel.” Your voice is firm and leaves no room for argument, “And when I come back down, I expect some answers.”

You take the steps two at a time back up stairs, leaving the rest of your lovers in various states of amusement and discontent.

“Anyone care to fill me in?” Caleb asks as he pats down the side of his shirt that caught a little too close to Rafayel’s flames. The attack from the sea god hadn't been aimed to kill, just to scare. A wide spread of fire to disperse the unwanted intrusion.

“She won’t be coming downstairs for a while.” Sylus replies, shifting on his feet and crossing his arms. “Our resident fish is experiencing his special time.”

Xavier scowls at the fiend, “We were sworn to secrecy on the matter. Where is your loyalty?”

“It was Rafayel’s idea to come here,” Zayne says matter-of-factly. “If it were to remain a secret, why not hide away for a week like he always did?”

Caleb groans, “C’mon, just tell me. I’ll find out eventually, won’t I? What harm is there now?”

Previously, Rafayel dealt with this time of year on his own. Sweat it out locked away in his room, or in a safehouse a few cities away. It was just an unspoken rule, Rafayel was at his most vulnerable at this time– and until recently, things were too uncertain for him to indulge in it.

In the Sanctuary, Rafayel was adamant that this unusual occurrence would be kept from you. The other men were sworn to secrecy, and promised to keep you occupied while Rafayel disappeared for a few days every year. Because, while Rafayel’s heart belonged to all of them, the bond of Lemuria was first forged with you.

You knock softly before entering the bathroom. The sound of sloshing water meeting your ears as you slowly step inside. “Rafayel? You okay?”

A soft groan replies, and you spy his head hung back, resting on the rounded lip of the ivory tub. His hair is wet and slicked back, the long creamy length of his throat bobs as you grow closer. Sweat beads at his crown and drips down his nose– rosy lips parted and panting.

And as pretty a picture he makes, it’s not what you stare at.

Where his legs once were is a long, powerful, cerulean tail. The scales are huge and iridescent, shimmering like an opal with every tiny movement, gradually growing smaller down the length of it. It’s far too long to fit in the tub, so nearly half hangs out of it, draped across the floor. The translucent tailfin lies limply at your feet, and looks thin like dewy skin of a jellyfish.

You haven’t seen his tail in this life, and it’s more striking than your returned memories could do justice.

“Rafayel…” You whisper, partially in awe and partially in concern. He doesn’t look well, and he’s never changed forms in the bathtub before. Setting the pill bottle aside for a moment, you step close to the tub and use your hand to cup water and trickle it down the exposed scales– worried they might dry out.

A soft, whine leaves his blushed lips, and his eyes stare at you like he can’t believe you’re real. Like you might be something conjured from the fever.

“It’s okay…” You say, reaching out to brush your hand through his damp hair, “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

A piteous moan rings from him, and he grips the side of the tub like he might sink and drown. Hips rolling against the cold water and sloshing more over the side, splashing down on the tile. “I need….” He rasps, licking at his lips like he hasn’t tasted moisture in days. “I need… ”

“I know,” You say, reaching down to grab the pill bottle. “I got some painkillers. Here–”

You go to open the bottle, but Rafayel’s scalding palm snaps to your wrist. The sound of your gasp and the pills scattering to the floor fill the room, but then quickly followed with a low, animal rumble from Rafayel’s chest.

He drags you close, hovering over him. Unceremoniously, Rafayel pulls your hand down beneath the water– the frigid temperature stings your skin. You feel the heat of him before you touch him, and the slick almost slimy feeling of his scales meets your fingertips.

The instant your fingers meet his heated flesh, a ragged, dragged out moan is punched out of him, and his hips rolls towards your open palm. You’ve barely touched him, and he already looks completely fucked-out. Multi-colored irises rolled back, mouth open, throat bobbing.

You press your hand a little firmer to the scales around his hip, and he inhales sharply through his teeth– a deeply satisfying sound. Dragging your fingers towards where you’re sure he wants it, you’re met with another shock.

Where normally, his pretty flushed cock would be waiting for you– he throbs so pretty when he’s desperate– you find nothing. Well, not exactly nothing , but not what you were expecting.

Rafayel still has a vice grip on your wrist, and pulls you closer to the crux of his hips– where his penis should be. Only, instead, you find more scales. Large, thin, and glass-like. The dip in them is nearly imperceptible, and looking through the rippling surface of the water provides no more clues.

Your fingertips catch on an anomaly in the patter of his scales, a little divot you hadn’t felt the first time across. Pausing, you press a little to this odd dip, and Rafayel's keen moan lets you know you’re on the right track.

You lift up to watch his face– the lewd colors of his cheeks contrasted by the shimmery scales that decorated it. You can almost see his pulse pound in his neck, and resist the urge to overstimulate him further with your teeth. Pushing your fingers harder, you gasp when the dip gives way to a slit. Your digits slide easily into a tight, fleshy passage, fluttering around you like a welcome.

“ Ahh!” Rafayel cries, “Please! Please love….inside. Inside more…. more …”

He’s practically delirious with it, and it’s intoxicating. You’ve never had Rafayel begging for you like this, and the power is too delicious to stop. You’ve got the god of tides writhing on your fingers, and you're not even knuckle deep yet.

“Why did you hide this from me?” You coo softly, leaning over to place your face close to his. He turns to face you, and his eyes immediately fall to your lips. A soft, silent, plea for your kiss.

He tries to speak, and you can tell because his tongue moves ineffectually in his pleasure drunk mouth. You tut softly, and give him the tender kiss he desires.

“Shh…” You hum against his lips, “I’ve got you. It’s okay….just let me take care of you….”

He dissolves at your words, pressing his face as close as he can to yours. You keep up a steady, slow rhythm of your fingers. Letting the gooey topography of his slit guide you. You’re not sure how much he can take, and you’re not interested in hurting him– yet.

Rafayel’s hips continue to rut, as indiscernible pleas spill from his lips. You wonder if this is what you look like in the heat of things– a wanton amalgamation of desperation and desire chasing a high.

As he gets closer to his peak, you notice something change. A tighter pressure that presses against the back of your fingers and then up. It’s wet, and swelteringly hot. The heat alone has you turning your head to try and get a better look at what’s going.

Oh.

You gasp softly, even through the shifting water you can see the flushed, nearly purple appendage protruding from his slit just beneath your hand. So he does have a cock in this form.

Except…it’s not alone. Side by side, they lie. Forming an almost mandorla shape together, and two halves of a whole separately. They long and prehensile, you discover, as they split apart to wrap around your wrist.

It’s obscene. It’s….amazing. You can’t look away, and you can’t stop yourself from drawing your fingers from his channel and reaching for them. His cocks greet you like they’d been waiting for it. A deep, heavy throb as you wrap your fingers lightly around them. They fit together almost seamlessly, and if you hadn’t seen them move apart, you’d think there was only one, large, tentacle-like cock.

You’ve barely squeezed them when Rafayel shouts– a strangled, surprised noise cutting through him. His cocks jolt and you can feel him come. The rush of come spurting out and into the water. Pump after pump after pump.

Rafayel’s hand grabs at your arm, and his nails dig into your flesh harshly.

You’re mesmerized. There’s a matching beat deep in your belly, as your own arousal begins to hurt slightly. Drunk on this all-encompassing control you have over him, you turn to watch his face as he comes down from his sudden, bone-shattering high.

He starts to catch his breath, and you can see as his eyes slowly come back into focus. Whatever feverish delight had taken over him, is subsided for now, and he languidly draws you in. A hand on the side of your face and the other on your neck– he doesn’t let you escape. A soft kiss at first, and then a little harder. He bites at your lip like he might sustain himself from the taste alone.

He pauses and pulls away, but only an inch. He searches your face for a moment, before whispering, “Did I hurt you?”

You laugh breathlessly and shake your head as much as you can while he holds you tightly, “No. No, I'm fine. Are you? You’ve never been like this before….”

Rafayel sighs wistfully, and lets you go. He looks down at himself. The tub is nearly half-empty now, with how much water he spilled in his rutting. The end of his tail knocked over the little side table which held the bath salts and bubbles– which now lay strewn across the floor.

The water is a little murky now, and he frowns.

“I guess I should explain.”

You’ve got your arms folded, sitting cross legged in the center of your bed and glaring at the sea god and his audacity. “So what was the plan? Come here and just hope I didn’t notice?”

Rafayel is bad at explaining things, and it felt like pulling teeth before you got even halfway to understand what was happening.

Ebb Day. A day when the tide flows the opposite direction and creatures from the deep sea come to the surface. He’d started the explanation with some long winded fairytale about a mermaid and sailor that fell in love, but it turns out that has so very little to do with what is happening to him.

From what you could piece together, it’s a day of extreme weakness for Lemurians. A day where even the weakest human might overpower them, and even more dangerous for those who were bonded.

Lemurians’ whole beings become dedicated to those they love. They forge an unbreakable, soulbond with their chosen one, and all their senses become attuned to them. And the weeks leading up to Ebb day, their bodies not only crave their beloved but they need them.

The week of Ebb day is uncomfortable for most, and wretched for those with bonds but for whatever reason unable to be with them. Rafayel is sparse in his explanation here, mumbling out half-heartedly comments about the pain and possible hallucinations that can occur.

Ebb day is now five days away. Rafayel is almost too casual as he tells you that what happened in the bathroom will only get worse the closer you get.

Zayne returns to the room with some bottles of water. He hands one to you, and then hands the other to Rafayel– letting his evol frost it over before the siren takes it.

“I figured I’d spend it in the ocean.” Rafayel replies to your previous discontent with a shrug. “You get a little vacay, and I get to stay close. This is easier to deal with in the water anyways.”

That makes your scowl deepen, “You were going to go through this alone? Why? If you didn’t want me to know, then you could have at least had one of the others help?!”

Rafayel pauses mid-gulp. He finishes his water and tosses it aside, “It’s not that simple, cutie. It’s a nice thought, but I’m not exactly fun to be around when this happens. And I could seriously hurt you.”

“Don’t be dumb.” You bite back. “You think I can’t handle a little neediness and rough handling?”

Zayne sighs as he leaves the room, letting the two of you continue bickering with a shake of his head. Distantly, you hear Caleb’s muffled voice from just outside the door– he’s been lingering just outside, listening in just in case.

Rafayel’s face hardens, and he sits up from where he lounged against the pillows, “You think that’s all it is?”

He sounds a little darker, a little more genuinely irritated instead of that feigned annoyance he usually wears. The way he prowls across the bed to you has the hair on the back of your neck standing up, and you lean back on your hands.

Rafayel’s grin is predatory, and it tingles that coil in your gut that makes your lips part in a soft, subtle gasp. He doesn’t touch you, but somehow pushes you onto your back nonetheless. Placing one hand to their side of your head, he crawls over you.

“You’re not a Lemurian.” Rafayel purrs, “You won’t understand. It’s about connecting…body, mind, soul. It’s about possession. It’s about procreation.”

You swallow a heavy lump in your throat. Heart pounding in your ears as his lips caress every word. “P-procreation?”

Rafayel hums and lowers his head, hiding his face against your chest. He places a feather-light kiss to your collarbone, and then ghosts his lips up your neck, whispering against your jaw, “A week of being so tightly pressed together...you can’t tell where one body ends and the other begins. The final day…I’ll be so obsessed with the idea of filling you, I won’t stop til it takes .”

Your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. Mind spinning as it slowly catches up with what he just said. “Do you…really want that?”

Rafayel pauses in his teasing. Lips hovering over the untouched side of your neck. He looks up at you through violet tinged lashes and smiles gently, “Not until you do.”

He returns to kissing you. Placing tender, loving touches to all the skin he can reach. It’s slow and lazy– like you’ve got all the time in the world.

You blink a few times and try to screw your head on straight, “If we do this…” You whisper softly, “Is it guaranteed that I will…that I’ll…?”

You only ask because you’re not entirely certain that your poor human birth control could withstand Rafayel’s sea-god sex week. It’s been a wonder that it’s withstood the onslaught of your lovers up until now.

Rafayel laughs, but it sounds like thunder. “Don’t tease me, cutie. I might get ideas…”

“Rafayel, I’m serious.” You reply, placing your hands to his face and pulling him to look at you. There’s a daze to his eyes again, but he’s still lucid for now. “I won’t let you go through this alone. Me and the others…we’re here for you. I just need to know if I should take something beforehand.”

There’s a shift in his expression. The teasing and taunting fading into something uncertain. You feel his gaze shift around your face, the weight of attention like layers of thick silk. A sense of anticipation tightens in the air as he shifts ever closer.

Rafayel sighs, nearly silent. “I warn you and warn you, yet still you insist…”

His voice trails off, words disappearing into the air around you. A firm hand on your hip has you sliding into him, and Rafayel catches your lips in a heady kiss.

You feel the heat radiating off of him again, seeping into your mouth and warming your tongue like a steaming cup of tea. It’s hard to match his fervor when his entire body is hardwired to perceive you. How could you hope to meet him halfway when his body yearns not for food nor water, but for you?

In between wet kisses, Rafayel mumbles, “I won’t be held responsible then…” He tilts his head and drags his sharp teeth across the tender flesh of your throat, breathing raggedly like he has to put great effort in not biting down. “And I won’t hold back….”

Rafayel’s fingertips leave trails of tingling sensations in their wake. His evol burns at the very tips of his skin, burning him from the inside out and using his desire as fuel. You’d be worried about him actually burning you if it didn’t feel so delectable.

Your clothes are torn from you, seams popped in the rush to remove them. A button from your shorts clattering across the hardwood floor. Rafayel doesn’t seem to hear any of it. His ears are filled with the sound of your breath. The soft whines that leave you, coaxed from you like a divine instrument. You sing for him even before he’s able to get his tongue inside you.

The taste of you has his eyes rolling back in his head. He thought you tasted heavenly before, especially when you were close to ovulating. A special kind of sweetness that bloomed across his tongue– whispering in low tones to his worst instincts that you were ready.

But this? Rafayel can’t get enough. He can’t stop from lapping at you like a ravenous beast, and maybe that’s all he is. Maybe all that talk of sea god this or god of tides that was just folklore to hide the true nature of him. The nature of a gluttonous, greedy man made weak from the dew between your legs.

Your back arches and Rafayel moans, he reaches one hand up your body– needing to feel more of your precious skin. You’ve never felt cool to him before; your touch is always warm, but this heat ….this burning heat inside him threatens to melt his brain, and it feels like you’re the cure. You’re what he needs to quench the flames.

The room is a blur. Anything that isn’t you fades into a muted background. Rafayel isn’t sure how long he spent tongue-fucking you, but when he finds another moment of clarity, he’s above you. He’s got your thighs pressed to your chest, the backs of your knees acting as handrests as he presses you in half.

“ Ra-Rafa–” You can’t even finish his name, nearly drooling as he teases his cock inside. Your weepy cunt throbbing for him– for him.

Usually, Rafayel is whispering filth in your ear. He loves to watch your eyelashes flutter and feel you tighten up. It’s almost too easy to mumble praises and get you into that pliant, floaty headspace, and he never misses an opportunity.

Except for now. Now, he’s slack jawed, groaning with every rough push of his hips. In this position he can reach that deep, squishy spot inside you that has your voice pitching up. He can feel you gush in a new wave of slick that has his tongue feeling too restless for his mouth– torn suddenly with the urge to drink it up.

Rafayel doesn’t even realize he’s close to coming until you do. It’s like his body isn’t his– like the stimuli he’s feeling is just secondary to you. When you come– singing for him, squeezing him, Rafayel follows immediately after. Like your cry of pleasure is a plea for his come that he’s helpless to obey.

It’s not enough to just come inside you. It’s not enough to just know he’s filled you up– no. No , it’s not enough. Rafayel grits his teeth, an uncomfortable feeling scouring under his skin that’s only soothed when he continues to thrust inside you. Deep, heavy rolls of his hips that pushes his come deeper and deeper and deeper .

Rafayel nearly works himself back up into a fever again. The mantra burning inside his head is impossible to ignore, and he needs to know his come as where it’s supposed to be.

He’s not sure how much time passes, only that he has to keep going. As long as it takes.

A hand enters his line of vision, and Rafayel hisses softly. The pale skin of the intruder is familiar, but for some reason his hackles still raise.

“You need to let go of her.” Xavier’s voice is soft, but firm. His hand rests on Rafayel’s shoulder, a cool but heavy weight that sobers the sea god slightly.

Rafayel blinks, and looks down. You’re still beneath him, folded into a deep mating press. You’re breathing heavily, and when you meet Rafayel’s eyes he can see the remnants of tears that have leaked out.

He pulls away, and scowls when he sees the imprint of his hands left on the backs of your legs. You exhale in relief as you unfold yourself, and lean your face into Xavier’s hand when he caresses you.

Rafayel burns inside. The bond in his heart sits like a white-hot coal. This bond….was forged with you, and Rafayel had always assumed that he’d unconsciously reject the others if they’d intruded.

But that’s not what he feels. He doesn’t feel possession over you, or a desire to sever Xavier’s hand from his wrist for daring to touch you. Rafayel sits on his heels and watches as the blond assesses you, cares for you, and places a soft kiss to your nose.

“I’m okay…” You whisper softly, reassuring Xavier with a soft kiss to his palm. “I didn’t know I could bend like that for that long.”

Xavier hums, sounding both amused and impressed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I was worried.”

Rafayel finally finds the ability to move again, and slides back up you body, propping himself up on his elbows and laying across you like a heated weighted blanket, “Aw, were you worried she couldn’t handle it?”

Xavier, who was now sat on the edge of the bed near your head, looks over to Rafayel with an impassive expression, “No. Besides giving her a muscle cramp, I know bunny can handle it. It was you I was worried about.”

Rafayel’s brow lowers, and he has to grapple against a sudden rush of heat again. His mind whirls with this casual confession of concern, because he’s itching again. The desire to touch and taste is back– rising like a stoked inferno, but it’s not just you anymore.

You sit up slightly, and Rafayel is caught ensnared by the vision of you. Your skin is flushed, hair askew, and a litany of lovely marks against your neck that Rafayel isn’t certain when he left.

“He feels a little cooler now,” You say, reaching out to brush some hair from his face. A tender, compassionate gesture that shouldn’t stir him as much as it does. “I think letting him go a little wild is helping.”

Xavier hums and reaches out, placing the back of his palm against the forehead you exposed, “How frequently are the bouts of delirium? We should time them to make sure you’re eating enough…”

Xavier lets his hand fall, and Rafayel will deny the sound of disappointment that left him.

“Rafayel?” Your voice calls to him, but instead of drawing his attention, the syllables of his name ring like weights at his ankles– dragging him further under. Vaguely, he hears you say, “He’s getting droopy eyed again. Rafayel, can you hear me?”

Rafayel feels your voice and moves, rising up to slide his form against yours, feeling the curves of your body like a wave against the sand. Dragging skin against skin so he can feel the balm you provide his heat, “I hear you…darling. I hear you fine.”

“You need to go again?” You whisper, reaching out to hold the sides of his face, “Can you wait? Take a drink at least…”

Rafayel grins, breathing out against your lips in an amused huff, “Oh good idea… I’m so thirsty…just let me…”

He slides back down, heading towards the only thing he wants to taste at the moment. Why would he need anything else? He’s certain, in this moment, that he could be sustained fro your pussy alone.

Before he can get his mouth where he wants it, something– someone – stops him. A hand that first tries to get his attention by squeezing his shoulder. Xavier calls Rafayel’s name, but the man doesn’t hear it. And when that doesn’t work, Xavier finds a grip in the sea god’s hair, fingers tangled in violet tresses and pulling his head back.

The sound that leaves Rafayel is wrecked. A broken, pleading moan that is far too high and whiny. “ Oh…”

Xavier inhales sharply and too easily, Rafayel follows his hold, crawling back up your body and rising up to his knees to be closer to Xavier’s face. The blond holds him close so that there’s no question the delirious man can hear him, “You’re going to hurt yourself, or hurt her. Is that what you want?”

Rafayel’s eyes and drooping, unfocused and unseeing because the sensation of the hand in his hair is too much. “N-no…”

Xavier nods, stunned slightly by how permissive Rafayel is with the manhandling. A whole new side of the artist is being revealed, and the room buzzes with anticipation for it.

Something about Xavier’s command has Rafayel staying put, obeying despite everything. The prince exits to retrieve sustenance, and returns to find Rafayel covering your exposed skin in soft, wet kisses. He hadn’t moved from where Xavier had put him, and only touched what he could reach.

Rafayel downs another entire bottle of water while you take a few sips of yours. You barely get the lid on before he’s grabbing you again, hot breath steaming out of him as he lines his weepy cock up with your tender entrance.

“ A-ahh… ” You sigh as he wastes absolutely no time pushing inside you, too eager and too hot to think of anything else.

Xavier hesitates before leaving, covering the sides of your face with his hands to watch the pleasure melt you. His hazy blue eyes look up at the other man currently wrecking you and asks, “Can I stay?”

Rafayel grunts, rutting his hips a little harder, “You’re next.”

It sounds like a horrible threat and a loving, desperate promise.

Xavier keeps his distance for the moment, only entering the cloud of candy desire by holding your hands through the thorough wrecking. Rafayel doesn’t let up, his inhuman stamina coming to strut it’s stuff. Leaving you a leaky, trembling mess.

After Rafayel comes inside a second time, you’re left drooling into the blankets, unsure what happens now. He’d said Xavier was next, but what did that mean?

You feel Rafayel drag Xavier onto the bed, tearing at his clothes even rougher than he’d been with yours. It’s hard to breathe, watching as the blond is unwrapped like a birthday present– clothing ripped like tissue paper and discarded for the prize underneath.

Your mind is only a few seconds ahead of what’s in front of your eyes, and your imagination supplies lurid images of Rafayel pulling Xavier into a kiss. A beat and it happens, like foresight. You imagine Rafayel pushing Xavier onto the mattress beside you, and voila, there he is.

You imagine Rafayel moving in between Xavier’s leg and being too hasty with trying to get inside him– but that’s not what happens next. Rafayel doesn’t rush like you thought he might. Instead, he takes his time to taste the prince’s neck. His chest and down the ripples expanse of his abdomen.

Xavier is just as surprised as you are by the attention to his pleasure, and a sharp hiss cuts through the blond’s teeth when Rafayel drags his tongue up his cock. He was already half-hard just watching the two of you, but with that one lascivious lick he’s steely and twitching.

This time, you get to kiss Xavier through his pleasure. Drink in his stunned gasps and shuddering moans as Rafayel takes him in his throat down to the hilt.

Now that you’ve caught your breath, you can dedicate more attention to them. Letting your fingers dance across Xavier’s chest, feeling the way his heart pounds in his chest, and pinching his peachy nipples.

It’s always been such a treat to see a man like Xavier crumble. His voice is always so soft, like feather down and sun sugar– but in pleasure it gets deeper, darker. Rich like couverture chocolate sparked with chili. Even as rough as Xavier can be, there’s gentleness.

He likes to hold you by the throat, and he does so now. Not gripping, but cradling. Feeling the tender chords of your throat bend as you swallow and breathe. Your pulse thrums against his fingertips and it soothes him. Xavier finds comfort in him like you do in him. A place to unravel from your defensive coil and exist in decadent vulnerability.

Xavier gets a little rougher when he’s close. Biting at his lip and pulling your face closer to his with one hand while his other goes to grip Rafayel’s hair– mindlessly thrusting up into the wet heat of his lover’s mouth.

Rafayel knows it as well as you do that Xavier’s on the precipice– probably more so. With a satisfied rumble, the sea god draws away. Chuckling as he watches Xavier thrust up into nothing.

“Stay just like that…” Rafayel commands, voice low, soft, but dangerous. He rises up onto his knees, and places his scalding hand just below Xavier’s navel. “Let me look at you for a minute.”

The minute passes agonizingly slowly. Xavier struggles not to move, his face twitching and you can almost see his train of thought. He’s debating disobeying– taking control. He’s not usually a fan of being on his back, even with you.

You wonder if Rafayel is doing it to edge the poor prince, or to try and memorize him to draw later. You found Rafayel’s more salacious sketchbook once while cleaning his studio– a small letter sized book filled with graphite sketches of you and your lovers in various erotic positions.

Rafayel doesn’t say anything before he moves. There’s just the slightest shift in his breath, a sharp inhale that breaks the pattern before he’s dragging his hand down and gripping Xavier’s cock. Pumping a few times until the prince moans prettily.

Of the months you’ve been with them, you’ve never seen Rafayel bottom. Not once. Not once has ever let the other men take him in that way, so it’s more than a little surprising to see him shift to straddle Xavier’s waist.

Xavier’s hands snap to Rafayel’s hip, gripping him tightly, “Wait…are you sure?”

Even Xavier can’t believe it, apparently. The hands on Rafayel’s waist are pulling him down, but keeping him up.

You sit up onto your elbows and reach for Rafayel’s hand, which he grasps tightly.

“Don’t deny me.” Rafayel hisses, glowering down at the blond with his chin raised, “I need it.”

So demanding, even like this. You're completely tongue-tied and unsure what to do, because your equal parts worried about the change in character and interested to see where it goes.

“Bunny,” Xavier turns his head to motion towards the bedside table, “Lube.”

His voice is tight and strained and so you don’t waste any time. You clatter to the table and retrieve the half-empty bottle from the drawer. When you turn, Rafayel isn’t fighting against Xavier’s hold anymore, but is sitting on Xavier’s hip just behind where he wants to be. Letting their cocks sit beside each other.

Rafayel is almost petulant as Xavier coaxes him to move, making sure he can prep him properly with his fingers. You soothe the siren’s hunger by keeping him occupied with your mouth. Kissing him sweetly until his whines of irritation turn into soft keens of pleasure. You wrap your hand around his reddened member and let him drive his hips forward and back– into your palm and back onto Xavier’s fingers.

Once Xavier’s satisfied that no damage will be done, he returns to their original position. Xavier lays on his back and gasps when Rafayel climbs him like he’ll die if he doesn’t sit on Xavier right. this. instant.

Xavier moans, long and drawn out as Rafayel attempts to spear himself– gasping like he’s drawing. And maybe he is? You’ve been so consumed in the heat of the moment, you haven’t really considered what Rafayel might be feeling.

It must be frightening to feel like you’ll die if you don’t get to touch someone.

You rise to your knees, and move. Grabbing both of Rafayels hands and pulling his attention to you, “Slow. Slower than that. Rafayel, look at me, yeah?”

Rafayel does. Through a cloud of amethyst haze, his eyes find yours. He’s panting, shivering, sweating.

“I need…”

“I know.” You say, and when you nod your noses brush together. “But you have to start slow. If you start slow, you can go fast later…follow me. Move with me.”

“Yes…” Rafayel begs, leaning forward to kiss you weakly. He slows the press of his hips downwards, following the gentle guidance of your hands. “ Oh…yes…”

“That’s it.” You breathe reverently. “You’re doing wonderful. So perfect.”

Rafayel responds to your praise with a staggered moan, breaking up into little pieces like thin sugar candy.

Xavier is a barely contained flame. He’s got one hand gripping Rafayel’s hip to hold the slow pace, despite the pleasure that threatens to consume him from the sweltering heat swallowing him up. His other hand rests on your thigh, squeezing you like a stress ball as if it’s the only thing keeping him from coming apart at the seams.

Soon enough, you find a rhythm. You feel powerful– like a goddess – guiding Rafayel with your hands up and down. Up the veiny length of Xavier’s shaft and back down again.

Once Rafayel is moving without your assistance, Xavier is able to find his control again. It’s only a flicker of sanity through the draping heat that leads the prince to grabbing you, hauling up and grunting, “ Sit, bunny.”

It doesn’t take a starfleet scientist to figure what he means, because he’s forgoing thrusting up for the moment to make sure you’re positioned right. Thighs on either side of his head, and drippy sex right above his face.

Bracing yourself against Xavier’s chest you slowly press down, but Xavier isn’t having any of the demure shit right now. He’s got a sea god bouncing on his cock, and he was a goddess on his face. He growls– the only warning you get before he’s dragging you down. Meeting your cunt with his outstretched tongue.

The combined stimuli of Xavier’s devilish tongue and watching Rafayel ride him is enough to overcome any hesitation. Less than a minute later you’re rolling your hips. Riding Xavier’s face just like he wants you to.

“ Ah! Ah! Ah!” You cry rhythmically, meeting the tempo Rafayel’s thrusts like you might connect your lust drunk minds, to feel what he feels. To taste that decadent pleasure you both deliriously chase.

Oddly, you come first. Shaking and trembling as you feel Xavier drink up every drop of honey you give him. A muffled moan vibrates against your clit and sends shocks of sensation up your stripped spine– sparking into painful overstimulation.

Xavier isn’t far behind, wrung of his orgasm from the vice heat of Rafayel’s plushy insides. His peak is muffled because he won’t let you pull away. He won’t remove his tongue from inside you and miss even a second of the syrupy sweet taste.

Rafayel slows his hips as Xavier slowly softens inside him, and when you find a moment to breathe– that breath catches in your lungs. Rafayel’s attention has turned to you, eyes falling on you like a headsman's axe.

“Come to me.” Rafayel says sharply.

Xavier barely has enough time to release his hold on your thighs before his violet haired lover is pulling you away. Pushing you over to squish your face in the bed right next to Xavier’s messy face, and pulling your hips up.

“Can’t waste it.” Rafayel sounds possessed. Like his voice doesn’t belong to him. Speaking absentmindedly as he grips the base of his cock, precome dripping from the weepy slit. It takes a few searching half-hearted thrusts to find your seam and press inside. “Don’t waste a drop… my darling girl. My beloved bride…”

Rafayel thrusts with his whole body, and it’s the first sign of any exhaustion he’s shown. He draws out to the very tip and then pushes back inside, carving his place inside you like it’s his. And it is. You’re his.

“Nngh!” You choke on a mixture of pleasure and pain. You’re pushing against the limits of what you can handle in a session, but the feeling satisfying this radiant divine part of Rafayel is enough to keep you going. “I-I won’t! I won’t waste it!”

It’s only two more thrusts before Rafayel comes, thready dripping from his blushed lips like a siren’s song. And it feels like that’s exactly what it is. Your mind sinks into a fluffy, warm space. Drunk and sedated simultaneously from his reverent attention and the heated rush of come flooding you once more.

Later that day, you’re laying on a lounge chair on the back porch, letting the afternoon sun warm your skin. Caleb sits beside you, massaging your body with some oddly scented lotion.

On paper, spending all day squished between your ravenous, heat-stricken lover and one or two of your other lovers sounds great. On paper, Rafayel’s ebb day rut sounded great. Marathon sex without end? Yes please.

Only, the reality is a little less sexy and a bit more sticky. Rafayel refuses to come unless it’s inside you, even when he was previous fucking someone else. You’d feel special if you didn’t feel like an overfilled cream donut– who’re you kidding? You’re definitely gonna miss this once it’s over.

Until then, you hurt. Your muscles ache and you feel raw inside. It stings a little when you walk– the little limp you had when you finally got a chance to stand up only riled Rafayel up again.

Currently, Zayne is occupying the sea god with Xavier. While Sylus and Caleb keep you company and let you rest for a moment. Sylus sits in a lawn chair right next to the door, sipping at pomegranate lemonade with a little yellow umbrella, and acting like a bouncer. No one’s going in or going out at the moment, not until Caleb’s done.

“I smell like a medicine cabinet now…” You whine softly but make no effort to move away.

“It’s magnesium lotion, pipsqueak.” Caleb explains as he digs his thumbs into your calf, rolling out the potential knots and pressing the cream deep. “It’ll help you from getting sore.”

“I’m already sore.” You hide your face into the pillow and groan softly. “Ugh this is only day one….”

Sylus chuckles and swirls his drink a few times, the ice cubes rattling together, “We should feel grateful he’s willing to play with others. He was always adamant it could only be you.”

Lifting your head, you give Sylus a sharp look, “What do you mean ‘he always’ ?”

Sylus brings his drink to his lips and smiles when he places the bendy straw in his mouth. He takes a long, slow swig before he answers you, “I’d like to preempt this with the fact I was never on board with keeping it a secret, but it wasn’t my secret to share.”

“Big on transparency, are you?” Caleb remarks as he gently rolls his fingers around your ankle.

“Oh, communication is key.” Sylus replies playfully, “We were made aware of his predicament in the world before. The Sanctuary was hardly a place for a Lemurian to hide away during such a vulnerable time. This bond that Lemurians forge, he was certain it would reject everyone except you, and your fishy had the sense that you , for whatever reason, couldn’t handle a week of his full attention. Though, was he wrong?”

You pout but it quickly morphs into a grimace as Caleb finds a knot in your thigh. “Sorry, pips.” He says softly, and then under furth examination, clicks his tongue in disappointment. “You have bruises here. On the backs of your thighs.”

Sylus lowers his chin to peer over his sunglasses, while Caleb traces the blooming marks with his fingertips. You twist to try and see, but the backs of your thighs aren’t exactly accessible, and so you fall back to lay on your stomach. “I’m not surprised. He had me in that mating press for like thirty minutes.”

“M-mating press?” Caleb stutters, hand falling a little heavier on your skin and squeezing ever so slightly.

“Okay so maybe he wasn’t wrong entirely.” You concede, “But he was wrong about the bond rejecting you. He didn’t have to go through it alone.”

“If someone is half-wrong,” Sylus begins as he leans back in his chair, “Does that make the half-right part inconsequential?”

“He should be gentler.” Caleb mumbles softly, drawing his thumbs up the back of your thigh, and then– a moment later– pressing his lips there. “If he can’t control himself, then maybe he should go through it alone.”

You turn and give Caleb a stern look, letting him stew on the words he just said.

Sylus’ laugh is devilish and he lowers his sunglasses to give Caleb a mischievous smirk, “Ooh, better apologize puppy. I’d hate to see you sleeping outside.”

Caleb frowns, and no such apology is made.

Thankfully, after the first day. Rafayel cools off a little. The excitement of the new opportunities had made his poor fishy brain melt a little, and he’d gotten so carried away he even wore himself out.

Shifts were taken. Though it was hard to keep as Rafayel’s instincts were fickle and unfathomable. He would seek out one of your group like he’d been starved of them, and it felt like a roll of the dice who it would be.

On the dreaded Ebb day . It was gloomy– the sky was overcast in bluish grey and the wind was sharper as it rushed in from the ocean. It felt foreboding, and it was.

Rafayel wouldn’t let any of you leave the bedroom. He snapped at Zayne for daring to try and go make breakfast, and nearly clawed Caleb’s arm off when he tried to escape the nest of bodies and sleep on the floor.

This bed wasn’t nearly as spacious as your bed at home, but Rafayel seemed to enjoy the closeness. While the rest of you sweat through the humidity, the sea god seemed soothed by it. Though he complained about the heat constantly, when someone was touching him he would sigh like a cold compress was pressed to his skin.

During the week, Rafayel would have time between his bouts of ravenous desire. Sometimes he was granted hours between them where he was able to drink, eat, and bathe. And then, just as suddenly, he’d grab you. Pin you to the ground and mount you like he hadn’t seen you in months. Begging you to take it like he might cry if you didn’t.

Today, there was no such reprieve. The moment the sun rose, Rafayel was gone. Replaced by someone who didn’t exist without you. His skin needed to be pressed to yours. He’d awoken you with his cock inside you– with slow, heavy thrusts. Sylus was still awake, and talked the two of you through it. Holding onto Rafayel’s hip with a tight hand to keep from pounding too harshly into you.

After you were filled, Sylus kissed you. He drank in the remnants of your pleasure and gently detached you from the sea god. He handed you to Zayne, whispering a soft request to take care of you to the doctor.

You were able to get a few more hours of sleep while Sylus battled against the other mythic creature. Dragon versus siren, and this once– the dragon came out on top. Bending Rafayel over to fuck him deep and fast. It was hard to sleep through the harsh slaps of hips against one another, and the weepy cries of Rafayel’s cross-eyed pleasure.

When Sylus had had his fill, Rafayel found you again. Pushing you into Zayne’s chest and not caring that the doctor held you while he pushed your legs apart. Pleading with you to please, please, please show him your pretty pussy again.

Zayne was an active bystander for this round. A slower, more purposeful rutting as Rafayel rolled with him. Guided by the doctor’s skilled fingers that shimmered with frost.

You could hardly catch your breath. Every inhale stung with the frigid air, and every exhale swallowed by Rafayel’s desperate mouth. His cock felt even more swelteringly hot inside you with Zayne at your back. The contrast was too much, and you came three times before Rafayel met his end– filling you again.

You were icky and dripping by midday. Sticky with sweat, leaking Rafayel’s come despite his commands to not spill a drop. While the others tried to rest in between rounds, Caleb couldn’t sleep, and spent most of his time trying to take care of you.

He tutted softly as you sleepily leaned into him, letting him drag the warm washcloth against your abdomen and then down to the crux of your thighs. It was gentle and reverent, but Rafayel took personal offense to this. He snarled at Caleb and snatched the washcloth– throwing it across the room like a poisoned article.

Caleb was punished with face shoved into your pussy, lapping like the little puppy he was while Rafayel fucked him harshly. It was almost mean, and even Xavier woke up and attempted to draw the siren’s attention away.

It didn’t work. And Rafayel wasn’t satisfied until he’d made Caleb beg to come. The colonel sang his pleas into the folds of your cunt, only drawing his tongue away for those few moments until it was back again.

Rafayel didn’t come inside Caleb. In a flurry, he pulled out, and rolled Caleb away, dragging you by the ankle to shove back inside you. It seemed you were due a punishment too, for letting Caleb wipe away his come in the first place. Rafayel whispered his promises to fill you darkly in your ear. Now, he’d have to try twice as hard.

Xavier was the only one Rafayel was halfway gentle with. The only of your group besides you that he seemed willing to ride without harsh desperation, and so the rounds that included the blond were the easiest.

It was almost sundown when you found yourself feeling a bit dizzy, draped across Sylus’ chest as Rafayel fucked you from behind. Xavier’s firm hands on the artist’s waist kept him from pounding you, and the blond’s low voice in his ear had him trembling close to orgasm in record time.

The sunset, and darkness blanketed your house. It snuck up on you, because one moment you were still being used like a come dump and the next you’re passed out alongside the others in a haphazard pile.

Zayne, of course, is the only one sleeping halfway properly. He’s got a pillow and everything. From there, it’s just downhill With Sylus leaning against him, nearly upright and Xavier in his lap, splayed like a sleepy housecat. Caleb is snoring on top of Zayne with his legs over Xavier’s and an arm draped over his eyes. You’re nestled somewhere in the middle, with Rafayel laying on your chest with your legs intertwined.

Exhaustion is too soft a word. This is bone-deep debility. Wrung out like wet rags of every last drop of moisture. You snore louder than you ever have, and even the storm that brews outside that night does nothing to stir any of you.

A short spring storm wets the earth. Thunder rumbles and lightning casts flashes of cool light into your room. None of it disturbs your rest. Not even the rush of wind and rain tapping against your window intrudes upon the blessed peace you’ve finally found.

When morning comes, the storm is gone, and Ebb day is finally over.

#love and deepspace #lads #lads x reader #lads sylus #lads rafayel #lads xavier #lads zayne #lads mc #lads caleb #poly lads x reader #poly love and deepspace #poly lads #polycule #lads fanfic #lads smut

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meowmaymeow · 1 month ago

Text

Carnal desire

It all starts with a touch. You can feel the heat on your fingers as soon as you touch Rafayel. Clouded fuzzy mind, half-closed eyes, heavy breathing and... a strange flicker? Dozens of small lights merge and form a thin veil, with its outlines resembling membranes and fins, like an extension of his ears. His pupils fill with azure light, the gaze becomes more determined. "Are you sure you fully understand what you're asking for?" Tags: 18+, smut with little plot, mdni! afab! reader x Rafayel in heat!, oral (male recieving) Word count: 1187 a/n: first time ive written such smut and ig pt2 is up if this one wont flop.

Yes, you've heard about the nature of Lemurians, and Rafayel himself has told you a lot. History, traditions, culture, art... but there was also something else. You've noticed more than once that sometimes Rafayel disappears all of a sudden, doesn't answer any of your messages and calls, doesn't get in touch at all. And then he appears as nothing of that has ever happened, justifying himself by saying that he just needs to be alone. From month to month. The feeling of curiosity and sincere misunderstanding devoured you. What is the true reason for his sudden absence? What is he really hiding? There was something fascinating about this Lemurian man that made you step into this veil of mysteries and understatements. Something was happening to your lover, and it's your duty to understand, and if necessary, to help.

Filled with determination, you realized that this time you couldn't lose the chance to find out what truly was the cause behind Rafayel's absence in your life. It was not so difficult to get into the Mo Art Studio: the gate, as on any other day, was ajar. It seems that Rafayel still did not listen to your advice to take better care of his safety. Maybe Thomas would try to reason with him later.

The light of the moon's disc illuminated the artist's mansion, as if highlighting it and luring it even more. Luring you into the depths of the mysteries and secrets of Lemuria.

It's dark inside. Quiet. Not even a sound. Only moonlight strings shining through the glass of the tall windows in the workshop, illuminating the canvases and sculptures. It seemed that the owner of the mansion had gone away for a while, leaving the house unattended for, but ... a rustle?

— Rafayel! — panicking, you run up to your lover, who was lying senseless by the sofa. "Are you okay?" What's wrong with you? You went missing again, I was worried... Rafayel, answer me! — you try to lift him up by putting your arm around his shoulders and dragging him to the couch.

Something's wrong. Is there this strange heat and... fragrance coming from him? So pleasant, suspiciously familiar, charming.

— Rafael, come on! Answ–! — before you can finish your sentence, he grabs your wrist, restraining you and pulling you towards him.

— Why did you come? I told you, sometimes I just need to be alone… You don't understand. — for a moment it seems to you that a strange azure glow appeared in his eyes, but apparently the moonlight is playing tricks on you.

— Why do you say that? You obviously are sick! Please tell me, how can I help? — you say still trying to resist his grip.

— You don't understand what you're getting yourself into. And I don't want... I don't want you to see me like this. — his words are more like a plea. They do not repel, but warn. But from what?

— Please, I can see that something is wrong. And I can't watch the person I love disappear. Completely. He cuts off any contact with me, and then comes back as if nothing had happened. Rafayel, dear… I really want to help. — tears come to your eyes from a feeling of helplessness and loss.

— If you don't leave now, I'm afraid I won't be able to let you go. Ever. Your whole being, your whole nature attracts. And I can't. No. It can not happen.

You can feel the heat that radiated from his body starting to intensify. The whole studio seemed to have been transported to another dimension. The one where it was just the two of you. A myriad of lights began to swirl around Rafayel's outline, forming a thin veil resembling fins, like an extension of his ears. Remaining on the skin, the lights took the form of scales, sinking lower and lower, along the neck, along the back and arms. Yes, you've seen him like this before, but this is the first time you've seen him actually transform into his true form. The form of a brave and ancient creature.

— You don't understand what you're asking for. — his whisper echoes in your head. — You don't understand what you're agreeing to. — he nuzzles his head into your soft chest, inhaling that sweet fragrance of yours, as if he was yearning for it this whole time. His hands go feral, cupping your chin and digging his fingers into your delicate waist. — Don’t you dare leave me now, darlin’. I promise I won’t let you go until I make sure you are completely mine. Forever. Till the end of times. Only mine. — he whispers. — And don’t forget – this was your own decision from the very beginning. — you feel as waves of strange pleasure and arousal shiver down your back. That strange aroma from before fills your mind completely, slowly erasing all worries and thoughts away from your anxious mind.

— Rafayel, I… It’s hard to breathe… — you feel your mind drifting away, leaving only one thing behind – primal desire.

Grinding against each other, feeling the warmth and pleasure only from touching bodies – all your senses intensified, bringing that tingling feeling to the bottom of your stomach. You push yourself closer to him, pressing your chest against his, gently embracing your beloved. He’s hard, you can feel it. Sense even. His arousal is almost begging to be touched, to be enveloped by your love and adoration.

— Rafayel, it feels so strange… So hot here… I’m sorry… Please… — you murmur under your breath, slowly sinking lower until your lips are against his stomach. The fragrance of his body flips something inside you, bringing you to your primal nature. — Let me, I beg you, darling — the way those words escape from your soft lips leaves Rafayel senseless, desiring every bit of your precious body.

You begin to slowly unzip his pants, revealing a hot member, already glistening with arousal, silver strings of precum running down its length. Only the sight of it leaves your mouth drooling. You start with licking carefully its crimson red tip – his most sensitive part – and hear Rafayel’s breath become heavier. Moving down, you press your lips against his cock and start sucking, deepthroating and swallowing all of his salty precum, feeling as his member twitches under your touch. Both your hands placed on the inner side of his thighs, you reposition, making it easier for you to devour him completely, bringing this Lemurian to absolute ecstasy. The pain from his cock hitting your throat again and again transforms into pure pleasure, making you pick up the pace. From such an intense stimulation and the sight of your saliva dripping down his length, Rafayel doesn’t last long.

Loud moans echo through the room, thick pearly strings of cum fill up your mouth, making you roll your eyes from its sweet taste. You swallow every drop of it, making sure nothing is spilled and wasted, its warmth burning your insides. Not completely satisfied and wanting more, you place a gentle kiss on top of his still hard and red cock.

— I promised I would help. So why would anything stop me?

#lads #love and deepspace #lads rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x you #rafayel x reader #rafayel smut #rafayel x mc #lnds smut #lnds x reader #lnds rafayel #love and deepspace x reader #lads smut #rafayel in heat #lads x reader #lnds #love and deep space

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written-in-flowers · 1 month ago

Text

I Need a Big Boy: 3racha x Male!Reader

Pairing: Chan/Han/Changbin x Male!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Genre: Smut (loads), fluff | AU: idolverse, ninth member au

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: What started as a simple shower between friends turns into body worship very quickly.

Disclaimer: These works are completely fictitious and for entertainment purposes only. They are not meant to reflect or label the members of Stray Kids in any way. The events within never took place. Thank you.

Tags: porn without plot (maybe? tiny bit?) polyamorous, foursome (MMMM), group sex, body worship, slight muscle worship, switching partners, shower sex, blowjobs, rough blowjobs, face fucking, throat fucking, light degradation, rim jobs, anal sex, anal fingering, dom/sub undertones/dynamic, creampie, cum swallowing, dom!changbin, dom!chan, sub!han, switch!reader,

Taglist: @james-is-here @onementally-unstabel-kid @omg-lexiloveyou @drinkingrumandcocacola @belladonna6-6-6 @channiesbum @oreoqueen @succubus-hansol

Here's What You Missed on Newbie!

Next on Newbie!

****

You both truly did mean to leave for the studio. After the gym and lunch at a new cafe, you and Han planned on freshening up at his place and then leaving. With some more recordings and alterations, the album will be done and they'd move onto their comeback preparations. You’d been thinking about the newest song, singing it in your head when the shower door opened.

“Hey,” Han stepped in behind you, “I was thinking about your song, and wanted to talk about an idea I had for it.”

“Here?” you asked incredulously. “We’re going to the studio. We could talk about it there.”

“I don’t want to lose the thought. Scoot over,” he slipped past you to be underneath the water. “You always get the perfect temperature,” he sighed once the water hit his face, “You need to tell me your secrets, water wizard.”

“It’s an art form,” you shrugged. You might as well let him, you thought, as you picked up the shower gel. It’ll certainly cut down on time. “What idea did you have for the song?”

You and Han stood underneath the steaming shower, your naked bodies dangerously close to each other. It started with washing yourselves while talking about the album and comeback. Casual and light hearted, you didn’t expect anything to really happen. Minho said Han could sleep with whichever member he wanted, but that didn’t mean you’d jump at the chance every time. Plus, the workout left your muscles feeling slightly worn. You didn’t know how you’d make it through recording, but you promised Chan you’d show up so you would. But, when Han asked you to get spots on his back, you’ll admit it was tempting.

Soapy hands trailed down the arch of his back, massaging the tense muscles and cleaning off the smooth skin. The curvature of his spine caused his ass to stick out naturally. You knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose. He even hunched to avoid your dick, but as your hands rested above his pert ass, the thought came to you.

“Pervert,” Han chuckled, sensing your hesitation right away.

“I’m not the one with my ass sticking out like this,” you replied, transfixed by the round curves inches from your hands.

All you had to do was sink lower, and they’d be fully in your hands. Instead, you went back up to his shoulders. Thumbs rolling in circles, Han gave a much more emphasized moan. You kept working on his back, always careful not to touch his ass even with temptation exciting you. When Han finally turned around, water hitting his shoulders and streaming down his front, you saw his fully formed body. He’d been working out more, hence his chest and shoulders being wider than before. You thought about him in the gym earlier, hard body lifting weights and stretching before you. The temptation had not hit you then, but it did now. Especially when his soft hands started working on your chest and stomach. When something hard touched your cock, you knew he’d gotten aroused just with a few touches.

“You’ve gotten so buff, hyung,” Han said, that sweet voice dripping with seduction. He gave your biceps gentle squeezes, “I like it.”

“You too,” he pulled him close so your bodies came together. The urge to grind on his hardening cock came to you, but you withheld it. “You’re not the little twink I used to fuck before.”

He laughed, cheeks lifting in his smile, “I guess I’m not, huh?” He let his fingers drag across your collarbones to your chest again, “Does that bother you?”

“Not at all,” you assured him, hands finally grasping his ass. “It just takes a bit more to throw you around on my bed.”

You brought him in for a kiss, your tongue sliding across his bottom lip. Heat built up between you in the kiss, tongues touching every so often and pushing your arousal further. He released a soft moan when you squeezed both cheeks and pulled them apart. You could feel them jiggle slightly when you lifted them, the soap making them slip from your hands.

“Keep doing that, hyung,” he whispered, lightly kissing you. “I like it when you do it like that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm-hm.”

A hand sliding between them, you grazed briefly over the clenched hole. You made small trails from the middle to the space connecting balls and anus. Every brush over it made Han eager for more. You let out your own moan when his delicate hand grabbed the base of your cock. In languid strokes, Han worked both you and him together. His throbbing dick right up against yours, you did your best not to move up into it. You focused your efforts on his ass. Moans resounding in the shower stall, water pattering onto the tiled floor, the two of you stood there fondling each other. Nothing ever felt as good as the members, who were always so eager for you. Even months later, you still found it hard to believe. It sounded like something out of a erotic fanfiction or one of those smutty romance novels. As pathetic as it made you look, you could never resist when one of them suggested it to you. You really were a pervert.

“May I suck it, hyung?” Han asked after a while, the both of you raging hard. “I love sucking yours.”

“Yes,” you breathed, eager for more of him.

Your back hitting the cold shower wall, you ran a hand through Han’s damp hair as he crouched down. Hands on your thighs, he easily guided your tip into his mouth. Pure euphoria coursed through you like a drug. His soft lips tenderly sucking the head, Han swiped the tip of his tongue over the wrinkled side of your dick. Occasionally breaking it to suck up saliva and precum, he kept his eyes on you the entire time. You stared right back, stroking his hair to guide him further down. You groaned when his tongue caressed the pulsing vein pumping more blood into the long muscle.

“No hands,” you said when one hand reached to grab your base, “Only your mouth and tongue.”

Han didn’t protest at all. Keeping both hands on your thighs, he kept himself leveled as he filled his mouth. The slight pressure of his hands caressing your inner thighs added to the pleasure. Your fingers slide over slick tiles, for something to grab when it finally took hold of you. Every muscle in your legs tensed as he sucked. Nothing ever felt as good. When your dick finally hit the back of his throat, you bit down on your lip to keep yourself grounded. Each time with them felt brand new. You could stay like that forever, enjoying Han's mouth. Looking further down his body, you saw his cock standing straight up to his stomach. You smirked.

“You really love blowing me, huh?” You asked, scooping long strands of hair from his face. He didn’t answer, only nodding and humming his response. “Answer me properly, baby,” you said.

“Yes,” he panted, your dick on the tip of his tongue before he went back into it. “I love blowing you, hyung.”

“I can tell,” you started pushing slowly into his mouth. Immediately taking the hint, Han stayed in place as you slid in and out. “You get so hard when my dick is in your throat,” you pointedly pushed right to it, groaning as the younger gulped around you. “Does it feel that good, baby?” You asked when you withdrew to the last inch.

Drool falling onto his chest, Han answered, “Yes, hyung.”

“Do you want me to fuck your throat?”

“Yes, hyung.”

Holding him by a fistful of hair, you started pushing your hips into his face. His full lips sucking you hard, cheeks hollowing to touch the sides, he did his best to pleasure you.

“Eyes on me,” you huffed, stuffing yourself to the bottom. “Good boy, keep looking up at me while I fuck your pretty mouth.”

You watched his shoulders shake, and felt his grip on your thighs tighten. You kept him there as he started gagging. His round brown eyes stared up at you so innocently, tears starting to build in the corners whenever you stayed deep for too long. Every so often, you slipped out to tap his tongue and lips, watching him struggle to catch it without his hands. The eagerness in his eyes amplified your teasing. He whined when you pulled yourself out of his reach, wagging his tongue to lick what he could. When he did manage to catch it, he sucked firmly and licked greedily. You thought you just might cum when he began moaning around you.

“Let’s get to the bed,” you said, removing your cock to tap on his lips again. “Hyung wants to play with you before he cums.”

The two of you shared sloppy, passionate kisses while you dried each other. It was the anticipation that excited the both of you. Fully dried off, you guided Han to his own bedroom where you flung him onto the bed. Your eyes scanned over his naked body as he laid back on the pillows. He looked beautiful, sculpted as if an artist took their time on him. His chest broader than when you first met, he'd even started gaining a bit of a four-pack. You couldn't help dragging your fingers lightly over them, catching on the hard dark nipples. The muscles relaxed and less defined, you still felt them flex when touched and kissed. He was gorgeous. You could spend an eternity exploring his body. His eyes full of lust and need, body nearly shivering from arousal, you understood why Minho drew out their sessions. Since splitting the unit dorms into pairs, Han had moved in with his boyfriend. You saw evidence of this in the dashes of Minho around the room. You’d moved in with Chan naturally, and you couldn’t have asked for a better roommate.

Or boyfriend.

You kissed down expanses of smooth, hard muscles while your hands caressed his thighs. His dick twitched when you drew near it, though you only gave it a small swipe of your tongue. Your lips landed everywhere except there. You memorized the pleasure points of his body, skimming over his thighs and legs to find them. You wanted to commit each one to memory for later. His balls underneath entered your mouth in small suckles, your moans vibrating on the tender skin while your tongue rolled over them. The small tugs to the top had Han wriggling above you. It was when your tongue flicked the very bottom of his dick that he began grinding into your face.

“Stay still for me, baby,” you said, kissing up his length.

“It just feels so good,” he whined.

“I know it does,” you cooed, giving the head a light flick, “But I want you to try for me. Okay?”

“O-kay.”

The tip of Han's cock in your mouth, precum spilling onto your tongue, you hardly noticed the phone lighting up beside him. You were too distracted by his quivering body and soft whimpers to care. The sensation of his cock pulsating in your hand kept you distracted enough. Pretty, petite Han laid against his pillows, mewling and panting as your tongue gradually circled his head. You stroked him slowly, sucking softly until he whined and arched his back. It made for a beautiful sight. An arousing, erotic sight that pulled you from reality and into your personal lust driven world. Sliding a hand up his body, you teased a nipple with the pad of your thumb, earning more moans. It had only been when he spoke that you noticed the phone.

“Hel-Hello?” the brunette stammered, full lips parted in silent moans of pleasure. “No, I'm n-not…Ye-Yes,” he wriggled when your tongue lashed at the underside of his head. Han watched with heavy lidded eyes as you licked up the slit of his cock. “He's…He's sucking my dick, and playing with my nipp-nipples…it feels so good, Hyung. Oh god, it feels so good,” he released a breathy moan as you took his tip in your mouth. “Just the tip…”

You wondered which member called as you started stroking his shaft. It could only be Chan, since you and Han were supposed to be at the studio by now. You imagined he’d been annoyed before calling, but once hearing Han’s breathy reponses, that likely disappeared. The image of an intrigued Chan leaning back in his chair, hand lightly brushing his thigh, came to you as you teased Han.

“O-Okay…”

Han, with shaky hands, fumbled with his phone. Sliding him further into your mouth, your cock pulsated knowing what was coming next. Was he alone? Was he about to facetime with the other members and producers there? No. Chan might get risky and kinky, but not like that. He wouldn't have stayed on the line if he was surrounded by people. Han pressed another button, and you heard two familiar voices groan in surprise.

“There's my boy,” said Chan, his voice recognizable by his Australian accent, which switched back to Korean as he said, “Looking so pretty with Hannie in his mouth.”

“How does he taste, Ynie?” Changbin asked you, his tone playful with a hint of naughtiness underneath it.

“So good,” you murmured against Han's head before kissing it teasingly. “He’s so sweet. I can’t stop.”

“Neither can I when I have him to myself,” he said, sounding mesmerized by the act.

“Show us your tongue, show us your tongue,” Chan said lightly. When you dragged your tongue up Han's shaft, they both groaned. “Good boy,” he said, “Keep doing it just like that; nice and slow how he likes it.”

You couldn't see their faces, but you knew they were enthralled by you. You'll admit, you liked the attention. You kept licking straight lines along the throbbing shaft, starting at the base and stopping on the tip. Your hips habitually grinded into the mattress, your low whimpers vibrating on the hard muscle. Han's hand tightened around the corners of the phone, his whining loud and clear.

Changbin then chuckled. “Hannie, you need to hold the phone straight so we can see him better. We can't see if you're shaking like that.”

“S-Sorry, hyung,” he whimpered. “It feels so good; I can’t help it.”

“I know it does, but we want you to try until we get there.” You heard a soft groan when you licked up Han’s hard length once more, making sure both of them saw streams of drool spill from the top. Giving him a few tugs, Changbin spoke, “Look how pretty Han’s cock is. I’m going to have such a good time playing with you two.”

“Please…” Han whimpered.

“Please?” Chan asked in a teasing voice. “‘Please’ what? Use your words, baby.”

“Play with us,” he said, moaning when you sucked and licked around his tip. “Play with me.”

“Hm, I don't know, Binnie-yah,” Chan said, a taunt in his voice. “Minho-yah might not like it. I don't think Hannie got permission to let anyone touch his cock.”

“Wait,” you suddenly stopped, smirking when Han whined, “Did you get permission, Hannie?”

“I did!” he cried out, wriggling his hips around. “He said I could.”

“Your master said you could get fucked?” You gave his tip a few teasing licks, “That doesn't sound like Minho-hyung. I heard someone got punished recently…”

“I swear he said I could,” he said, moving his hips up before you held them down. “Pl-please, hyung.”

“I wouldn't want you to get into trouble,” you lapped at the underside until he squirmed. He was so erect, his cock stood up on its own. Your occasional flicks made it move back and forth, and you kept doing this for amusement.

“I do,” cackled Changbin. “Minho lets me watch sometimes. Hannie is so pretty when he’s all teary eyed and begging.”

“He does,” agreed Chan, entranced by the sight of you. “So, so pretty.”

You imagined both men already picking up their bags to leave. There must be nobody else there for the moment. You heard Changbin somewhere in the background, while you knew Chan put in an earbud to avoid anyone else listening. You went back to your teasing, flicking and pumping Han's length while the boy struggled under you.

“Lick his balls, baby,” Chan said, his order gentle as always. “I like watching you do that-Oh, you're such a good boy for me.”

Han jerked when you wrapped your mouth around one side of his sack. You kept your eyes on the phone, innocence radiating off of you juxtaposed to your actions. Chan liked good boys, you knew. You liked pleasing him. Ever since your first time, you and Chan spent a lot of time in each other's bedrooms. You knew everything he liked, and he liked good boys.

It was Changbin who brats.

You heard nothing but Han's soft panting and whining. They must be on the move. You kept the hard balls in your mouth, sucking and licking them gently. Your cock ached for friction. The image of Chan stroking you from behind came to you and you kept pushing into the bed. Sliding Han back into your mouth, you bobbed your head up and down to his sharp intake. Han gripped the sheets, nails digging into the soft, white fabric as his hips bucked up and down.

“Must be your throat, Ynie,” Changbin ordered, sounding inconspicuous to anyone else in the car. “I have some tea left from when I had a cold. Make some and relax.”

You knew an order when you heard it. Positioning yourself more comfortably, you held Han by the base as you took breaths through your nose. Gradually, you slipped him over your tongue to the back of your throat. Thankfully, Han wasn't as large as Changbin, whose girth ached your jaw and length penetrated your throat with ease. This made the youngest rapper quiver, a breath exhaled through his teeth and he struggled to keep his phone straight on his chest. You felt his head pushed past your uvula each time, causing a soft gagging sound you knew they all loved. Two low groans stifled by coughs sounded from the phone when you gazed up at them. You kept the pace slow, hands on Han's inner thighs as you kept your eyes on the phone. The shutting of car doors made you glad the company building was close to the apartment.

“Spit on it,” Chan said breathlessly, groaning when you dribbled over it. They must be in the elevator if he spoke so boldly. “Why did I wear these shorts today? I feel like I'm barely hiding it.”

“I tucked mine into my waistband,” said Changbin. Why did their casual conversation during such a filthy moment turn both you and Han on more? “If they'd told me they'd do that, I would've come over. Pretend my cold hadn't gone away yet. Did you tell Seungmin not to come?”

“Yeah,” said Chan. “Then he was like ‘what? why?’ and I told him the microphone was broken,” he said with a stifled laugh.

“What did he say?” laughed Changbin.

“Nothing. He was like ‘oh okay, cool’. He and Felix are going out, so there's no worries, I guess.” When you spat on Han's cock again, he groaned. “He spat on it again.”

“What? Let me see.”

You did it just for him, spit trickling down before you took it back in your mouth. He huffed in frustration. “Why do we have to be in the world's slowest elevator?!” he said as Chan laughed.

The ding of the elevator made him laugh a bit harder. “You should see how excited Binnie is for you two,” Chan said, his laughter dying down. “Get up on your knees for me, baby,” he told you, “I want that ass in the air when I show up.”

Both you and Han suddenly flinched when you heard the front door open. Everybody had keys to each other’s dorms, so they didn’t need to worry about answering the door. Changbin and Chan likely discarded their bags and shoes quickly, since you heard hurried footsteps reach the bedroom door.

Changbin moaned at the sight of you both on the bed, and instantly removed his shirt. The broad muscles made you salivate around Han's girth. The abdomen he hid all the time appeared less defined than after a workout, but still traceable with fingers or a tongue. He quickly tugged off his pants and socks as he moved to the bed. His hastiness took you and Han out of your horny haze for a moment for a laugh.

“Fuck, look at you two,” he groaned, pecking Han's lips, then kissed yours. “How did this happen, hm?”

“In the shower,” Han moaned, whining when you pulled away from him.

Which you did to kiss Chan, who tilted your head to lock lips with you. For those few seconds, you forgot Han and Changbin. You let Chan's full lips lock with yours, brushing your tongues together before he pulled away. You shifted around, the covers grazing your dick again, as he slipped his tongue over yours. A moan escaped you when his hand slid down the curvature of your back to your ass.

“Naughty,” he muttered, giving one cheek a light tap, “To stay away from work when you know we have a comeback soon.”

“It's not for a while,” you whined into his mouth. “It just happened, I swear.”

“Is that so?” He cooed when he reached down your crack to your balls. “Is that how the sheet got all wet?” He said, giving them a gentle tug that made you tremble, “From all this precum? You've been at this for a while, huh?”

“Yes,” you breathed, needy for more of his touch.

Not getting the friction you’ve ached for, you whined at the middle finger dragging up your balls to your ass and back. Chan captured your lips with his, giving slow kisses as he rolled a finger around your entrance. Not pushing past it, he hummed when you began grinding into his hand.

“Not yet,” he said. “We only just got here.”

“But Leader-nim…I need it super bad,” you pouted. He chuckled at your eagerness, giving your neck soft kisses.

“I know,” he returned the pout. “You’ll get plenty of dick soon, you know that.” He brought the fingers to your lips and you coated them in spit, “How about you put Han's pretty cock back in your mouth while I take care of you, hm?”

“Yes, Leader-nim.”

You went right back into the proper position. Unlike Changbin, Chan hadn't removed a stitch of clothing. He didn't do this out of shyness but for torture. He knew you loved his body, and he'd make you work to see it bare. You jumped at his warm hands sliding up the backs of your thighs to your ass, giving the fleshy parts soft squeezes as he did so. Han filling your mouth, you could only give a muffled cry at the thumbs grazing your center. The two digits massaged up and down your balls, moving over the insides of your cheeks and spreading them apart every so often. Simply having him so close to you, his hands groping and massaging your ass and balls, kept you eager to push into his face. But, you knew better. He’d only pull away if you did that.

“Han made you so hard, baby,” Chan said, voice low and full of lust before he flicked your balls with his tongue. “Let’s see if I can make it harder.”

Everything in you screamed for him to take you right then, yet you practiced patience. He planted soft kisses right over the middle before fully making out with your balls. You could feel his lips catch onto one and his tongue sliding up and down it. The sensation sent more blood pumping to your cock, which twitched underneath you. He sensed your trembling thighs, then wrapped his arms around them to push his face further in you. With Han deep in your mouth, your moans came out muffled pleas and whimpers. The obscene licking and sucking matched the sloppiness of your blowjob, and it turned you on more.

When you looked up to Han, you saw him preoccupied with Changbin. Abdomen tensing and hips slowly thrusting, Changbin slid half his length into Han's mouth. Wide, round eyes stared only at him, soft moans stifled by his thickness. Han would whine pathetically when the older member pulled away, keeping his tongue out for Changbin to rub himself against. He enjoyed it too much to let Changbin go. You saw the eagerness he restrained in his firm sucks. The sight of Han, shaking and whimpering, taking Changbin's cock so easily made you hornier.

As Chan delicately licked at your hole, you sucked Han more firmly and took him further into your mouth. Soon, a symphony of moans filled the room and you thanked God only the four of you were in the apartment. By the time Han started pushing his hips to your face, you knew he'd finish soon.

“No, no, no, baby,” Changbin breathed, pulling your head off Han's lap. He pushed hair from Han’s forehead as he said, “You haven't been fucked yet. You know you can only cum when you've been fucked first.”

“Binnie-hyung,” Han whined. “Please, I want to so badly.”

“You know the rules,” he continued, tapping his tip on Han's lips before he stuck out his tongue. “You don't want to be a bad boy, now do you? I don't think your master would like to hear you're being naughty again.”

“No,” Han said, words whining as he kept his tongue out. “No, I don't.”

“Alright, so be a good slut and do what you’re told,” he sighed in relief once he pushed back into the salivating mouth. “I'd hate to punish you when you're behaving so well.”

“Oh please,” said Chan from behind you, lapping at your leaking tip until you mewled. “You love punishing them.”

“I’m too tired for it today,” he admitted, pushing to himself until Han choked slightly. “I just want to use their holes until I'm drained dry.”

Both you and Han moaned at his words, earning chuckles from the other two. You nearly lost control when a slender digit pushed through the threshold into your ass. Chan made sure you felt each stroke in his slow pace. They curled against the rigid walls to the very center of you; they gently stretched you while his tongue rolled around your tip. Your eyes rolled back at the slim fingers, wanting them to go faster and deeper. He knew exactly how badly you needed him,

“Both of you kneel up for us,” Chan ordered.

The kneeling position put his fingers further inside you. Han copied your position, eyes heavy with desire as he knelt in front of you.

“Kiss each other,” Changbin said softly, intently watching both of you.

“Deeply,” added Chan. “Yeah, that's it. Just like that…soft and slow.”

“You two look so pretty like this,” Changbin said, kissing Han's neck. You saw him grab Han's free hand to wrap around his girthy shaft. “Don't they, hyung?”

“They do,” Chan agreed, doing the same to you.

Finally having his cock in your hand, you made sure your lover felt every small squeeze you have. Your thumb started tracing the veins slowly rising through the velvety skin, rolling around the back of the sensitive head each time. Beads of precum fell onto your thumb, and his raspy breaths filled your ear. You couldn't help losing yourself in Han's kisses and Chan's fingers. They prodded deep inside you, pressing that special spot in intervals. Han's small squeal told you Changbin began stroking his hardon just as slowly as he fingered him. The youngest grinded into the hand needily, holding onto your shoulders as he pushed back. Your tongue keeps his mouth busy, so he could only whine into you.

“Somebody is getting needy,” Changbin groaned, his hand smacking Han's cheeks as his palm picked up the pace a moment. This caused Han to break from you to cry into the air, staying still as he was fingered. “Look how much he's leaking,” he said, kissing Han's neck. “You're making such a mess, Hannie-yah.”

“Please,” he whined, “I need it.”

“Oh, you need it, huh?”

“Yes!”

“Do you need it badly?”

“Yes!”

“Did you hear that, YNie?” Chan smirked, “Han needs it. Be a good boy and give it to him. We want to watch.”

You didn’t hesitate to get between Han's thighs. Hands sliding down the slender thighs, you pressed onto the flesh just enough for him to feel it. But then Changbin grabbed them for you, lifting them to Han's stomach. This left him fully exposed and vulnerable to the three of you. You let out a soft gasp when Chan grabbed you by the base to give a soft squeeze. He gave long, slow strokes that spread your precum all over it. Your arms behind your back, you couldn't do anything except let him tug on you. He traced the length of Han’s cock with yours, tapping the tip lightly on his balls before going further down. The light motions had you quaking in his embrace.

“Patience, baby,” he cooed, swirling your tip around the tight ring. “You'll both get it soon. Binnie-yah and I just want to watch you stretch him slowly.”

“We need to get you a little wetter,” said Changbin, bending down to swipe his tongue over you. “You're too big to put in like this.”

Chan rolled your nipples between his fingers as Changbin's mouth moved up and down on you. His lips massaging the sides in every suck, his tongue worked the bottom. You watched his hand move in time on Han, who was shivering at each touch. You used every bit of strength to hold back the orgasm building within.

“This is fucking heaven,” he moaned, lifting Han to his mouth for firm sucks. “I love having pretty boys to play with,” he put you both together to slide his tongue over the heads. “Pretty boys with tight holes and nice cocks.” His tongue flicking each one, he gave them short, quick sucks before switching.

“I could die happy right now,” said Chan, lifting a hand to tweak your nipple. “I'd do this all day if I could,” he said while he kissed your neck. “Just stay in bed fucking your holes and tasting your cum,” he pushed his shaft between your cheeks, and you nearly came from it. “Can I taste your cum, baby? Will you shoot it in my mouth and down my throat for me?”

“Yes,” you said in a shaky breath. “Please…”

“I'd prefer to taste Hannie,” said Changbin, sliding his tongue up his cock, “Would you like that, Hannie-yah?”

“Yes, hyung,” Han cried.

“Can we have as much as we want?”

“Yes, hyung.”

“Every little drop?”

“Yes.”

“Then, let’s see how much we can get out of you two.”

Changbin let Chan take over you again, and he pushed the first inch inside Han. A new flood of pleasure came as Han's body drew you inside naturally. Chan pushed you gently until you filled him, then he held you there for Han to adjust to your size. With whispered encouragement and slow guidance, Chan and Changbin watched your dick carefully slide in and out of Han. You swore his body pulled you inside on its own. Every pull outwards showed his hole clinging to you, while every push was inviting. Changbin lay beside him, he kept stroking and kissing him tenderly. You watched Han fall into a pit of lust, body remaining still as it was overcome with sensations.

“Look how far you stretch him,” Chan whispered, kissing near your ear. “I love watching your big dick stretch our little bottoms out. They turn into such sluts when they’re with you.”

“You can’t turn them into something they already are,” said Changbin, bending down to catch strings of Han’s leaking precum. “Isn’t that right, Han-ah? Aren’t you already a slut?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’m a slut, hyung,” he sobbed.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he suckled the tip, tasting the clear fluid coming out. He then kissed up your stomach to your nipple. “And you, Ynie?” he sucked on one of them softly, nibbling on it. “Are you a slut too?”

“Yes, hyung,” you moaned.

“And that’s what we love about our cute little Pervert,” Chan said, putting his dick between your ass cheeks. The thick shaft gliding over your entrance caused you to shake. “Go faster, Pervert,” he said, pushing your hips for you, “Fuck him how you like being fucked.”

And you did. Deep, quick thrusts coupled with Chan and Changbin’s teasing brought you both closer to the edge. You couldn’t hold back much longer.

“Leader-nim,” you whined as Han’s ass clenched tightly around you, “I’m going to cum.”

“You are?”

“Yes! I can’t help it. His ass feels so good.”

“I don’t know if I should let you,” he said, putting his tip right to your ass hole. “I haven’t fucked you yet.”

“Then fuck me, please.”

Changbin laughed, “It’s not rocket science, hyung. Your baby boy wants to cum and you want to fuck him.”

“So I should, huh?” Chan chuckled softly. “Where’s your lube, Hannie?”

“Drawer.”

Changbin grabbed it for him, and handed it to Chan. “Lube me up, baby,” Chan removed his shirt and shorts as he laid next to Han on the large bed. “Then you can ride me like a good Pervert.”

Han cried in frustration when you withdrew from him. However, these cries were silenced with Changbin’s soft deep kisses. After coating his length in a thick layer of lubricant, you mounted Chan’s hips and put his head to your hole. Fully sitting on his cock, you stayed there as pleasure pulsed throughout your body. The tip pushing on your g-spot, you could cum just like this, but you held onto your orgasm tightly. Chan’s hands rubbed over your thighs to your waist, where he started urging you to go up and down. You looked down to see him shirtless and breathless. One hand on his chest, you rubbed a nipple while picking up speed. He was so strong and big. Even if you bulked up, he was still stronger than you and you liked that.

“You’re so big, Leader-nim,” you moaned, feeling up and down his chest. “I love it so much.”

“I know, baby,” he said, hand going up to your cock. “Why do you think I work out so much, hm? I want to look good for my sweet boy,” he pulled you down for a deep kiss. “I need to work out if I’m going to keep up with you.”

The both of you shared a laugh before kissing again. It was then you noticed Han also straddling and kissing Changbin. While you kept a steady pace, impatient and dazed Han bounced needily. Changbin did not stop him, instead jerking his bobbing dick in time with it.

“Ride me like that,” Chan instructed, grabbing your ass. “Just let go and enjoy your leader’s dick.”

You sat up again and matched Han’s desperate pace. The two moved in near unison as they fully unleashed themselves. The men underneath them moaned and watched in awe as their respective partners moved. After all this time with Stray Kids, you couldn’t want anyone else. Nobody fucked you the way they did. You thanked God every day you joined their group; that you pushed down your hesitations and decided to give it a shot. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have them in your life. Sex aside, you’d grown so attached and so close, you couldn’t picture yourself in any other group.

“I think YNie’s about to cum,” Chan asked, holding your cheeks open and pushing upwards. “Hm?”

“I think Hannie-yah is too,” said Changbin, still stroking Han. “He always gets louder when he’s close.”

“I’m so close, hyung,” Han panted, eyes closed and mouth open. “I’m so fucking close. Please, let me cum. Please.”

“Me too!” you cried out next, changing your angle and pushing further down on him. “I’ve wanted to cum this whole time, please, Leader-nim. Let us cum. Please.”

“Oh, YNie, you know that’s not the right way to ask,” Chan breathed, mesmerized by your body. “Good boys get what they want when they ask politely.”

“May I please cum, Leader-nim?”

“May I please cum, Changbin-hyung?”

“Only if you put it in my mouth.”

“And mine too.”

Neither of you wasted any time moving up to their chests. Chan and Changbin immediately opened their mouths for you two to fill. Two fingers in your ass, his throat humming around your dick, it didn’t take long for you to explode. It was like two bombs going off at the same time. You and Han gripped the headboard tightly as your orgasms burst in your partners’ mouths. Thick, creamy droplets fell down their throats as they greedily swallowed the loads. Their moans of approval only tickled more out of you. Shuddering as you slowly came down, Chan continued sucking until nothing else came out.

“On your sides,” he said, swiping at your sensitive cock, “We’re cumming inside you two.”

Nothing pleased you more. Laying on your side facing Han, you lifted your leg to Chan’s shoulder to let him thrust deep inside. Your lips found Han’s, and his hand wrapped around your softened dick. Unable to help it, you started stroking him back as Chan pounded into you. The feeling alone made you want to get hard again. Looking down to see Changbin doing the same, you wished he’d be in you too. The need to keep being fucked came on too strongly. You soon felt something warm blossoming in your ass. Chan’s moans turned into breathy whines as he came. Changbin followed right after, causing him to move faster and harder. You and Han moaned in each other’s mouth as their cum spilled into you. It felt so good having a piece of Chan stay there even when he pulled out. Feeling full, you tried keeping whatever didn’t leak out of you.

Then the two switched partners. You all laid in bed, touching and kissing to rebuild up that arousal. Changbin slid through inside, and you immediately noticed the difference in size. He giggled at your wide eyes, hips gently meeting yours in each thrust. Your hands gripped his shoulders, feeling his muscles flexing in each movement. You explored his taut, buff body while he kissed your neck and shoulders. Every time you watched him on the weight machines in the gym came back as his cock buried itself in you. You’d see his muscles grow more defined from being worked on so much, making him appear bigger than he normally did. You’d see it and think about how they looked tensed in his orgasms.

“I love how big you are,” you moaned without thinking. You held onto his biceps, “So…big…”

“It must be nice to get fucked by someone as big as you,” he said, pushing a bit faster. Propped above you, he curled your body upwards and directly hit your prostate.

“N-Not big that way,” you said, eyes falling closed. “Your-Your muscles…”

“You like my muscles, huh?”

Arms and legs went around him when he lifted you off the bed. Out of everyone, Changbin carried you the easiest. He started pushing upwards while standing, balls hitting your ass in every fast thrust. The new position brought on bursts of pleasure each time. It pulled him deeper, and you felt so full. You held onto his shoulders this time, fingers locking in his dark hair as he kept going.

“Like how strong I am, Pervert?” he asked, panting and groaning in your ear. “Hm? It turns you on to be thrown around like a ragdoll?”

“Yes, yes!” you whined, feeling your orgasm approaching in this position. “I love when you manhandle me.”

“Then I guess I’m doing it more.”

Behind you, Han’s moans grew louder with his ass hitting Chan’s hips. You heard the sharp sounds of spanking, each hit pushing Han to his orgasm. Chan’s would be arriving soon; you knew by how low and breathy his moans became. You pictured them both fucking you in the gym together.

Changbin tossed you onto your stomach, arms hooking around yours to keep them in the air. In the tight lock, he stuffed himself back in and went even faster. Your cock, heavy with blood and arousal, suddenly twitched when you came. Strings shot onto the covers underneath you, making droplets that seeped into the cloth. You couldn’t do anything except take Changbin’s thickness in you. Your position couldn’t stop him from cumming inside you. You stayed in place as Changbin used you like a fleshlight, spilling his seed deep inside until he got every drop. Glancing at Chan and Han, you saw them on the corner of the bed. Han bent over, Chan charged into him from behind. Both of them tense, sweat starting gleaming on their skin, you thought of them in your workout fantasy. By the time you finished, you were wishing all three of them would converge on you, tossing you to one another like a game of catch before fucking you.

“Show me,” Chan whispered when he reached you.

You turned your back to him, ass in the air and showed him where a mix of him and Changbin leaked out of you. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he groaned, squeezing both cheeks. “Your ass always looks so good, full of cum.”

“Especially when yours is in there too.”

“Maybe I’ll add a little more later.”

The promise of more had you pulling him to you for a deep kiss. Officially spent, you laid in his arms as the tiredness settled. His strong arms kept you close to his chest while you spooned, making you feel safe in his embrace. The light sensation of his lips on your skin, dotting loving kisses, warmed your insides. Right beside you, Han snuggled into Changbin’s chest, eyes already falling closed as the other whispered in his ear. You heard snippets.

“…You did such a good job. Your owner will be so proud of you when I tell him…We can eat later, Hannie. You should sleep.”

“I adore you,” Chan’s voice filled your ear. “You know that, right?”

“Yes.” You never said a word with such confidence before.

“I’d never really be angry at you about anything, right?”

You grinned, knowing where he was going with it. “Yeah…”

“But, next time I ask you to be somewhere,” he gave your ass a small smack, “You get this tight little ass there, understand?”

“Yes, Leader-nim.”

“Good boy.”

He pecked your temple, then cuddled you to him. You felt his body relax the same time as yours, your bodies almost melting together on the bed.

You rarely ever slept so well.

****

A/N: okay, this is purely a result of my ovulation season and Hannie working on his fitness more lately lmao I know it's kind of pwp so nothing really happens except Newbiew getting fucked. Hope you still liked it though <3

#stray kids #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x male reader #bang chan #bangchan #seo changbin #han jisung #han skz #changbin skz #bangchan skz #chan skz #3racha #3 racha fanfic #3racha x male reader

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verhanz · 27 days ago

Text

❝ [stuck with you] ❞

↳ seventeen hyung line x 14th!member male reader

↳ “how seventeen comforts/loves their favorite boy” pt. 1

↳ warnings: reader is the maknae (‘01 liner) !!! so a lot of babying, jeonghan is slightly feminized, idk nothing bad tho,reader is playing with toys in sc’s blurb but it’s not age regression (unless you want to interpret it that way)

↳ author note: some of the blurbs are longer than others because i wrote it in chunks, so i had more inspiration for some.

choi seungcheol | 최 성철

- seungcheol cherishes you, more than anyone else in the group. many fans see you as nothing more than your handsome face and strong body; but to seungcheol you were still the same little boy he met in the pledis melona room all those years ago.

- he loves to show you how much he loves you by giving you reassuring hugs or pats when you look upset after hoshi yelled at you during dance practice. or give you forehead kisses when you have a headache from constant schedules and screaming fans.

- seungcheol treats you with such tenderness and care, as if you’re not a 6 foot something grown man now, he just can’t imagine you as anything other than a shy little kid. he wants you to feel loved and babied, no matter how old you get—you’re still his boy.

2016: seungcheol quietly closes the door to the dorms after getting home from the studio late at night, after everyone had already gone to sleep. “3:49” he reads the time on his phone while sleepily trudging to his bedroom. but he stops in his tracks when he hears your quiet voice talking through your door. he can make out small sound affects you make and the rattle of plastic hitting plastic. he sighs softly when he realizes you’re playing with your toys again; it always breaks his heart to see you doing something that reminds him of your age, how you got your childhood ripped away by the brutal idol lifestyle.

he opens the door slowly before peeking his head in, “y/n-ah?”. you startle at the sound of an outside voice interrupting your private time. “can hyungie come play with you?”; seungcheol sees you completely melt at the question before nodding. the leader comes over to your bed and brushes your crazy hair back from your forehead, “sweet boy,” he coos and leans down to kiss your forehead gently, “now let’s play.”

yoon jeonghan | 윤 정한

- jeonghan prides himself on being your “mother” which you have fully accepted from the time you met him at age twelve. during the rookie years, you would rely on jeonghan like a caregiver—the feminine nature of his appearance made you so soft and dependent, as if he was truly your mother.

- despite being a little devil to the rest of the group, jeonghan has never teased you (besides when you had your first crush) because he couldn’t ever deal with seeing you sad.

- when you need comfort or you’re sick, jeonghan loves cheering you up. especially by putting aside time in the busy day and having dedicated cuddle sessions, holding you in his arms as if you won’t crush him.

2020: “poor baby,” jeonghan coos, rubbing your hot forehead “are you feeling any worse?” you shake your head with a slight whine. “let’s get you under the blanket, little one” the nickname is slightly ironic now, with you being several inches taller than jeonghan and the majority of the other members — but he’s never going to let it go, since he had given you the pet name almost 7 years ago now.

he guides you to the couch and lays down on it in front of you, patting the space next to him for you to cuddle up to his chest. “come on in sweet boy, i’ll help you feel better.” you cuddle up to the smaller man and curl in on yourself, trying to make yourself as small as possible. your head is pounding and your nose is runny, you try to sniff everything up but it just marries you feel worse. jeonghan coos and holds a tissue to your nose, “go on puppy, blow”

hong jisoo | 홍 지수

- joshua was one of your first real friends when you became a trainee, besides vernon and samuel, since he was one of the only members that could speak english. as you grew up together as a group, shua continued to look after you the same way he did when you were a kid.

- your would help each other practice songs or dances, he would try his best to help you with your raps but you were mostly on your own while he hung off of your back. he enjoyed using you as his personal teddy bear, as he liked to call it, having you sit and let him get in your lap so he can have a cushion.

- you two love to joke around because he will do anything to see you smile. every once in a while, he’ll invite you out to eat or on a small “date” around seoul. as you’ve gotten older, he’ll sometimes act cheeky and make you pay—which you do instantly, because you’re completely whipped for your hyungs.

2023: recently joshua has realized you looking at him more, ever since he dyed his hair red. he doesn’t mind it at all, of course not, it actually makes him a little flustered.

the two of you are out on one of your “dates” to dinner and a walk by the han river, when he notices you looking a little sad. “y/n-ie? what’s wrong, love” he stops and reaches up to cup your chin, tilting your head down so you look at him. you get distracted while looking at him, your eyes flicking over his pretty face. “i just miss seeing everyone everyday— i feel like now that we’re not living in the dorms together, we won’t be as close” your shaky voice makes shua’s heart break and he pulls you into a hug. “oh poor thing… that will never be the case, love bug. we’re always going to be close—there’s nothing in our history as a group that could possibly show us to drift apart. we’re seventeen.” you nod and hug him back, “i just—i get lonely by myself. i wanted to live with channie or you or at least someone.”

“do you want to live with me, sweetheart?”

wen junhui | 文俊辉

- junhui is your personal sunshine, always brining a smile to your face even when you’re in the deepest pits of despair. he loves to give you hugs and cuddles or even kisses if it means you’ll be happy again, he loves their precious maknae.

-when there is free time away from practice or schedules, jun invites you to go with him to the park or even a weekend trip to china with him and minghao—which always makes you happy because hao is always in a better mood when he’s with jun.

- jun made you feel more comfortable with showing members affection, even if it’s just a simple hug or squeeze. he won’t be surprised to find you clinging to his slimmer frame during a break in dance practice, rather he’ll be careful to not make you get embarrassed.

2025: jun has been away in china for months, filming for his new movies. all of you are so proud of him for living out his dream, but you can’t seem to stop missing him. you miss the way he’s the first to talk to you when you wake up in the morning, despite him texting you a good morning text every single day. you miss the way he smells after a shower when he insists on having a cuddle session on the couch during movie night.

but today, jun is coming back to korea. seungcheol didn’t want to tell you — he told some of the other members but left you and chan out, so you wouldn’t be too distracted before the golden disc awards. as you all arrive at the venue, you see someone else getting out of the car with 96 line; jun. as soon as he sees you he runs over and hugs you, which makes you break down instantly.

“h-hyung..” he giggles a bit when he sees your tears but immediately wipes them away, holding your face gently. “oh 萌宝.. hyung missed you so much. i’m so happy to see you.” he holds you tight, letting you cry into his shoulder because he knows you’ve been needing it.

kwon soonyoung | 권 순영

- despite being older, the only time when soonyoung acts like your hyung is during dance practice. the rest of the time, he’s a little tiger who loves attacking the maknae with kisses and hugs as soon as you sit down. meaning he’s not the best member to give you comfort when you’re seriously in need.

- he looks at you with a glint in his eyes that makes you oddly warm inside, and you can’t help but tease him by squishing his chubby cheeks. you lowkey have cuteness aggression for him and want to eat him.

- when the group still lived together, he would run to your room with his pajamas on and jump into your bed. it was time for a cuddle pile when he said it was time.

2018: the group had the whole weekend off and you decided to visit your family, which meant your hyungs hadn’t seen you in a couple days and that made them sad—especially soonyoung.

you opened the door to the dorms after getting off the train and walking a couple miles home. you take off your shoes and bring your luggage back to your room that you share with chan, the older boy was there lying on his bed. “oh my god, y/n! you’re back!! omg you need to go talk to soonyoung, he’s been losing his mind without you here!!” “oh—okay, hi channie. bye channie” you say quickly as he pushes you out of the room and down the hall to hoshi’s room. you peek your head in and notice jihoon is not there, only soonyoung who is wrapped from head to toe in a fluffy blanket and holding a stuffed animal you guys won at an amusement in your rookie years.

“hyungie?” he instantly sits up and pouts, holding his arms out for you, “hold me.” you laugh and do as he says, climbing onto the bed and grabbing him into a hug. “i missed you a lot.” he huffs, “i know i missed you too.” you feel yourself get a little sad because of how much he clearly loves you, but that is shut down when he smacks your shoulder. “no sad.”

jeon wonwoo | 전 원우

- wonwoo is a lot more subtle when it comes to how much he cares for you. he doesn’t smother you with unnecessary love or affection but he does little things to show you that you’re his favorite dongsaeng.

- after practice or schedules he invites you to play video games, just watch a movie, or something quiet like that. he wants to spend as much time with you as possible without making it too obvious that he wants your attention.

- he likes to get you little things related to your interests or the hobbies you two share. he leaves them on your bed anonymously but you always know who left them.

2022: today wonwoo was out having lunch with mingyu when the two of them passed a store, his eyes drifted to the window where there were various pokemon plushies and other items. he pulls the younger man into the store, whispering his ideas to buy you a gift.

the two of them lock out a plushie of pangoro, who you’ve mentioned is your favorite whenever you and wonwoo play the games together. they head back to the dorm and wonwoo sneaks to your room to leave it for you, thinking you wouldn’t be home yet.. but as he pushes your door open he finds you curled up in bed.

“oh— y/nie?” he whispers, approaching the bed quietly. “what” you respond sharply, not looking up to see who it was. “are you okay?” wonwoo pulls the blanket from where it is over your head so he can see your face, you look exhausted—bags under your eyes and hair messy. “hyungie—“ your eyes are drawn to the plush since you always like things like that, even though you’d never admit it. “can we cuddle?” your voice is quiet and wonwoo immediately obliged, crawling into your bed next to you and handing the plush over so you can squeeze it. “my favorite! thank you wonungie-hyung.”

lee jihoon | 이 지훈

- jihoon is another member who shows his love silently, allowing you to work on a song with him after everyone has already gone home or brining you food when he knows you’re still in your studio.

- he tries to hide it so he doesn’t get teased by the other members but you give him severe cuteness aggression, he’s watched you grow up from a scrawny teenager to a man that towers over him but you’re still their baby, his baby

- when he does show you affection, it’s in the form of a quick squeeze of your hand or whispered praise when you do something week in practice or on stage

2019: jihoon has been in the studio for over 24 hours, constantly working on the new album and trying his best to make it perfect for the fans. he assumed everyone had gone home from their schedules of the day but when he takes off his headphones for a tiny break, he hears the door squeak open.

he turns to see his visitor, only to find your head peeked in warily “hyungie?” jihoon relaxes, he got a little tense thinking it was going to be seungcheol or a manager telling him to go home, but it was just you—his little y/nie. you looked tired, he knew you had school all day and then practice into the night and the intense schedule had been taking a toll on you since you’re still so young.

“you can come in.” he forces his voice to be somewhat cold so you don’t think he’s gone soft on you, but it seems like his tone didn’t matter as your face lit up and you quickly approached him. “i know you’re really busy hyung.. but i was wondering if you’d listen to the track ive been working on..?” jihoon internally explodes, you’re so sweet and he felt so proud that you wanted to come to him first, despite your mutual exhaustion. “of course, kid. sit down.”

maknae line version coming soon!!

#seventeen x reader #seventeen 14th member #seventeen x male reader #kpop #male reader #seungcheol x male reader #jeonghan x male reader #joshua x male reader #jun x male reader #hoshi x male reader #wonwoo x male reader #woozi x male reader

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