#who else do i thirst over I don’t know
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Anyways let’s thirst y’all 💦 👅
#Naruto#kiba#Gaara#Sasuke#itachi#Shikamaru#asuma#who else do i thirst over I don’t know#Naruto hc#naruto headcanon#naruto headcanons#naruto imagine#naruto imagines#naruto x reader#naruto fanfiction#naruto ff#naruto oneshot#naruto x oc#naruto drabble#naruto drabbles#naruto one shot#naruto x you
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Free Fucking Country
Max Verstappen x First Daughter of the US!Reader
Summary: the FIA needs a reality check — you’ve known this since they decided to punish your grown ass boyfriend for daring to say “fucked” in a press conference — and what better way to do this than by taking full advantage of your First Amendment rights … live on camera?
The Texas sun beats down on the circuit. You’re standing off to the side, watching the race from a monitor, arms crossed. There’s an edge to your stance, a tightness in your jaw that no one’s missed, least of all Nico Rosberg.
“You look like you’re going to murder someone,” Nico says, chuckling under his breath. “Who’s the unlucky victim?”
You shoot him a sideways glance, not quite smiling. “Not someone. More like the entire FIA.”
Jenson Button raises a brow from his spot beside Nico. He’s been fiddling with a microphone, but now his full attention is on you. “Ah. Still upset about Singapore, then?”
You roll your eyes. “Still upset? I’m livid, Jenson. They punished Max for swearing. Swearing. Like, are we adults or are we running a kindergarten here?”
Nico and Jenson exchange a look, trying and failing to suppress a laugh.
“They’ve done worse to other drivers, to be fair,” Nico says, playing the diplomat despite the thirst for drama you know is itching to escape.
“I don’t care!” Your voice rises a little, and you realize you’re pacing now, hands flying around in frustration. “They target Max like he’s public enemy number one, and I swear it’s just because he’s honest. They can’t handle it when someone actually tells the truth!”
Nico nods, clearly amused by your rant but trying to stay neutral. “True. Max does have a ... blunt way of putting things.”
“He shouldn’t have to censor himself. It’s not like he was even that bad. They act like he threatened to burn down the paddock.” You huff, coming to a stop in front of Nico. “It’s just so stupid.”
Nico leans back, crossing his arms. “So, what are you going to do? You’re not exactly on the FIA’s Christmas card list either.”
A slow grin spreads across your face, and Nico’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh no. I don’t like that look. That’s trouble.”
Jenson smirks. “What’s she planning?”
“I need a favor,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief. You glance over at the camera setup behind them. “Can I borrow your camera for a minute?”
Both men stare at you like you’ve grown a second head.
“You want to go live? On Sky Sports?” Jenson asks, blinking in disbelief.
You shrug. “Why not?”
Nico shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “You’re something else.”
But he steps aside, making way for you to take his place. “Alright, have at it. Just … maybe don’t get us all banned from the paddock, yeah?”
You wink. “No promises.”
Without missing a beat, you step in front of the camera, and within seconds, you’re live. Your pulse quickens, adrenaline buzzing in your veins. The weight of the moment hits you, but it only fuels your determination.
You clear your throat. “Hi, everyone! It’s me, your friendly neighborhood First Daughter, coming to you live from the US Grand Prix. Now, before we get back to the race, I have something I need to get off my chest.”
Nico and Jenson are barely holding back their laughter behind you, but you ignore them, fixing your gaze on the lens.
“Max Verstappen got punished for swearing during a press conference last week. Punished. For swearing. And you know what? That’s bullshit.”
The words fly out of your mouth, sharp and unfiltered. There’s a moment of stunned silence around you as people start to realize what’s happening.
You keep going, voice rising with every sentence. “The FIA is out of control. They’re so focused on micromanaging everything that they’ve forgotten what this sport is supposed to be about. Racing. Competition. Passion.”
Nico’s eyes widen as he leans toward Jenson. “Oh my God, she’s really doing it.”
Jenson just grins, watching in awe. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”
You don’t let up. “You want to punish someone for being honest? For being real? Then punish me too, because I’m about to say a hell of a lot more.”
You can see people gathering around, eyes glued to the monitors. You’ve got their attention now, and you’re not backing down.
“The FIA is so far up their own asses, they can’t see what’s really going on. Drivers are out there risking their lives, pushing the limits, and all they care about is how polite they are in a press conference? Are you fucking kidding me?”
You wave your hands around, the frustration boiling over. “I’m sick of this shitty double standard. Max gets penalized for cursing, but the countless times that the FIA has done something much worse? Silence. It’s ridiculous.”
By now, there’s a crowd forming around you. You see a few FIA officials watching from the corner, looking like they’re trying to figure out what to do. You don’t stop.
“If the FIA wants to keep policing language, they should start by looking at themselves. They’re a bunch of fucking hypocrites who don’t know the first thing about what it takes to be a real racer. They’re killing the spirit of the sport.”
Just then, you spot one of the stewards marching toward you, followed by two security guards. You flash a grin at the camera. “Oh look, here they come. The fun police.”
The steward, a stern-looking man with a clipboard, stops right in front of you. “Ma’am, you need to leave immediately.”
You laugh, leaning into the camera, making sure everyone’s still watching. “Really? You’re gonna kick me out for talking? Last time I checked, this is a free fucking country. First Amendment, bitches! Try to shut me up, I dare you.”
The steward’s face reddens. “You need to leave, now.
But before the security guards can even move, your Secret Service detail materializes out of nowhere, surrounding you. They stand tall, arms crossed, ready to intervene.
You laugh again, this time louder. “Oh, you didn’t think about that, did you? You can’t kick me out. What are you gonna do, arrest the President’s daughter on live TV?”
The steward looks like he’s about to explode, but there’s nothing he can do. He steps back, clearly out of his depth, while the camera continues rolling.
You take a deep breath, calming down just enough to finish your rant with a flourish. “So, FIA, if you’re watching — and I know you are — get your act together. Start treating the drivers like adults, and stop with the petty bullshit. Or I swear, I’ll make it my mission to drag you on the broadcast every single fucking race.”
Before you can say anything else, you feel a presence beside you. You turn just in time to see Max walking up, eyes wide, clearly catching on to what’s happening. He looks from you to the cameras, then back to you, a slow smile spreading across his face.
Without a word, he steps forward, wraps an arm around your waist, and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s sudden, unexpected, but it’s the kind of kiss that makes time stop, the kind that speaks louder than words.
When he pulls away, there’s a smirk playing on his lips. “You always know how to make a scene.”
You shrug, a mischievous grin on your face. “Someone’s gotta stand up for you.”
Max laughs, shaking his head. “Well, you sure did.”
Nico and Jenson are clapping from behind, both of them thoroughly entertained. Jenson leans into the camera, grinning from ear to ear. “Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N, everybody.”
You step back, still grinning, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The steward looks like he’s given up entirely, and the crowd is buzzing with energy.
Max leans in close, his voice low. “You know you’re going to get a lot of hate for this, right?”
You shrug, glancing up at him. “Let them try. I’m not scared of a little backlash.”
He shakes his head, eyes shining with admiration. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”
You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’m just getting started.”
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#max verstappen#mv1#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fic#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#max verstappen x female reader#max verstappen x y/n#red bull racing#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen drabble
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hii againn! o mi gosh i’ve literally been thinking abt like ghost getting possessive over barracks bunny reader, getting all jealous and mean to make sure they know that they’re hisssss 。゚(゚´Д`゚)゚。
i just need to get this out of my head; possessive ghost has been such a little brain worm akdosimdksjhd anywaysss i hope your doing well!
* SCREAM MY NAME
thirst. he doesn’t like to share.
contains. ghost / spanking, dacryphilia, degradation, and mean dom themes.
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there’s no way you’re that fucking clueless, simon thinks to himself…
there’s a part of him that knows you’re just naive, you’re a sweet girl at heart, but the other half of him couldn’t stand to see you batting your pretty eyes at somebody else like that.
god, and you were being so attentive too?
nodding your head along, pretending you understood the answer they were giving you to whatever stupid question was plaguing your little head right now — he hated it.
he wasn’t a man known for having patience. so, that’s how you ended up here, bent over his knee with your ass up, exposed.
simon’s hand reels back before it strikes against your plush behind, the sudden sting making you cry out louder. you were already so sore, but he wasn’t satisfied yet — in fact, it seemed your little sniffles and tear-stained lashes had no effect on him today.
“you just don’t listen, do you?” he growls. yet, there’s no chance for you to respond as he smacks your ass again, this time harder than the last.
“m'… m'sorry, daddy..” you pathetically mumble out, your apology makes his eyebrow cock up. “are you, bunny? are you really? 'cause from what i’ve seen, it’s almost like you enjoy the attention.”
you can feel his fingertips grazing against the sensitive, reddened skin from his slaps before they finally end up between your thighs. thick digits teasingly playing with your wet folds then slowly pumping in and out of dripping cunt.
“is that it, huh? you just want everyone to know you’re a little slut?” you shake your head, but he speeds up anyways, and the pleasure he’s giving you is practically forcing moans out of you.
“you want their attention so bad, why don’t you let ‘em hear you?” he says, still looking furious.
“why don’t you scream my fucking name? these assholes need to know who you belong to and judging by how you’ve been acting, it looks like you need a reminder too.”
#cod x reader#cod smut#ghost smut#ghost x reader#call of duty smut#call of duty x reader#ghost cod#ghost mw2#ghost drabble#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x you#mw2 x reader#mw2 smut#ghost x y/n#ghost x you#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x you
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Thirst Tweets ~ Drew Starkey
(Gif creds to kasmira)
Summary: After reacting to thirst tweets about your boyfriend, you just couldn’t help yourself when you got home
Warnings: spit kink, choking, dom!drew, sub!reader, oral (m&f receiving), name calling, minors dni, all underaged readers will be blocked
“Oh, fuck.” Drew threw his head back with a groan as you took his cock deeper into your mouth.
After you guys left the ‘thirst tweets’ interview, you had been all over him in the car. There was just something about the way he had reacted to the tweets about him and how he didn’t shut them down, that just got you going.
Especially his reaction to you guys reading the tweet about ‘Rafe’ spitting in their mouth. You saw the smirk on his face and how he bit his lip. Clearly, there were a few things about him you still had to learn.
You two had been together secretly for a year. You both had decided to keep it private between just your friends and family, not wanting it to be public just because you knew how it would go.
“What’s gotten into you, huh?” He asked, voice laced with arousal as he tangled his fingers into your hair and tugged on it. You looked up at him through your lashes as you released his cock with a ‘pop’ but kept your hand around him, slowly jerking him off as you rested your head on his leg, “I learned a few things about you today, baby.”
He tilted his at you, signaling for you to elaborate. You pressed a kiss to the vein on the side of his cock before placing one on his hip. You pressed kisses all up his torso as you leaned over him, “Don’t think i didn’t see the way your eyes lit up when we read about you, or well, Rafe, spitting in people’s mouths. There something you wanna tell me?”
Drew placed his hands on your waist as he flipped you two over, “I think someone forgot who she was talking to.”
The kiss was messy; all tongue and teeth. Drew dragged his hand down the side of your body before wrapping it around your thigh and hitched it around his waist. You moaned into his mouth at feeling his cock graze over your panty covered clit.
As soon as you two got back to your apartment, you stripped both of you down and immediately went to work on him. Ever since he started to grow his hair out again and got his ear pierced, there hadn’t been a day where you didn’t jump his bones.
“Is that what you want me to do? Spit in your mouth?” Drew asked once he pulled away from you. He nudged his nose against yours but quickly pulled away when you tried to kiss him again, “do you?”
You bit your lip as you nodded, “I think about it a lot.” Drew’s pulse picked up at your words and you watched as his eyes darkened
There were things about you he still didn’t know, sexually, at least. Despite the fact you two had been dating for so long, you were still shy when it came to certain things.
Drew let out a groan before licking his lips, eyes never leaving yours, “yeah? What else do you think about?” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek; jaw, and then your neck. Tilting your head to the side to give him more room, you ran your fingers through his hair, “I think about you fucking me against the the window, so everyone could see it. I-“
You cut yourself off with a moan as he nipped at the skin, before mumbling, “what else?”
How the fuck were you supposed to focus when he was grinding his hips against yours. Drew brought your attention back to him by slapping the side of your thigh and you let out a yelp, tugging roughly on his hair in return, “what else do you think about?”
“I think about you fucking me like you do when you’re frustrated,” you moaned as Drew now adverted his attention to your tits. He left wet kisses on them before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples while his other hand came up to tug on the other one. You let out a content hum as you relaxed into the bed, “I also think about you spitting in my mouth.”
He released your nipple with a ‘pop’ before looking up at your, “yeah? You want me to treat you like a whore?”
You whimpered, nodding your head at him. Drew smirked as he sat up on his knees and grabbed hold of your panties by the middle and tore it.
“Drew!”
He simply waved you off as he buried his face between your legs. You shot up, a hand on the his head as the other gripped the sheets, “oh, fuck.”
Drew lapped at your pussy, tongue barely grazing your clit each time it passed. He looked up at you as he pulled your legs apart, forcing them onto your shoulders. He sucked your clit into his mouth and his tongue prodded the bundle of nerves.
You tightened your grip on his hair and threw your head back with a groan. You brought your free hand up to paw at your breast, tugging on your nipple.
Drew looked up at you and nearly came at the sight of you playing with yourself. He released the hold on your leg before sliding his middle and ring finger up and down your wet pussy before sliding them into you.
“Oh, fuck.” You moaned as he thrusted his fingers into you at a brutal pace. Not having the strength to hold yourself up anymore, you let your arms drop and you fell back onto the bed. Drew pulled his mouth off of you and placed kisses on your stomach.
He kept with the brutal pace with his fingers as he leaned over you. He could feel your legs start to tremble once he brought his free hand up to wrap around your throat, “open your mouth.”
Your eyes lit up as you eagerly complied, sticking out your tongue. Drew leaned closer and let his spit fall into your mouth. You let out a moan, closing your mouth before pulling him down into a kiss.
He pulled his fingers out of you before wrapping his hand around his cock. Moaning into his mouth as you felt him drag the tip of cock over your pussy, you pulled away from him and looked down as he pushed in, “oh, shit.”
Drew dropped his head onto your shoulder as he started to set a sensual pace. He moved his knees under your thighs and spread them apart so he was able to move deeper. One of your hands was in his hair and the other was digging into his shoulders.
Drew grabbed hold of your jaw, tilting your head to the side so he could leave wet kisses on your neck. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip and you couldn’t help yourself; you nipped at it before wrapping your lips around it.
Not diverting his attention from your neck, he pushed his thumb deeper into your mouth. The hand that was in hair moved to hold onto his wrist.
He gave a particularly hard thrust and you moaned, pulling his thumb from your mouth, “right there.”
Drew pushed himself up onto his hands as he pulled away from you, “doesn’t matter how many times we fuck, you still turn into a little slut.”
“You're such an ass,” you groaned, which quickly turned into protests when he pulled out of you, “no, no, no. Please.”
Before you could process anything that was happening, drew had flipped you over and held your hands behind your back as he harshly thrusted back into you, “It’s like you’re begging me to punish you.”
“I thought you liked it when I begged.” You smirked, looking over your shoulder at him. Drew brought his hand down on your ass and gave you a dark look, “You really think you’re in any position to be smart with me?”
“Guess your just not fucking me good enough.” You shot back, which you quickly regretted when he lifted your hips and pushed your head down into the pillow before fucking into you, “just don’t know when to stop running your mouth, do you?”
All he was met with was a moan and he couldn’t help but smirk, “there we go. That’s what i like to fucking hear.”
All that could be heard was the sound of skin slapping and the moans coming from you, with the occasional groan from Drew. He wrapped your hair around his hand and tugged your head up, “C’mon, baby. Tell me what you want.”
“Wanna cum. Please.” Was all you could let out. You thrusted your hips back against Drew’s, matching his pace. Drew stopped moving and just watched with a glazed look in his eyes as you eagerly threw your ass back on him,”there we go. Fuck yourself on my cock.”
After a few minutes, drew wrapped his arms around your stomach and pulled you up against his chest, slowing down his pace as he turned your head to pull you into a kiss. It was the exact opposite of what was going on 30 seconds ago. One hand was on your tit, a firm grip on it as his other slid down the front of your body and down to rub your clit.
You jerked at the feeling, pulling away from the kiss as you leaned your head back on his shoulder, “Fuck.”
“That feel good?” He mumbled, eyes not leaving yours as you nodded, tugging your bottom lip into your mouth, “Mhm.”
“Do you think you deserve to cum?” Drew asked, tilting his head down to nip at your ear, “cause I don’t think you do.”
You quickly shook your head, eyes wide and terrified of not getting to cum, “No. Please. I’ll be good.”
“Yeah? Gonna be a good girl for me?” He asked, rubbing your clit faster, “not gonna run your mouth anymore?”
You let out a whimper as you reached behind him to thread your fingers in his hair, “just wanna be good for you.” You pulled his head down for a kiss before tugging on his lip and looking up at him with big doe eyes as you stuck your tongue out.
How could he refuse when you looked at him like that?
He gathered the spit in his mouth before letting it fall from his mouth and into yours. Before you could bring your tongue back into your mouth, Drew pulled you in for another kiss. You could feel his spit dripping down both of your chins but neither of you cared. Tugging on your bottom lip as he pulled away, Drew smirked as he pushed you forward and pulled out of you, “gonna have to work for it, baby. I want you to ride me.”
He laid down next to you on the bed, arms behind his head as he watched you kneel on shaky legs before swinging one of them over his hips. His hands came to hold onto your hips to help steady you as you reached for his cock. You could practically feel it throbbing as you slid down onto it.
You both let out a moan at the new feeling. Drew was well endowed and you always felt so full when you were on top.
“You okay, baby?” He asked, rubbing your hips with his thumbs. You couldn’t help but smile at him; even when he was railing the shit out of you, he was always making sure you were okay.
“Never better.” You laughed, placing your hands on his chest as Drew moved his hands to ass, squeezing it before placing a harsh slap on both cheeks, “Good. Now show much you’re gonna be good and fuck yourself on my cock.”
Slowly moving your hips up, leaving just the tip in, you brought your hips back down and you both let out a moan. Drew grabbed hold of your ass and helped with your movements.
You leaned down and pressed your lips to his jaw before moving down to his neck. In response, Drew held your hips down as he thrusted up into you.
“You’re squeezing-oh fuck- the shit out of me.” Drew let out as he sat the two of you up, moving your hips against his. You tugged his head back as you looked down at him.
Drew was the hottest man you had ever seen and you were so damn lucky to have him.
His pupils were blown, eyes droopy, and his lips were red and pouty. If he looked this fucked out, you could only imagine how you looked.
“That’s because y-you’re so big.” You stuttered, as your clit brushed the hair that was right above his dick. Drew smirked up at you as he brushed your hair back, “yeah, that right?”
“Mhm.” You mumbled as Drew leaned forward and wrapped his lips around your nipple and tugged on it before moving to your other one.
He pushed you backwards until you were laying on your back, taking advantage of your blissed out state as he moved both of your legs over his shoulders and thrusted back into you at a harsh pace.
“Oh shit,” you moaned, as Drew pushed your thighs to his chest, hovering over you as he rolled his hips into you. Your back arched off of the bed at the new feeling, You grabbed onto his biceps, digging your nails into them, “right there!”
Drew rolled his hips into yours with a smirk on his face, as he reached up to wrap his hand around your throat, “You know what you need to do if you wanna cum.”
‘Smug little bastard’
“Please let me cum…daddy.” You begged, grabbing hold of the wrist that held onto your throat, “I wanna cum for you.”
“Are you gonna be a good girl?” He teased and you had to refrain from rolling your eyes, “Yes. I wanna be your good girl. Please let me cum.”
He gave short but deep thrusts as he tilted his hips, which was all he needed to do to make you cum.
“Oh…fuck!” Your legs trembled on his shoulders as your pussy continuously pulsed around his dick. It didn’t take long for Drew’s orgasm to approach and he leaned down to kiss you, “where do you want me to cum?”
You blinked up at him, mind hazy and taken back by his question, “I-in me. I want you to cum in me. Please.”
Drew let out a loud moan at your words, not realizing how much of an impact they would have on him, “want me to cum in you? Fuck a baby into you? Hm, is that what you want?”
‘Well, it was now’
You whimpered as you nodded your head, “want a baby, Drew. Your baby.”
“I got you, baby. I’ll give you a baby.” Drew moved your legs so your thighs were pressed together and against his chest as he fucked into you relentlessly, desperate for his release. He threw his head back as his hips faltered against the back of your thighs.
You could feel his cum spurt into you in long ropes. And it felt… euphoric.
“Oh…shit.” He groaned as he pulled out, watching as his cum spilled out of you. He leaned over you to give you a kiss on the forehead, flopping on top of you, burrowing his head into your chest, “love you.”
“Love you, too, baby.”
A/N
When I tell you that this probably the best work I’ve ever done, I mean it. I do wanna start a tag list for my works so please let me know if you would like to be added!!
@nct-whore @willowpains @simpforboys @leigh-kay
#outer banks#drew starkey#rafe cameron#drew starkey imagine#rafe cameron imagines#outer banks imagines#rafe cameron imagine#obx#rafe obx#outer banks imagine#drew starkey imagines#drew starkey smut#drew starkey x reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron smut#obx smut#outer banks smut
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All This Money, Darling, What Else Is Left to Do?
summary: you’ve moved to barca for work, you meet alexia
warnings: SMUT 18+, strap use, bathroom sex, how original
a/n: based on this request !
word count: 1.1k
other parts found here
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You’ve never been good with Spanish, which is unfortunate considering you’ve just moved to Barcelona to film a series that’s supposed to be your “dark, gritty” transition from Hollywood darling to Oscar-worthy actress. A role that will, in your words, “finally earn me that little golden bastard.” The director had only sighed in response, muttering something about Brits and their insatiable thirst for awards, before handing you a script written entirely in Spanish.
You’ve got all the superficial things down: tousled hair that looks like you just rolled out of bed in a sultry way (when in reality, it took your stylist an hour to perfect), designer sunglasses that scream “I’m too famous to be bothered,” and a wardrobe carefully curated to say, “I’m an artist, but I could still outdress you at a red carpet event.”
The language, though, remains your Everest.
Which is how you find yourself at a party hosted by some up-and-coming director who might actually be a waiter – it’s hard to tell when everyone here looks like they stepped out of an indie film. The only reason you’re here is because your agent insists you need to “immerse yourself in the culture.” Apparently, the key to embodying a brooding Spanish detective is to drink sangria and eat patatas bravas at a rooftop party with people who don’t recognise you. Or worse, pretend not to recognise you.
You’ve been nursing the same glass of wine for an hour, half-watching as a group of women discuss something with intense, dramatic flair. You’re only half-listening until one of them catches your eye.
You don’t know her name. Not yet. But you know she’s trouble from the way she moves. She’s all sharp edges and grace, the kind of woman who makes every hair on your body stand on end before you’ve even exchanged a word. When she looks at you, it’s like she already knows you – all of you – even the parts you try to keep hidden behind layers of well-crafted mystique.
You make a mental note to stay away from her. Which, naturally, means you’ll be making out in the bathroom with her within the hour.
And that’s exactly how it happens. One moment, you’re trying to figure out what the hell “Tarjeta amarilla” means, and the next, she’s pressed up against you, lips smashing into yours like she’s been waiting her entire life to taste you. It’s heady, intoxicating, the way she devours you like you’re something she plans to enjoy slowly – but not yet.
The bathroom is one of those annoyingly chic setups with a waterfall tap and hand towels that look like they should be in a palace. It’s also incredibly small, which is fine because she’s pressed up against you, and suddenly there’s no need for space.
You don’t know who makes the first move. It’s all a blur of hands and lips, and somewhere between her tongue tracing the line of your jaw and your fingers digging into her hips, you figure out you don’t actually care.
Her name’s Alexia. You learned that somewhere between her pushing you against the wall and slipping her hand under your bra. Alexia, whispered like a prayer. Or maybe it was a curse. She’s too good at this. Too good at the way she takes control, the way she knows exactly where to touch you to make you gasp, arch, and cling to her like she’s your lifeline.
And then she’s guiding you to the sink, bending you over like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It probably is for her – something about the way she holds you down with one massive hand and undoes her jeans with the other tells you this is far from her first time.
You glance up at the mirror, and there you are – tousled hair now a genuine mess, eyes blown wide, lips kiss-swollen and desperate. You look every bit the part of a woman who’s about to get absolutely wrecked.
Which is exactly what happens.
Alexia’s behind you, and then something cool and smooth is pressing against your entrance – a strap, because of course, she’d have one at the ready. You bite your lip, half to stifle a moan and half because you don’t want to give her the satisfaction of hearing you already coming undone. You’re an actress, after all, and the best performances are always the ones where you keep the audience guessing.
Not that it matters. The second she pushes in, you’re a mess, nails scraping against the sink’s surface as you try – and fail – to keep yourself together. She’s ruthless, setting a pace that leaves no room for pretense. It’s rough, raw, the kind of fucking that makes you forget your name and what you’re supposed to be doing here in Spain in the first place.
“Te gusta, ¿verdad?” she murmurs in your ear, voice low and teasing. And by her tone you just about make out she’s asked you a question.
“Fuck, yes,” you gasp, any attempt at playing it cool flying out the window as she thrusts harder, deeper. The sound of skin against skin fills the small bathroom, along with your increasingly loud moans. There’s no point in being quiet now – everyone out there either knows what’s happening or will by the time she’s done with you.
It’s filthy, the way she fucks you – no pretense, no gentleness, just pure, unbridled lust. You’re half-certain you’ll have bruises tomorrow, and the thought only turns you on more.
“Mírate,” she breathes, voice laced with dark amusement. “Miss Hollywood, siendo follada como una vulgar zorra"
You whimper in response, because you don’t know what else to do. You don’t understand a word she’s saying. Yet you’re still reduced to nothing but pure pleasure, body trembling as she drives you closer and closer to the precipice.
And then she does something with her hips – some angle that has you seeing stars, and you’re gone, crying out her name as you come harder than you’ve ever come in your life. The kind of orgasm that leaves you breathless, boneless, clinging to the sink like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.
But she doesn’t stop. Not until you’re shaking, overstimulated and begging her to – not until she’s milked every last bit of pleasure from you, until you’re nothing but a panting, sweaty mess in her extremely toned arms.
When she finally pulls out, you collapse against the sink, legs barely holding you up. Alexia’s still behind you, hands sliding up your sides in a way that’s almost affectionate. Almost.
“That was…” You try to find words, but they’re lost somewhere between the haze of lust and the aftershocks of your orgasm.
“Sí,” she agrees, smirking as she steps back, giving you just enough space to turn around and face her.
There’s something in her eyes, something that says she’s not done with you yet. And despite the fact that you should probably get back to the party, should probably straighten yourself up and pretend like you haven’t just been fucked within an inch of your life, you can’t bring yourself to care.
#alexia putellas#alexia putellas x reader#fcb femeni#fcb femeni x reader#espwnt#espwnt x reader#woso#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso community
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arcane characters in a zombie apocalypse x fem reader (AU)
characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.
writer's note: i’ve always wanted to do a dynamic like this, i’m a total zombie fan and i loved how the settings turned out. i’m literally speechless! the post-apocalyptic vibe is on point, and i can’t wait to see how the next parts unfold. this project has mad potential, guys i swear! every new twist has me hooked, and i can’t stop thinking about what’s coming next. it’s definitely got everything to be epic! as you already know request are open ;)
Viktor
The night was thick and cold, the air heavy with the echoes of a world crumbling to pieces. The streets, once bustling with life, were now engulfed in an unsettling silence, broken only by the crunch of debris under your boots. The zombie apocalypse had taken more than words could express. As you moved forward, hunger and thirst became your constant companions, but so was the hope of finding a refuge, a temporary respite amid the chaos.
It was then that you heard it. A soft, ethereal melody, floating in the air like a whisper, like a lament. You stopped, the sound calling to you like a siren, a promise of something human, something real, in a world that seemed to have lost all connection to the soul. Following the trail of the music, you arrived at a semi-collapsed building, an old concert hall. The doors were ajar, and the sound of the piano echoed through the walls, a melancholic tune speaking of losses and longings.
Entering cautiously, your eyes adjusted to the dimness, and there, in the center of the room, was him. Viktor, his slender figure bent over the piano, his long, skillful fingers gliding across the keys with a precision almost mechanical. He didn’t stop when you entered, his eyes closed, lost in a world of his own.
"Are you real or a ghost?" His voice, when he finally spoke, was soft, barely a whisper over the music. He didn’t wait for a reply, his fingers never faltering.
"I’m real... I think," you responded, stepping closer with light steps, as if afraid to break the spell he had created. "Your music... it’s beautiful. But why play for the dead?"
He opened his eyes, his gaze tired, marked by a pain you recognized immediately. "The living don’t listen. They don’t understand. The dead... they make a better audience."
It wasn’t the answer you expected, but you didn’t question it either. There was something in his voice, in the way he said it, that made you feel that this man, this stranger, carried a pain like your own. You sat at a respectful distance, not wanting to interrupt more than necessary.
"Not all the living are deaf to pain," you said softly, your eyes fixed on his hands still playing. "I understand. I’ve lost as much as you, maybe more."
For the first time, his hands stopped, and the silence filled the room. Viktor looked up at you, as if he were truly seeing you for the first time. "Why are you here?"
"I was looking for water, shelter... but now I think I was looking for something else. Something that would remind me there’s still beauty in this broken world."
There was a moment of silence, tense but full of possibility. Then, he nodded, as if accepting your presence. "The water’s in the room behind. You can stay, if you want. But don’t talk too much."
You chuckled softly, a sound you hadn’t made in weeks. "Deal."
Thus began your relationship, silent at first, sharing space with few words. Viktor played, and you listened, finding comfort in each note. Slowly, the walls he had built started to crumble. He would tell you small things, fragments of his life before the apocalypse, the people he had lost. And you shared your own stories, your own scars.
One night, after an especially sad piece, Viktor stopped playing and looked at you directly. "You remind me of someone I used to know. Someone who made me feel like I wasn’t alone."
"And now you’re not," you responded softly, taking his hand in yours, a simple gesture but one full of meaning. "You don’t have to face this alone, Viktor. No one should."
The touch was a catalyst, a spark that ignited something within him. Viktor nodded, his eyes shining with something more than pain for the first time in a long time. "Maybe... maybe you can teach me how to live again."
"And you can teach me to find peace in music," you said, your words sincere, your heart open.
It was the beginning of something deeper, a bond forged not only in shared pain but in the hope of healing together. Every night, Viktor played, not just for the dead, but for you, and in each note, you both found a path to redemption.
Jinx
The roar of gunshots and screams tore through the air, interrupting the unsettling silence of the night. You approached cautiously, your heart racing in your chest, driven by curiosity and the instinct to survive. The sounds came from a narrow alley, a trap of shadows and death.
There, you saw her for the first time.
Jinx, a whirlwind of bright colors and madness, fired with brutal precision, her eyes overflowing with an intensity that froze your blood. Her laughter was a cry of defiance, but also a disguised plea for help. Around her, the bodies of zombies fell, but it didn’t seem like she was fighting just them. There were others, humans, equally dead or dying.
"Come on! Is that all you’ve got?" she shouted, her blue braids spinning as her machine gun spat fire. There was a twisted joy in her voice, but also something deeper, something broken.
For a moment, you hesitated. This girl, this wild creature, was she someone you could help, or someone you should flee from? But something in her eyes, in the chaos of her mind reflected in her gaze, drew you in.
"Enough!" You found yourself shouting, your own words surprising you. "They're already dead!"
Jinx turned sharply toward you, her eyes narrowing, assessing you as if you were the next enemy. "And who are you? The savior of the day?" Her smile was a mix of mockery and distrust.
"No, just... someone who doesn’t want to see more unnecessary deaths," you said, raising your hands in a peace gesture. "You’ve already taken care of them."
For a moment, there was silence. Jinx lowered her weapon, though her fingers stayed tense on the trigger. "Maybe, but there’s always more. There will always be more."
"That doesn’t mean you have to fight alone," you dared to say, moving a little closer. "No need to be a war machine all the time."
She laughed, a dry and bitter sound. "And who are you to tell me what to be? The world is chaos, and I... fit perfectly in it."
"I don’t doubt it," you admitted, your voice soft but firm. "But even chaos needs a moment of calm."
Jinx stared at you, as if searching for something in your eyes, something she hadn’t found in a long time. "You’re strange, you know that? Not many come close when they see what I’m capable of."
"I’m not like the others," you simply said. "And I don’t think you are either."
For the first time, Jinx seemed to relax, lowering her weapon completely. "Maybe you’re not. What’s your name, strange one?"
You told her your name, and she repeated it, as if testing the sound on her lips. "So, are you going to follow me then, or are you just here to preach?"
"I could follow you, if you’ll let me."
She smiled, this time more genuinely. "Well then, strange one. Let’s see how much you can handle."
And that’s how your relationship with Jinx began, a whirlwind of emotions and danger. It wasn’t easy; she was unpredictable, her moods shifting like the wind, and her inner demons always lurking. But there were also moments of genuine connection, of vulnerability she only showed to you.
Over time, Jinx began to trust you more than she ever thought possible. You were the only one who could calm the storm inside her, even though sometimes she dragged you along with her. There were nights when she clung to you, whispering her fears and nightmares, and you were there to hold her.
"You’re always going to remind me that I’m not alone, right?" she asked one night, her big eyes full of a mix of hope and fear.
"Always," you reassured her, gently caressing her face. "As long as you let me stay by your side."
Jinx smiled, a smile that, though still broken, was starting to heal. "Then stay, strange one. Stay with me in this chaos."
And you did. Because, despite everything, the chaos with Jinx was where you started to feel like you belonged.
Vi
The night was dark, barely lit by the fire consuming the camp around you. The screams and mess were deafening, each second a reminder of how fragile life had become in this new world. You were trapped, surrounded by the bandits who had attacked, their cruel laughter and weapons gleaming under the light of the flames.
"What do we have here?" one of them mocked, stepping closer with a depraved smile. "Another victim of this rotten world."
You were exhausted, too weak to resist, but before they could harm you, a roar echoed through the camp. Shadows moved swiftly, and in the blink of an eye, the bandits were on the ground, neutralized by a figure who moved like lightning.
"Get out of here, or the next blow won’t be so merciful," said a firm, deep voice belonging to the woman standing in front of you. She was tall, muscular, with an aura of authority that left you speechless. Her short dark-red hair, along with the visible scars on her fists, made her unmistakable.
It was Vi, the leader of a resistance group. You had heard of her, a legend among the survivors, someone who never left anyone behind. But in person, she was even more imposing.
"Are you okay?" she asked, without wasting time, her eyes scanning your body for injuries.
"Yes... thank you," you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly. "I thought I was... done for."
"Almost," Vi said, with a slight smile that barely touched her lips. "But not while I'm on guard."
She helped you stand, her grip firm but surprisingly gentle. "Let's go, we can't stay here."
As you moved forward with her group, you noticed Vi stayed close, always vigilant. Her presence was comforting, despite her distant attitude. There was something in her eyes that made you think she had suffered too, that her strength didn't come without a cost.
Days passed, and although Vi was reserved, you noticed small moments when her facade would crumble. A lost look at the horizon, a sigh when she thought no one was listening. You couldn't help but feel curious, a need to understand her, to reach the heart of the woman who had saved your life.
"Why do you do this?" you asked one night, when the others were asleep. You were sitting by the fire, and she was on the perimeter, always alert.
"Do what?" she responded, not looking at you directly.
"Lead, protect people like me," you said, your voice soft but firm. "You could just worry about yourself, but you don’t."
Vi sighed, finally sitting next to you. "Because if I don't, who will? The world has already lost too many good people."
"And you’ve lost too, haven’t you?" you ventured, noticing how her eyes darkened at your words.
"We’ve all lost," she murmured, looking away. "But not everyone has the luxury of letting that destroy us."
"But that doesn’t mean you have to face it alone," you said, gently touching her arm. "Sometimes, sharing the weight makes it easier to bear."
Vi looked at you, surprised by your boldness, but she didn't pull away her arm. "I’m not used to sharing," she admitted, her voice almost a whisper. "I’ve always thought showing weakness is dangerous."
"It’s not weakness, Vi," you reassured, holding her gaze. "It’s humanity."
There was silence, one that seemed endless, but eventually, Vi nodded, as if your words had broken something inside her. "Maybe you're right," she said with a faint smile. "Maybe."
From that moment on, your relationship with Vi began to change. She remained the strong, distant warrior, but privately, with you, she began to lower her guard. She confided in you her fears, her memories of the past, and you were there to listen, to support her. In return, Vi became your protector, but also someone who trusted you to be her emotional anchor.
"Thank you for not giving up on me," she said one night, her voice filled with contained emotion.
"I’ll always be here for you, Vi," you replied, gently taking her hand. "Because you give me strength too."
And so, in the madness of thus new world, you both found a reason to keep fighting, together.
Caitlyn
The air smelled of decay and disinfectant. Every step you took echoed through the underground hallways of the shelter, a maze of steel and concrete that promised safety but hid dark secrets. You were injured, exhausted, and desperate for medical help. The last zombie ambush had left your group in ruins, and you had barely escaped with your life.
Following the signs toward the medical room, you stumbled until you reached a door slightly ajar, from which murmurs and the soft hum of machinery emanated. Pushing the door open, your eyes met a sight that froze you in place.
Caitlyn, a woman with a serene and elegant appearance, was standing in front of an operating table. On it lay an immobilized zombie, still half alive, groaning under the cold lights of the lab. Caitlyn seemed absorbed, meticulously recording her observations as if it were a regular patient, not a monstrous creature.
"What... what are you doing?" Your voice came out broken, almost a whisper, but loud enough for Caitlyn to glance up, her blue eyes meeting yours. There was something in them, a mixture of weariness and determination that unsettled you.
"I'm looking for answers," she said, her tone soft but firm. "If we don't understand the disease, we won't be able to stop it."
"But... experimenting on them like this?" you gestured to the zombie in horror. "This... this isn't right."
"Not right?" Caitlyn set aside her instruments and approached you with a calmness that contrasted with the situation. "What would you do then? Let humanity go extinct while we cling to our morality?"
Her words left you breathless. There was a brutal truth in what she said, but also a line you felt shouldn't be crossed. "I don't know, but this... this doesn't seem like the answer."
"I need time," Caitlyn sighed, her gaze softening slightly. "And understanding. I'm not proud of what I'm doing, but someone has to do it."
Although your initial instinct was to flee from the scene, something in Caitlyn's vulnerability made you stay. "I need help," you finally said, pointing to the wound on your arm. "I was attacked, and I barely managed to escape."
"Come," Caitlyn said, pointing to a cleaner cot on the other side of the room. "Let me help you."
As she tended to you, the silence between you two became heavy, laden with unspoken thoughts. Caitlyn worked with precision, her face showing a mix of concentration and exhaustion.
"Do you always do this alone?" you asked, trying to break the ice, your eyes fixed on hers as she stitched your wound.
"Yes," she replied without looking up. "Most people don't understand what it takes to survive in this world. They prefer to judge from afar."
"I'm not judging you," you clarified, though part of you still struggled with what you had seen. "But... maybe you need to remember why you're doing this. Not just to stop the virus, but to save what's left of us."
Caitlyn paused, her hands still holding the needle. She looked at you with an intensity that made you shiver. "And you? Why do you fight to survive?"
"Because I believe there's still something worth fighting for," you answered honestly. "And because I think if we forget that, we become them."
There was a long silence before Caitlyn resumed working on your wound, but this time her touch was softer, almost as if she were reconsidering her own actions.
From that day on, a fragile connection began to form between the two of you. Caitlyn remained the distant scientist, but in your conversations, you saw glimpses of the woman she once was—someone who had lost as much as you but still fought to find a purpose. You became her constant reminder that science and humanity were not mutually exclusive.
"Thank you for staying," she said one night, when the experiments had ceased and the shelter was calm. "Sometimes, even I need to remember there's something beyond these walls."
"There's always something more, Caitlyn," you smiled, touching her hand gently. "And you deserve it too."
And so, amidst the darkness, feelings began to emerge that neither of them had expected, a bond that promised not only a cure for the world but also for their broken souls.
Jayce
The ruined city was shrouded in a deathly silence, broken only by the occasional crunch of debris beneath your feet. You had been wandering for hours, searching for supplies in an area that had been abandoned since the outbreak began. The air was heavy with dust and desperation, but your instincts guided you, as if something else was calling you.
Turning a corner, you found yourself facing a half-collapsed building, but through one of its broken windows, a faint light filtered through. Curiosity and the need to survive pushed you inside. As you crossed the threshold, the sounds of an improvised laboratory reached your ears: the hum of machines, the clinking of glass vials, and a soft murmur.
Cautiously, you ventured further into the interior until you saw a man with light brown hair, clad in a lab coat, working frantically among various homemade devices. His concentration was so intense that he didn’t notice your presence until you stepped on a loose piece of metal.
"Who's there?" His voice was firm, though tinged with a slight tension. He quickly turned, and his eyes met yours. There was something in his gaze, a mix of distrust and exhaustion.
"Sorry," you raised your hands, showing that you were unarmed. "I didn't mean to scare you. I was just looking for supplies and saw the light. I didn't know anyone was here."
Jayce narrowed his eyes, evaluating you. "This place isn't safe. What are you doing here alone?"
"Surviving," you answered honestly. "Like everyone else. But it seems like you’re doing more than just surviving." Your eyes scanned the makeshift laboratory. "What is all this?"
Jayce hesitated for a moment before speaking. "It's... an attempt to correct a mistake. I'm looking for a cure for this damn virus."
Your eyebrows rose, impressed by his confession. "A cure? Do you really think it's possible?"
"It's all I have left," he sighed, returning to his instruments. "I can't afford to doubt."
You moved closer, watching his hands as he mixed compounds and adjusted rudimentary microscopes. "Can I help? I'm not a scientist, but I have some medical knowledge. And a lot of desire to make this work."
Jayce looked at you again, this time with a spark of hope in his eyes. "Why would you want to help me? You don’t even know if this is possible."
"Because if there’s a chance, no matter how small, it's worth trying," you replied firmly. "Besides, I don't have much to lose."
A small smile crossed Jayce's lips. "Alright. But if you stay, it'll be on my terms. This isn't a game."
"Understood," you nodded, sitting down in a nearby chair. "Where do we start?"
Days turned into weeks, and what started as a simple collaboration turned into an inseparable partnership. Jayce, always focused and methodical, found in you a companion who not only shared his determination but also reminded him of the humanity behind the science.
There were nights when frustration consumed him, when the experiments failed, and hope faded like smoke. During those moments, you were there, offering him comfort in words and actions, reminding him that he wasn’t alone in his mission.
"Jayce, you can't do this alone," you told him one night, as he sank into his chair, exhausted and defeated. "You have to let someone else share that burden."
He looked up, his tired eyes meeting yours. "I don't know if I can," he admitted. "I've made mistakes before. I don’t want to drag you into my failures."
"This isn’t just your fight," you said, taking his hand in yours. "If we're going to save this world, we’ll do it together."
Jayce gently squeezed your hand, allowing a warmth he had been repressing to seep into his heart. "Thank you," he murmured. "For staying. For believing in me."
"Always," you smiled, drawing closer, your proximity a balm for his restless soul. "You’re not alone, Jayce. And you never will be as long as I’m here."
That night, something changed between you. Science and the search for a cure were no longer the only things that united you. A deeper connection had begun, a bond that grew with every challenge overcome together, with every moment of vulnerability shared.
And so, amidst the chaos and desolation, hope no longer existed solely in Jayce's test tubes but also in the love that blossomed between you both, a cure as essential as the one you were searching for for the world.
Ekko
The night fell heavily over the ruined city, the shadows stretched long between the rubble, and the distant echoes of the infected resonated through the desolate streets. You moved cautiously, your eyes scanning every corner in search of a safe place to take refuge. You had heard rumors of a nearby shelter, but getting there would be nearly impossible without help.
The sound of a metallic click and a blue flash caught your attention from a dark corner. You approached silently, your steps light on the debris. Turning the corner, you saw a young man focused on a holographic screen, his fingers moving with astonishing speed as he hacked into a control system. His white hair shimmered under the dim light, and his face was furrowed in a mix of concentration and frustration.
"Trouble with the system?" you asked, breaking the silence.
Ekko jumped, quickly spinning toward you, his hand flying to a device on his belt. "Who are you? How did you find me?" His voice was filled with distrust.
"Easy," you raised your hands in a peace gesture. "I'm just another survivor, looking for shelter. I saw the light and thought you might help me."
He squinted, scanning you quickly. "I don't need distractions. This is delicate and complicated."
"I'm good with complicated," you replied with a slight smile. "I can help, if you let me."
Ekko hesitated for a moment, his gaze darkened by distrust. But something in your expression, in the determination of your eyes, made him reconsider. "What do you know about zombie control systems?"
"Enough to know you need someone to cover your back while you work," you said, stepping closer. "Besides, it doesn’t seem like you're in a position to turn down help."
He snorted, turning his attention back to the screen. "Fine, but don’t get in my way. This is harder than it looks."
You positioned yourself beside him, watching how his fingers flew over the controls. "Are you trying to access the shelter?"
"Yeah," he muttered, his concentration returning to the task. "If I can hack this system, we could gain access to a safe place. But it's protected by layers of security that... well, they're a headache."
"Let me take a look," you leaned closer to the screen, your fingers brushing against his. "I can help with that."
The days that followed were filled with long hours of work, where you and Ekko collaborated closely, sharing technical knowledge and survival strategies. Every time he wavered under pressure, you were there to offer him a steady hand, a word of encouragement.
One night, as you worked in silence, Ekko spoke, his voice low and filled with guilt. "All of this... the virus... it's my fault."
You looked at him, surprised by his confession. "What do you mean?"
"I was part of an experiment that went wrong," he admitted, his eyes fixed on the screen. "I thought I was helping, but I only made things worse."
You stepped closer, taking his hand in yours. "Ekko, we all make mistakes. But you're doing everything you can to fix it. That's what matters."
He looked at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of vulnerability and gratitude. "You... you see something good in me, despite everything."
"Because there is," you said softly. "And I won't let you drown in guilt. We'll get through this together."
That night, as the world continued to crumble around them, a spark of hope and something deeper began to blossom between you two, a bond that would be as strong as the mission you shared.
Silco
The smell of mold and decay filled the air of the abandoned casino as you moved cautiously, your breath controlled and your senses on high alert. The echo of your footsteps resonated in the silence, broken only by the faint hum of a slot machine that, miraculously, was still working. Your goal was clear: find supplies and get out of there before the place became your tomb.
However, fate had other plans.
"What’s a fascinating creature like you doing in a place like this?" The voice came from the shadows, velvet and dangerous. Your body tensed instantly, spinning on your heels with your hand ready to reach for your weapon.
From the threshold of an old VIP room, a man emerged, his slender figure and sharp gaze striking you immediately. His elegant demeanor, despite the surroundings, and his green-blue eyes trapped you at once. You didn’t know who he was, but his presence carried a weight you couldn’t ignore.
"Looking for luck?" The man raised an eyebrow, his thin, calculating smile evident.
"I don’t believe in luck," you responded firmly, keeping your guard up. "Only in what I can take for myself."
"An interesting philosophy," he murmured, stepping closer with slow steps, his presence dominating the room. "But here, everything has a price."
"I don’t have time for games." You kept your voice steady, trying not to show the slight tremor in your fingers as he stopped a few meters away from you.
"Games?" The man’s laugh was low, almost a whisper. "There are no games, only transactions. And you, it seems, aren’t willing to lose."
"The same could be said about you," you challenged, holding his gaze. "What are you after?"
For a moment, the silence between you two stretched, heavy with tension. The man tilted his head as if deciding whether to reveal more or continue his game. Finally, he spoke, his tone serious and measured.
"The same as you," he said, his voice deep. "Survive."
"And manipulate," you added, not missing a beat.
The man laughed again, but this time, there was something different in his laugh, something you couldn’t quite decipher. "Maybe," he admitted, with a frankness that unsettled you. "But don’t we all manipulate in our own way to get what we want?"
"Not everyone sells their soul in the process," you retorted.
"Ah," he took another step closer, almost touching you. "And you, what would you be willing to do to survive?"
His words hung in the air like a challenge, and for the first time, you noticed the faint shadow of something beyond his cold facade: curiosity. This man, the manipulator, seemed genuinely interested in you, not just as a pawn in his game, but as someone who could be just like him.
"Whatever it takes," you said, not backing down. "But never at the cost of my humanity."
The man looked at you for a long moment, as if committing every word to memory. Finally, he took a step back, his lips curling into an enigmatic smile.
"Then perhaps we can find a common purpose," he offered, his tone softer, almost... inviting?
The relationship that began that night was a constant dance between power and vulnerability. Silco, accustomed to manipulating and controlling, found himself intrigued by your resistance, by your ability to see beyond his calculating facade. And you, despite your reservations, couldn’t help but feel drawn to the enigma that was Silco, to the intensity with which he challenged you and made you question your own limits.
Over time, the barriers between you both began to crumble, revealing a bond that you both had denied for a long time. Silco, the man who seemed unbreakable, showed moments of humanity that only you could see. And you, the woman who swore never to compromise her morals, found in him a reason to reconsider where survival ended and true life began.
Mel
The silence in the field was oppressive, broken only by the crunch of leaves under your boots as you approached the isolated house on the outskirts of the city. You had heard rumors about this place, of a woman who lived there, far from others, taking care of something... or someone. You needed shelter and, perhaps, answers.
The house was old but well-maintained, a sign that, despite the circumstances, whoever lived there kept up an appearance of normalcy. You approached slowly, with the distrust that had become your second nature. You knocked on the door, hoping someone would answer, or that the echo inside would confirm the place was empty.
The door creaked open, and there she was: Mel. Her beauty was ethereal, almost as if she didn’t belong to this desolate world. Her eyes, however, were another story, filled with a pain you recognized instantly.
"What are you doing here?" Her voice was soft but had an edge that made you hesitate before answering.
"I’m looking for a safe place," you said, keeping your hands visible to show you weren’t a threat. "I just need to rest for a while and move on."
Mel studied you for a moment, her eyes searching for something in your expression. "No one comes here by accident," she murmured, almost to herself. "Come in."
The inside of the house was warm, a contradiction to the cold you felt in your chest. Mel led you to the living room, where the fire flickered weakly. The house was decorated with little keepsakes, photos of better times. However, a door at the end of the hallway was locked, and your instinct told you that was where the real reason for her isolation lay.
"Why are you here, really?" Mel sat down in front of you, her hands folded in her lap, but her eyes still filled with caution.
"I didn’t want to stay in the city. There’s... there’s nothing there for me." You averted your gaze, unable to hold hers for long. "I lost my family."
The tension in the room thickened, and for a moment, Mel seemed to wrestle internally. Finally, she sighed and offered you a cup of tea. "I’ve lost things too... important things."
The conversation halted, but in that silence, something began to form. An unspoken understanding between two broken people in the same world.
Days passed, and during that time, you noticed that Mel would disappear for hours, always returning with a distant expression. You didn’t want to press, but curiosity, mixed with concern, was a potent combination.
Finally, one night, when the moon was high, you got up and followed Mel. You found her in that locked room, the door slightly ajar now. Inside, you saw a child... or what was left of one. His skin was pale, his eyes hollow, but he still moved, still responded to Mel.
"He shouldn’t be here," Mel whispered, noticing your presence. "But I can’t let him go. He’s all I have left."
"I don’t judge him," you said, moving closer slowly. "I just wanted to understand."
"Understand what?" Mel turned to you, her eyes filled with tears. "How can a mother hold on to something that’s no longer her child? How can I live with this lie?"
"Because you love," you answered, your voice soft, almost a whisper. "And love isn’t always logical."
That was the moment everything changed. Mel began to open up more, sharing not only her pain but also her hopes, her fears. And in those moments, you became someone special to her, someone who didn’t judge her, who saw her as a woman fighting to keep a spark of her humanity alive.
The relationship between the two of you grew amidst the ruin, with each day bringing you closer, with each confession building a bridge of trust and understanding. In a world where everything was lost, you had found something new in each other: a reason to keep going.
Sevika
The sound of gunshots echoed through the ruins, blending with the screams and chaos around you. You were running, your feet frantic on the gray ground, the air thick with the dust rising from the collapsed structures. Your refuge had been attacked, and just as you found yourself trapped, a shadow intervened between you and the danger.
The woman who rescued you was unlike the others. Her presence was imposing, an echo of strength and determination. Her face was marked by scars, not only physical but emotional as well. Desperation was palpable in her eyes, but also a kind of warm darkness, as if she had long since given up on the light. You didn't say anything when her firm hands lifted you and dragged you to a safer place. The warmth of her body, the tension in her posture, all spoke of a heavy past, battles fought long before the one you'd just faced.
"Are you okay?" Sevika's voice was deep, sharp, but there was something in her tone that, though distant, made you feel like you weren't alone.
"Yes," you responded, though the fear still gripped your chest. "Thank you."
"It's nothing. Not the first time I've done this." Her intense gaze scanned the area before settling back on you. "Why do you keep fighting? There's no hope here."
Your eyes met, and for a moment, the world around you faded away. The question she asked, so simple and direct, struck a deep chord. Sevika wasn't expecting an answer, but in that moment, you felt the need to share the truth.
"Because I believe there's still something worth fighting for," you said, each word full of conviction. "People can be better, even in a broken world."
Sevika looked at you for a long moment, as if your words were a puzzle she was trying to solve. For a brief instant, her disbelief showed, and a bitter smile formed on her lips.
"That's what sets us apart, you see? I don't believe in those people anymore. Humanity is lost. There's no redemption."
Her words were like a dagger thrown without remorse, but something in her tone suggested that, perhaps deep down, she still wanted to believe it. She wanted it as much as you did.
Time passed, and although at first her presence was a kind of protective shadow, your own faith in the good of people began to penetrate the hardness of Sevika. Day by day, you realized that beneath that layer of disillusionment, there was something more. When the battle finally ended and the calm seemed to settle in the camp you'd managed to find shelter in, Sevika began to share fragments of herself. Her gaze was no longer as cold when she looked at you; she even let out a low laugh when, with your unwavering optimism, you insisted that the world could still have a chance.
"You’re going to end up killing me with all this hope," she joked one day, as you walked through the ruins of what once had been a vibrant city.
"I’d do it gladly," you replied, smiling. "If it meant you’d ever see that there’s more to this world than just survival."
And it was in those small interactions, in that resistance to disillusionment, where something more began to grow between you. Sevika started to depend on you, though she never said it aloud. Perhaps she didn’t understand how, but she felt that your presence was the only reminder of something she had lost long ago: the belief that even the most broken could find purpose, a path.
One night, after a long day, you sat next to her, watching the fallen stars that adorned the sky. The softness of the moonlight illuminated her face, and for a moment, you could see something beyond the woman hardened by life. She, who had never shown vulnerability, slowly turned toward you, her voice barely a whisper.
"I don’t understand why you follow me, I don’t understand why you haven’t walked away. What I do... what I am... isn’t something someone like you should stay for."
Your hand touched hers, without thinking. "Because I believe in you, Sevika. And I don’t care what you’ve done, what you’ve lost. The only thing that matters to me is what you choose to do now."
There was a long silence, but not an uncomfortable one. Sevika didn’t answer right away, but something in her expression changed. Somewhere inside, she began to accept what she hadn’t been able to believe before: that maybe, just maybe, humanity wasn’t as lost as she thought. And perhaps, just perhaps, there was something in her worth saving.
From that moment, the barriers between you began to crumble, though Sevika would never stop being who she was. She was a woman who had lost much, but also someone capable of changing, even if only in small doses. And you, with your unshakable faith, continued to be her refuge, her contradiction, the reminder that maybe hope hadn’t entirely disappeared after all.
#arcane x reader#arcane fanfic#arcane imagine#arcane x female reader#arcane#arcane x you#ekko arcane#jinx arcane#jinx x reader#vi x reader#arcane au#ekko x reader#silco x reader#arcane silco#jayce arcane#jayce x reader#mel arcane#mel x reader#arcane caitlyn#caitlyn x reader#sevika x reader#sevika arcane#sevika x you#vi x y/n#vi x you#viktor arcane#viktor x reader#viktor x you#viktor x y/n#sevika x y/n
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wooyoung's sister
Synopsis ~ Your brother's career would be over if not for his pretty substitute. You can sing, dance, and make a perfect impression of Wooyoung, so you accept his plea. You have your own reasons, of course. It's about time you meet the man thirsting for your innocent brother and put him in his place. You hate people like him. Choi San.
So you become Wooyoung for a while.
Pairing ~ san x reader (wooyoung's twin sister)
Word count ~ 14.8k
Genre / warnings ~ romance, enemies to lovers, smut, EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT MDNI, gender-swap, reader has anger issues (plot point), mention of cult, binder, reader is protective of brother, hates skinship, hates affection, hates everything, san is made fun of a lot, pls dont take it to heart i love him, many thoughts of violence, cursing, trust issues, passing out, some angst, clingy san, lego live ft. Hwa, Hwa is done with their cat fights, slumber party, strawberry cake drama, description of period cramps, drunk confession, angry tension, hongjoong forces them to make up, angry sex, frustrated sex, dom!reader, sub-ish San, oral sex (female receiving), teasing, biting, marking, edging, rough sex
a/n ~ I had a lot of fun writing this :p plz tell me what you think!
It’s not like you didn’t expect it to happen. You knew there’d be a day your brother would come knocking on your door, begging for your help. And you would do anything for your baby brother.
But this is crazy.
There’s an entire team of staff in your bedroom. One is cutting your precious, nurtured hair. One is wrapping a binder around your chest. One is measuring your feet. Another is wiping the pretty glitter from your eyes. Two ladies are packing your bags. And the final one is giving you small sips of water to calm your nerves.
Three bodyguards are shivering outside in the cold rain, refusing to come in to keep dry. A personal driver is waiting in the car out in the parking lot.
In the living room, your brother, his manager, and the CEO of KQ Entertainment are sitting comfortably on your couch.
There must be a weight limit for the apartment.
And there must be a capacity for the absolute rage that can fill your body. Your hair is gone, your features masculinized. You have no tits. They’re gone.
But you take a deep breath. There’s an audience. A big one. You can act like a crazy bitch once you’re alone. Act sane. Calm… down…
Wooyoung’s jaw drops when he sees you, and there’s a single twitch in your left eye.
Calm.
With a huff, you sit on the floor facing the couch everyone else is occupying. Wooyoung is looking away, puckering his lips guiltily.
“I heard you can dance,” the man beside your brother says.
“Yeah, I can dance. I was a trainee at Big Hit for, like, four years,” you scoff, receiving a snicker from your brother.
“I heard you know almost every ATEEZ choreography,” he says, leaning back with a satisfactory smile as you nod.
“He comes home after every comeback and teaches me his parts.” You point at Wooyoung with a deep frown. “He makes us perform it for our grandma for cookies.”
“I heard you can sing, too,” he says eagerly grinning as you nod again. “You don’t sound much like your brother, though. I heard you can do a good impression of him, though.”
Yup. You can sing too. Sing like Wooyoung, dance like Wooyoung, laugh like Wooyoung. For years you’d pretended to be him in different situations. Who knew it would be so helpful in the long run?
But that’s how your night starts. A long boring conversation. Basically… Wooyoung was in Paris for fashion week and befriended a kind lady. He gave her an autograph, as one of her friends was a huge fan. Turns out she was a sex worker and actually signed him up for her cult. It’s a group for worshiping some sex god. KQ needs to get your brother out of trouble in a Paris court. And, obviously, his career is basically over, if not for you, his beautiful stand-in. As long as no one finds out about it, Wooyoung should be fine. It’s an opportunity no one else could have. It’s perfect.
You aren’t even mad.
Which is a first.
You’re just so confused as to how your brother can be so stupid.
A sex cult? That’s crazy??
But you’re already dressed and ready to go. You’d already agreed. So, sure, whatever.
Of course, you have your own reasons.
You were a trainee at BigHit with Wooyoung and Yeosang, but the only reason you trained there was to keep an eye on your brother. He has this thing about him. People find him cute, small, intimidating, sure, but they like a challenge. Everyone falls in love with him. Everyone wants to touch him and love him forever. Absolutely not.
When he and Yeosang moved to KQ, you tried to follow them, but the company wasn’t looking for girls. You got angry and lashed out in the practice room. Got kicked out. Never danced again.
Anyway, you like this idea of being Wooyoung for a few weeks. Because now you can see just how his members act. And you can set them straight.
“Ah, there’s one thing I forgot to mention,” Wooyoung mumbles, eyeing the CEO warily. “She has, like, crazy anger issues.”
Your brother keeps his room plain, black and gray, with zero posters, and zero personality. That’s weird for a guy with a sparkling, outgoing persona. You expected him to have a little bit of something showing in here. Maybe he just doesn’t have the time to decorate. Maybe he’s busy playing games when he does have the time.
You sit down on his bed and pucker your lips as you test its cushion. It’s stiff, your booty sinking just slightly into the memory foam. This will be nice to snuggle up on once you clean all of the sheets.
You take out your phone and go through the notes Wooyoung sent you. Routines, outfits, locations of items and places, dishes, info about the members, dances to le- Your eyes backtrack and a sinister grin grows on your pretty little face.
There’s a lot of useless information, like birthdays and representative animals. But he also wrote exactly what you needed to know to get started on your affection purge.
Your temporary roommates, Choi Jongho and Kim Hongjoong, are both reserved to their areas apparently. You like that. They know their places. They won’t be much of a problem. Yeosang, you know. He won’t be a problem. Song Mingi, you read, is big and awkward. He doesn’t initiate much affection, but he can be a bit freaky at times. Park Seonghwa is silly and affectionate but in a motherly way. How cute. Jeong Yunho is just a big puppy. He’ll come play with you on his own or whenever you want. He’ll like what you like, but he doesn’t pester at all.
Now… you don’t know this Choi San, but you know you hate him and his kind. Affectionate, kisses, skinship, clingy, likes Wooyoung very much. You were expecting to find someone like him here, but seeing it now in front of you, you’re fuming.
How unprofessional. How ignorant.
You’ll fix it, though. You gotta brush off your dusty skills, but you can fix it.
For two days, you have private singing, dance, and performance lessons. You don’t meet any of the members except for Jongho eating breakfast while playing a game on his phone. He hardly says hi as you walk out the door.
For those days, you’re content. You’re a natural, and you’ve already been trained and taught everything throughout your life. Each night, you run everything anyway. Wooyoung keeps his room cold as hell, so dancing doesn’t even make you hot.
The first day at dance practice with the rest of the members, however… You don’t think you’ve gone from completely fine to fucking steaming with anger in such a short amount of time before.
A man dares to put his grimy hands on you?? AND he thinks you’re Wooyoung?!
You memorized Choi San’s face because you were gonna steer clear, but this bitch pulls you into a hug as soon as you walk through the door. You step away immediately, staring in disbelief at the man.
So this is Choi San. He’s taller than you but not by too much. He’s big, wide, and strong. He’s got dimples as he cracks a cheeky grin, raising his groomed brow. His black hair is brushed nicely, clean, and soft on his head. He looks fluffy and innocent, much like a kitten. Cats are brutal and disloyal. How could Wooyoung let this man with obvious ulterior motives get anywhere near him?
He grabs your arm, and you let out a noise of confusion as he pulls you to his chest. “I missed you, Youngie~” he mumbles, squishing his cheek against your head as he holds you tight to him.
You squirm ‘cause, fuck, it’s awful, but it doesn’t seem like he even notices your struggle. He just holds you there effortlessly until he’s content. Then, with a gentle kiss to the side of your head, he walks away as if he hadn’t just fucking assaulted you.
You shook your head, wiping away the kiss he’d left against your hair. Ew. Ewewewew. A hug? A KISS?!?!?! Fuck, you’re going to throw up. Your cheeks are so hot, you literally are going to end it all right here. This is it. You’ve had enough, and it’s been, like, twenty seconds.
You take a deep, mind-cleansing breath. “Ya-!”
“Wooyoung~!” There’s Yeosang blocking your raging view of Choi San in an instant, and you shut your mouth.
“Yeosang!” you exclaim, reaching out and grabbing his hands excitedly. You bring them up to your chest and grin, gazing at his beautiful features. He’s grown so much. He’s still so handsome.
Yeosang is like a little brother to you despite being older. He’s a sweet angel who could do no wrong. You trust this boy with your life, and if anything happens to him, you’ll literally kill the man who hurt him. Is it wrong that you imagine it to be Choi San in your recent scenarios?
“Yeosang~ Yeosang~” you sing, wiggling your hands back and forth as he just stares at you with a happy smile. “Did you eat today? Did you eat yesterday?” You reach up and poke his cheek, your eyes shining happily as your finger sinks nicely into his soft skin. He shies away, scrunching his cheek to his shoulder, blushing lightly. What a cutie.
“What about you,” he mumbles, eying your interlocked fingers. “Your fingers are so thin.” He squeezes your hand gently, and you grin.
“Of course,” you say, though you in fact did not eat this morning or last night. You’ll probably be hungry by lunchtime, so you’ll eat then.
“That’s enough, Yeosangie…” Yeosang is pulled away by the waist, two thick arms wrapping around him and taking him from you. You drop your hands to your sides, feeling agitation build as you already know who it is. You glance up to see a pouting Choi San resting his chin on Yeosang’s shoulder, holding him hostage a few feet away.
“Hey, Choi San,” you say through gritted teeth. “We were talking.”
He shakes his head. “No. You were flirting with each other. I know it.” Why does this man talk in pout? Open your fucking lips and speak. “Yeosang is mine. You can’t have him.”
You feel a thick vein on your neck bulge as you restrain your lips from opening in a round of profanities. So he wants Wooyoung and Yeosang? He wants them both?
“San-ah,” Yeosang giggles shyly, trying to pry open San’s arms without any success. “We have to go practice.”
San sighs, slowly letting a fleeing Yeosang slip from his grip. As everyone gathers by the mirror, San offers you a soft, cat-like smile, but you turn away. He will get zero engagement from you. For your own sake, honestly. He makes you want to rip your shirt open and reveal your secret and shove this fucking binder in his mouth until he talks like a normal fucking human.
You take a deep breath. That was uncalled for. Violence is not okay… Violence is not the answer…
“Young-ah~” You’ve gotten used to his voice by the end of practice. He always has something to say, whether it’s a useless compliment or hyping up the room like you’re all some crazy fangirls and not the performers. He’s always gotta do something so fucking extra.
He leans his arm around your shoulder, and you shrug it off, walking just a bit faster to Wooyoung’s car.
“Youngie, I went to the plushie shop down the street from that one ramen place with the nice old lady, and they had one of those…” You had to master the art of giving so few fucks to the point of being deaf as you grew up alongside Wooyoung. His voice was fading into the abyss within seconds.
By the time you reach your car, you try to go inside quickly, but he tugs on the sleeve of your sweatshirt and holds you just a foot away from your exit. “What’s wrong, Wooyoung?” he asks softly. You turn around, liking how he’s finally noticing your attitude. Maybe he’ll be a quick learner. “Are you hungry?” As he’s met with your bratty glare, he pokes your stomach but pulls away before you can push him. “Do you want me to buy you mint choco ice cream?” He smirks as if the offer would be enticing in the slightest. Fuck, does Wooyoung like that toothpaste shit?
Before he pries any further, you get in the car and lock the door. He steps away pretty easily with a defeated sigh. You drive off with a small huff as you feel your cheeks simmer down from their red, heated boil. Choi San. Choi San. Fuck, you’re going insane.
“You can’t be mean to him,” Wooyoung says plainly. “He’s a soft, delicate romantic. You’ll break his heart.”
“I could not care less,” you say, collapsing on the depression-colored bed, with a long, dramatic sigh.
“Trust meeee,” he whines. “You’re gonna love him. He’s my best friend.”
“Yeosang is your best friend,” you correct. “There’s no way you’re friends with that.”
“That?” he scoffs. “He’s my second best friend, and so what? He’s sexy and kind!”
“He’s lewd, Wooyoung. He’s out to exploit you, I’m telling you!” You’re taking slow breaths before you lose your shit on your pathetic brother. He already has too much going on. You should save his ears for now.
Wooyoung’s quiet on the other end for a long moment. “Good luck at the performance tomorrow,” he says with a huff. “I heard you’re better at dancing than me.”
“Who said that?” you chuckle.
“Sannie.”
You know the poor maknae is trying to sleep next door, but as soon as you jam your finger into your phone to end the call, you throw it across the room and slam your head into your pillow, and you let out a fuming, long, guttural, muffled scream.
You’ve never performed for an actual audience before. Sure you did your evaluations back in your trainee days, but this is so different. You’ve never dolled up so much in your life. You’ll have to dance and sing like a professional for, like, almost an hour under the watch of thousands of crazy fans.
You’re standing completely still on the second step of the stairs leading to the stage. Your heart is beating like crazy, and you don’t know how to calm it down. You’re Wooyoung. You’re cool and awesome and everyone loves you. It doesn’t help much.
Fuck, when are you going out? You’ve been standing here forever. You don’t want to go out. I mean, you do, obviously. You’re kind of curious why your brother is so addicted to this life. You want to feel the thrill he always talks about.
Two thick hands are gently placed on your hips, but you push them away immediately, swerving around to come face-to-face with Choi. San.
“Don’t be nervous, Young-ah,” he says with a wide smile. “You’re so sexy.”
Your face contorts in disgust. “Don’t say that,” you scoff, eyeing his arrogant dimples as they crease further.
“You like it, though,” he says slyly, his eyes squinting as his lips pucker into a small, scrunched smile. “It’s your favorite compliment.”
“I don’t like compliments,” you deny, popping your brows as he gives a satisfying, confused little expression.
“You’re blushing, though,” he says, reaching slowly to poke your pink cheek. You smack his hand away.
“Don’t touch me,” you say strictly, your eyes boring into his as he holds his hand to his chest, clearly offended.
“Why?” he says, turning away as he huffs. “Are you too hot? Will I get burnt?”
“Yes!” you nearly shout, sticking your face closer to his as you scowl. “So don’t touch me. Don’t even think about it!”
He blows you a sweet kiss as you turn around with deeply furrowed brows.
“Ya…” Seonghwa whispers from above you. You look up slowly, your ears ringing in the sudden silence. “They’ll hear you, Wooyoung,” he mumbles, placing a finger to his lips. “Be quiet.”
“Yeah, be quiet, Wooyoung,” San whispers, and you nearly sock him in the face.
Violence is the answer after the performance. Deep breaths. Calm… down…
Performing is oddly comforting. A place where you can jump and run and dance and sing and shout and everyone fucking loves it. Fuck, it feels so nice. You get it within the first few songs – why Wooyoung is addicted to this life. It’s fucking awesome.
Standing there, dancing with a grin from ear to ear, an arm drapes over your shoulders and pulls you close. You don’t even care. The fans eat it up. They scream and squeal and call out your names.
Your eyes meet Choi San’s, the two of you swaying and vibing with the music. He grins, his brows softly scrunched as he shouts out the lyrics of someone else’s part. No one can hear him, but he shouts it anyway, and he’s banging his head, messing up the beautiful work the stylists had done to his black hair. He’s so stupid, is all you can think at all. How can someone be so fucking stupid?
He brings the mic to his lips, and his head stills, his eyes locked in yours. You can hear him now, and, wow, his voice is really pretty. Of course, someone stupid can have a pretty voice. It’s not unheard of. Whatever.
You shrug his arm off and hop to the other side of the stage.
“Fuck yeahhh!!!!!” you exclaim as you leap down the stairs backstage. Your fists are jumping the air as you squeal, punching and swinging until you’re panting by yourself against the wall, leaning back against it with a wide grin.
You’re breathing so fast, your heart racing, and your chest hurts like crazy, but you’re still so fired up, too happy and excited to care. That was so fun. You miss it already. You want to go back up on stage. You want to sing more songs. You want…
Fuck, it’s really hard to breathe when you do so much without any breaks. Your smile is slowly fading as you try to concentrate on your breath. You bring your hands to your chest in confusion, feeling the tight binder under your grasp. It hasn’t caused problems before. It shouldn’t fucking start causing problems now.
But you feel your face turning red, and you aren’t angry at all. You can’t fucking breathe.
You choke on your next inhale, bending over as you break out in breathless coughs and gasps. Fuck, fuck! Your eyes are gonna pop the fuck out. You’re grabbing at your shirt, inhaling desperately, but nothing fucking comes in! The ground is getting too close…
Your forehead slams against the ground before the rest of your body follows. You can’t even shout or cry, your body curling in on itself as your vision turns to static, your hearing gone, your sense tingling.
You’re lifted delicately and slowly from the ground, your eyes closed with hot tears streaming down your cheeks. You wish that hit was enough to knock you out, but here you are in agonizing pain.
“Young-ah!” San must be here. You’re sitting now… on the floor. You can hardly open your eyes, but you feel his hands rushing to carefully remove your stage top. You’re wearing several layers on top of the binder, but alarm shoots through you when you see him taking them off one by one. Your eyes open wide, and you push him away with a gasp. He falls back, his brows furrowed in confusion. You clutch what’s left of your top, breathing heavily as you grit your teeth, your jaw trembling.
“Get out,” you say, hardly able to say it loud enough for his stupid fucking ears to hear. “Get out!” He doesn’t want to go. It’s clear, but you don’t need his help. “I’m fine,” you mutter. “I just need some time alone. I got dizzy.”
He slowly gets up, feeling a little speechless, a little betrayed. But he leaves finally, and you rush into a stall, lock the door, and tear the binder from your chest. You can breathe, and you collapse onto the toilet, gulping the air down as you lean your head against the wall beside you. Your heart can finally calm down, your breaths steadying nicely. But your chest pulls tight quickly as you start to regain some sense in your spinning mind.
This is so humiliating.
How could you almost let yourself get caught like that? How could you let yourself succumb to the weak efforts of the traitor wrapped around your chest? You grip the binder with a newfound hatred, glaring at it as your ears turn a deep shade of red.
No, it isn’t even your fault. It’s this fucking thing’s fault! And once everything’s over, you’re gonna make Choi San wear it for twice the time you will. He needs it more than you anyway with his massive… You glance away from your hands when you witness your fingers scrunch like a pervert in your lap.
Whatever. It’s not a big deal anyway.
“What are you doing here?” you ask, entering the code to your room with tired, hooded eyes. San is wearing pajamas, and he’s showered and squeaky clean, but his presence alone stinks like a possessive stalker cat. That’s a real thing. “It’s been a long day. Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?” Don’t cats sleep more than this? Why is he suddenly acting like he could be human?
“You owe me,” he mumbles, and you eye him, pausing as you open the door. He’s pouting, looking away stubbornly. “For making me worry.”
“Are you serious?”
He turns defensively, pointing at your chest but not daring to touch you. “How am I supposed to sleep if I don’t see you’re okay, first?” he argues, his brows raised as he looks at you expectantly. You say nothing.
So he just goes inside. You don’t stop him. You’re too tired to stop him. You just want to shower and go to sleep. The stage was fun, but you’ve never been more exhausted in your entire life. You’ve never been tired enough to not get angry. It’s a first.
But when you’re done showering, changing, skincaring, and refreshing, and you finally have a soft, natural smile on your face, you’re met with a cat lying on your bed, fast asleep. He’s curled up in your blankets, his face buried in your pillow, his chest enveloping YOUR plushie.
Absolutely not.
He groans at the disturbance as you grab his hair. He isn’t in pain as you pull his head up, glaring at his half-asleep features, and you know because he doesn’t even bother opening his eyes to wake up.
“Get out of my bed,” you say. He smiles a small little devilish smile.
“But it’s a sleepover,” he grumbles, and you drop his head to the pillow with an exasperated scoff.
“Are you a child?” you ask in disbelief.
“Yes, now, go to sleep,” he mumbles, drifting away again.
“No,” you say sternly. “I want to sleep alone. Leave.”
He looks up at you then, a shimmer in his pleading eyes, but you don’t let up. You keep your glare sharp and persistent until he sighs and starts to drag himself up, his body rolling to sitting dramatically. He gets up with a loud huff and stares at you as if giving you a final chance to change your mind.
“Get out,” you say, pushing him lightly. He hardly budges. “Get out, get out, get out… I’m so tiiired.” You push him again and again with each huff until he’s at the door, and you close it in his stupid face. And, finally, you’re alone.
You throw the covers back and shove your legs under them, ignoring how warm he made the bed as you roughly snuggle into your favorite spot. Your phone vibrates just as you let out a content, sleepy sigh. You open your eyes with an irritated stare at the bright light on your bedside table. Your face is shown on the screen, an old photo from your trainee days. You know the photo. Yeosang is on your right and Wooyoung is on your left, but he cropped both of them out. He said it’s the only picture he has of you where you’re genuinely smiling and really, truly happy. For that, he loves it. Sometimes your brother can be sweet.
You put the phone next to your ear so no one can hear him from another room.
“Ya, are you being mean to him?”
Your eyes roll to the back of your brain, trembling and hurting before you let them back down. “No,” you answer.
“You’re a liar,” he scoffs. “There’s a clip going viral of you and San, you know.”
You raise a brow. “A clip?”
“Atiny love Woosan interactions,” he sighs. “They eat it up.”
“Uh huh,” you breathe, more interested in the shadows on the ceiling than this fucking lecture.
“You two were giving the audience what they really wanted to see,” he sighs, “but then you rolled your eyes at him and scurried away like a cat!” He’s laughing at you, wheezing like an idiot as you feel your face grow hot.
“Cats are evil,” you mutter. “I’m not a fucking cat.”
“Don’t lie to yourself,” he laughs. “You’re the definition of a cattitude.”
“What the fuck is that?” you huff, two seconds away from hanging up the phone. Why did he even call you anyway? To nag you about playing with this manipulative evil Choi San? He can talk your ear off all he wants, but no one gets to act in such a way around you or your brother, and he’ll learn that soon.
“Listen, listen…” He’s trying to calm his breath as he settles his laughter. “I know you hate that kind of fanservice, but you really should put in some effort, Y/n,” he sighs. “If you, or, me and San are visibly separated like that, people are gonna ask questions. Including the members.”
“Maybe it’s about time you change things up anyway,” you huff.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m tired. Good night.”
You don’t let him finish before you hang up the phone and turn over to shut your eyes. You start to calm down a little as you let the warmth of the bed sink into your skin. It’s never been this warm this quick before, and it’s making you so drowsy, even after a rise in your heart rate. You fall asleep in no time.
And good sleep brings good attitude, so the morning is bright and nice for your mind. You wake up feeling refreshed and leave bed not dreading the day. Until you open your door, and all of that disappears quickly when you take a step out and find your foot squishing into a giant man’s chest.
You scurry away, almost screaming, cause what the fuck?
Choi San has set up camp outside your bedroom door, snoozing away with pillows and blankets lining the hall in a fluffy makeshift bed. His hair is a mess as he lifts his head in confusion, and his sleepy eyes meet yours in thin, happy slits.
“Good morning, Youngie,” he mumbles. You immediately scratch the little skip your heart did at the sound of his morning voice.
You’re starting to grow hot with anger as you look at the mess, think about everything, and think about everything once more. How could he sleep there?! You told him to go away! How could he just ignore that boundary and sleep outside your room?! Your cheeks are growing pink, but you shake your thoughts away. You must not engage. You should just go. Then, you won't see him anymore, and you can't possibly be mad anymore.
You step with huffing breaths past his limbs under the blankets and stomp away to the kitchen. Maybe some food will make you happy again.
You’ve found that Wooyoung has made a lot of promises before leaving them for you to go through with.
You’ve had to make Jongho dinner at least three times so far, always being met with puppy eyes and pouty lips saying, “You promised.” Fuck that! You can’t even fucking cook. You’re ruining your brother’s reputation, and, you know what, you can’t even find yourself to care with how hard he’s making you work.
Yunho was promised a whole night of gaming. You haven’t played a video game since you were a trainee. You can hear his disappointment each time you die immediately, but he’s too nice to yell at you.
You have to go out to eat with Yeosang, but you don’t mind that actually.
San claims to be promised many things, but you break those without a second thought.
And Seonghwa was promised a lego live and slumber party in his room.
You’ve gotten to know Seonghwa well over the past few weeks, and you like him. He’s cute and takes good care of the members, but he has this elegance to him that makes interacting with him so pleasant. So you agree to do the live, and you agree to sleep over, even if he’s Choi San’s roommate.
Immediately this seems like something you won’t be good at. The lights are dim, the camera is pointed at your face, and the pieces are so tiny, scrambled in little bags over the table. The space is small. His room is small, to begin with, but he invited you here because you would be working on the same set, so it’s okay if the pieces get scrambled a bit.
Seonghwa is the cleanest person you’ve ever met, which comforts you to some extent. Everything about this room is calming. It’s all neat and organized, and your eyes have no reason to find anything about it annoying. You love it. But you know this little craft will make you go insane. You already know, and you haven’t touched a single piece.
“Hi, everyone,” he says softly to the camera. His voice is so gentle, much like his movement as he waves. “Wooyoung finally is joining me to build legos with Atiny.”
“Hi, hi,” you say with a wide smile to showcase Wooyoung’s playful dimples.
“I’m excited for today, maybe more than Tiny is,” he mumbles, smiling to himself as he plays with his computer to make sure everything’s looking nice. “Wooyoung promised a slumber party today.” He covers his mouth as he huffs a shy laugh. “So he has to spend a lot of time with his hyung.”
You huff a laugh too, nodding. “Honestly, this week’s been a little stressful for me, but I think I’ll be able to relax well thanks to him.”
Honestly, you’re so fucking nervous. So many things could go wrong. So many things could set you off. There are so many things to be worried about, and… You won’t be able to take off the binder until you go back home… and who knows if you’ll be able to until tomorrow night…
You swallow your thoughts to the pit of your fluttering stomach as you try to bring your focus back to the soft aroma around you.
Seonghwa’s telling the fans about his day and the set as he starts to open the first bag. You take a subtly deep breath.
The live goes relatively well. You have to excuse yourself to the restroom only once from frustration, running cold water over your flushed cheeks to drain out the color a little. Other than that, assembling legos is nice, and Seonghwa is a relaxing yet engaging person to interact with. It… makes you forget… everything. It’s like you’re truly meant to be there. It feels natural. It makes your mind fade gently into this little life, even if just for an hour or so. It makes you forget your anger.
Until you’re alone again, and this feeling is even more familiar. This is how it usually is. You’ve grown accustomed to being delighted by some peoples’ presence or angered by others, but your roots are truly engraved in you. It’s a bit empty… staring at yourself in the mirror on Seonghwa’s wall and realizing you don’t actually belong here. The illusion that you’re meant here or suddenly not lonely… is being written into your head too deep. It should stop before you get attached.
The binder wrapped around your chest is so uncomfortable, especially since you’ve been wearing it for the entire day. You should take it off, even if it’s just for a few minutes. It feels wrong taking it off in a stranger’s room, but-!
Your head whips around as the door opens, and Choi San walks inside. You cover your chest with the shirt in your hand immediately, your eyes bulging and heart stopped, but he doesn’t even pay you any attention, stumbling by and collapsing on Seonghwa’s bed. His eyes are closed, his body limp and tired. You throw the shirt over your head and take a deep breath.
“I was changing,” you mutter, your body practically shaking as you try not to scream at him. “You couldn’t knock?”
“Hm…?” he grumbles, lifting his head sleepily. “Hi, Young-ah.”
“Choi San!” you shout, covering your mouth quickly to pinch your fucking lips shut. You’re turning red. This is so humiliating. He obviously doesn’t care. Wooyoung probably wouldn’t care. But you fucking care, and you can’t even tell him why. “Knock next time,” you force out quietly. He hums in acknowledgment, but you hardly hear it as you leave the room.
You can’t do this. You’ll tell Seonghwa you don’t feel good, and he’ll let you go. He’ll be sad, but whatever. You can’t deal with that bastard. You can’t fucking do it.
But Seonghwa looks so excited when you come out in the matching pajamas he got for the slumber party. He’s gasping and fangirling over you as you stomp over to him. Each step seems to become just a little softer as his smile numbs your tantrum.
“Ya~!” He takes you in as you stand a few feet away. “Jung Wooyoung? Who are you? You’re too pretty to be Wooyoung,” he compliments. You might’ve frozen up at something like that, but, for some reason, you take it without a second thought, smiling proudly like a cute kitten, folding your arms at your sides as you pose for him.
No. You can’t stay. You need to leave.
“H..yung,” you mumble, the word a little unfamiliar to your lips. “Actually, I…”
“Seriously,” he huffs, coming closer, and you shut your mouth. He leans down and stares intently at your features. You can’t help but look away, your cheeks growing red as he examines you. “Your face has been so cute lately,” he mumbles. “Are you in love?”
“No,” you scoff.
“Are you lying?”
“I’m not!” you mumble, backing away slightly. He looks at you in disbelief. “I’m really not!”
“You’ve gotten a little shorter too.. ya… Do you wear high platforms to seem taller?”
Three centimeters isn’t even that much shorter… How could he notice something like that..? You nod, rolling your eyes. “So what?”
“It’s not good to wear them too much,” he sighs as he walks by.
“Whatever,” you huff, patting your cheeks as you let your quiet panic settle down. He doesn’t actually suspect anything. He’s just calling Wooyoung cute, which is a very valid observation.
“No,” Seonghwa says sternly when he walks into his room to see a snoozing cat on his bed. “No, get out.”
He grabs San’s ankles and pulls him up the bed. San just groans and lets himself get dragged, his shirt riding up his torso until he’s at the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor, his toned stomach on full display, and you… You look away, letting Seonghwa take care of the hindrance.
“Hyung,” San whines. “No one will play with me!”
Seonghwa scoffs. “San, what’s with you these days? Everyone hangs out with you all the time, but you keep complaining 'cause you don’t want to.”
“I want to play with Wooyoungie,” he says, smiling as his eyes meet yours for less than a second. “He’s so cute lately, but he won’t play with me anymore.” He frowns, looking frustratingly at the ceiling. “I don’t know if I should like it or hate it.”
“You should hate it,” you say, unable to stop yourself. “And you should get out. The room isn’t big enough for your broad shoulders.”
He glares at you, but you don’t care. That’s what you want. But when Seonghwa tries to drag him out again, he refuses.
“Hyung, I’m sorry, I’m sorry for saying I didn’t want to play with you. Please let me stay. I’m so bored. Please?”
There is NOT enough room for you, Hyung, and Choi San’s huge ass shoulders, and you’re so fucking close to chopping them off and shoving them through his pouty lips as he eats YOUR cake. The movie isn’t entertaining, despite your attempts to understand it for Seonghwa’s sake, so you're left with your mind focused on every little hindrance he brings to this otherwise nice night.
“You know, Choi San, there’s a lot of room on the floor for people with wide shoulders,” you huff.
He gives you a wide smile, shoving his dimples into your hooded eyes. “There’s room on my lap for little brats.”
You scoff, glaring at his brows as they raise. He pats his lap expectedly, but you look away with a huff.
“You could at least let us eat the cake we bought for us,” you grumble. “Instead of gobbling it up yourself.”
“No,” he says. “Seonghwa stole and ate my cake, so he doesn’t deserve any of his.” You eye him in disbelief. Is he a child? “But Wooyoungie can have as much as he wants.” He holds up a big bite, smiling big as he waits for you to chomp it off the fork.
“No thanks,” you decline. “You ate from that fo-”
He pinches your puffed-out cheeks together and opens your mouth, the cake pushed inside and smooshed against your teeth as he feeds you the bite. Your brows knit together as he pulls his hand away.
“Isn’t it tasty?” he asks, and you shake your head out of spite. “You’re so cute,” he laughs, his thumb wiping away some cream from your bottom lip. He brings it to his own and licks it off without a second thought.
Your eye twitches as you force your head to turn back to the TV. You should calm down. If your tight fists happened to collide with his face, Seonghwa wouldn’t like it very much. For Seonghwa’s sake, you should just ignore him.
But San’s shoulders are just so wide. Every time he tries to move, he bumps into you, and you can’t stop yourself from bumping back. He glares at you, and you glare back, shoulder to shoulder. It’s a war. You use your hands this time, moving his arm further from your body, but he moves it back.
“Are you serious?” you whisper harshly.
“Shh, I’m trying to watch the movie.”
“Bullshit.”
His eyes go wide. “Language!” he whispers, and you bump his shoulder in annoyance.
He doesn’t just do it back, though, he leans over and grabs your waist, and you jump. His fingers jab into your flesh, and the most uncomfortable sensation fills you. You’re helpless to his attack, pressed against the wall as he evades every defensive grab of your hands.
“Choi San,” you scold, but the jabs turn to tickles quickly, and an involuntary grin spreads across your gasping lips. “San, stop!” you laugh, pushing against his hands but failing as he keeps moving them to new places. You push against his chest hard, and he falls back a little, freezing when he bumps into the other man in the bed.
He turns his head around slowly, met with a blank expression from Seonghwa, simply trying to watch the movie.
“We’re sorry, Hyung,” San mumbles, his head low. The floor is hard against your knees, but you honestly deserve it after ruining the night Seonghwa planned. “We got carried away.”
“What’s up with you two?” he sighs, standing in disappointment above the both of you. “Why are you at each other’s throats every two seconds these days?”
“He started it,” you mumble.
“I’m sorry, Hyung,” San says, trying not to laugh, and you glare at him. “He’s just so cute when he’s mad.”
“Seriously, San?” Seonghwa sighs.
“It’s not my fault he looks extra… adorable lately! Like-!” He turns to you with great determination, motioning toward your features one by one. “His eyes are bigger, his lashes are longer, his nose is prettier, his lips are plumper, his mole…” He squints his eyes, but you cover your cheek quickly.
“I’m wearing makeup,” you mumble.
He moves your hand without much effort. “No, you’re not… Where’s your mole…” he mumbles.
“I…” Your eyes shoot from San to Seonghwa. “It..”
“You see what I mean?” he huffs, resting his case. “How do I put it… He’s so… different these days. I feel my heart flutter when he looks at me.”
“Please,” you scoff.
“Really!” he defends, backing away a little as you feel your anger rise. He can probably sense the shift in the atmosphere by now. “I don’t know what to do with myself, Hyung.” He turns back to Seonghwa. “So… it’s not really my fault.”
So San is kicked out to his own room to sleep. You argued his shoulders are far too wide for the room. Seonghwa agreed, and now it’s finally just the two of you in your matching pajamas.
“We’re so cute.” He smiles, happily biting into the strawberry cream cake sitting between you two. “We should have slumber parties more often.”
You nod, melting as you take another bite. “And I understand why you love building legos now,” you mumble. “It was very comforting.”
There’s a nice, long moment of silent cake-eating as you both delight in its taste without a greedy cat eating it all.
“Wooyoung,” he says. “You know… if you keep acting so obvious about it, people will realize…”
You shoot your eyes up from the cake, your heart stopping for a moment. “What?”
He reaches out and taps just below your eye. “That you removed your mole.”
Your brows lift as relief fills you. “Oh! My mole!” you laugh, and he laughs too, nodding.
“I know you don’t really want to bring attention to it, but you’re so bad at keeping secrets.”
You nod, taking another stressful bite. “Thank you, Hyung. I’ll work on it.”
You both finish the cake and giggle and talk all night until you glance at the clock and gasp because it’s almost two in the morning. You rush to wash up and get into bed, still giggling over stupid things. But as soon as the light is off and the room goes silent, you feel yourself dying down and drifting off quickly, like some teenagers after a long day.
Seonghwa’s bed is small, but there’s enough room for the two of you to drift off in your own areas. Seonghwa falls asleep first, making small sighs and mumbles as he snoozes away. It’s so cute. You listen to him for a while before you finally let your mind rest.
Wooyoung messages you every morning, telling you to eat and to be kind and shit, but this morning is different. It’s been a few days since your slumber party with Seonghwa, and everything has fallen into place. It all really feels like routine by now, like this is natural for you. Until you’re hit with a fucking brick, remembering the reality of the situation once again.
Y/n-nie: you got a notification..what does two days left mean??
Y/n-nie: ??
Y/n-nie: are you going to kill someone? are you counting down… IS IT CHOI SAN?!?
Y/n-nie: DONT FUCKING TOUCH HIM!
You put the phone down and stare at the wall. Your period. You’d completely forgotten about the monthly punishment for being female.
You have no pads… You have no comfort items. Do they keep pain medicine in the dorms? How the fuck will you gather supplies without anyone knowing? Especially considering that leech, Choi San.
Fuck, now that you’re awake, there’s definitely an ache forming. That useless app never guesses right. It always comes a day or so early. You groan as you force yourself out of bed.
The convenience store down the street has everything you need. You’re biting your lip to wait until you have some water to ease the pain with a pill, so you rush back to the dorm.
Jongho is eating breakfast when you trudge back inside. He looks over curiously at the sound of the plastic bag.
“What did you buy so early in the morning?” he asks. “Did you sneak out so you could get a sweet treat for yourself?” he accuses.
“No,” you grumble, pulling the bag a little behind your back so he can’t see. “It’s nothing.”
He immediately gets up, and you back away. “Why are you hiding it then?” he asks, raising a brow. He reaches behind you, but you pull it away.
“It’s nothing,” you mumble, your cramps worsening as you stand still. “Go eat your breakfast. I have to go get ready.”
“Hyung, you’re the worst liar,” he chuckles, and his hand snags the bag. You grab it back, pulling and keeping it closed as he tries to peek inside. You rip the bag in half as you try to get it back, but you snatch the pads midair and run to your room.
You really can’t do this right now. You’re bent over, leaned against the locked door as you try to ground yourself. It takes slow steps to make it to the bathroom. There are just a few small drops of blood on your panties, so you ignore them and stick a pad over. But you can’t get up. The pain has tripled since you walked through your bedroom door. There’s a growing buzz vibrating in your head as you lean it against the cold tile of the wall. Fuck, you hope you don’t pass out here. You’re sweating, hot and limp yet tense in your core, or else you think your guts might fall out. You feel like you might throw up, but that should pass quickly if you wait patiently. You bite your lip, squeezing your eyes shut as the pain only gets worse. And the binder around your chest… fuck, you can’t breathe. You take it off and leave it on the floor as you stumble to wash your hands and make it to the bed.
You search for the medicine you bought, but it’s not on the counter or floor or anything. You take a deep breath to hold in your frustration and just make it your goal to curl up in bed.
It feels a little better, no binder, soft surface, fluffy blankets draped over you, your legs pulled loosely to your chest as you lay limply on your side. You have a schedule today, but it’s not too important. You should tell your manager you’re sick, but you don’t have your phone near you. You can’t even begin to think of where that might be.
There’s a soft knock at your door, and it takes a second for you to call out for them to just come in.
“Sorry, Young-ah,” San says softly as he peeks inside. “You must’ve been sleeping.”
“No, it's okay,” you mumble, honestly just a little relieved to have something for your mind to be focused on that isn’t the knives stabbing into you.
He steps inside and closes the door. “Are you okay?” he asks as he takes in the view of you. You’re sweating and breathing heavily, curled into yourself. “Do you have a fever?”
“I…It hurts all over,” you mumble, and his expression changes from worry to pain as he watches you shift and whimper softly.
He leans down, his face just inches from yours as he gazes at your features, gently tucking away the hair in front of your eyes. “Close your eyes, baby, I’ll make you feel better.”
If you could move at all, you’d punch yourself at the way your heart flutters just slightly. Instead, you listen and close your eyes, gazing just a second longer at his gentle features.
“Youngie~” It’s such a gentle voice, a sweet hum to your pounding ears. A soft hand is placed against your cheek, your head lifted slowly, as if not to disturb your sleep, as if you’re the most delicate thing to ever touch his skin. As if it’s actually carefilled, loving.
San’s face is clear even before his features straighten in your hazy gaze. His eyes are trained on your lips, careful fingers softly pushing two pills between them. A glass taps them then, and warm tea meets your tongue at a slow, patient pace. You swallow, a shiver gliding down your chest to your aching stomach as the delightful warmth of the tea touches your swollen insides.
“Did you eat yet today, Youngie?” he asks, placing your head back on the fluffy pillow.
“No,” you mumble. “I’m not hungry.”
“You should eat something,” he says, and he starts to get up, but your eyes widen a little. If he leaves, your mind will focus on the pain, and it hurts so much. You reach out before you can even think and grab his sleeve. “I’ll be right back,” he says, gently clasping your hand as he tries to leave. “It’ll make you feel-”
“Please stay,” you mumble. “Just for a little… It still hurts so much.” You pull a little, and he steps closer. “L-lay with me for a bit?” What are you even saying? You just… know he can make you feel better. You don’t care about anything except making the cramps disappear quickly.
The bed sinks softly as he lays behind you. Under the covers, a new warmth meets your back, a soft breath against your neck. You relax against him, feeling the subconscious tension in your limbs fall into his calming aroma. His body curls into yours, matching your form, bigger and warmer, keeping you perfectly content aside from the dulling ache.
“What’s wrong, Youngie?” he mumbles, his warm breath puffing gently across your skin. “Did you overwork yourself again?”
You lower your gaze to the movement of the blanket as he wraps his arm around your waist, his hand meeting your stomach. His fingers dip under your shirt, spreading across the width of your body, and you shudder at the feeling. You should probably move away. He could find out your secret. You wouldn’t mind. He could make you forget all about the pain and make you drift asleep with his touch.
“We love you, Wooyoung.” His thumb caresses your skin in slow rubs. “You can take your time, and we’ll always be here to listen to your troubles. You don’t have to keep them all to yourself.”
You don’t say anything. It’s not really your place to say anything anyway. Even if… some people should know their place, it’s good to know Wooyoung has a family he can count on.
You’ve mastered the art of Wooyoung. It’s been five weeks since you took your brother’s place, and you feel very immersed in the role. You’ve learned all of the inside jokes by now, figured out each of the members, and perfected almost all of their choreographies. You could become Wooyoung at this point, and no one would ever know. You survived your period without anyone knowing. Sure, everyone knew there was something wrong, pitying you the whole week while you wobbled around, but no one suspected a thing. You’re just too good at this.
“Sangie,” you mumble, chewing happily on the freshly grilled meat. “Should we visit my sister next time we have a break?”
Yeosang smiles at the sudden suggestion. “Sure. I haven’t seen her in years.” Oh, he’s so cute.
If Yeosang comes to visit you once you’re back in your old life, you’ll be able to get a glimpse of the little chapter in your boring life you actually enjoyed. So you’ll set up lots of dates and promises before you leave. Serves Wooyoung right anyway.
“Another bottle of soju, please!” Seonghwa calls out, sitting across from you at the table. He smiles when he catches your eye. “You’ve worked so hard, Wooyoung. Let it out tonight.”
“Kay,” you mumble happily through your food.
The company dinner is a nice reward after your endless effort to keep up with the schedule that comes with Wooyoung’s life. The food is delicious, the atmosphere is bustling and joyful, and you get to drink for the first time in fucking forever.
Every shot makes you melt into your seat, a content, relaxing sigh leaving your lips. Except…
“Youngie, plea~se!” There’s been a child whining in your ear the whole night. “Please do it with me?”
San’s face is bright red, his eyes glazed over as he rocks back and forth with a strong pout. You’re ignoring him, enjoying your food without even listening to his request.
“I’ll do anything,” he mumbles, feeling a little defeated. Your brow quirks at that.
“Anything?” His posture fixes itself as soon as your eyes land on him, and he nods eagerly.
He’s so fucking drunk. He said he was a good drinker but got quiet after two shots. Then he started begging to have a competition. You might indulge… if it means you can get something from him. Amusement at watching him humiliate himself. You giggle to yourself before turning to him with a newfound encouragement.
“Pour the shots.”
His hand is trembling as he clanks the bottle against your glass, nearly spilling the whole thing as he pulls away. You bring the glass to your lips when he does, and you catch his eye, a determined look in him.
One shot, and he’s breathing heavily, but he won’t give in. You’re a pretty good drinker, but you’ve already had a lot, and you’re getting pretty hazy yourself.
Two shots. Three shots. Seven shots. You’ve finished two bottles, one each, and you can hardly keep your vision straight. He’s swaying back and forth, arms limp in his lap as he stares blankly at you. You both lost, but you probably won’t remember the whole event by morning, so you forget it, slamming your head to the table with a huff.
San mumbles something, as he gets up. Maybe he’s going to the bathroom. It would be so funny if he drops outside the toilet and everyone would see him. You snort to yourself. You wanna see it happen.
You stumble to your feet, following him through the tables to the bathrooms. It’s empty inside, quiet and dim. He goes in and stands by the mirror. He runs his fingers through his hair, groaning against his cool hands.
“Wooyoung… what are you doing to me…” His voice is so low and slurred, but you make out every word, and it fills you with rage. This again?! You thought by now he’d have learned his lesson and kept away, but he’s still going after you? No, after your brother?! You guess he’s so fucking slow, he needs it shoved in his face.
“Choi San!” you shout, and he looks up, shocked. “Shut the fuck up!” He frowns as you stomp over to him, looking guilty but not sure why. You grab his wrist and unhook that fucking binder. As it falls to the floor, you shove his hand under your shirt and onto your chest. His eyes widen like crazy as you scowl at him, his hand trembling. “I’m not fucking Wooyoung! And you need to learn your fucking place!” you shout, panting. “You don’t get to-!”
“So that’s why…” he mumbles, his fingers twitching around your flesh. “I’ve wanted to fuck you lately…”
Your face drops, your brows knitting together. “What?”
“Fuck…” he groans, squeezing your breast as he takes in your flushed form against his. “That’s why your face is so pretty. I’ve wanted to kiss you so bad. Every time you yell at me, I’ve wanted to push you so far, so you just shove me to the ground and have your way with me.” He sighs, leaning his forehead against yours. “Because you’re not Wooyoung. I probably knew the whole time… you just can’t guess something like that.”
“Yeah?” you scoff, and he nods, bringing his hands to your hips as he pulls you flush against him. “You’re a fucking liar. I know you just want to take advantage of Wooyoung.”
“I’ve never thought of him like that until recently. Until it wasn’t him.”
Fuck. Fuck! He’d practically known the whole time?! If he knew the differences right away, who knows if you even got away with any of it at all? You bite your lip, trembling with frustration and anger.
“You weren’t very good at hiding it… now that I think about it.”
You shove him against the wall, a deep scowl on your features. His grin as you shove your finger into his chest just fuels you even more. “Bastard,” you bite. “I worked day and night for fucking weeks, and you aren’t even surprised?! It wasn’t worth it at all?!”
“Don’t be mad,” he coos, leaning forward again.
Your restraints are snapping one by one as you glare from his cat-like smile to his squinted eyes. He’s having the time of his life. You don’t even try to stop your hand from wrapping around his throat as he leans closer and closer. You close your fingers, tightening just as his lips meet yours with a low groan.
The movement is intense as soon as the flame is lit. His lips don’t fight for the dominance you place over his, your hand around his neck bringing him lower, closer to your dangerous taste. Your breaths are tangled, vocal, and quick as you kiss over and over in a maddening dance.
“Don’t fuck with me,” you growl, but his only response is to cup your face and bring you closer, biting your bottom lip gently before kissing it better.
You glare at him as you tangle your hands in his hair, pulling lightly and fuming at the way he groans against your lips. What does this fucker not like? You really want to test his boundaries, make him regret playing with you. You want to push him to the ground and fucking destroy him just to watch him finally understand the authority you have over him. You-
The door opens, and you’re both immediately separated, facing away from each other, pretending like nothing was happening. Jongho walks in, pausing when he sees the view. San’s messy hair, sticking up like it was clearly grabbed, your flushed faces, the piece of clothing at San’s feet. San kicks it behind him quickly.
Jongho gives a blank look. “Did you two fight again?” he asks, used to the cat fights by now. “Anyway, we’re going home. Come on, Hyung.” He motions for you to come, and you almost hesitate. If not for the much-needed clarity Jongho’s interruption brought, you would’ve done so much more damage. You would have ruined everything. You rush out of the room behind him.
“You can’t yet. We’re almost done here. Hold out for a little longer.”
“No. Fuck this! I can’t do this, Wooyoung! I’m going crazy!” you shout into your phone. “I…” You can’t fucking tell him. You’re being swayed by the members. Changed and warped into something you’re not. You’re starting to like it here, and you need to go back to your life… where no one else will ever bother you, and you can live alone again. Forever. “I need to get out of here,” you say.
“Just one more week,” he says. “Please…”
One more week. “Fine.”
But you’re not going to be nice about it.
San doesn’t talk to you, and you don’t talk to him, but you feel his eyes on you while you’re all practicing for an upcoming festival performance. He’s looking blankly. Maybe he doesn’t even remember what happened. But it doesn’t matter. You’ll never see him again after this performance. And you’re so fucking glad.
“Hyung, come on! Get into it!” Jongho shouts, his eyes meeting yours through the mirror.
You give him an annoyed look, your head hurting too much to care much for the dance. The music is pounding in your ears, but you move anyway. They’re lucky they get that from you after a late night of drinking.
“Hyung,” Jongho chuckles. “Why are you so down?” He leans in, giving you a suddenly serious expression. You lean away. “Is it ‘cause you and Sannie are fighting again?”
You eye him. “Yeah,” you mumble. “He’s a fucking jerk.”
He laughs, smacking your chest, and you flinch. He keeps his hand there, though, raising a brow. You step away. “Hyung, are you working out more? Is Sannie forcing you to go to the gym with him? Is that why you’re always mad at him?” He goes to feel your chest again, but a veiny, furious hand grabs his wrist.
“Don’t touch people like that, Jongho,” a tight-voiced San spits bitterly. Jongho’s eyes grow a little wide as he tries to retract his hand.
“Fuck,” he grumbles, finally snatching his arms back, rubbing his wrist. “Sorry.” You’ve never seen the maknae so quick to listen, giving an annoyed look before walking away.
You don’t even bother with San, just walk away. Your head is fucking throbbing.
“Get it together,” is all Hongjoong has to say to you and San when he pulls you aside the night before the performance in Japan. It’s obvious the chemistry and friendship Woosan have that the fans love is missing. It’s obvious to everyone that something is going on, and you’re just being petty, but you don’t fucking care.
After ignoring him for a week, though, you think you can get away with it. Until those bastards fucking lock you into a closet. They lure you in, and, suddenly, it’s just you, San, and a room hardly big enough for one person.
Your chest to his, feet staggered, breath against breath, and the need to fucking kill someone are all resting in this dimly lit closet.
“You two can come out when you’ve made up,” Hongjoong sighs. “If you miss the performance, so be it. You have thirty minutes.”
“This is your fucking fault,” you scoff as soon as you hear him walk away.
“My fault? As if you didn’t lie to everybody and then make everything complicated by kissing me,” he argues.
“Me? You literally said you’d been thinking about fucking me!” you whisper aggressively.
“I was drunk!”
“So was I!”
Your faces are hardly separated at all, your words and breaths mixing as the closet grows hotter and hotter.
“You! You lust after my brother! You’re a bastard!”
His brows twist in confusion. “I do not. He’s my best friend… I don’t like him like that!”
“Liar! We look exactly the same!”
He shakes his head quickly. “You have prettier eyes! They’re bigger, and the color is different!” He points to each feature, gazing at them with determination. “You have a cuter nose than him! Your lips are softer than his! Your hair is softer than his! Your jawline isn’t so defined! You have the cutest features that obviously aren’t his! Your body is smaller and the perfect shape! Your expressions are cuter! You get mad all the time, but you make the cutest face! You don’t even understand how unlike him you are! You’re so obviously Y/n! So maybe I did fall for you a bit when I thought you were your brother, but it’s because of those changes that make you so different from him! Because you’re fucking adorable!”
He’s panting, scowling even, as you just stare at him. Honestly, you blanked out. You didn’t even hear the end. Your name rolled from his lips without a second thought. You can’t decide if it hurts your heart or fumes it with rage, or even if it makes you happy. You’re so conflicted, just staring in silence.
When the door opens again twenty minutes later, you’re both still staring in silence. Despite the threat, you both have to perform without giving evidence of reconciliation.
And, being on stage again, you’ve decided that you’re fucking pissed. Your mind goes a little blank as you perform the choreo you’ve recited for hours on end, day after day, just for your brother. You’re fuming, glaring at the crowd, the fans of your brother. The members who laugh and dance with your brother. Each move that adds to that fucking reputation you’re here to protect. For your brother. And the man who you came here to put in his place so that your brother is never hurt. The man who you refuse to accept you want just because he’s your brother’s best friend, and you need to protect your brother’s image and do every fucking thing for HIM.
You’re standing here at the edge of the stage, the instruments ringing in your ears. You’re red. You’re dancing in circles as you let the energy of the music take hold of your mind. You need to release everything, or you might just fall into the crowd. Your chest is so tight. You need something to get rid of this feeling. You’re so fucking sick of it. You want it gone.
The music? The fans? The dance? The members? The performance? Choi San? His hooded eyes meet yours as he leans closer. The cameras are on you, yet he moves closer and closer. You’re in a heated daze, meeting him closer. Your foreheads collide, your breaths dancing as he whispers to you.
“Use me.”
“Get this off right now,” you demand, gripping his shirt as you stumble into your hotel room. You strip off your pants, backing him to the bed just as his shirt gets over his head. His breath hitches as he watches you toss your panties off to the side, gazing at your bare legs. You quickly throw your shirt over your head, and his eyes follow your fingers as they unzip the binder. Within a minute, your entire body is bare to him, and he’s so fucking hard.
You admire his chest, biting your lip as you run your fingertips over his beautiful features. It’s not like you aren’t used to it by now. The man lives without his shirt, but seeing it here, just for your eyes, makes you so excited.
You push him to the bed, climbing on top of him. As soon as his head hits the mattress, two hands are grabbing his hair and shoving his mouth against your leaking cunt. You watch his eyes roll as he licks against your sweet core, his tongue grinding against your clit before he kisses it prettily. You sigh, grinding down against his tongue and pulling him closer by his messy locks.
“That’s it, Sannie,” you groan. “Use your lips for something good for once.”
His hands grab your thighs to pull you lower, putting your weight on his face until all he can feel or breathe is your pussy. His tongue is messy and quick, diving into your hole as he groans against you.
“You like that?” you scoff, biting your lip as he hums. “You liked being choked in the bathroom too, didn’t you? You wanna drown in my pussy?” You feel the bed shift as his hips buck slightly into the air. You know he’s rock hard, but he’s being good and not touching himself like you know he so desperately wants to. “Fuck,” you whimper as he sucks on your throbbing clit. “Only you can make me this wet anyway. You deserve it.”
The sight is making you dizzy, his brows furrowed, eyes hazy as they gaze at your figure above him. His lips are pressing and pleasuring just the right spots, his tongue fucking your tight hole and drinking your arousal over and over again. You can’t help but let your voice escape in your breaths as you roll your hips along with his movements.
If you’d known he could do this, you might’ve told him earlier. No, that’s not true. Because you can’t have Choi San. You’ll fucking take him anyway.
You push his face away, scowling as his warm breath fans your dripping folds. You move to sit on his lap, and he jolts when you grind your hips down on his erection. His mouth is messy with your arousal, his lips plump from their desperate work.
He wants you so fucking bad, but you can’t have him?!
You press your lips to his neck, noticing the way he bares the skin for you to taste. Your teeth graze his soft, unmarked skin, and you want to sink into him so fucking bad. You want to mark him and show everyone he belongs to you, even if you’re not allowed to have him.
You press your teeth into his throat lightly, and his breath hitches, his hips pressing up against you. His breath against your ear is heavy as his fingers entwine with your hair, pulling you closer to his neck, teeth deeper into his skin. That’s right. He wants to be used. He wants to be owned.
You bite his neck, a moan escaping his lips as he trembles beneath you. You lick at the indents, nibbling and sucking all over his neck to leave your trace. Every part of him should be marked. You’re fuming, latching onto his collarbone, his chest, nibbling on his nipple just to watch him get more and more worked up beneath you.
“Y/n,” he whimpers. It must have been ten minutes of this. He’s enjoying every little mark, every little sensation, panting and whimpering as you have your way with him.
“What’s wrong, Sannie?” you ask, sitting between his legs, cheek resting on his inner thigh as he begs you with his gaze for more. “Does it hurt?” You gently poke his erection, straining painfully against his pants.
He nods. “You’re so mean,” he whines.
“Don’t you know that’s what you signed up for?” you chuckle. “Don’t you know how fucking furious I am right now?!” He nods, biting his lip as he watches you eye the twitch in his bulge. “Playing with you is helping me, Sannie. I’m sorry if I’m being mean,” you coo. You tilt your head as an idea meets your mind. “Do you want to show me? How should I make it up to you?”
“C-can I touch you?” he asks, his expression falling when you shake your head.
“No, Sannie. How do you want me to touch you?” His eyes go a little wide in embarrassment. “Show me.”
“I… I don’t know,” he mumbles, looking away as his face flushes a deep pink.
“Come on, Sannie,” you mumble, stretching the waistband teasingly. “Don’t be shy. Show me how you want me to touch you.”
His hands tremble as they hesitate with each motion toward his erection. He palms himself over his sweats first, gazing at your features as you watch his hand. He’s so embarrassed, but the eager, aroused expression on your face is spurring him on. He wants to give you everything you want.
His hand slides into his pants, and he takes his cock out, groaning at the way you lick your lips. He strokes himself slowly, tightly. He doesn’t want to cum. Not by himself. But the sight of you on top of him has him so fucking sensitive. Each slow stroke has an airy moan leaving his lips. He tries to keep them in because he’s so embarrassed to be feeling this good all on his own, but it’s useless.
His thumb swipes across the tip every few strokes, his body jolting each time. Precum is leaking more and more, and the sounds are getting so lewd, so wet.
“Do you like it there?” you ask, running the palm of your hand over the head. He moans, grabbing your wrist without even thinking.
“Yeah,” he chokes out. “Yeah, it feels g-good there.”
You sigh, sitting back and watching his thick fingers slide against himself. He’s big and thick, just like the rest of him. It’s veiny too, feeling far too explicit for the cute man Choi San is. Watching this innocent man stroke himself just the way he likes it just makes you so fucking desperate to get your hands back on him.
You bite your lip as you move off of him.
“Come here, Sannie.”
He’s quick to shove his pants off and move to between your legs, his hands finding your waist without a second thought, rubbing your soft skin as he catches his breath.
“I’m so frustrated,” you sigh. “But if we feel good together, I might feel better. Hmm?” You reach down and spread your slicked folds for him to see, inviting him inside, but he doesn’t move, his eyes trained on the sight. “Come on, San, fuck me.”
He groans, grabbing his cock and lining it up with your hole. Just as he’s about to push inside, you can’t help but crack a knowing smile.
“Since the head feels so good for you, only put that in,” you say, and his head shoots up so fast, his brows twisted in confusion.
“Y/n,” he mumbles. “I wanna feel you, though.”
“You showed me how you wanted to be touched, Sannie. I’ll make you feel good. With just the tip.”
He looks devastated, and you almost laugh at how adorable it is. But he pushes inside anyway, jaw-dropping at how warm you are inside.
“Fuck,” you groan, your back arching as your mind goes blank for a moment, the pleasure of being stretched on his cock better than anything else. But he keeps going. “Sannie,” you warn, and he stops quickly, looking away guiltily. “Does it feel good?” You press yourself just a bit deeper, and he nods quickly, biting his lip as he glares at the connection between you two.
He doesn’t start moving until it becomes unbearable just sitting in your warmth. There’s hardly any way to move, but he grinds the tip in and out of your pussy, frustration and pleasure pulling at his mind. It’s so tight and wet, but he can hardly feel it. He wants to feel it all. He wants to fuck you hard and deep. This isn’t enough at all.
But you look like you could cum any second, his tip pressing against your g-spot, stretching you enough to grind just softly against your clit. It feels fucking amazing. And better yet, you know he’s getting pent up with every second he’s left with just an inch of your pussy to enjoy.
“Y/n,” he huffs, gazing at you desperately, feeling dizzy with how you’re grinding against him, moaning and whimpering softly. “C-can I go deeper please?” he mumbles.
You shake your head. “I’m so close. Keep going,” you say breathlessly.
He gazes at how you’re dripping, soaking his length and the sheets. He watches you clench around what little your desperate pussy can find. He can’t help but want to feel you convulse around him. He needs something. Anything. So he rubs his fingers over your clit, watching your eyes roll back as you grind faster and harder, going just a bit deeper. Maybe you’d suck him in. He could go deeper without you even realizing it. He could feel your cream on his cock. He rubs faster, hearing the growing squelch of your overflowing slick as the length grinding inside becomes longer and longer. He holds his moans at the overwhelming pleasure slowly being revealed to him. Until you drop your hips, his cock pulling out completely. He glances at you in confusion.
“Are you being bad, Sannie?” you ask, panting and fuming at your orgasm being delayed simply because he couldn’t do what he was fucking told. “Were you being greedy? Gonna fuck me even though I said no?”
He shakes his head quickly. “No!” he insists. “I was just trying to help you cum,” he mumbles.
“And you lie to me?” you scoff. “Bad boys don’t get rewards, Sannie. Sit there and be good for once, fuck.” You bring your fingers to your clit, and he stays still between your legs, cock hanging uselessly. You rub hard and fast, biting your lip as you rebuild the tension you’ve lost.
“You- You’re gonna cum on your own?” he mumbles, distressed as your soft moans get louder, and your movements get faster. “I- I can help,” he panics, but you push him away with your free hand with a grunt. He falls back onto the bed, eyes frantically switching from your throbbing pussy to your blissed-out expression as you get closer and closer. His chest is so tight. He wants to feel you cum around him so fucking bad, but you’re being so mean. Why the fuck are you messing with him so much?! He feels like a spoiled brat, but he’s so angry, so frustrated. He just wants to make you feel good, pound into your pussy, but you’re making everything so difficult!
“F-Fuck me,” you moan out as you’re right on the edge. Your eyes meet his in a hazy glare, but he’s frozen. Did he hear you right? Your jaw is clenched as you hold in your orgasm for him. “Fuck. Me.”
His cock slams into you, and you rub your clit fast and hard, your walls clenching around him as he thrusts quick and deep into you. Your eyes roll back as you let out your pent-up moans, your climax taking over your entire being, your limbs trembling as you cream around his cock.
His head falls to your shoulder as he whimpers with each hard, desperate thrust. His hips slam against yours, the slick between you making a mess on your skin. It’s loud and sloppy, no one caring much for decency anymore as you chase the pleasure you’d been building up for. His hands are on your hips, pulling you to meet each thrust impatiently. And his cock is so fucking thick, running along your walls and hitting every desperate spot within you.
“San! Ngh~! San!” you moan, your voice being knocked out of you with each thrust. He’s panting against your skin as he bites and kisses your shoulder and neck. “K-kiss me,” you breathe, hardly able to get out a word that isn’t his name as his relentless pace drowns your thoughts.
His lips smash against yours, his hips rolling as he focuses on your tongue against his, the taste of you clouding his frustration for a long moment.
“Y/n,” he groans as your fingers run through his hair. “S-So pretty,” he mumbles, kissing you again and again. “So tight, just for me.” His hips pick up their pace again, and your lips can’t keep up with his, pleasure with each slam hitting your entire body.
He rests his forehead against yours, gazing into your teary eyes as your puffy lips fall apart into unsuppressable moans. He wraps his arms under your thighs and raises them higher, pressing deeper into you with each thrust.
“S-San,” you whimper, watching his hungry eyes move from your pussy to the tears dripping down your cheeks. “C-can you say my name?”
He pecks your lips, panting as he chokes out, “Y/n.” You nod, your pussy fluttering around him as his low voice meets your ears.
“San, fuck~” you shout as his fingers find your clit and rub fast. “Again, baby, please say it again.” Tears are streaming down your face as your clit and your hole are pleasured thoroughly, mind going blank as he growls your name again and again.
“San,” you pant. “S-San~ Ah.. ngh I’m so close,” you cry, grabbing onto his shoulders as the pleasure moves faster and harder through your body. Your eyes are rolled back, your head dipped into the pillow as you thrust your pussy against his sloppy movements, his voice getting higher and more desperate with yours.
“Y/n, Y/n, fuck, you’re so tight,” he growls, slamming your hips against his cock as he buries himself deeper and deeper, losing his rhythm. “Cum with me, baby- ngh~” he moans, and you pull him as close as possible, your arms wrapped around his head as your body convulses with immense pleasure, his thrusts riding your high and fingers keeping it going for so fucking long, your lips trembling and voice breaking as you let go. He buries himself deep, his cock twitching as he meets you there, his voice high and unsuppressed right beside your ear. You’re filled with his warmth, spasming as you feel him fill you. You’re so full, so warm, so satisfied, panting as you hold him close.
Your legs slowly slide to the bed as he lets himself lean his weight on you, just slightly. You don’t mind. It’s warm and comforting, being so close, being so vulnerable. His head slowly rises, and you let him, your arms falling to the bed. His eyes are still hazy, meeting yours with soft trembles. He gives you a soft, lazy kiss before slowly pulling out and collapsing beside you.
You don’t say a word as you curl into his chest, letting him hold you there, breath against breath, no worries nor thoughts, just comfort.
“A sex cult?” His jaw drops, and you nod, cracking up. “How do you even…” He sighs. “He’s so odd.”
“But we used to do this all the time as kids. You know, I trained with Yeosang and Wooyoung at BigHit.”
San raises a brow. “Sangie didn’t recognize you?”
“Well, it’s been a while, and… you know,” you giggle. “He never really knows what’s going on.”
He laughs, nodding as he holds you close to his chest. “You’d think he’d remember such a feisty personality.”
You pucker your lips. “I’d say it’s more passionate than feisty,” you mumble. “I can’t help but get angry… I’m sorry for being so rude.”
He pauses for a second, then pushes you away so he can really look at your face. “No, I don’t accept your apology. Why did you tease me so much?”
You blush, looking away shyly. “I didn’t really…”
“I was dying, Y/n,” he says, completely serious. “You enjoyed my struggle.”
“Well,” you huff. “I was so angry at everything. I just needed you to fuck it out of me, you know?” He raises his brows. “You wouldn’t have if I asked. You’d be too careful about it,” you argue. “So I just worked you up to it. I’m sorry, Sannie.”
He grins, shaking his head in disbelief before pulling your head back to his chest. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Wooyoung, when will you be here?” you whine into the phone, lying lazily on your couch.
Wooyoung promised to bring Yeosang and San to your hometown during their next break. It’s been a month since you returned home. Your hair has grown to your shoulders, and you’re so excited to see them again. Wooyoung was hesitant when you mentioned bringing San. He thought you might try to kill him since you didn’t succeed in your time as Wooyoung.
But you just want to see him again.
You’ve been texting and calling every day since you left, but a long-distance relationship is so frustrating. And you’re hiding it from Wooyoung nonetheless. Maybe one day you’ll tell him, but you don’t want him to freak out about it.
When the front door opens, you shoot to your feet. Wooyoung strides inside and gives you a big hug, but you don’t even bother with him, moving past him to greet the important guests. Yeosang is smiling brightly, handing you a little gift, and San… San is as dangerously perfect as you remember.
You bow politely. As your head lowers, you let a blush spread across your cheeks. Is it wrong… in front of everyone… that you want to take him away and feel him again? You’ve been talking for a month, but you haven’t been able to have a deep connection. The temptation to take him away right now is so strong.
“Nice to meet you, Y/n,” he says.
“Yeah,” you mumble. “I’ll… show you around.” You turn to Wooyoung and Yeosang quickly. “‘Cause you guys have been here.”
You start walking before anyone can even say anything. San follows, and, as soon as you enter your bathroom, you pin him against the wall and melt against him as his arms wrap around your waist. Your lips meet hard and fast.
“I missed you so much,” you whisper, hardly any sound at all as your lips are too busy memorizing the feel of his. You cup his face in your hands as you pull him closer to your movement. “San…” you sigh.
You both freeze when a figure walks into view and stops beside you. You both glance over, eyes wide in shock as Yeosang’s horrified expression meets you.
“You- We- S-” He’s looking from you to him, covering his mouth, speechless.
“What’s wrong?” Wooyoung calls out. “Are they fighting?!” Wooyoung runs down the hall, but you push away from San immediately, standing beside the sink with a composed expression masking your panic.
Yeosang is still looking from you to San, unsure of what to do, but a single twitch of your head tells him not to say a word.
“Young-ah, that’s not nice,” San jokes. “Why would we be fighting?”
He eyes you skeptically.
“Did she threaten you?”
“Ya,” you grumble. “I was just showing him the rooms. I wouldn’t pick a fight with someone I just met.”
“Uh huh,” he mumbles before turning to go back to the living room.
“Since when are you guys…” Yeosang mumbles. “I mean, you’ve never met.”
“We’ll tell you everything,” you sigh. “But later. We don’t want Wooyoung to know. He’d go crazy.”
Yeosang looks conflicted. You know he can’t lie. You know he can’t keep a secret. Especially from Wooyoung, who presters him until he tells him everything he knows. But you’re really counting on him. Wooyoung definitely can not know.
“I’ll buy you chicken,” you offer, and he’s immediately made up his mind.
You return to your brother, the other two going to the kitchen to prepare the food they brought for lunch. Wooyoung looks lost in thought when you sit next to him on the couch.
“What’s wrong, Youngie?” you ask, looking toward the kitchen cautiously.
He sighs. “Actually, Y/n, I didn’t just come here to visit.” He bites his lip. “I sort of got into some trouble… again…”
You look at him in disbelief. “Again? What happened this time?”
“Well… that lady from Paris… the one that got me into this mess. I didn’t want to tell the company. Like, we won the case. I’m not in that cult anymore.” He lowers his voice. “But I really wanted to settle it quickly, so I went to visit her personally.” Your jaw drops just a bit. “And she gave me a contract that would settle everything. I didn’t…”
“Fuck, Wooyoung,” you laugh in disbelief.
“She tricked me!” he argues. “She’s a master manipulator!”
“So what now? Did you sell your soul to the devil? Did you… I don’t know… become her slave or something?”
“Marriage.”
“No fucking way,” you scoff. “What didn’t you read to sign a fucking marriage contract? Are you actually slow?”
“I know, I fucked up,” he whispers. “But please help me out one more time. I… I’ll figure it out.”
“Does-”
“Young-ah, I thought we got two orders of the spicy chicken,” San mumbles as he walks into the living room. Your conversation stops with a long sigh from your lips.
“I’ll do it,” you tell your brother, reaching for the chicken box in San’s hands. “It’s fine. We can share.”
It’s not like you don’t have your own reasons anyway.
taglist ~
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#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez x reader#ateez atiny#atiny#atz#ateez san#ateez smut#ateez seonghwa#atz san#atz x reader#atz smut#atz fanfic#wooyoung#seonghwa#choi san#enemies to lovers#gender swap#smut
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Favorite Party Banter [Gale Edition]
[Astarion (Ascended)] [Halsin/Jaheira] [Gale] [Karlach] [Lae'zel] [Minsc] [Minthara] [Shadowheart] [Wyll]
I often miss party banter because of party comp (and sometimes just straight up can't hear??) so here's a collection of my favorite bants while going through dialogue files. I know the wiki has the banter (most? all?) but I added the file names and dev notes.
Either Gale is the main speaker/subject or I think his reaction is good shit.
Not in any particular order.
[PB_Laezel_Gale_ROM_Act2]
Gale: So, Lae’zel - have you ever been tempted to use psionics in your, erm, romantic endeavors? {Devnote: Curiosity winning out over awkwardness}
Lae’zel: Only once. Did you know, in low-gravity settings, githyanki can maintain aerial suspension for hours at a time? {Devnote: cheekily}
Gale: Fascinating - I think the archmage Tasha described a spell with similar effect. I really must look that up… {Devnote: latter part almost to self}
[PB_Gale_Astarion_ROM_Act3_Spawn]
Gale: If you’re feeling faint after your bout with Cazador, Astarion, I don’t mind donating some blood. {Devnote: Sincere/Genuinely trying to help}
Astarion: When you’re still full of that Netherese bile? I’ll pass, thank you.
Astarion: Besides, I have someone else to nibble on. And they are delicious.
[PB_Gale_Shadowheart_Morgue]
Gale: Look at this place. Such horrors defy descriptions…{Devnote: In very bleak/grim surroundings}
Shadowheart: Silence can be best. Give it a try sometime. {Devnote: A little cheeky, though they’re in a grim place}
[PB_Gale_Shadowheart_ROM_Act3_Selune]
Gale: I must tell you, Shadowheart, the bathing waters here leave much to be desired. {Devnote: a bit know it all}
Gale: The ablutions offered at the Temple of Beauty in Waterdeep are far superior. And they have the most excellent soaps.
Shadowheart: Hmm. I was wondering why you always smelled like a wealthy dowager. {Devnote: teasing}
[PB_Wyll_Gale_ROM_Act2]
Gale: I’ve heard that in Baldur’s Gate, ‘wizard’ is also a term used for one who eschews their more, ahem, carnal desires. Is that true, Wyll? {Devnote: Fishing for info, a bit annoyed about what he’s heard.}
Wyll: Where are we going with this, Gale?
Gale: Oh, nowhere. I just think it a rather cruel misnomer. Not at all reflective of the glamour wizarding life affords. {Devnote: A bit sulky/sensitive about it}
[PB_Gale_Astarion_ROM_Act2]
Gale: I fear I've been rather hasty to judge you, Astarion. {Devnote: sincere/sympathetic}
Gale: One heartbreak was quite enough for me, but to experience it as many times as you have must change a person.
Astarion: Thank you, Gale. Let us both hope that broken hearts are a thing of the past.
[PB_Karlach_Gale_BlushingMermaid]
Karlach: Man, it's good to be home. First round on who?
Gale: She who thirsts buys drink the first. {Devnote: Like it's a well-known saying}
Karlach: You won't pin me down with a rhyme, wizard! {Devnote: jockeying with Gale}
Gale: She who declines gets the worst of the wines.
[PB_Laezel_Gale_ROM_Act3_001]
Lae'zel: Gale, I've heard you talking in your sleep. Your mate needs better rest for our journey.
Gale: And deprive them of the pleasure of hearing my nocturnal postulations? I'd never be so cruel.
Gale: The mind absorbs much while we believe ourselves dormant. To lie beside Gale of Waterdeep is positively educational.
[PB_Karlach_Gale_ROM_Act1]
Gale: Karlach... a hypothetical question for you.
Gale: If someone - not me, of course - detected a hint of romantic interest in them from another, unnamed individual, what might that someone do about it?
Karlach: Whoever it is, just talk to them, Gale. And leave out the hypotheticals.
Gale: Talking. Right. I'm good at that.
#bg3#bg3 dialogue#bg3 gale#gale of waterdeep#gale dekarios#Karlach#laezel#Astarion#wyll#shadowheart#text post#titus post#bg3 meta
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we need reader who just wants to makeout with her stupidly attractive bf jaemin but is too embarrassed to ask for it while bf jaemin does absolutely nothing to help them and is an absolute tease eueueueu
im so sorry the text i added didn’t save!! of course i will write jaemin for u. i love you and jaemin. thank you<3
ೀ𖥔 ࣪˖kiss me. n.jaemin.
summary- you are constantly begging your bf to drop his hard to get act but he never does.
warnings-roughly making out, tease!jaemin needy reader!, pet names(love)
author’s note- im actually gonna explode rn i need him. LMFAO my notes are always me thirsting. i was listening to boom while writing this
you and your boyfriend are currently sitting in your bed watching romantic comedies. you haven’t been focused on the movie for awhile now. more focused on the attractive boy next to you.
he would look over at you every now and then smiling about the movie and commenting on it. what he hasn’t commented on is all the looks you’ve been giving him. he pretends not to notice. he would watch as you look at him shifting your gaze to his lips over and over.
“jaem?” you give up on waiting for him to notice trying to hint at what you want. “hm?” he looks over at you before returning back to the movie. “can we do something more fun?” you ask cuddling into him more. “yes love what did you have in mind? want to play a game or watch something more engaging?” he asks pretending to be clueless.
you shake your head. “something else jaem.” you say kissing his cheek softly. “well you gotta tell me. i cant guess.” he laughs at you. “i’m kinda embarrassed.” he shakes his head. “you known i don’t judge love.” he smiles at you innocently.
he just wants to hear you say what you want before giving in a little. “jaem you know.. come on don’t make me say it.” you say kissing up his neck slightly. “well i can’t give you what you want unless you tell me y/n. just say it.” he smiles at you again acting completely unfazed. “fucking fine. can we makeout? can you kiss me please jaemin?” he smiles at your words pulling you onto his lap. “see love look how easy that was. where do you want me to kiss huh?” he teases again kissing your face all over. “jaem please.” you say looking at him sternly. “you are just too cute.” he pulls you to kiss him. his hands immediately going to your ass. you moan into the kiss and his touch. he deepens the kiss sliding his tongue into your mouth roughly. you gasp at his actions causing him to slide his tongue deeper in your mouth.
he pulls away after kissing you for a couple minutes. “shit your lips are addictive babe.” he says smiling and kissing your nose. “well you could get more kisses if you weren’t so clueless all the time!!” you roll your eyes at him before going back to the movie you two were watching. he doesn’t say anything just gives you another innocent smile.
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{ 173 }
cry for me.
jinwoo sung x fem.reader
warnings: dacryphilia; yet another unedited thirst post; more of a thirsty drabble than anything else, hhhhh… please ignore me if you don’t like spicy posts… and minors DO NOT INTERACT.
by choosing to interact with this 18+ content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings.
anonymous said: I just read your jinwoo smut and I—I have no words…Except…It made me think of Jinwoo x someone who cries a lot during sex bc of how good it feels and it just fuels Jinwoo's pride 😈 and proceeds to make them cry until they're so sore they can't make a sound anymore 🤤🤤🤤🤤 thank you for writing ur current oneshot 🧁
jinwoo couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at the mere sight of you, still trapping you beneath him as he slid his cock in and out of your silken walls. a bored expression paints his features, but it was taking him a herculean effort to remain soft and gentle with you-
especially when all he wanted to do was fuck you deep into his sheets.
here you were, so perfect and pretty for him. your lips were parted in what appeared to be a flawless o, crystalline tears falling from your eyes as your gaze met with his shyly. his casual thrusts were enough to make your breasts bounce in response to his movements, causing his full lips to form into a cocky smirk as he cooed down at you.
“what’s this? is my baby crying for me?” he finishes his question with yet another powerful thrust, making you hiccup and gasp as more tears fell from your beautiful eyes.
“tell me- tell your king just why you’re crying so much. is he hurting you…?” a dark chuckle escapes from his lips, leaning down as he harshly bites down against the side of your neck, large hands greedily tracing your figure as he continued to thrust his length in and out of you.
“perhaps your king is too big for your liking? if so… i should probably stop hurting you so much.” jinwoo lets out a mock sigh, already starting to pull out of you when your legs suddenly trapped his waist against you. feeling the way you cling to him with such a desperation makes an even wider grin paint his handsome features.
“no, please! d-don’t leave me…!” your choked moans and whines fill at the air, your hiccups more prominent than ever as the tears steadily began to fall from your eyes again.
“then you need to be honest with me.” jinwoo lets out a feign sound of concern, slotting his cock perfectly inside of your slick core once more until he was fully sheathed within you. “seeing you cry makes me anxious… so you need to tell me if i’m hurting you.”
you vehemently shake your head in response to his words, expression appearing even more shy when you shakily admit to him. “n-no, it’s just… you feel so good that i… i get all teary eyed… i’ve never felt so good before in my life, jinwoo… p-please… don’t ever stop…!”
a surge of pride was felt swelling inside of his chest, the feeling being so potent that it manages to travel all the way down to his groin as he felt himself get even harder in response. with a loud groan of your name, he tosses one of your legs over his shoulder before proceeding to drill himself into you.
“ah, you should have said so sooner, sarang…” he chuckles darkly while pressing a kiss against your ankle. “if you feel so good that it makes you cry- then cry for me.”
taking advantage of his powerful, s-ranked body, jinwoo moves at what seemed like an inhuman pace deep inside of you, earning more of those tears and broken moans from you as he spent the entire night kissing the precious and salty droplets away from your face-
who knew that such pretty tears could be such a turn on for him?
a.n. - don’t perceive me,,,, but omg, i’ve never received nsfw asks in my life 😭 was my first thirst post for jinwoo that good to even warrant such an ask?
i didn’t wish to ignore the ask, but i’m certain some of my followers don’t wish to see such nsfw asks from my readers… so if you sent me stuff and i don’t answer, just know that i’m keeping them to answer them in a more… proper story / drabble for the future (/ω\)
all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.
#sung jinwoo x reader#jinwoo sung x reader#sung jinwoo x you#jinwoo sung x you#solo leveling x reader#solo leveling smut#.stories
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streamer!ellie headcanons
warnings: yo no se
content : streamer!ellie headcanons 🔥🔥
authors note : the streets r calling and they’re telling me to write streamer ellie hcs….
- def started off as a faceless streamer. she wasn’t really comfortable on camera, and she just thought it would be way easier. you can only see her shoulders-down leaving her (deliciosu. scrumptious. yummy) arms in the cameras view.
- her twitch user is “creeperewman” cuz shes like…discreetly hiding her initials and referencing the best minecraft parody ever 😕!!!
- bought the most random shitty mic and webcam and started streaming 🔥🔥 she never got rid of either of them its part of her odd loser charm
“‘fartmaster69:it’s probably cuz your camera’ it’s probably bc of YOUR CAMERA!!! theres nothing wrong w my camera bro 😞”
“don’t listen to them…ur perfect 🤫 IM NOT TALKING TO U GUYS IM TALKING TO MY CAMERA”
- only had a few viewers the first couple times she streamed, and it was some random 10 yr old who kept spamming “yassss” in the chat and some dude who said she was shit at minecraft 😞 he was LYING
- started off doing minecraft speed runs (or trying to) and got like way good over time
- she randomly started getting more and more viewers, because people kept posting abt her and calling her fine on tiktok , making edits of her hands and her voice 😭😭 (real)
- as she got more and more viewers, she started branching out more with the games she’d play. def loves shooter games like cod and pubg, but she’d also play like indie horror games like faith (omg markiplier fans would know)
- she has a orange cat she named garfield (cuz…of course she does) and he’s always sitting on her lap during her streams or messing w her setup 💔💔
- def put stickers all over her headset and showed them off all proud on stream
- designed her own cute banners and stuff for streams 😞!!!
- def had a subreddit/disc server with her viewers where she’d let them give her game recs or make memes of her
- ppl saw her guitar in the back of her streams and BEGGED HER to play it and she had her own lil concert stream !!! she was so freaking nervous and messed up a bunch the first like minute or two but like after that she was in the ZONE
“‘ewswife: i wish i was that guitar’ oh!! you guys are so…kind!!!”
- when she INSANELY hit 1k, she did a face reveal and she hit 10k the same day 😦 the amount of edits that ppl made was actually insane. ESP ONES MAKING FUN OF DREAMS FACE REVEALLLL
- started doing much more random shit on stream after she got more famous. she LOVES cooking on stream, and she’d start reacting to random shit ppl sent her on the subreddit
- she cut her hair on stream once, and everyone in the chat kept spamming “yo bob…is fye” for like 5 minutes 😪
- “you’re at work watching me? i hope you get fired. i mean. i hope you don’t get fired 😞”
- she gets so many thirst comments and like…is terrible at responding to them
“‘ewleftbicep: you look so vulnerable today’ WHAT”
- she has her own apartment cuz of her awesome streaming money 🔥🔥🔥 soundproofed walls too cuz she’s. loud.
- one day, you were walking on campus to a class. you had your headphones on, listening to your main playlist on shuffle, when you got stopped by someone. you pulled your headphones off your ears and gave the man in front of you a confused look. you looked down to his hands, holding a tiny mic, and another dude holding a camera.
“what song are you listening to?” he held the microphone towards you, awaiting your response.
you quickly responded “uhm, last goodbye, by jeff buckley.” and stood there awkwardly, pushing a piece of hair out of your face.
the man quickly thanked you and you walked away, slightly suprised.
- after a couple hours, the video had blown up and the comments were filled with people complimenting you.
pickleluna: jeff buckley girl is so fine
minyonlala: 3rd girl is so bad
rilakkila: I NEED JEFF BUCKLEY GIRL
and unknown to you, someone else found you on their fyp.
creeperewman: guys what is the 3rd girls @. im literally BEGGING BRO PLEASEEE
- ewleftbicep: BEING DESPERATE ON MAIN IS CRAZY
- ewsgirlf: random tiktok girl stole my wife 💔
- elliewilliamsidechick: guys im literally the 3rd girl 😂😂😂
- it didn’t take long for your phone to be blown up with people sending you the video, tagging you in funny comments, and finding your instagram. you watched the video, and saw ellie was the top comment. you checked her profile, and saw how FINE she was, and immediately responded
- y/nmainn: guys 😳😳😳 what if i was the third girl 😳😳
- ellie checked her phone and saw thousands of people tagging your comment, and she wasted zero time following you on tiktok. and your instagram. its not stalking if its in your bio, right?
- you two immediately hit it off, and ellie loved the fact that you had absolutely no idea who she was. to you, she was just some hot girl. not some famous streamer you were obsessed with.
- she didn’t even realize you two went to the same school until she saw you in her astrophysics class one day, and she almost had a heart attack when you waved at her and walked over to sit next to her.
“what a coincidence.”
- she took you out on your first date to a planetarium, and not even a week after, asked you to be her girlfriend.
- she definitely teaches you how to play her favorite games. but she gets wayyyy defensive when you beat her.
“im just letting you win.”
“beginners luck.”
but shes SO COCKY when she beats you
“hey, don’t be so hard on yourself after this. not your fault im a professional!”
“aw, maybe one day you’ll be as good as me”
- definitely helps you build your own pc.
- loves watching you play things like animal crossing or stardew valley, always lays on your shoulder while you’re on the couch.
“why are you being so mean to gaston :((“
“because hes UGLY and he has an ugly house and he’s ruining my village.”
“wowww you’re bullying a little bunny man because he doesn’t fit your aesthetic 😒 so mean”
- if you like more aggressive games like cod, she loves listening to you talk shit while you play and always makes fun of people with you. (she thinks its hot when you’re mean to people)
- her chat absolutely loves you, and every time you stream together its a continuous stream of “me and who” and “when is it my turn 😪”
#ellie williams x reader#streamer!ellie#ellie williams x you#ellie x reader#ellie x y/n#ellie x you#ellie tlou#ellie the last of us#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams the last of us#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams headcanons#tlou#tlou part 2#the last of us#the last of us part 2#tlou fic#tlou fanfiction#tlou headcanons#tlou x reader
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A little thing based on this post because it wouldn’t leave my brain:
“I just don’t understand why you won’t try to read it.”
Steve had heard Dustin say this exact sentence hundreds of times at this point.
“I mean, do you know how to read?”
Mike was an asshole. Steve loved him because he was part of the group and he’d been through the same things, but he was such a dick.
“Yes, I know how to read. I just don’t.”
Dustin rolled his eyes.
“If you don’t wanna read nerd shit just say so.”
Steve threw his arms up in frustration.
Steve was a nerd at heart. As a child, he would beg the nanny to take him to the library and the science museum that had real dinosaur fossils. There was something about the peace of exiting his reality and finding a new one among fantasy and history that was indescribable, even to this day.
But as he grew into his looks, he grew out of that phase. At least around others.
And with no nanny around to take him places, he settled for just being the popular guy who hung out with his friends after practice and threw parties at his forever empty house on Saturdays.
But secretly, he still found himself enjoying books late into the night. Never school books, or his grades would’ve been good enough for college, but always incredible novels that took him to other worlds with the most impressively brave people.
And then he lived a nightmare. A few times over. With concussions at every turn.
Now, anytime he tried to read, his head started pounding, his vision got blurry, and ears would start ringing. He stopped trying altogether after Starcourt, but he’d never really let go his love of books.
He occasionally let Robin read to him, but she would get distracted by a plot or character and go on a tangent, leaving Steve confused about what the actual story was. He hated being confused.
“Stevie, you got a minute?”
Eddie had been watching from his spot at the end of the table, where he’d been cleaning up the mess of D&D. He usually made the kids do it, but he’d let them off the hook tonight when they beat the monster and escaped his trap.
Steve and Eddie were friends, definitely. Maybe not close ones, but friends.
Steve had a little crush, definitely. Or a big one. Maybe.
So when Eddie shows him attention, he somewhat shamefully receives it like he’s dying of thirst in a desert.
Robin is the only one who’s noticed so far, but if he keeps acting like a dog being called by his master anytime Eddie talks to him, someone else will comment on it.
“Yeah, what’s up?” Steve asked as he made his way to Eddie.
The kids took this time to talk amongst themselves about the game and what they think will happen next week, and Steve couldn’t have been more grateful.
“You don’t have to tell me, but.” Eddie was tapping his fingers nervously against his leg. “Do you not know how to read?”
“Uh. No I do. I mean I graduated high school. I know it’s hard to believe.”
“Not judging if you can’t, man. I mean, I took three senior years. I’m the last person who can judge.”
“Yeah, but you’re smart. You just didn’t like school,” Steve replied with a pat to his shoulder.
Eddie glanced down at the contact, eyebrow raising and then falling back to normal quickly.
“Just seems like you’d have read something by now to get them off your ass.”
And that’s a really good point. Maybe he should’ve just suffered through a migraine so they’d leave him alone about it.
But migraines left him out for days sometimes, and he couldn’t exactly afford that right now.
“I guess it’s just not worth the migraine.”
He hadn’t meant to actually say it. He didn’t want Eddie to feel bad or for him to try to make him feel better about it or ask questions or talk about the concussion thing.
Actually, did he even know about the concussion thing? Things?
“You get migraines when you try to read?” Then realization hit Eddie hard. “Steve. Do you like reading?”
Something about the way Eddie was looking at him, like he was sad for him but not pitying him, made Steve want to cry.
“I used to, yeah.”
“Everyone out! Your parents are gonna have to come get you! No questions, no explanations, go!” Eddie yelled to the room.
Everyone stared blankly at him before they started protesting, Dustin loudest of all.
“Steve’s my ride!”
“Not anymore. Hitch a ride with Lucas.”
“But Lucas’ mom always squeezes my cheeks and tells me she hopes I never lose my baby fat.”
“She speaks for all of us. Get the hell out of here!”
Steve was actually impressed. Maybe a little turned on? God, he was a disaster.
As everyone cleared out of the room, Eddie patted the seat next to him. When Steve sat down, Eddie scooted his chair so close to him, his knees were touching Steve’s.
“Alright, so you’re gonna tell me about what books you like and what books you want to read and we’re gonna get started.”
Steve blinked at him. “Huh?”
“You have a list I’m sure.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Okay, then we better get started.”
“I mean, I’ve tried. I appreciate it, but even focusing on one page makes my eyes burn and my head hurt.”
“Got that. I’m not asking you to read.”
Sometimes Steve was worried the concussions had actually knocked some screws loose. He wasn’t getting it.
“I’m gonna read to you, Stevie.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure a lot of them will be movies and I can just watch them.”
“It’s not the same. You know it’s not.”
He was right. Steve didn’t have much patience for movies. And sometimes even those gave him migraines if there were a lot of bright lights and explosions.
“Yeah. But still. You don’t have to do that. You might not even like the books.”
“Ah, this isn’t a completely free service, my liege.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “I don’t have extra money to pay you, dude.”
“Not money. I get to pick a book to read to you when we finish the first book you pick.”
“Is it The Hobbit?”
“It is,” Eddie looked so smug.
“Well, that was my first choice,” Steve stared back, equally as smug.
“So, your house is empty.”
“Yep.”
“And I’m assuming you own this book.”
“I do.”
“And it’s getting late.”
Steve looked out the window at the pitch black skies.
“It’s late.”
“So I could stay and read you to sleep.”
“Won’t I miss some of the book?”
“I’ll stop when you’re asleep.”
Steve’s heart was practically begging him to say yes. Eddie reading to him in his bed? Possibly falling asleep together? Maybe even waking up together? It couldn’t be a better proposition. Well. It could.
“Will you stay even if I fall asleep?”
Eddie smirked. “If that’s what you want, sweetheart.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d called Steve that, but it was the first time it felt like he meant it in a non-teasing way.
“Okay.”
So they both changed into some of Steve’s comfy clothes, got into his bed, and Eddie started reading The Hobbit.
Just as he was during D&D and real life, Eddie was animated, providing different voices for different characters and often giving long pauses to let Steve soak in what the words meant.
Steve didn’t even have to ask him to do that. He just did.
Steve fell asleep somewhere between halfway and the end of chapter two, but Eddie stayed.
And they woke up the next day with Steve’s head resting on Eddie’s chest, Eddie’s arms wrapped around him to keep him as close as possible.
They finished the The Hobbit in a week, and because Eddie was now committed to making sure Steve was well-read, they started moving through his list rapidly, falling for each other in new ways every time Eddie turned a page.
Part 2 (Angst) / Part 2 (Fluffy) / Part 2 (Explicit)
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#tumblr drabbles#ao3fic#headcanon#secret nerd Steve Harrington
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I just watched Wish (2023) and it made me realize something kind of sad about Disney’s treatment of villains.
So Disney has a long history of villainy from the OG Evil Queen who is willing to murder a girl just for being pretty to the misguided like Auto thinking he’s protecting humanity in Wall-E. They are mean, jealous, prideful, vain, and many relish in just being the worst of the worst. However every now and then we get a glimpse of more complexity. Zootopia’s Bellwether dealing with years of racism and mistreatment, Gantu trying to stop what he thinks is a monster in Lilo and Stitch, Up’s Muntz being a heroic explorer before paranoia consumed him, etc. The thing that makes me sad about these villains is that not one of them has ever had a chance at redemption or change in Disney’s eyes and nowhere is that sadder to me than their latest villain, King Magnifico.
(Spoilers below)
King Magnifico is the magical founder of a utopian society that accepts people of all races, religions, and backgrounds. Who created this wonderful place after what is heavily implied to be a violent invasion destroyed his homeland when he was but a child. This past trauma led him to study magic and become a powerful sorcerer so that nothing could hurt him or the people he cared about ever again. His magic is a protection that he extends to all who choose to live in the city. The city is vibrant with a colorful community full of artisans, musicians, and dancers. He takes no taxes from them, but does take their one true wish upon joining this society.
When given these wishes it is understood that he will ensure their safety and possibly grant them one day. Something important to note about the physical manifestations of the wishes is that they give off a warm and comforting aura as they represent some of the purest parts of a person’s soul. Magnifico has been surrounding himself with this magical comfort for a very very long time by himself and I don’t think it’s unfair to say he has become addicted to their presence. The wishes are giving him a magical comfort through the kind souls within them, a feeling he could’ve probably also gotten if he had spent more time with his people.
It doesn’t look like he ever really got the chance to commune with his people properly because somehow the society kicked off on his wish granting abilities. People had to give him their wishes if they wanted them granted and eventually the ones that he couldn’t grant in good conscience or out of fear started adding up so he began locking them away. Keeping them safe so no harm came to the people. The rare occasions that anyone else interacts with these wishes is during wish granting ceremonies that the people are borderline rabid for. With good reason, it is their souls they’re thirsting for after all even if they don’t really know it.
However, Magnifico clearly doesn’t see it that way. He sees it as he’s given these people a wonderful safe haven from the horrors of the outside world where they can be whoever they want to be, do what they want to do, make what they want to make, and still all they see in him is a tool to fastpass to something else they want even more than the peace he’s given them.
This is clearly shown early on, before any of his evil behavior starts to take root, in relation to his assistants. We get a expo dump after the first song telling us that Asha wants to become one of his assistant to increase the odds of her grandfather’s wish being granted as there is a correlation between past assistants and having wishes granted. Something important here is that there have clearly been many assistants, suggesting that it’s a revolving door position without really explaining why. Who would want to keep finding assistants over and over again, when really you should find someone who could do the job long term right? Well we get to find out the likely reason when Asha steps up for the role.
When Asha comes to interview for his assistant position he sees she is nervous, he tries to calm her down, and he even manages to relate to her through fond memories of her kindly father who he clearly knew. After seeing her true resolve to do good he decides to trust her with something few people in the entire kingdom get to see, the vault of wishes. To which Asha doesn’t even hesitate to ask, after politely being told not to prior, if he’ll grant her grandfather’s wish.
Magnifico is blatantly stricken by her request, sadly remarking that most people at least wait a few months before doing so a.k.a pretend to be interested in helping him rather than trying to use him to grant a wish. This is likely why the assistant job is a revolving door. Magnifico tries to find someone who he thinks will truly and selflessly fulfill the role only to discover time and again that people are just using it to get direct access to him to ask for a wish. Then he can’t trust their true intentions anymore and moves them along.
After Asha makes her request he does take the time to look at her grandfather’s wish but dismisses it as too dangerous because it is the vague desire to inspire the next generation. Clearly we as the audience know that her grandfather means to inspire them to do good, but we have to remember Magnifico has seen the worst of society. He has seen the darkest wishes and desires of mankind and survived them. He brushes Asha off telling her she’s too young to understand, which is honestly true. She’s lived her entire life cloistered in peace and comfort thanks to him and the rules he has made. She has never had to know war, strife, or hardship thanks to him, yet she doubts his decision without understanding the trauma that guides it. This is what I believe pushes Magnifico into his villain arc, something that I don’t think we’ve ever really witnessed in a Disney movie.
Usually a villain already is the villain by the time the film rolls around, even the twist villains. Lotso had already been deliberately sentencing other toys to torture. Prince Hans was already planning to murder his way to a throne. Evelyn was already plotting her revenge. Magnifico wasn’t though. He was the hero. He had saved his wife and a whole city’s worth of people from whatever drove them from the mainlands. He wasn’t physically abusing/mistreating people like Gaston even if he was vainly basking in their adoration.
When Asha pushes him on the wishes he pulls back from her, identifying her in his mind as a threat and treats her as one. He dismisses her and tells her that her family’s wishes will never be granted by him, but he will still keep them safe as he has been doing. Essentially meaning nothing will change for her from what it has been. You know a happy loving existence of complete acceptance and wholesome family life or as Asha interprets it, a fate worse than death.
His interaction with Asha triggers him, as she’s pushed at the flaws in his reasoning for holding onto the wishes. The flaws are true, but his mind is clouded by fear of a lack of control, likely stemming from the horrors he witnessed in his childhood when he had no control. He also likely has a bit of an addiction to the warm fuzzies that the wishes give on top of his fears. While he’s ruminating on that some massive wave of magic blows through the kingdom and messes with the thing he’s already stressed beyond reason about, the wishes.
Magnifico frantically searches for any answer, even considering a dangerous tome of forbidden magic that he knows is trouble before his wife manages to talk him down.
The fact that he could even be talked down rather than ignoring her outright shows that Magnifico does have good in him. He’s just reacting out of a genuine panic. His panic is only worsened by huge mob continuing to beg him for wishes in exchange for doing what should be the selfless act of defending their kingdom from what is essentially perceived as an attack. Not having any faith left in his people he turns back to the evil book to give him the key to stopping this perceived attack.
Just to be clear King Magnifico goes to the big bad evil book not to gain more power for funsies, but to try to find a way to stop a perceived threat. Everything he does from this point on, such as threatening his wife, can no longer be fairly tied to him, because as the movie repeatedly tells us he is under the EVIL book’s influence. His wife even looks through the same book to try and see if there is a way to break the sway she knows it has over him, but says she can’t because the EVIL book said no.
Yada yada yada and Magnifico is sealed inside a magic mirror and smugly told to rot in the dungeon by his previously loving wife.
Seriously?! What the heck?! This guy was the perfect candidate for rehabilitation. He wasn’t flawless, but he wasn’t a murderous psycho like most of the other Disney villains. Disney loves to preach kindness, acceptance, and good will with their heroes, but never does it allow the message of change.
I was shocked going back through the catalogue and slowly realizing none of their villains, regardless of how tragic their origins are, are ever truly allowed a second chance. The hero may offer it, but the baddy never is truly expected to change or reform. Which is honestly super messed up to me. People make mistakes. Some can be small/insignificant, but some are big and do hurt people sometimes. That doesn’t mean they can’t change for the better.
Now I’m not saying every villain is redeemable or good, it’s just a bit surprising that for all the messages of kindness and acceptance we haven’t really gotten forgiveness in 100 years. Seeing the “bad guy’s punishment” just deeply bothered me this time. Probably because so much of the bad that Magnifico does is clearly a trauma response and as a punishment for not acting appropriately to said response he gets sentenced to eternity is magical cell.
#disney wish#wish 2023#king magnifico#wish magnifico#magnifico x amaya#queen amaya#amaya#wish king magnifico#wish asha#disney villains#100 years of disney
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⊹₊⟡⋆ THE EMPRESS
(teacher!)lilia calderu x gn!reader
✮⋆˙summary
lilia was trying to teach you card reading, but you are constantly distracted. she makes it her mission to find out what distracts you so much and punish you accordingly.
✮⋆˙trigger warnings
spanking (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), mommy kink, some degradation
✮⋆˙author’s note
hey, starling here! so this is my second post and i never thought my little story about wanda would blow up as much as it did! thank you for all the likes and reblogs, and followers! before i posted, i had three and now i have 60!
i’m working on the second part to my wanda story, meanwhile, enjoy this if you like :)
in this story, i tried to make the reader gender neutral, i hope that’s the right term. i mean, obviously the reader is described with having female body parts, but i kept the pet names gender neutral. for my non binary enjoyers :3 let me know what you think, please! i do not want to offend anyone or stuff, and decided to try it out.
you had never known hands could be this attractive. sure, you’ve read of it. random people in the internet thirsting about a celebrity’s, or a movie characters hands but in real life? it had seemed odd, weird even but right now, you understood it all.
you were sitting across from lilia, who was somewhat of your teacher. you had come into her little store and asked if she could give you instructions on tarot reading and lilia had decided to just take you under her wing, because she had enough time, how she put it.
you think she just wanted to spend time with someone.
whatever words lilia was explaining to you, you were too focused on something else. the way her hands, those veiny, slender hands were moving around the tarot board. she was probably explaining to you which card belonged where, which place holder symbolised what — but your mind was completely fixed in those hands.
her slender, long fingers, adorned by short, manicured nails. her pretty, chunky rings that fit her overall style and personality. they did something to you. your stomach churned, your legs clenched together.
god, how would those hands feel on your skin? wrapped around your throat. her nails gently raking up and down on your thighs before parting them. her fingers brushing through your folds, her cold rings making contact with your clit and —
“are you even listening to me right now?”, lilia’s soft but stern voice rings out, affectively cutting of whatever imagery had been playing in your head.
until you look up and meet those big, brown puppy eyes of hers. the once that make you want to fall on your knees and beg for forgiveness, even though you haven’t done anything. the one’s that make you wnat to do anything she asks of you.
“sweatheart”, lilia huffs, her brows furrowing a little. “answer me”
god. did she even know what she was doing to you? you wet your dry lips and swallow, hoping to smoothen your hoarse throat. you shift on your chair, trying to ease some tension and cross your legs.
“i- of course i was listening, lilia”
her eyes narrow at you. “you know i don’t like liars, sweatheart”, she drawles, her hands resting on the divination table and lilia leans forward a little. “spit it out. now”
her commanding tone sends a shiver down your back and you you have to gulp. shit. “i was-“
“starring at my hands like a pathetic whore?”
you flinch, eyes widening at her cross language. you immediately sit up straighter, heart beating against your ribcage. “no, i was -“
“lying? again?”, lilia sharply cuts you off. “maybe i ought to teach you a lesson, hu?”
she rounds the divination table and comes to a stip before you, shifting your chair effortlessly with her foot so you’re facing her. she’s towering over your sitting form, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed.
“now, what to do with such a naughty girl”, she mutters. her eyes raking up and down your body, a small smirk tugging at her lips.
“lilia, i-“, you attempt to save yourself. but do you truly want to? no.
“bend over the table”, her voice is low and commanding, it sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.
“what?”, you ask — but like a puppet, do as asked. you bend over the divination table, it’s cold edge diggig into your stomach.
lilia studies your form for a few moments, before her hands cone up to gently caress your butt. “i think today you need a different lesson taught”, she mutters, more to herself than you.
“one in obedience”
god, you could have moaned on the spot and maybe you would have, had her hand not come crashing down on your butt.
a pained cry falls over your lips, but lilia immediately shushes you with a gentle rub on your butt and a kiss to your cheek.
„sh, sweetling“, she mumbles, her lips brushing against your cheek. her breath is hot on your blushing cheeks. „be a good pet for me and stay still“
a shiver runs down your body and you weakly nod. your grab the edges of the divination table, trying to ground yourself while lilia‘s hand continues to rub soothing circles over your butt.
„i‘m thinking 6 more spanks“, lilia says softly, a contemplative undertone in her voice. „one for each card placement you didn’t listen to me explain“
it seems — fair.
you can’t really argue with her logic, and you can’t exactly voice your approval, because her palm meets your butt again.
a mix between a moan and a pained groan leaves your lips and you close your eyes.
„is that alright, my darling?“
god, how you love her concern, her eagerness to punish you but still be nice. it makes you rub your legs together. „t‘is okay“, you weakly mutter, which earns you another kiss on the cheek.
„that‘s a good pet“, lilia praises soflty and spanks your butt again.
that was three. so four more to go. god, you can’t wait. you‘re already so wet, it’s embarrassing. what will lilia do with you, once she‘s done with your punishment? will she fuck you? or leave you high and dry?
another spank cuts of your thought process. it was harder than the others, but lilia immediately soothed you by gently caressing your behind.
„there you go again“, lilia huffs, her brows furrowed in irritation. „your little mind wandering off when you should be paying attention to me“
„sorr-”, your apology ends in a moan, as lilia‘s harsh palm connects a fifth time with your behind.
„sorry won’t cut it, darling“, she huffs firmly. „where does your mind wander off to, hm? tell me, pretty pet“
lilia rubs her hand in circles over your butt and when you hesitate to speak up, the sixth slap hits you — dangerously close to your center.
„i said tell me, brat“, her hand is in your hair and pulling your head back. it’s surprisingly firm but gentle — like everything lila does.
you decide you don’t want to try and push her limits. today, at least. who knows, maybe this little incident will happen again. for now, you‘ll enjoy what you‘re getting.
you clear your throat before you speak. „i‘m thinking about you fucking me“
it was a blunt, breathless statement. which earned you a low chuckle and your last spank — right on your core.
it was softer than the others, but it still made you flinch and an immediate moan slip out.
“oh do you now?”, lilia purrs and leans forward, her chest brushing against your back. her hand still rests on your core, gently rubbing circles over your clothes. “well that can be arranged, darling”
was this a dream? or were you finally winning in life?
lilia sneaks her arm around your waist and swiftly undoes the button of your pants, which makes you realise she’s definitely done this countless of times before.
“if you need me to stop or slow down at any time during this, you tell me, alright?”, lilia asks, no, demands of you.
you let out a shuddering breath and nod. “yes lilia”
a smirk tugs at lilia’s lips and she pulls down your pants, along with your soaked underwear. “such a good pet”, she mumbles, her eyes fixed on your glistening core.
“who knew a little spanking could get you this wet?”, she muses and slides two of her fingers through your wet folds, parting them with a soft sound.
a moan leaves your lips and lean your burning forehead against the cold divination table. “lilia please”, you moan pathetically.
a gentle chuckle rings out and lilia’s fingers brush against your clit, making you jolt. “so needy, my sweet pet”, lilia tuts. “but i suppose you deserve a reward after taking your punishment so well”
you don’t think anything has ever fet so deliciously good, as her veiny fingers breaching past your wet entrance. you’ve never been turned into a moaning mess so quickly, as with her fingers gently moving in and out of you.
lilia’s breath is heavy in your ear as she pumps two of her fingers in and out. her pace is steady, meant to reward and get you off.
“god- fuck”, you moan, which earns you a chuckle.
“such a good pet, hm?”, lilia murmurs into your ear and her other hand sneaks around your waist to start gently toying with your clit.
you moan loudly and arch into her touch. “yes- lilila please-“
lilia groans into your ear, which makes your brain even fussier than it already is. “that’s it, just like that”, lilia whispers and starts to pepper your neck with kisses.
“are you going to cum for me, pretty? yeah?”, she whispers, her fingers plunging in and out of you.
“gonna cum on my fingers?”, lilia continues, wanting to talk you through it. “that’s a good pet, so pretty obedient for me”
you whimper and whine, your hips erratically moving against her hand to feel her even deeper, needing to cum. “please, please, pretty please lilia”
“that’s mommy for you, darling”
that’s all you need. your stomach coils together, your back arches into her and you cry out. “oh god, oh- mommy!”
“there you go, good pet, good pet”, lilia whispers and helps you ride out your orgasm with languid strokes. she detaches her hand from your clit and slows down her fingers, before gently pulling out.
you whimper at the empty feeling, your fussy brain wanting more of her.
lilia softly helps you move from the table and gathers you in her arms. she sits down on the chair you’ve sat in before and pulls you on her lap.
the older witch hooks your legs over the arms of the chair and begins stroking your pussy again. her movements are slow and steady.
you whine and lean against her, your head wanting to nestle in her neck, but her disapproving tut stops you. “look at the table, my darling”, she orders, her hands slowly parting your folds again.
“you’re going to listen and watch as i explain the cards this time, alright?”
“yes mommy”, you say shakily, willing your hips not to thrust upwards into her touch. “m gonna listen”
“such a good pet”, lilia praises, a proud undertone in her voice.
she pulls out a random card of her tarot deck and holds it in front of you, so you can see it. meanwhile, she gingerly runs her fingers up and down your slit, rubs your clit every now and then, but other than that, doesn’t do anything.
she’s teasing you and you don’t know how much of the cards you’ll recognise with her maddening touches.
“what’s this card, darling?”, she asks and you can almost hear the smirk in her voice.
“the empress”, you choke out.
#lilia calder smut#lilia calderu x reader#lilia calderu#i might have a hand kink but who doesn’t#wlw#wlw smut#wlw blog#lesbian#marvel#widows’ works
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Sure, Astarion has his reasons for being the way he is, but he wasn't a good man before Cazador either.
He was a corrupt magistrate of high society, who had an insatiable thirst for power and immortality. He got it in the end, but at a cost he never expected to pay.
So imagine if he and Tav met centuries before the events of the game? Tav being one of the “commoners” he looks down upon, scrunching his nose in disgust at the library when your fingers brush against one another as you try to reach for the same book. He yanks his hand away so abruptly that it makes you blink.
“Ah, sorry, did you want it?” you hold out the book in his direction, but he’s already scowling. You’re by no means filthy, but he thinks you might as well be with how your clothes would fetch less than a few dozen gold pieces at the local market. And rather than having your hair neatly arranged like other ladies of high society, yours is messily tied back with a string, in a manner he'd consider disheveled.
“I did,” he mutters in return. “You can keep the damn thing, dear. I no longer have any need for it.”
You don’t know where this snarkiness is coming from, so all you can do is watch as he strides away, lips sealed in a confident yet mildly annoyed frown. He swears he won't return to this library again if those are the kinds of guests they allow in these days.
So imagine his surprise when he meets you at the nautiloid crash site. Well, he doesn't recognize you at first. You don't either. Who would? You've only said one sentence to one another. But when you see him reading at his tent, you mention favorite books of your own even though he never actually asked. Within them, is the very title of the book he let you have—which happens to be some obscure book basically nobody else reads.
He remembers you, because his encounter with you was just a day before he’d been ambushed and turned into what he is. And it’s an underestimate to say he's reimagined that very day at least a few hundred times in his head.
The same can't be said for you. You remain oblivious.
But he's different now. He stitches the rips on his own shirt at least a dozen times a month, making sure the seams blend flawlessly and the cloth makes him look as flattering as he possibly can. In the past, he would've made the expensive personal tailors do the work, but 200 years as a slave can enact more than a few lifestyle changes to an elf.
However, similar to then, he notices you're still struggling in your own ability to sew.
“Like this, darling,” he says again. “Through the loop, here.”
As you marvel innocently at his handiwork, he smiles. He's not sure how you can derive such joy from a simple needle with a thread, but he doesn't complain about the way you fawn over him rather than anyone else. He thinks about his first reaction to you, much to his avoidance. He misjudged you at the time. Terribly. And while he’ll come around to telling you eventually, he’d rather find little ways to make up for it for now.
And if he has to use a needle on the rips of your pants to do so, so be it. Besides, he thinks he likes sewing—especially when it’s for you.
#astarion ancunin#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate astarion#astarion x tav#bg3 astarion#astarion x reader#astarion#bg3 x reader#bg3#fluff#astarion x oc#astarion x you
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I have this in mind, maybe svt member x reader where they are classmates from college, they are close but not THAT close lol. Until one day they started talking about house prices and how the rent is so expensive, but still with the desire of living alone, so he (maybe hoshi or woozi) proposed that they should find a place together to split rent. It started as a joke, but then they found a really good place and decided to try to live together for at least one semester.
so yeah at first everything is great since both of them are always busy, so they dont really see each other that often around the house.
until it could be that they are sexually frustrated and start a friends with benefits relationship (but in secret, so their circle of friends dont know about it). However, reader always had a big crush on him, but never said anything. idk what else to say
Pairing: college roommate!soonyoung x afab!reader Genre: smut Word count: 5.9k tags: pwithplot, established friendship, roommate au, friends to fwb, pining, pervert!reader, pervert!soonyoung, mentions of alcohol, mutual masturbation, blowjobs, missionary, doggy, praise kink Summary: When it comes to the economy and needing a roof to live under, having a roommate is your best option, especially as any desperate college student. When arrangements are made with Soonyoung, a friend you admittedly have a visceral lust for, things take a turn one messy night. Making this arrangement more of an edible arrangement. author note: so i may have run wild since hoshi posted those thirst trap photos haha. im very proud of the header i made for this. this was something i planned on posting before my unprepared hiatus, and hopefully i'm still in spirits on continuing this. please anticipate more of me and remember that writers love interaction, criticism or not <333
Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun
“That’s funny, Soonyoung’s looking for a place too.”
You looked over at the man in question to see him mid-feast on a sandwich bigger than his face as it puffed his cheeks full like a common squirrel. “Why are you looking for a place? I thought you made plans with Seokmin?”
The man struggled to swallow down the larger-than-life bite, barely managing to do without scratching the back of his throat before answering. “His parents convinced him against it. I should’ve known he’d back out when he didn’t know how to do his own laundry.”
“Do you know how to do your own laundry?”
“I know there are colors and whites, detergent and softener—I’d figure it out.”
“I’m hearing a no…”
“Youtube exists. How hard could it be? But yeah, I’m looking for a place.” He set his sandwich aside to lean in closer, washing down any remnants with a swig of his Jihoon’s stolen Coke Zero, who at the moment couldn’t be more distracted with Physics paper. “It’s not easy that’s for sure. A single bedroom is way too much on its own and anything bigger I can barely cover half of.”
“Here’s an idea,” Mingyu suggested like it wasn’t on his mind for the fifteen minutes you’ve been complaining about being essentially homeless, “Why don’t you guys figure something out together?”
“Really? Me and Soonyoung?”
Your counterpart couldn’t help the offense washing over his face. “What’s wrong with me?”
“I don’t know if you’d be a good roommate.”
“What makes you roommate of the year?”
You rolled your eyes. “We’ve known each for what, a semester and a half, and I don’t know what your living habits are. I’ve basically lived alone all my life with my parents working all the time. How do I know you won’t push all the housework on me?”
Scoffing, his lips twisted up in a cocky smile. “You’re looking at the flail youngest of two who did almost a decade of housework for a hundred dollar allowance for a week. I don’t waste Pinesol, I hand wash dishes, and I keep my 50 pairs of shoes neatly out of the doorway and in pristine condition.”
“You can do all that and not operate a washing machine?”
“The buttons and colors confuse me.”
“So,” Mingyu interrupted again, “How about it? Sounds like you guys a both a little desperate. The housing market isn’t getting any lower.”
“I guess you don’t sound all to bad to live with then,” You replied with a tinge of a tease.
“What do you bring to the table?” Soonyoung interjected.
“Discounts for food at my work, a Netflix account, a pack of scrub daddies, and a decent amount of disposable income for half an average month's rent and fun stuff if we ever get bored. Down?”
Soonyoung stroked his chin as if to think, but his head, the deal sounded as good as it can get. If he was being honest, he was desperate, but after the berating, he couldn’t let you know that. “Add in some salon-quality shampoos and conditioners and we have a deal.”
You groaned. “Fine, for a semester for now, but you’re getting laundry stuff and learning how to use the machines.”
You hadn’t expected to be apartment shopping with Soonyoung looking like a pair of newlyweds, but here you were doing exactly that. There wasn’t anything particular about him that bothered you, (except maybe the harboring attraction you had for him since freshman orientation that you blanketed over with over argumentative banter and an aloof attitude when he was around).
But as far as you knew, you were morning and night. Sure, you’ve gotten along in social situations, but you knew how drastically different your lives were. When you aren’t working, you were a homebody and he’d bring bodies home. He lived differently than you did to put it plainly.
And perhaps the idea of waking up with him every morning possibly shirtless and/or naked frankly made you both terrified and aroused all at once.
The moment you shook his hand to agree, you were already feeling some regret, but hey, maybe that’ll actually do you some good. Maybe you’ll finally get over this school crush on this unattainably hot guy after seeing how disgusting he is leaving his underwear and socks in every corner of the place. It’s inevitable things can only go down from here, right? Right?
“A few ground rules should be in order.”
Soonyoung nodded, putting away the remainder of the edible arrangement gifted to you by your collective friends in the fridge. “Like what?”
“Chores should be switched off every week so we know how to handle all types at all times, but we do our own laundry. No exceptions. Dinner is a group effort. If we get takeout, always tell the other at least an hour in advance and costs are split. Groceries are bought biweekly with a set budget.”
“Strict, but ok. I’ll do my best to follow them. Anything else?”
You were reluctant to bring up this last one. You cleared you through, taking a second to properly form the words before letting them out. “If we have someone that we’re getting involved with, it’s either done at their place or in an empty apartment with plenty of notice.”
Soonyoung can’t help but bust out a wide and perfect grin, crossing his arms seeing the timid expression on your face. “Fine. I’ll make sure when I have sex with someone, it’s under those guidelines.”
“Ha, thanks,” You awkwardly respond, “I’ll abide the same.”
His eye narrowed at you dubiously. “Wait, you’ll actually get around?”
“Why are you doubting me?”
He chuckled, shrugging smooth broad shoulders through his black sleeveless tee. “You just don’t really seem about that. There’s nothing wrong with it, but—“
“You don’t know every detail of my intimate life so butt out.”
His arms rose up in defense, nodding along. “Alright, okay. If that’s all, I have a few rules of my own.”
“Okay. Have at it.”
He mused to himself for a few seconds. “Bathroom schedule: first come first serve.”
You nodded, easy enough.
“At a few hours of the day, the living room becomes an at-home gym when needed.”
Okay, that one had a little kick to it. “Alright.”
“And we have a safe word.”
You blinked back at him, heart pounding a little louder than it should, legs clenching as if they were being pried apart, and sweat burning the temple of your forehead with the unnecessarily dirty thoughts running through your mind. “A w-what?”
“A safe word,” he repeated as a matter of fact, “a word we can use when there’s conflict and something wrong and we just completely stop what we’re doing.” He grinned a little. “It’s not just for sex you know.”
You shoved him, earning his chuckle. “I know that, jerk. But fine, what do you suggest?”
“…Tiger.”
“How did I know that’s what you’d say?”
“Because we’re good friends.”
“How about ‘hamster’?”
He frowned. “No.”
“But look how effective that was.”
For the most part, things went smoothly. It helped that things got busy and tasks barely needed to get done with the exception of laundry. You saw each other more in your friend group gatherings than at home in your shared arrangement, and despite everyone knowing you live together, neither of you made it a point to make a big deal about it, even if everyone else does.
The countless times you had to fight Seokmin, Jeonghan, or Jihyo about the possibility of something developing between you and your new roommate romantically pained you with their inaccuracy. It seemed left and right that’s all everyone could talk about since it was arranged. It seemed as if there was nothing better up for discussion. Soonyoung dealt with it all the same, being constantly asked what kind of nefarious doings are being done behind closed doors that no one knows about. It always came as a disappointment when it was broken towards them that nothing was happening and that nothing ever will.
Even to you. Surprising enough.
If you learned anything from living with Soonyoung, it was harder than you expected it to be, especially with a still festering crush that is only developing into something almost tangibly heart-wrenching and stomach churning. It seemed to have taken a turn for the worse when Soonyoung started to take advantage of the home gym more due to the massive heatwave in town.
The damn pull up bar.
You’ve only realized the time you’ve wasted after hearing the kettle whistle you put out apparently ten minutes ago. Your mind was too clouded by the flex of his biceps lifting his body in the air. Or the contracting and releasing of his shoulders that were lightly misted by perspiration. Or were too preoccupied with wanting to lick off the veins of the poor man’s lower abdomen. Or thinking about what those arms could do flinging you upside a—
“Oh, early class?”
“Uh, yeah. There’s a lot more traffic today, so I'm getting there earlier than usual.”
His feet landed on the ground with a thud and he grabbed a towel to wipe over the sweat that was making his body glisten like glaze on a smooth buff donut. “I’m guessing you have no time for breakfast then?”
“Unfortunately,” you respond, quickly pouring your tea into your thermos before getting to your shoes, “I was gonna grab something at the Starbucks on campus after.”
“Here.” He tossed something from a box behind him and watched as you flimsily caught it from the front door.
“Oh.” A protein bar, a good one from your experience of raiding his side of the pantry. “Thanks.”
“And cancel all previous engagements. Dinner’s on me tonight.”
You squinted at him, “Why?”
“We’ll have something nice for once tonight,” he grinned, “be home at 8 tonight.”
Soonyoung’s plan for dinner was a free courtesy of Mingyu who found a nice little gig as a sous chef in a trendy place uptown. The whole circle celebrated together and you only got around to knowing after Soonyoung kept you updated on news knowing you’d be too busy to look at the giant groups chat you’re in. You should’ve been appreciative. That should’ve been your first instinct, not…entitlement. Not envious of him making eyes and flirting with the waitres. Not embarrassment for expecting something more from his brazen invite to dinner with you.
So, by then you’ve had a bit to drink. Okay, a lot to drink. Just enough to drink to have you stumbling on the center dance floor that garnered the attention of prying eyes. At that moment, nothing really mattered. You knew where lines lie, but lines eventually blur.
One second, you’re alone swaying to Britney Spears’ “toxic”, another second, Seungcheol’s crotch is up against your ass. It was a nice sentiment since you were definitely craving a bit of attention tonight, although you weren’t sure if you could look your friend in the eye again after that. Fortunately for you, it only got so far until a shapeless, but familiar, body pulled you away from the scene, forcibly putting you away in a bright yellow car. With your many failed protests, they managed to reach the footsteps of your building and finally reached for keys in their front pockets to open up your apartment.
“Hold still. Please…God, I am not sober enough for this.”
“Soonyoung….” You whined like a lost child.
He gripped you tighter by the arm to lock you in place, preventing you from falling. He was used to being taken care for and the grass was not greener on the other side. He has a lot of people he needs to apologize to. “Almost…okay, okay. I’m in. Go. Go shower and sober yourself up.”
You tugged him at the wrist, pulling him towards you. “Shower with me…”
He scoffed, a smug smile forming on his face. “You have no idea what you’re saying. Go before I make you, and I really don’t wanna have to make you.”
“Fineee…”
Logic flew out the window tonight. Not paying it a second thought, you began stripping yourself of your clothes in the middle of the living room, from socks to immediately your shirt. Soonyoung’s eyes nearly shot out of his skull as he scrambled to cover you in your abandoned shirt before it almost hit the ground.
“Undress in the bathroom please.” Even in your intoxicated state, you could feel the tension of his muscles brush against your back, causing the heat to creep up on your skin.
You let yourself melt into him giggling, turning your head back to meet his cautious eyes. “Maybe you’d like to help with that.”
You can see the bit of shock in his eyes, fluttering back to something more composed once he internally reminded himself this was the ramblings of a drunk person. “You really don’t know what you're saying.” He then pushed you inside the restroom, holding the door by its knob, “Shower and brush your teeth. I’m not letting you out until I’m sure you’re done.”
“Soonyoung…”
“Please, just do it.”
Eventually, he finally convinced you to do as he asked and he hears the shower running, but a mere second later a thud follows. You busted out in a fit of pain, slipping on the already wet floor and immediately your roommate comes running in concerned. “What happened?”
He turned his head the second he processed your fallen body on the ground was bare naked. Shower water poured down on your head, drenching you from head to toe, and glistening your body like a wet dream. Your eyes lit up at him in a timid demure, barely covering your intimate parts with your arms and hands. He coughed dramatically, pinching himself to find restraint, and repeated his quarry of concern with avoidant eyes before you pointed out the obvious, “I fell.”
“Hold on to the rails, that’s what they’re for,” he groaned.
“Sorry.”
He sighed, slightly glancing. “Do you need help?”
You shook your head even when he wasn’t looking. “No, I think I’m good.”
“Good. Just be careful and tell me when you’re done.”
And you’re alone again.
You pulled yourself up from your pathetic state and then the warm water run through your features, letting out a loud sigh. You finished up the best you could, ridding yourself of a night full of grime. Grabbing a towel on the rack, you wrapped it around your damp nude before letting Soonyoung know from the other side of the door. He finally let you free from his handmade prison before watching you go scurry to your bedroom in a concoction of drunken embarrassment.
You muttered to yourself scoldings for letting something like that happen, clenching your legs together in bed the moment you hear his round of shower hit the tiles through the thin walls. A groan unexpectedly sounds off abundantly clear, and your shameless thoughts take action while he’s preoccupied.
Still naked, you let the towel fall to the ground and you crawl under the sheets of your bed, not caring in the slightest about your hair getting your pillows wet. Your hands slowly trail down to your chest, ghosting over your skin until the pads of your fingers finally found what’s between your legs. You moaned at your self-discovery. Filming your fingers with your filthy arousal, a smile derived from self-indulgence shaped on your face. There you let your fingers slide between your folds and you shudder.
Meanwhile, Soonyoung couldn’t get your image out of his head. The glimpse alone was enough to make him think of you in compromising positions. Lips around his angry stiff cock, your tongue sliding against the veins of his shaft. He’d then hear the wet suction, the vibrations of your mouth humming around his skin, moaning his name like the perfect dessert you were. He groaned again to himself, pressing his length against his abdomen, not thinking you’d hear.
But you do. In fact, it’s so coherent, it makes you wet enough seep past your thighs, trailing down your legs. Your fingers plunged in you deeper while the palm of your hand rubbed against the shape of your clit. Your hips heave up from the mattress, pressing deeper into your palm as the image of Soonyoung’s face stayed a constant in your intoxicated head.
Soonyoung could hear your moans through it all, even if you didn’t think they did, and you only further fed his imagination. He braced against the wall behind him, thrusting into his fist with gritted teeth. The squeeze he had on his girth was merciless and all he had to rid of his overwhelming sin. In his head, you batted your pretty eyes back him, trailing your hands over his body, mouth gaping that looked ready to be filled one way or another. He threw his head back, whispering your name softly. “Oh, baby…you look so good swallowing my cock.”
You felt tears soak your eyes, swallowing a desperate breath.“Mmh, fuck…just like that please…”
“Gonna fuck your pretty pussy…” His thrusts roughly pulled himself at his base, clenching the life around it.
“You’re so deep, fuck, you feel so good—“
“You’re gonna make me cum—“
“Shit, I’m gonna cum—“
“Shit—“
“Shit—“
Simultaneously, you both were freed of your tension, a sudden release of breath escaping your lungs. The spilled cum fell at Soonyoung’s feet, melting in the heat of the water before it followed down the drain, while you fell slumped in bed in your own filth. You lazily reached out for your towel to clean the rest of the mess, tore away your dirty sheets, and settled into a tired slumber.
Soonyoung, overwashed with shame, hung his head down as he quietly cursed to himself. He shut off the shower head and reached for his towel. He finally concludes this evening, having taken a load off. There wasn’t much left on his mind that night, only teh thought of wanting it to be over.
The morning comes sooner than you realize and you find yourself at the mercy of a shirtless Soonyoung like most mornings, except this time he wasn’t doing pull-ups. Instead, he walked to you, a vigor to his stride and he decidedly met your eyes, while you were still focused on his body.
“You’re not very good at hiding things,” he said with a knowing smile.
“Soonyoung—“
“Should I just give you what you want? Should I fuck the shit out of you until all I can hear is my name?”
An answer was caught in the tightness of your throat when he lifted you off the ground and instinctively made you wrap your legs around his bare torso. The heat of his body is all you could focus on until he planted you flat on your kitchen counter, parting your legs to reveal the sudden bareness beneath your oversized t-shirt.
He licked his lip, tensing up his abdomen excitedly before he found home between your thighs. Your fingers threaded through his hair, crying out in soft breaths, and pulling his head back to meet his pretty eyes glossed over with lust.
He mumbled into your skin, specifically one thing. And he said it over again and over again. Unable to make out what he says, you asked him to repeat it more clearly. It was then he rose up to the surface, a sticky sweet sheen of your arousal in his lips before he drew them close to your ear. His breath fanned your skin, shivers running down your spine, and finally what he says makes sense.
“Wake up.”
Your eyes ripped open like the ground beneath you should’ve. You ran a hand over your face, groaning at your own dismay. “What the actual fuck…”
It took a minute for you to pull yourself out of bed, groggy and with a raging headache to blow over throughout the day, only to be met with nearly an identical circumstance you met in your dream. Your roommate’s bare back stared back at you as brightly as the morning sun. You shrunk back at the reminder of your dream, walking on eggshells towards him to reach the fridge. “Morning.”
Soonyoung coughed on his water recognizing your presence, timidly greeting you back.
“Plans today?” You asked.
He nodded, “Yeah, classes in the afternoon.”
The silence couldn’t be more deafening.
“You.”
“Yeah, me too. Will be back at home at 9 after work.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.”
And soon you parted, embarrassed that encountered ever happened.
The rest of the day, there was much of seeing each other like most days, but this particular instance felt there was more of a reason to it. Even when it came around to your mutually available time at lunch, you made the extra effort not to run into him. How could you?
After making a pass on him and making the half-conscious decision of touching yourself to him while he was in the shower?
You’d be insane to go about things as if they were normal. They weren’t.
When you came home that night, he was home like he always was, yet nowhere in sight. You knew he was home when you noticed his bike locked up where it normally was and shoes placed at the front of the door. You were tempted to call out his name but refrained when you reminded yourself you were yet ready for that confrontation yet.
Unfortunately for you, you didn’t have a choice in the matter as Soonyoung seemed to be already walking out of his room, shocked to see you actually home despite it being the time you said you’d be home by. “Hey…”
“Hey.” You let your stuff down before heading to the kitchen. “Did you eat yet?”
“Uh, yeah. I got pizza with a few Chan and Seungkwan.”
“Cool. I’m just gonna make myself something real quick.”
“Alright.”
“Did you need something?”
“Hmm?”
You pointed to his door. “You came out of your room.”
“Right,” he quickly scanned the floor before claiming nearly finished bottle of water on the couch's corner table. “W-water. I got thirsty.”
Obviously, it was an excuse, but you weren’t going to point it out with your lack of backbone. “Okay, well, I’m out here if you need anything.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
Before he retreated back to the room, a halt was squeezed out of your throat, catching him in his eager steps. He turned to you with unfocused eyes, hard swallowing in an attempt to calm himself down. “What is it?”
“I need to get this off my chest. Yesterday…I’m really sorry for everything yesterday.”
He sighed. That’s what all that was? “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Also. Shit, um. I don’t know why I’m saying this because it's not like it matters. Well, it does a little bit. It could totally come off wr—“
“Hey,” he interrupted, “I doubt it’s as big a deal as your making it out to be, and I’m okay with not knowing.”
“But you should know actually.” You steadily approached him, letting out an exaggerated exhale. “Yesterday, you were showering and I don’t know what got over me. Well, I was drunk, so I guess there was that bit. Anyway, I heard you, you know, and I guess I—“
“Touched yourself when I was in the shower?”
You shut your eyes, preparing yourself for the worst. “Okay, we’re getting right into it, but yeah. It just felt weird not telling you, I just—“
“You knew I was masturbating?”
“Well, yeah? It was obvious if I’m being honest. Not the point. I invaded your privacy and indulged in it. I don’t know, maybe it’s been a while since…I just want to apologize.”
“For what, overhearing me whack myself off,” he took a step closer, eyes a lot like your dream meeting yours, “or for cumming to the thought of me?”
You breathed out through your nose. In and out. Your eyes for the life of you could not stay steady. “B-both?”
“If we’re being honest here, I should come clean too, shouldn’t I?”
Your hand steadied on the couch, almost letting the force of gravity pull you down along with your sanity, but tried maintaining eye contact as if that would change the dynamic even a little bit. “About what?”
Soonyoung finally found the humor in the situation to smile, one that caused the stagger in your step. “About how your face would come up when I touched myself in the shower.”
“Soonyoung—“
“You can be mad at me, but I won't be mad at you for doing the same thing I did. I don’t regret it because that was the best orgasm I’ve had in mon—“
You silenced his lips with your own, launching you into him until all you felt was the heat of his furnace of a body. His hands claimed the small of your back before pressing your curves into his hollows. He received your lips feverishly, moving against you as if in heated debate, and crashed your body into the furniture closest to you.
“Didn’t know you were this eager,” he mumbled, “you should've told me.���
Your hand gripped his hair, your teeth taking his bottom lip between and pulling, emitting illicit whines that filled your stomach with warmth. Your leg propped to his side, embracing him hungrily there wasn’t even space to breathe. His hips knocked back into you, his bulge grinding against your clothed heat as he arched you over the back of the couch.
“You’re a bit mean. I like that.” He giggled.
“Shut up,” you mumbled.
“May I remind you, you kissed me.”
“And I can back out right this second.”
“Oh, but we can’t have that,” he utilized his upper strength to lift you off the ground looped tightly around his torso, a gasp leaving your lips. You reunite with his eyes that are now leveled with yours. You’ve looked into them before but it shocked you with how dark they are, how earnest they look. “You see it, don't you? How much I want you? I see it in your eyes too.”
“T-this a tactic you use on all people you sleep with?”
He shook his head. “Just you, and only because I really want you.”
Your hand planted against his cheek, the curve of your palm hugging his jaw. His breath hitches from the mere tenderness in your eyes. His body has ever only told him he wanted you carnally and raw, but that gaze. If he could just bottle that gaze and show off like a trophy.
Your hand crawled over to the nape of his neck, there your digits ran up his hair, pushing him innately close to you, and you whispered cautiously, “We can never tell the others.”
“I’ll take this to my grave if it’s what you want.”
You nodded. “Good boy.”
He transported you to his room, dropping you on his mattress with him to follow. Your lips stay glued together a perfect mold, tongue clashing in a union that you’ve only even dreamt of having. Soonyoung only briefly pulled away to reveal his torso. He was firm, flushed to the touch, and heaving under the heat of your palm.
You gasped as he pressed his body against your touch, smiling against your skin as he asked if you liked what you were seeing. All you could do was nod, somehow lost in the trance that you never wanted to escape. His mouth took your neck, roaming starved as his hands undressed you down to your underwear.
“God, you’re gorgeous.” He slipped you out from your sleeves and made skin contact. Chest to chest, waist to waist, hips to hips. You sense his want through touch alone and for once being wrong felt so incredibly right. What a relief to know, he felt what you did. “I never wanted someone this badly before.”
“Soonyoung…”
He nipped your neck, teeth scratching against your skin. “You say my name like that, I’ll have no choice but to ruin you. Be careful around me. Or don’t. I’d show you a good time either way.”
“You’re—mmp—such a…ah—s-sweet talker.” You could hardly talk back. He made love to your skin as if he’d done it before, touching every pressure of your body like a skilled lover, both attentively yet without remorse.
“I’m only saying what I’ve been thinking. Like how desperate I am to feel myself between your thighs.” He tugged down your underwear to your feet and let the fall to the ground, allowing your legs to hook around him. “Or how your lips taste like caramel coffee, the candy you eat every time you need a ‘pick me up.’”
“You pay attention to that?” You asked, fiddling over the button of his pants.
“I don’t make an effort to, I just do.” He found your hands, aiding you in your efforts, soon you heard the sound of fabric hitting the floor. He held your gaze still, guiding your hand over his hard cock, taking from the base up to the shaft. You swallowed memorizing his shape, his length, his weight. There was so much you wanted to be able to share with this part of him alone. “Now it’s your turn to pay attention to me.”
Your lips stretched over your cheeks. “What makes you think I don’t?”
You trace over something particular with your other hand, something that bulges at you even with his pants on. You lifted yourself to sit up, folding your calves behind your thighs. Stroking his length with one hand, you admire your veins leading down his lap with the other. “I’ll have you know, my patience is admirable. It took a lot within me to blatantly ignore these pretty veins you have on your stomach.”
“Someone’s never called them that before,” he chuckled, “no one’s even acknowledged them before.”
“I guess no one’s been privileged enough to see them as often as I do. Lucky me.” You thumbed over the blue, scrapping over its stroke as you lowered your head and your lips wrapped around the head. You covered his underside, tugging your lips around him, and watching his jaw drop lower when you began covering more of his length.
“I’m the lucky one,” he acknowledged, his hand dropping to the crown of your head before caressing the length of your hair. “You should see how good you look sucking my dick right now. I’m never gonna see this image without wanting to cum on the spot.”
You steadied yourself at his hips, tongue gliding over the underside, and you hugged your cheeks tighter around his girth. Eyes fluttered back at him, and you wretched to take more of him, already felt him hit the back of your throat. When you heard him moan, it fed you more encouragement, giving your best efforts to fit all of him. You coughed at the tightness in your throat but remained resilient. The vicious substance of your saliva coated him from tip to base as your hand stroked him repeatedly, pushing him deeper into you until your vision grew weary.
Soonyoung told you to take it slow, stroking the back of your head with a gentle hand. You inhaled him for as long as you could, the sounds of your efforts growing dim the deeper he made it past your mouth. Ultimately, tears ran down your cheeks, oxygen cut from your airways, and you felt no choice but to pull him out, resting his cock between your fingertips as you gasped for breath.
That breath was quickly stolen when Soonyoung dived in to claim it, his body caging yours. His weight against yours was comforting, enticing, addicting. He moaned your name sweetly like a song, and it filled your stomach with embers of desire. “You’re so hot…I’d make you do that again if I wasn’t worried about killing you.”
You pathetically scoffed in an attempt to cover up discomfort. “That? Pff, I’m fine.”
He grinned, kissing you long and deep. “You’re so cute when you lie. I’ll make sure to return the favor now.”
Pulling at your thighs, he dragged them towards him, barely touched your eager heat, and his twitch urging you to pull him close. He leaned over somewhere behind you to tear open a condom, rolling it over himself. As he drew closer, so did you, feeling the inviting head of his cock glide over your wet cunt, you trembled in thought. Soonyoung, just—
“Put it in me.”
“Now, now. I’m not going anywhere,” he smiled cheekily.
“Soonyoung,” You whined.
Your impatience is rewarded when he plunged himself in slowly, but completely, embracing the stretch of your walls as he filled you out. “So…needy...”
His initial thrust is deep, strong, and then he landed another, quickly adjusting to the plush of your pussy. You held your thighs back to your chest, and spread your legs wide for him. Your pretty lips weren’t shy with praising him, asking him for more of his pretty cock, and earning just as you ask. “You’re mind-numbing, shit…what a good fucking pussy…”
“Your cock’s so g-good in me…you feel so good inside me, Soonyoung…”
“Fuck, say my name like that again.”
He flipped you on your stomach, pressing his fingers into your as he found his pace from behind you, ramming into you until your cunt has tasted every inch of his cock. You gasped as his hand maneuvered you to push back against him, like a toy to be played with he used every bit of you, your energy, your sexuality, and he embraced it. You felt amazing.
“Soonyoung, I’m—ah—I’m gonna cum.”
“You’re gonna cum around my cock? Hmm? Is that it? My cock fucking you that good?”
You bit into your lips nodding, the urge to respond before the wave of arousal crashed into you. You were clenching your stomach as his name came in tidal waves, grinding towards him to prologue the high. Loudly, you cursed, balling the sheets underneath you into fists.
Soonyoung nodded proudly, the shaky view of your body trembling beneath him fuels his ego and it’s not long before he orgasms, filling the condom until it nearly burst. He pulled out of you finally, quickly discarding the trash before he joined you in bed, hugging your fatigued body to his side and there was silence. Only silence.
And breathing. Mainly Soonyoung’s. And that went on for a good fifteen minutes until someone spoke again.
“I’m glad I waited for that.”
You looked up at your roommate curiously, the smile on his face felt warmer every time you saw it. “What was that?”
He met your gaze, hand softly moving over your hair. “I feel like I’ve gotten closer to you. I always wanted that.”
“Really?”
He nodded, planting a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Who knew sex would make us closer friends?”
Your body ran cold, in the distance you could hear the shattering of glass far off from reality. You stayed frozen under his touch as he embraced you closer to his naked body, hooking his chin over your neck. “We should do this again. I wouldn’t mind getting used to this.”
That’s what you were scared of. Getting used to this. To this arrangement. To the sensation of his cock inside you. To the sense that it’d never be more than you hoped it would be. You’d never have Soonyoung be yours, but you knew somehow you’d always be his.
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