#complicated relationships yummy! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

greenorangevioletgrass · 6 months

Text

give me a minute (2/2) | chef luca

pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader word count: 6.6k warnings: established former relationship, discussions of separation and divorce, discussions of moving on, luca and reader has a son, brief mention of blood and minor injury, smut 18+ (fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, size kink? idk luca's big, dirty talk, creampie) notes: it's finally here! thank you everyone for your patience, i am a slow writer by nature and life gets in the way, but i finally got around to finish it! happy reading, and do comment, reblog, and send me asks to tell me what you think <;3 ✨follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notifications to get alerted for my latest fics ✨

<<< read part 1 here >>>

06.13 PM

Your apartment has never felt so claustrophobic after that little moment you shared with Luca. You try to stay busy in the next hour —tidying up Alfie’s room even after he made it up, checking your email four times, even doing the laundry, for fuck’s sake— as Luca keeps to himself in the kitchen area. Whether Alfie is obliviously enjoying his screen time or purposely ignoring the weird tension between his parents, you’re not entirely sure. Right now, you’re just grateful that he’s not saying anything at the moment.

The boy simply creeps up to the kitchen counter with a shy eagerness about him. “How long ‘til dinner, Dad?”

“3 more minutes, Chef,” Luca answers, focused on the task at hand, so poker-faced that it makes his son giggle.

“I’m not a chef, you’re a chef!”

“Well, where I work, we call everyone in the kitchen ‘chef.’ Out of respect.”

Alfie climbs onto the dining bench in interest, peering up to watch his father set the dish on the plates meticulously. Luca doesn’t miss how the boy deeply inhales the delicious smell in the air.

“Smells yummy.”

“Thank you,” Luca replies, his excitement seems muted although his heart is soaring. He looks up to find Alfie staring at the plate, chin propped up on his little fist. You’ve always said that he looks just like his dad, but in that moment, Luca only sees you. Alfie has the way your mouth tugs ever so slightly into a smile, the way your eyes shine in childlike wonder. In quiet thoughtfulness.

No Michelin star, earned or retained, would ever amount to this.

“Can you go get your mum and tell her dinner’s ready, please?” He softly asks Alfie, as if not wanting to disrupt this peaceful silence. “Thank you, Chef.”

“Yes, chef.” The six-year-old salutes him and pads over to your home office, which doubles as the guest bedroom. The door is open, and he sees you reorganizing the linen closet with your back to him. He hugs you from behind, startling you.

“Oh!” You put your hand on his head, stroking him lightly. “Hey, bub.”

“Daddy told me to come get you and say dinner’s ready.”

“Gotcha. Thank you.” You half-expect him to run off like he usually does, but he lingers, his arms still wrapped around you. “What’s up, bubbie?”

“Nothing.” He buries his face against your side. “Love you, Mommy.”

“I love you too, bubbie.” This makes you smile, pleasantly surprised at this seemingly random admission.

“Love Daddy too, but don’t tell him that,” he whispers as he looks up at you, putting his forefinger in front of his mouth.

“Why not?”

“Sometimes he gets sad when I say that,” he murmurs. “He doesn’t tell me, but I know it.”

Oh. His playful exterior sometimes makes you forget just how emotionally sensitive he is. And it breaks your heart that he can see through the complicated adult emotions with his childlike eyes.

“Alfie…” you level with him and pull him closer, “Your dad loves you very very much, and I’m sure he’d be happy to hear you say that. He’s just sad because… he’s been away, and he misses you a lot.”

“He should come home, then.”

It’s so simple, the way Alfie puts it. His Dad comes home and reunites with him and you, and his puzzle would piece together perfectly again. And you all live happily ever after. The end.

The truth, of course, is not so simple. But maybe, just for tonight… Maybe you and Luca can sacrifice a few of your own puzzle pieces. For your baby boy.

So you get back on your feet and guide your son out of the room. “Come on, bub. Let’s see what Daddy cooked for us, hm?”

When you and Alfie turn the corner into the kitchen-living area, Luca is wiping the side of the plate neatly. He smiles at you somewhat nervously, like he’s not sure what to do with himself, so you throw him the figurative olive branch.

“Smells amazing,” you compliment him as you and Alfie take your seats. “What are we having, Chef?”

Luca’s eyes light up and your heart stops. You stopped calling him ‘Chef’ long ago, when the moniker became synonymous with workaholism and neglect. But there’s no venom in the way you say it tonight. Call him sentimental, but it reminds him of the early summer days in the tiny apartment you first shared in Chicago.

Of blueberry pies and barely there bumps.

He has to remind himself that this whole ‘happy family’ shtick is just a charade now, it’s all for Alfie, it doesn’t mean anything for the two of us, but he can’t help but miss this.

And little does he know, so do you.

“Well, buckle up, you guys, because we are having…” He carries the plates over and serves it to you and Alfie with a flourish, “Baked sweet potato wedges with Mediterranean dip, and our pièce-de-résistance… Alfie’s Nuggies.”

It looks nothing short of beautiful, with the wedges fanned out like autumn leaves underneath a colorful burst of cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, and feta cheese. The chicken nuggets are rich golden brown against the brilliant white plate. The splatters of sauce (is that Tahini?) is a hint of thoughtful chaos on the dish.

Your six-year-old let out a little noise of awe and amazement next to you, but no sound escapes you—not for the longest time.

“This is…” you look up at Luca as if he would have the word you’re looking for.

But his blue eyes just look a lot like I love you.

“Thank you,” you ultimately say, with absolutely no pretense whatsoever.

And if he does hear an ‘I love you’ hidden somewhere in there… he hopes he’s not imagining things.

***

08:37 PM

If you could travel just a few hours back in time and tell yourself that you would spend the whole day stuck at home in a nasty storm with your son and his father that you’re divorcing—and that you’d be okay with it, you would’ve probably scheduled yourself an MRI scan because clearly something is wrong.

But the night is winding down. Luca is tucking Alfie into bed for the first time in months. You are washing dishes in the quiet accompaniment of steady rain and running water, and everything feels just right.

“He’s out like a light,” Luca informs you quietly as he reemerges from Alfie’s bedroom and stops right by the kitchen counter. “Need a hand?”

“Nah, I’m just about done,” you casually wave him off. “You want anything to drink?”

“Uh… what do you got?”

“Scotch, gin…” you pause, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. The sink tap squeaks a little as you shut it off. “...wine.”

His heart skips. Don’t overthink it, he reminds himself. “Red or white?”

“Take your pick,” you shrug nonchalantly.

Luca reaches up to see the bottles of wine you have in store, and you try not to pay too much attention as his shirt rides up around the waist—or the sleeve, showing off the remnants of Alfie’s crayon work over his inks… you’re just two co-parents hanging out. It’s normal, right?

“What about the Malbec?” he eventually chooses, taking out the bottle.

He’s always loved Malbec—this particular brand of Malbec you brought him when he first invited you for dinner on your third date.

Don’t overthink it, you remind yourself. “Yeah, sure.”

You pick up two wine glasses and set them down on the dining table, shuffling into the corner bench. Luca settles into the other bench, directly against the kitchen counter, pouring the wine onto both glasses.

“How many bedtime stories did Alfie manage to get out of you?” you pipe up, swirling the purplish liquid around.

“Just one…” he sips on his wine thoughtfully. “Although he made me read it three times.”

You smile, bemused. “Which one was it?”

“‘The Bear Who Did.’”

“Ah, yeah. He’s been into that one lately,” you muse. “But… for what it’s worth, I’m glad he asked you to tuck him in tonight.”

The two of you exchange a soft look. A ceasefire. A truce, at least when it comes to your son. Because you really do want Luca to have a good relationship with Alfie.

“Me too.”

“And I’m sorry you had to… make do with spending the day with Alfie here.”

He shakes his head softly. “Nah, don’t be. I had a good time. It’s nice to just hang out… at home.”

At home, the words echo in your head.

With you, they echo in his, loud and unsaid.

“So, uh… how have you been?”

“Ah, you know how it is. Work is kicking my ass—my current client’s only two blocks away, but the house is a total fixer-upper, and Alfie’s… Alfie.” You don’t want to backtalk your own son, although you both know how trying he can be sometimes. “But it’s all good. My mom helps out with Alfie, and Jess insists that I go out and live a little every now and again.”

“And do you? Live a little?”

“I mean, within reason. I can’t go clubbing ‘til 4am anymore. I think I’m getting old…” you stretch your arms, feeling that soreness just from your daily activities.

Luca grins, raising his glass. “I hear you. I don’t even really go out anymore.”

“Seriously?”

“Mm-hm.”

You make an incredulous face. It would make sense for you not to go out much, with Alfie and everything. But he was alone, abroad… “Why, though?”

He just shrugs lightly. “I’m working. Whenever I’m off, I mostly just… eat or sleep.”

“I somehow find that hard to believe.” You take a dubious sip. You both know how much Luca enjoys grabbing a cheeky pint. He’s British; it’s in his blood, goddammit.

“Oh come on…”

“You don’t even go out drinking or whatever? Meet people?”

His gaze flashes towards you almost playfully. “Do you?”

Your face falls, not expecting to be caught so off-guard with such an innocent question. And upon seeing that, his face falls. Shit. And with that, the air between you shifts so dramatically.

Stupidly, you still try to save the conversation. “Of course my friends and I go out—”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” His voice darkens, his blue eyes piercing through you.

This conversation is a long time coming. It’s a natural progression of your relationship—or the lack thereof. You separate, you get divorced, and eventually you move on. Two years is a more than acceptable time to start dating again. And still, you phrase out your next words very carefully.

“I’ve been on dates here and there…”

Luca sucks in a slow, calculated breath. “Does Alfie know?”

You shake your head. “It’s nothing serious so far.”

He’s not sure what’s worse, the fact that it’s nothing serious, or that you’re holding out for something serious in the future.

“Look, we both know this is happening sooner or later…”

“I know,” he quickly recovers—or as much as he can recover. He just stares down the stem of his glass. “It just… It’s a lot to take in, that’s all.”

“I understand.” The wine feels like gravel down your throat, and the words coming out of your mouth feel like throwing up a boulder.

“Because I do miss you.”

Your eyes immediately dart over to his, as if you’re not sure you heard it right. “Luca…”

“I miss you everyday. I miss us. I miss everything we used to have.”

Your heart catches—no, stops altogether at his admission. “Luca, we can’t do this anymo—”

He swallows thickly, his jaw setting as he braces himself. “I’ve been thinking about it everyday—the whole time I’m away, and frankly, I’m kicking myself over not telling you this sooner.”

“That’s probably just the homesickness talking.” You turn away. This can’t be possible. This can’t be happening. What the fuck?! “It got you reminiscing about the good old days. Give it time, you’ll come around.” You try to maintain a neutral, distant, cold approach to this, although the crack in your voice betrays you.

“No. That’s not it.”

“Then what the fuck is it?”

Your words cut through the quiet apartment like a flash bang. Luca stops dead in his tracks in his shock, and honestly, so do you. Awful silence hushes over the room, and both of you are almost too afraid to break it. Neither of you even dare to move.

After what seems like forever, Luca moves first. A tear escapes his eye, and he wipes it away with his knuckle hurriedly. “Noma should’ve been a dream. And it is, in a way. I guess.” He stares blankly ahead, his life in Copenhagen replaying in his head like it’s on fast-forward, and the playback seems to just highlight how lonely he is there. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m utterly miserable there. I get up and go to work and I just feel empty. Because what’s the point? You and Alfie are way over here, being a family while I’m… doing what?” He wants to tear his hair out, because this is everything he’s dreamed of, and yet he is living the stuff of nightmares. “It makes no fucking sense.”

It makes even less sense to you. You can’t even begin to process this tangled mess in your head. “Luca… we are almost officially divorced. You’re telling me this now? When everything is—”

“I thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought I should just… let you cut your losses and—”

“The best for me? How the fuck did you think giving up was the best way forward for me?” The thought of it burns your eyes with angry tears. They melt, and you don’t do a thing to stop it from running down your face. “You didn’t think to fight for us while you still could?”

Luca’s heart aches to see that. He is dying to reach out and wipe them away, but he can’t. His voice is quiet and small and almost childlike. “I tried. You were just so… sure about the divorce. You had it all figured out. And I… I thought you had no room for me anymore.”

“I had to keep it together. I had to figure it out—for Alfie’s sake. For mine.” You stare at your little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “I don’t see the point in being vulnerable with you anymore when you’re already set on leaving.”

The words have run out. The whirlwind of emotions has passed. What he feels and what he wants is now very clear.

“I shouldn’t have left.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.” You wished he didn’t. Everyday for the last two years. And everyday you set yourself up for disappointment because, the truth of the matter is, he did leave. So you stop wishing. “Because I don’t know how to come back from this. I really don’t.”

Nothing that comes out of your mouth is unexpected. But it doesn’t hurt any less to hear it from the horse’s mouth. “It’s just… seeing you guys today… We were a family again. And I would do anything for us to be a family again. Please.”

You sigh heavily. “What else is there to do, Luca…?”

“We can, I don’t know, figure something out, go to couples counseling—”

You groan in frustration, Jesus Christ not this again, wanting to tear your hair out when— CRASH! You accidentally knock over your wine glass and it shatters as it hits the floor. “Shit…”

“Mommy?” Alfie calls you from inside his room, sleepy but alert.

The two of you freeze just before you can move out of your seat. Afraid the slightest of noises would rattle your son.

“Yes, bubbie?” you try to sound bright and normal. Maybe if you can convince him that everything’s fine, he won’t come running in panic.

“What was that?”

“I just knocked over a glass, kiddo, everything’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

You and Luca wait a few seconds with bated breath. One, two, three… ten seconds go by, and there’s no movement in the bedroom.

The coast is clear.

You scramble down to pick up the shards of glass. The spilled wine looks like blood in the dim light of the room. It’s a painful reminder of the broken pieces of your former life, the casualties. He quickly follows suit, as if struggling to put it all back together. The irony is not lost on either of you, you’re sure of that.

“It’s fine, Luca. I got it, I—” a sharp piece of glass accidentally cuts your palm as you pick it up in hurry. “Fuck!”

“You okay?” He takes your hand as quick as lightning, wanting to inspect the wound, but you snatch it away.

“I’m fine.” You get up on your feet, teetering over to the sink, away from the crime scene, careful not to step on any piece of glass.

Yet he still follows you, walking over to where you’re standing now. “Come on. Let me just take a look.” He reaches out to your wrist, running little circles with his thumb to ease your grasp.

“It’s not a big deal…” you let him look anyway, you figure it’s easier to just let him do his thing than to argue your way out of it.

His calluses are brittle against your palm, but he handles you with the gentlest touch. The wound is not too big or too deep, but the sight of blood marring your palm makes his heart drop. There’s no visible piece stuck to it, that’s a good sign, he thinks. He rips off some paper towel and wets it on the sink, and softly dab at the gash, cleaning the wound and wiping the blood off.

You grit your teeth, not wanting to show any sign of pain although it stings. “It’s just a little cut…” your tone bears less and less conviction, as if you have no energy left to argue with him on such a small matter.

There’s a very particular way his eyebrows arch when he’s deep in thought. The left one always sits slightly higher than the right. Blue eyes fixed on the object of his focus. A minute gesture behind the chaos in his head. “You need a Band-Aid,” he points out.

“It’s in the—”

Luca is already opening the drawer next to the stove, taking out a packet of a Star Wars-themed Band-Aid. He still remembers where everything is, and you can’t tell whether the ache in your chest is a good or bad thing.

He puts the Band-Aid on your cut, then takes your hand close to kiss it better, like he used to do.

“Um.” You freeze in your tracks, taken aback. And it seems he’s just as equally as taken aback by his own action. He is flushed with embarrassment, and you feel your face growing hot as well.

He’s the first to break the awkward silence, quiet and tentative. “I’ll clean up the mess. You just hang tight.”

It seems so mundane, sweeping broken glass and cleaning the floor. His body registers it as a simple muscle memory—he must’ve cleaned up messes on this very spot a million times. But his heart is heavy with the burden of your history, and all the pain that comes with your separation. He might not be able to put the pieces back together, but maybe he can clean up the mess and make it nice again for you.

And all the while, you’re stuck to the kitchen counter, watching him so effortlessly reacquainted with his former home. It’s as if he never left. For a confusing moment, it feels like home again. How did you manage without this view, this presence for so long?

Luca puts away the debris in the trash, hidden away in another kitchen drawer next to you, and hovers in front of you, as if wanting to reach out and touch you… but too afraid you’ll push him away.

“Does it still hurt?”

You can’t tear your eyes off of his. The little cut on your hand is but a dull ache now, but the insides of your chest feels like it’s been mangled beyond repair. You burst into tears, sobs ripping through the seams.

His arms wrap around you, keeping your tattered pieces together. Your face is buried in his chest, surrounded by soft cotton and earthy perfume, and your first thought is you can’t remember the last time you were in his arms like this. You rake your mind through all the memories, all the times you hugged each other hello and goodbye and all the times in between, and you can’t remember the last time you stopped, why would you stop—

“My love…” Luca’s voice soothes you, so quietly murmured against your forehead with a soft kiss, yet rings so clear in your ears. He cups your face with both hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “It’s okay... I got you.”

The palm of his hand grazes your lips, and you kiss it the way he kisses your Band-Aid earlier. You have no energy left to fight whatever is going on inside you. You don’t understand the nagging urge to be away from him, when being close to him feels this good. You miss his touch and his voice and his face, and you’re so overwhelmed with longing that you close the distance between your lips and his.

Luca gasps when you kiss him—and it feels like the first breath he’s drawn in two years. Your lips are just as he remembers, just as warm and inviting and familiar, and he relishes coming home to them tonight. He didn’t think he would be so lucky ever again, but now you’re here, kissing life back into him again.

Against your better judgment, you stumble into the bedroom, careful to make as little sound as possible as you tread down the hallway. Still tangled in each other. Refusing to let go even for a second. His five o’clock shadow scratches your skin, following the trail of his lips down your neck.

You push him into bed and climb on top of him without a single thought. You need him close, closer than the past two years, closer than now, and your clothes feel like they’re in the way. Of his hands, of his mouth, of his warmth…

You tear your dress off and throw it away, and he stops in his tracks. He has every part of you memorized, every curve and every ridge, every notch of your stretch marks, every inch of your C-section scar from Alfie’s birth… and yet he’s looking at you for the first time all over again.

“Beautiful…” it escapes his mouth just like that, and you kiss him senseless in return. You worry that if you stop, the moment will pass and this whole thing turns out to be just an illusion.

Or worse, a mistake.

You tug his t-shirt over his head, trying not to linger on his broad chest too long. He gets the idea—he is dying to say something, but doesn’t—and just unclasps your bra in response. He keeps his mouth busy by kissing and licking and sucking your newly exposed breasts.

It’s not that you haven’t been touched like this in a while; it’s just that you haven’t been touched by him like this for so long.. “Luca…”

He never thought he’d hear that again. His name in a wanton sigh, uttered by the lost love of his life. He’s not one to waste his chance. “It’s okay. I got you, my love. I got you.”

Because for the first time in a long time, it’s true. He’s got you. He’s got your body underneath him, your nipple in his mouth, your sweet sex in his hand.

God.

You’re so soft, so warm, so wet against his fingers. The little stuttered moan you let out sounds absolutely heavenly. He remembers exactly the last time he was here.

Christmas Eve, two years ago.

Things had been tense long before that, but Luca was home and able to spend some time with his wife and kid at last. You didn’t seem all that chuffed having him around—whether he was here or not brought out that “neutral look of displeasure” from you these days— but at least you didn’t pull away when he rested his head on your shoulder as the three of you watched Jurassic Park (Alfie’s all-time favorite). Didn’t roll your eyes and turn away when he kissed you and wished you happy Christmas before bed.

And he wanted so desperately for you to openly want him again.

So he tentatively deepened the kiss and reiterated his love for you in every inch of your body that he could get his hands on. Trying to convince you that he was still here. Trying to convince himself that with every orgasm he pried out of you, that you still wanted him there.

But you just… laid there and watched. Hands locked in on the sheets, not even touching him. Motionless as he went through the motions of his thrusts. Numb as he touched and kissed and fucked you the way you used to like. He was fighting a losing battle. He might as well have been making love to a ghost.

“Luca…” Your breathless voice snaps him out of his own intrusive thoughts, more clear and alive and real than any memory of you posing no desire for him.

“I— yeah, sorry. I just…” he shakes off his own thoughts.

“Hurry up, come on…” you needily thrust yourself into his hand.

“You sure?”

No, and neither does he. But at this point, you’re much too stubborn about your decision in the divorce and much too prideful to admit that you want him back and maybe just a tad too eager to make a mistake with him.

So you nod your head yes, and with a searing kiss, he fingerfucks you the way you needed him to.

“Oh, God… fuck…” you sigh under the undoing of his fingers. It’s like he never forgot how to work your body. His fingers play a pattern on your clit that makes you sing. And when one slides into you, crooking and curling against your silky heat…

“Luca, I— now.”

He unlatches his mouth from your nipple almost begrudgingly, as if too sweet to part with you. “Not yet, baby. We can’t…”

“What, why?”

“Because…” he nips at the smooth flesh of your chest thoughtfully. How can he explain it to you in a way that makes sense? “I want…” to take as much time with you as possible, he adds another finger inside you deliciously slow. “I need…” to feel you in every way first, he chants in his head as he kisses you through your orgasm.

Your resolve is slipping, but the craving is as ravenous as ever. You try to squirm in protest anyway. “But…”

“Please.” His lips press against your forehead, eyes squeezed shut. “I got you, okay?”

His blue eyes meet yours, as familiar as the sky you’ve walked under your whole life. As sure as day. And before you realize it, you find yourself nodding along.

Watching him slither further down your body. Mouth paving the way between the valleys of your breasts, up the diamond-hard tops of your nipples.

Down your torso.

Between your nether lips.

You don’t remember the last time you did this either. Memories of attempts to rekindle the romance flash before your eyes. The nights that he climbed into bed late at night after work, still smelling like chocolate or mint or whatever ingredient he was working with that day. Waking you up with the parting of your legs and hushed kisses saying, “Missed you so much, baby…”

“Right there. Yes…” you pant as he laps you up where you’re dripping, catching every drop and coaxing more at the same time.

His eyes close, and he swallows back a needy groan. “Come for me, baby.”

The words shoot right into your core, and you’re suddenly overcome with the waves of pleasure running through you, grinding your hips into his mouth shamelessly. Has he always been so greedy in the way he ate you out?

Your head is spinning with need and you hope the broken words you string up are comprehensible enough for him. “Luca, come on, I can’t—”

“No, please—” he seems to understand just fine, but still he shakes his head and buries his face deeper into you.

“Luca…”

“Wait, just let me—”

So insistent. So stubborn. So… needy. You grasp a fistful of hair on the back of his head. Both heaving, you breathe out,

“Please.”

The word stops him in his tracks. But it’s not so much the word as it is the gravity that comes with it. Whatever the two of you are doing, whatever you’re feeling is beyond words at this point.

It’s just you and him and this need.

And as much as he wants—needs— to satisfy his hunger, there’s just no way of stopping you anymore. Truth be told, he’s not even sure why he’s been stalling you in the first place. Not when you’re so eager to tug his clothes off and touch him absolutely everywhere. To stroke him, and taste him…

“No, baby.” He stops you just before you slither down his body, settling you back on the bed and caging you underneath him.

You throw him a look, indignant. If he’s gonna hold it off some more, you swear to God—

“No, I…” he kisses you hard, hoping you’ll get that he wants you too. More than anything. And that he’ll give you what you want. Hell, he would give you anything if he could come back to this again for the rest of his life. “Just trust me, okay?”

You marvel at the sight before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With dark blond locks tousled in passion and eyes lidded from lust and longing, and it makes your heart stop because… there it is.

Love.

As much as you shut it out and as much as you avoid it, love is permanently etched to his actions. Tattooed onto the smallest of things. In the way he kisses your temple softly, and the way he caresses your skin as he aligns himself against you, and the way he holds you as he pushes in…

“Luca…” you gasp sharply.

He stops halfway into you, his eyes searching your face with compassion. “You okay?”

You’re aching and craving the stretch of him all at once, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, so you ultimately nod your head. I’m okay.

And he knows that deep down. He feels the same. Soothed and tormented by your very presence, although he can’t help but ask, “Do you want me to stop?” Please don’t ask me to stop…

You shake your head quickly. Neither of you would ever dream of it. You would take everything—the weight and the sting of it all— and he would leave everything behind just to have this again.

Your hips colliding again in a frenzy of a rhythm you haven’t played in so long—still remembering every beat like it’s your own pulse. Your walls gripping him like you wouldn’t let him go.

He shudders a little. “I’m gonna come if you keep doing that…”

“I don’t care,” you murmur into his neck with a kiss, “Come.”

“What…?” He can’t have heard that right… right?

“I want you to.”

“Jesus…” he breathes out. “I wanna make this last, baby—”

You shake your head again and wrap your legs around him almost demandingly. “I want you to come inside me and fill me the fuck up… want you dripping down my legs… please…”

“Fuck!” The images flash before his eyes faster than he can stop his hands from grabbing you by the hips, slamming himself into you.

Nor can he stop himself from coming deep inside you.

There’s no way to describe the way he feels at that moment. The way tension peaks and snaps into release. How it brings you into your climax as well. Your lips must be swollen from the assault of your own teeth as you hold back the filthy noises coming out of you. You don’t mind the building ache in your thigh muscles, because as soon as that warmth fills you up, your body is overcome by waves of bliss.

“Fuck…” he flops back onto his side of the bed—the right side—and quickly gathers you in his chest. It’s an effortless little maneuver, making sense at last as you lay half on top of him.

Your hand finds his—more puzzle pieces coming together as he fills the spaces between your fingers. You bring it to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Surprised to find the gold wedding band still adorning his ring finger.

***

9:56 PM

“Was that really your first time since we… you know?” Your murmured question rings loud in the absence of the rain. The storm has finally passed, but neither of you move—neither even dare to bring it up— afraid to ruin the moment.

“It was.”

“Not even in a casual, ‘no strings attached’ kind of situation?”

“No.” He looks almost embarrassed to admit it, but there is no hesitation in his answer.

“Wow…” your heart sinks. Is it possible to feel good and bad at the same time?

Luca pauses for a moment. You can see the conflict brewing in his head. “Did you?”

You don’t have to answer. The sheer silence you take is an answer enough.

The confirmation feels like shit, but he tries to stay neutral. His thumb stills on the back of your hand. “Can I ask how many?”

“Gosh, does that even matter?” You sigh. There’s another argument coming—you can feel it.

“No, I just… I wanna know.”

“You don’t really wanna know.”

“Is it a lot?”

“I mean…”

“How many?”

You take in a sharp breath. There’s no way out of this now. If the truth is what he wants, then the truth is what he shall get. “Twelve.”

He tenses up next to you. The whole world stops, and you can’t help but think, it’s over. There is no way this marriage is salvageable now. “What…?”

“I know that it’s a big number, and I know you might be upset—”

“That is a big number.” He doesn’t say anything about the latter part of her sentence, but it’s obvious that he’s upset, too. “I just… why?”

“I was trying to get over you.” It’s a pathetic answer, but that’s all it is to it. “I couldn’t sleep in this bed for months. I just couldn’t. Slept on the guest bed instead,” you motion at the next room, “and then one day, I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s like a switch flipped inside my brain, and I needed to—”

“What?”

“I needed to… overwrite the memories of you,” you admit feebly. “On this bed. On my body.”

Knife, meet heart. He’s not sure what answer he was expecting, but whatever it was, this hurts so much more. “And did it work?”

“Up to a point…” you pause, a sad smile in realization. “It’s funny. I keep getting bits and pieces of you somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

You close your eyes, your memories flashing, reminding you that every single time reminds you of Luca one way or another. “It’s… somebody’s perfume, or the timbre of their voice, or the way they hold my hand…”

“And you see me in them?”

“Every single one.”

“Jesus…” Luca finds himself relieved and choked up at the same time. He doesn’t want you to ever get rid of your memories of him, but at the same time, it’s painful to hear that you tried anyway.

And you tried very hard.

“I’m sorry.”

He hums, and you realize… he hasn’t let go of your hand. Not once. Not even after your little confession. It makes the argument easier, knowing he’s there. It’ll be easier to part with him again after tonight, you hope, knowing you both did your best to understand. Why you needed to be apart. Why you did the things you did.

The armor has been shed, and the two of you are now naked, in every sense of the word.

Luca turns to look at you, studying your profile. He remembers the last time he was here.

He had just told you about Denmark. Stupid of him to feel excited, to tell you he’d just been offered his dream job, to ask you and Alfie to move someplace new with him, because it turned into a fight.

Worse than a fight; it was a death sentence.

You turned away and stared at the ceiling, and told him you couldn’t do this anymore.

And in some fucked up way, Luca feels as if he’d been brought back in time, and this is his one chance to make it right. So he asks you,

“Do you still love me?”

You breathe out, heart clenching because in spite of yourself, “I do.”

“Do you want us to try again?”

“Luca…” you sigh heavily, “How would that even work? Alfie and I are here, and you have Noma–”

“No more Noma. I’m giving that up.” The answer is straightforward, and he surprises himself over how easily it rolls off of his tongue. How right.

“What? You wouldn’t…” Your face falls as you turn to him.

“I would. And I am,” he says firmly. “Look, I’ve thought about this for months now. I can’t do Noma anymore, I need to be home.” His gaze softens, and you feel the pattern running on the back of your hand again.

Slow and steady and certain.

The tear rolls off the corner of your eye and onto the pillow with the tiniest drop. “I wanted you to come home…”

“Then let me come home. Please?”

“I want to. I just…” you reach out and cup his face tentatively. “I just want to make sure that we’re not doing anything rash.”

His eyes light up. The only thing that matters is that you want him home, too. It takes him everything to let his logical part of the brain take control. “How about this, then?” Luca pauses thoughtfully. “We’ll take a minute. For me to sort out everything at Noma, find a replacement… and for us to figure out if this is really what we wanna do.

“If it starts to feel like a bad idea, maybe we should rethink it. But if it feels good… maybe we can give it another shot.

“And in the meantime, we’ll talk. We’ll FaceTime and… figure out what the hell to say to our lawyers.”

That makes you grimace. You were supposed to have another meeting with your divorce lawyers. Tomorrow is going to be awkward. But awkward beats saying goodbye to the man you’ve always loved, right? It’s a small price to pay.

“What do you say, baby?” He looks at you with all the hope that he has. “Just give me a minute to get everything sorted and then I’ll come home.”

You smile tearfully. “A minute is not enough… how about a month, hm?”

“Yeah, that makes more sense, actually.” He chuckles sheepishly. “A month. I can do that.”

“Good.” You sidle up to him and kiss him where his heart is. You’re willing to settle for having him just for the night, but you can’t wait until he comes home to you for good.

You hope he will.

#will poulter #chef luca #luca the bear #the bear fx #chef luca x reader #luca x reader #chef luca x ex-wife!reader #chef luca fic #chef luca smut #will poulter fic #will poulter smut #ava writes

948 notes · View notes

bucky-barnes-diaries · 2 years

Text

Send Nudes

Moodboard made by me

Pairing || Fuckboy!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary || Bucky took it literally when you told him to take your nudes himself, so he arrived a few minutes later.

Text messages; Bucky || Reader

Word Count || 1271

Contents & Warnings || Smut, Mild Angst — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, explicit content/language, pet names (babe, baby, baby girl), taking nudes, oral (female receiving), teasing, sex denial, mention of bodily fluids.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

AU!Bucky Masterlist

I don’t do taglists anymore so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

Your phone pinged with a message, making you put down the laundry you were folding so you could answer, but when you saw who it was, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

From: Don’t even think about it 🍆

You knew you shouldn’t answer. He was honestly not worth it—playing and toying with your feelings like the fuckboy and player he was, but he always gave it to you so fucking good every single time.

He had such a charm about himself that he always managed to ensnare you in his trap with pretty and special words, making you fall all over his dick, then he ghosted you for weeks until he reappeared in your DM’s a while later, and you always succumbed to it.

Hi baby girl 😘

Hey ☺️

Whatcha doin?

Folding laundry wbu?

Just think about you 😈

Yea? Such as?

How fuckin pretty and beautiful u are 🥵 How fuckin crazy u make me 😩

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes once more at his empty words and confessions. It was all a game—a well-thought-of play to get into your panties, and it was sad to admit, but it was working; you always fell for it—a never-ending cycle.

Mhm 😙

Send me a pic of your face? I’ve missed you!

You might as well. You took a quick pic, giving him your most appetising smile and a hint of your cleavage in the low crop top you wore.

Shit babe 🤤 so fuckin gorgeous! Send some more? Send nudes baby please 😩 u drive me crazy 🤪

“Ugh, really?!”

You don’t know why now, of all things, after he requested nudes, a light went on in your head—finally realising that he was not worth it at all and that you would never get anything good out of this toxic “relationship”. It would only bring heartbreak, complications and confusion.

All he did was request and demand without giving anything valuable in return. You were so done with that. Fuck him!

Ugh 🙄 take them yourself 😡 Bye!

You tossed your phone to the side and ignored the remaining messages that pinged one after another.

It didn’t cross your mind that the reply could have a totally different meaning to him than what you had intended…

10 minutes later

There was a loud knock on your front door, followed by the doorbell ringing four times in a row. You groaned in annoyance at whoever was so rude to come to your house like that—so demanding.

You put on some shorts and went to answer whoever it was.

When you opened the door, he was there—panting and heaving as he held up the last message you sent him.

“I’m here, baby girl.”

“Oh, Bucky.” He thought you were being serious in your text.

He just stood there, waiting for you to invite him in so you could get to it. You checked him out as he stood in your opening. You chewed on your bottom lip as you cocked your head to the side, your hip in the other direction.

God, he did look fucking good. You can’t deny that your heart and pussy skipped a beat as you took in his muscular arms in the white Wife Beater. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat, making his toned body look more defined. He was so yummy.

Since he was already here, so willing and eager, you may as well toy and play with him since he always played you. You were going to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Grabbing his collar, you pulled him into your narrow hallway and closed the door behind you. A cocky smirk was plastered on his stupid and pretty face. You bat your eyelashes at him and bite your bottom lip, making him lick his own as you get up in his face.

“You want it, baby?”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded eagerly.

“Well then…”

He watched you with wide and desiring eyes, mouth slightly parted, as you slowly removed your shorts and panties, sliding them down your legs as you moved your hips sensually. With your back to one wall, you hoisted one foot on the opposite, exposing your naked pussy to him.

“… get to it.”

“Fucking shit, baby.”

He got down on his knees till he was level with your core, in absolute awe at the sight as he cursed under his breath. You saw his fingers twitching, wanting to touch you, but there could be none of that.

“Only look, no touching.”

He groaned out at your denial, not happy with it, but respected your wishes—loving the game you were playing.

With his phone pointed to your wet core, he took pictures, complimenting you with each snap.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby, my God.”

“So fucking wet for me.”

“You’re so fucking sexy; you know that?”

You combed your fingers through his hair as he snapped your pics—becoming so needy and aroused with each word he uttered. You would make him worship this pussy—it’s what you deserve after how he’s treated you the last few months.

Fisting your fingers in his hair, you moved him closer to your aching core.

“Eat me out, make me feel good. Show me how much your words mean, Bucky.”

He groaned at your lewd words and licked your folds in broad strokes as you’d desired. He moaned as he got your taste on his tongue, the vibrations making you shudder against the wall. He raised his hands, wanting to touch and knead your soft skin, but you swatted them away.

“Nuh-uh, keep your hands down. I only need your mouth.”

He groaned out once more and closed his eyes to concentrate fully on you—sucking and licking the entirety of your pussy.

Your other hand gripped his hair as well, keeping him in place, as you rocked into his assaults on you, closing your eyes in bliss as your orgasm builds.

“Fuck,” your breathing hitched in your throat, “oh, just like that baby,” you mewl in pleasure.

Your head smacked against the surface behind you while your eyes shut tight. You cried out as you came hard on his tongue. Your knees weakened as you convulsed against the wall at the intense orgasm.

“O-oh, baby.”

You pet his hair while he lapped you up, savouring your flavour, moaning at the taste.

“You drive me insane; you know that, baby girl?”

“Mhm.” You had the biggest smirk on your face. You had him exactly where you wanted him, all wrapped around your finger, as you’d been on his so many times before.

He got to his feet, running his hands up your thighs, over your naked hips, and then grabbing your waist, pulling you flush against him.

He leaned in to kiss you, wanting to progress this even further, but you placed your palm on his chest and pushed him away.

“Nuh-uh, I don’t think so, Bucky.”

“What?!” He threw his hands up. “Oh, come on, baby girl, you know I give it to you so fucking good every time.”

He displayed that same cocky smirk on his face as before, leaning in once more to try his luck, but we’re denied again.

“I don’t think so, playboy.”

You pulled up your underwear and shorts before you grabbed his collar and dragged him to the entrance, kicking him out of your house.

“What? Are you serious? Babe, come on.”

“I’m not your, babe. Bye, Bucky.”

As he tried to beg some more, you closed the door on him, chuckling evilly as you walked away.

Now it was your turn to ghost him.

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

3K notes · View notes

merakiui · 5 months

Note

Just read ur scummy sleazy floyd and omg ,,,, more crumbs mayhaps 🤲🧎‍♀️

>:D the vision for this concept is essentially: you and Floyd fucked in a bathroom at a club once, he's now a contact in your phone, and you keep telling yourself you won't talk to him often. But like all bad habits, Floyd is your worst one yet and it's so difficult to break away. <3 you go from arguing one-sidedly over text to meeting up to fuck. Maybe you always go to his place because you do not want your roommate to catch you with Floyd after you adamantly told them there was nothing between the two of you (your roommate is not fooled; also maybe your roommate is Rook LOL).

Of course this also means there's a high chance you'll run into Floyd's roommate and twin brother (Jade), but at least Jade doesn't pry (too much). Unlike Rook, who wants all of the details because he thinks your relationship with Floyd is a beautifully complicated thing. He's your biggest supporter, a devout fan of the Floyd x Shrimpy ship.

If it's omegaverse, imagine how yummy it would be if you've been fucking Floyd on and off and it gets to a point where you're both so familiar with each other's scents and habits. He wakes up early like he always does to start breakfast, but he makes it just the way you like it only to realize you're not here today. Ooooo he is so in love with you and in classic Floyd fashion he may not even realize it yet.

AAAAA and maybe you're both so used to just fucking, so when Floyd tries to (very awkwardly) ask you to dinner you're like "???? so we fuck and then dinner? Or...????" T_T It's a date. He wants to take you on a date. >_< but Floyd's too scared to step out of the confines of this situationship, so he just shrugs and says, "Yeah, sure. Whatever works for Shrimpy." orz communication is terrible, but you'll both get there one day.

#twisted chit chat #n/sfw #every day you return home from spending the night with floyd #and rook always tells you how radiant you look and then he's calling you mx. leech just to test out how it might sound #and you chase him around the apartment with a pillow >:( oooo he is infuriating but also he gives startlingly solid romance advice

156 notes · View notes

wooahaeproductions · 3 months

Text

You Found Me

Lee Seokmin (DK) x Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship au

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of food, absolutely tooth rotting fluff

Rating: PG-13

A/N: This is for svthub’s Cupid For You collab

Surprise twinnie! @the-boy-meets-evil I was your cupid 😈 I had sooo much fun sending you asks and writing things in a way that I wouldn’t normally so you wouldn’t think it was me. I also was so happy to write this for you. I hope you like it! Special thanks to my dear daughter @starlitmark for looking this over and confirming that it achieved what I intended (and then some)🥺 ~Bee

Your eyes fluttered open as sunlight warmed the bed. You rolled over, expecting to find Seokmin on the other side of you, but to your surprise, his space was empty. Instead, you found a yellow heart-shaped note on his pillow with the words ‘open me’ on the front.

You laughed a little. Your boyfriend was always coming up with different romantic gestures. You slowly unfolded the heart and smoothed out the paper enough to read what he had written.

Good morning, love,

Happy Valentine’s Day! I’ve prepared a scavenger hunt of sorts for you. Each place will have a note for you explaining the next place and why I chose the place you are at. But first things first, go downstairs, and you will find breakfast that I made for you (hopefully, it doesn’t taste bad). I’ll be waiting for you at the very last place. I love you!

~ Your Sunshine

You were a little excited about this. He hadn’t planned anything of this magnitude in the 3 years you had been together. Stretching, you flipped the covers off as you contemplated what clothes would be best to wear for a scavenger hunt. You settled on jeans and a short-sleeved shirt and would grab a sweater on the way out in case you got cold.

After getting ready, you made your way downstairs to the kitchen. You found yourself smiling as you looked at the several dishes Seokmin had set out on the kitchen island and you had absolutely no doubt that Mingyu either helped him with it or made some of them all together.

The aroma of coffee tickled your nose the further into the kitchen you got and you found he had made you a pot of coffee as well, leaving your favorite mug out for you. Next to the mug was another folded-up heart. This one instructed you to wait until you were done eating to open it.

You poured yourself a cup of coffee and grabbed a plate, eager to eat the breakfast he must have spent so much time making. Most of the dishes were simple, but one or two were a little more complicated and you knew Mingyu must have helped with those. You put a little of each dish on your plate and sat down on one of the stools at the edge of the island to eat. You wished Seokmin was here to enjoy it with you, but you understood how much work a scavenger hunt was and took in the slow, quiet morning.

A little while later, you were draining the last bit of your coffee, wondering what Seokmin had in store for you next. You put your plate and mug in the dishwasher and put leftovers away in the fridge. They would no doubt be yummy later, too. Sitting down once again, you opened the second heart note.

Hi love,

Did you enjoy breakfast? I hope it was good, and I’m sure you figured out I had help for the harder items haha. I’m not sure you knew this, but I actually knew who you were before Seungkwan set us up on that blind date and was pleasantly surprised when I saw it was you (obviously). Below are the coordinates of the place where I saw you and noticed you first. When you get there, let the front desk know who you are, and they will give you the next note.

The place he saw you first? What did that mean? You put the coordinates into your phone as you contemplated what he could have possibly meant and cocked your head at the location that came up. You had spent a lot of time there during your early college days and also right about the time that you were set up on the blind date. You were definitely curious.

You walked into the familiar record shop and cafe where you spent much of your college time studying. The shop was always warm, had good coffee, and played the best music. When you took breaks from your nose being in a book, you would browse the records at the back of the room to see if something caught your eye.

You were surprised that nothing about the place had changed, except for the workers, but you knew they employed mostly college students looking for some extra cash. You felt a little awkward going up to the desk at the front and asking about a random note. However, you did it anyway.

“Can I help you?” The boy at the counter asked.

“Hi, I know this sounds weird, but my name is Y/N. Someone left a note here for me?” You cringed at how uneasy you sounded.

“Oh! Yeah, I have it here,” he confirmed and picked up the purple paper from the counter behind him, “I must admit, this is the first time I’ve ever helped with a scavenger hunt. That boyfriend of yours seems very inventive.”

You took the folded paper with a laugh. “He is.” You turned around and walked to a spot out of the way, and you opened the purple heart.

My angel,

I bet you have no clue why I brought you here, but I want you to go sit at the table you always used to sit at when you were here.

You paused for a moment and looked around the little shop. It was pretty quiet, and you were lucky enough that your spot was empty. You made your way to the tiny table tucked in the corner at the end of the record shelves, sitting in the big leather chair before you continued reading.

Now, look directly across from you. Do you see the couch near the window? One day, I came to study and sat on that couch. While taking a break from studying, I decided to look around the shop, and the most beautiful person caught my eye. I came again the next, hoping to see that beautiful person again. I came week after week, noticing all the cute little quirks you had, and found myself slowly falling in love with you.

Then, when it was you at the blind date Seungkwan set up, I knew it was fate. Which brings me to telling you your next location: the park where we had our blind date and where you asked me to be your boyfriend. You’ll go and ride a bike like we did that day, and your next note will be with the attendant when you return the bicycle.

Have fun!

Luckily, the park was not far from the record shop, and it didn’t take you long to walk there. It was a little brisk out, but you enjoyed it nonetheless. You walked through the center of the park, past grassy hills perfect for picnics. You passed the very bench under a large maple tree, where you had sat waiting for the man who was your blind date. You remembered how nervous you were, but somehow, it had all disappeared when Seokmin had arrived, and your eyes met his.

Everything had felt so natural with him that entire date. Any apprehension you would have normally had toward someone you just met didn’t exist, and you didn’t feel the need to be on your best behavior. You felt like you could be nothing less than yourself with him. That’s why you were so bold as to ask him to be your boyfriend at the end of the date. You didn’t want to miss any opportunity with him. And he had happily accepted.

You made your way to the far end of the park, where the bicycle rentals were located. You talked to the attendant and obtained a key to unlock one of the bikes on the rack. When you and Seokmin were here, you had rented a couple’s bicycle. You giggled as you once again thought back to that day. You had wrapped your arms around his waist one time when he peddled extra fast and could feel his surprised intake of breath, could practically see the warmth spreading across his cheeks. It was adorable. He was adorable.

You pulled the bike out to the sidewalk and got on. You decided to ride it along the west side of the park, where the river banked up against it. You peddled around, enjoying the light breeze that blew through your hair. It may have been February, but it was unseasonably warm, and the wind only had a light chill to it. You could hear the sounds of children playing in the grass as you passed, and the earthy smell of the river tickled your nose. It was a very relaxing bike ride.

After making a full circle around the park, you brought the bicycle back to its home. You locked it back up against the rack, then went back to the attendant to return the key and obtain your next letter. The attendant smiled when she exchanged the key for the folded heart, this one bright red.

Hi sweetheart,

This is your last letter on this scavenger hunt. I hope you enjoyed reminiscing about our beginning. I sure did when I was preparing everything for you. I had many memories in mind for the next location: our first kiss, our first fight, when we decided to move in together. However, I decided that the final location should be somewhere completely new. A new memory for us to make.

So, I turned the GPS from my phone on, and it will tell you where I am. Come and find me. I’ll see you soon.

~Always, Seokmin

You had to take the bus this time. While you lived near the sea, you didn’t live close enough to it without taking some sort of transportation to get there. Seokmin’s GPS had indicated he was somewhere just off the boardwalk. You walked along it, getting closer and closer to his location dot and the scent of seawater getting stronger. You accidentally passed it slightly and stopped to look around when you noticed a man standing on the beach with his back to you.

You walked down a set of steps coming from the boardwalk into the sand, and Seokmin turned around upon hearing you approach. “You found me,” he said, a wide smile stretching across his face and lighting his eyes up. He walked to meet you, handing you the bouquet of colorful lilies he held. Taking your free hand, he led you to a blanket that was set up a few feet away.

He led you to sit down and took his seat next to you, hands never letting go of yours. You set the flowers down on the edge of the blanket and sat in a contented silence with Seokmin for a little while. You watched the ocean waves crash in the distance, sea foam forming at the edges as he played with your fingers.

Finally, he spoke into the comfortable silence, “I may have noticed you first, but you made me feel completely seen. You immediately saw how hard I work and the care I put into everything. You found me.” Seokmin said, his brown eyes piercing into yours and that ever-sparkling smile on his face. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my love,” he said.

Your grin matched his. “Happy Valentine’s Day. I love you, my Sun,” you said back and leaned in to kiss him. Your favorite feeling of warmth engulfed you as your lips pressed lightly against his. He moved his against yours languidly, making the moment slow in time.

Eventually, he pulled away to say, “I love you too,” just as oranges and pinks from the sunset started painting parts of the sky. You thought back to the letter from the record shop and decided that fate most certainly had its plans back then and helped you find each other.

©️wooahaeproductions

All works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works.

#seventeen fanfic #svthub #svthub.collab #kvanity #kbookshelf #dk fanfic #seokmin fanfic #lee seokmin #dk fluff #svt seokmin #svt dk #valentine's day fic

72 notes · View notes

rainy-bangbeom · 2 years

Text

The BFB - Part One (m)

“May I introduce ‘The Best Friends with Benefits’ contract, or The BFB for short…”

“The BFB? You’re kidding me, right?…”

“Nah, baby—I’m dead FUCKING serious… get it?”

pairing(s): Fuckboy!Minho x Best Friend!Fem!Reader

genre: Best Friends to FWBs!AU, College!AU, slight Angst, Smut

warnings: Mature language, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use, heavy talks of sex and other lewd subjects, explicit and graphic sexual content (18+), protected sex (please remember to always practice safe and protected sex), riding, LOTS of teasing (Minhoe’s speciality everyone), slight power dynamics, dry humping, nicknames (kitten, baby), dirty talk, very slight degradation (R is called a slut once), slight marking, both R and Min are pretty desperate ngl

word count: 6,6k

synopsis: You and Minho have been best friends since the moment you were practically born but when a party gone wrong ends with an arrangement that complicates the boundaries of friendship, you have to decide whether your relationship is merely one of friends or something more.

previous // next

From the moment you stepped foot on your college campus, you’ve only ever had two goals in mind. First—graduate (obviously), and second—sleep with the hottest, sexiest, most delicious hunk of man to ever graze the earth: Seo Changbin. Now fortunately, you’re on the brink of entering your last semester before commencement, so you have to be doing something right there. But as for banging the yummy quarterback who pretty much everyone with eyes is convinced is half-god… no such luck in that department.

It’s not as if you haven’t tried. You’ve spoken to Changbin a total of three times in the last four years—THREE WHOLE TIMES! The first instance happened in your digital imaging course during the first semester of your sophomore year. You sat a row behind him, and though your final grade probably suffered because of the fact, you spent many delightful lectures admiring the glorious sight of the back of his neck. One day before your professor arrived, Changbin turned around to ask if he could borrow a pencil, which, of course, you acquiesced. He never returned it, but it’s still a step in the right direction.

Your second and third meetings occurred under similar circumstances. During sociology in your junior year, he asked to borrow your textbook to jot down some notes, and you spent the remainder of the time wondering if it’s possible to clone a person with fingerprints and dead skin cells alone. And only a couple months later, you were paired in the same class to work on some boring discussion questions together. Mind you, Changbin wasn’t exactly a hands-on partner—pretty much utilizing the entire period to converse with a couple of sorority sisters—but hey, beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to Mr. Yummy-bin.

“Please tell me you don’t actually refer to Changbin as Mr. Yummy-bin…” You return to reality at Seungmin’s voice, turning just in time to watch your roommate undergo a series of overdramatic gags.

You roll your eyes. “Says the guy who calls his boyfriend Hung-jin.”

“Can’t help my man’s got a big dick.” He shrugs, inhaling another big bite of his sandwich before sending you a pointed glance. “You know, I’m all for women empowerment and spreading those pussy juices because fuck the whole societal hoax of female purity and shit… but are you sure you want to sleep with Changbin of all people? I mean, the guy’s more of a fuckboy than Minho, and that’s saying something.”

“Half the girls in this school all claim they’ve sucked their star quarterback off behind the bleachers at opening game. Just because someone says it, doesn’t necessarily mean it’s true.”

“I don’t know, (Y/N)—wouldn’t you rather go for the linebacker, Chan?” Seungmin offers. “He’s no quarterback, but I heard from a reliable source his arms aren’t the only part of his body that’s the size of a tank…”

Similar to Changbin, you’ve only spoken to Chan a handful of times. He seems like a nice guy, and he’s attractive as all hell, but the thought of fucking him just doesn’t click right—and nothing against Chan, but your va-jay-jay doesn’t get as excited at the thought of his head between your thighs.

“If I’m spreading my pussy juices to anyone, it’s gonna be Mr. Yummy-bin.”

Seungmin groans once again, but makes no further attempt to dissuade your decision. He instead retires to the remainder of his lunch, allowing you to do the same.

You and Seungmin met in your history of photography class back in freshman year. For the first few months, you two had a little frenemies feud going on since you were dating his current boyfriend, Hyunjin at the time. The relationship barely lasted two weeks, especially so when you found out Hyunjin was only using you as a cover to hide his true sexuality from his family, but you, along with Seungmin, have remained good friends throughout your college years, going as far as renting a nice apartment just outside campus before the start of junior year. Sure, you have to flee to Minho's dorm when the love birds decide to get a little freaky, but it beats living in a shoebox.

Speaking of the devil, you notice the devil himself sprinting toward your and Seungmin’s table. Judging by his direction and the stack of books in his arms, he likely came straight from his classic literature class, which, if you know your best friend (and you definitely do), indicates he has some piping hot tea to spill.

“Yeonjun’s hosting an exclusive holiday party this Friday night at the fraternity house.” Minho struggles through puffs and pants, practically throwing his Austen collection into your ketchup while lowering into the seat beside you. “Apparently he paid campus security to look the other way for the night, so everyone’s gonna get absolutely shit-faced… we’re going, right?”

“Hard pass,” Seungmin grumbles with an expression of disgust. “The last time I went to a frat party, someone slipped something into my drink and I woke up on the roof completely naked and covered in honey and feathers.”

Minho shrugs before turning to you with pleading, hopeful eyes.

You raise an eyebrow. “Even if I say no, you’re still gonna go anyway.”

“Yeah, but it’s more fun to know my best friend has my back if I accidentally knock myself out while playing pool.”

“You act as if that never happened before?” Your head throbs at the memory of Minho clubbing himself over the head with a pool cue during Halloween of sophomore year. With the help of one of his friends, Jisung, you managed to transport him back to his building only to find out the idiot had bet his dorm key in a game of strip poker. Therefore, you, by yourself, had to haul Minho to your own dorm as inconspicuously as possible, which is not easy considering your best friend has a tendency to belt out ‘Into the Unknown’ when under the influence.

“Pretty, pretty please?” You groan at the pout that adorns Minho’s face, cursing the universe for blessing the man with a pair of puppy dog eyes that can move a Buddhist monk.

“Fine.” Minho immediately cheers in celebration when the answer leaves your lips. “On the condition you avoid any dumb injuries. I really do not want to be driving your ass to the hospital at one in the morning.”

“Swear on my life I’ll be a saint,” he promises, wrapping his pinky around your already outstretched one. To prove his commitment, Minho goes the extra step to lift your conjoined hands to his lips and press a brief peck to your knuckles. “Besides, this gives you a perfect opportunity to jump Mr. Yummy-bin’s bones.”

“Holy shit—you’re so right,” you gasp, already beginning to ponder your look for this Friday. “Should I go for slutty with some class? Or just full-on hooker?”

After swallowing the remainder of his sandwich, Seungmin shakes his head. “I have nothing to say in this matter.”

“Wear that black lace off-the-shoulder dress and heels,” Minho says. “You can thank me after you get the best fuck of your life.”

For once, you can’t help but be grateful for Minho’s barely functioning brain, already anticipating the party, and getting dicked down by the one and only Seo Changbin.

There’s a saying that if a friendship lasts more than seven years, it will last a lifetime—if that’s true, then you and Lee Minho are in this shit for a millennium.

Your moms were best friends throughout college and moved within a two-minute walking distance of each other after graduation, so your fates were pretty much set in stone the moment you entered this earthly plane. You’ve seen each other through it all—diapers and onesies three sizes too big, training bras and bad acne, that one goth identity crisis both of you agreed to erase from your brains—so it only makes sense you two became as close as two souls sworn to secrecy can be.

Of course, at times Minho can be a little shit, and you want nothing more than to kick him where the sun doesn’t shine, but you’d take a bullet for him in a heartbeat, and while Minho may not be the cuddliest person on the plant, you know he wouldn’t hesitate to suck someone’s dick just to keep you safe (true story, don’t ask…).

With a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours, you and Minho have also undergone your fair share of firsts together. After taking a baseball straight to the face, he was there to admire your first lost baby tooth in all its bloody glory, and you, in turn, were there to carry him, with his knee facing the total opposite direction, to the nurse’s office after a nice spill off of the playground jungle gym. He’s been there to console you through failed tests, brutal break-ups, and everything in between…

Minho’s really been there through it all.

You move your attention away from nostalgic thoughts, instead focusing on the shamelessly flirting pair in the front seat of the car. After much convincing (more so threatening) from your end, you managed to persuade Seungmin to attend the party with his boyfriend. Though right now, you don’t know whether to feel disgusted by their shamelessness, elated at their romantic antics, or fearful for your life, seeing as Hyunjin has not looked at the road once in the past two minutes.

“I swear, if we die just because you fuckers can’t go one second without making goo-goo eyes at each other…” Like always, Minho seems to take the words right from your mind, glaring at your partnered companions with a glare sharp enough to cut ice.

“I mean, can you really blame me?” Seungmin hums, feeling up Hyunjin’s bare arm for the millionth time in the past hour. “If you guys weren’t here, I’d be rolling all over that backseat by now.”

“Let’s not share everything with the class now,” you hurriedly intercept. “Hyunjin—can you at least try not to kill your friends before we reach the party? I’d like to actually suck Changbin’s dick in this lifetime and not as Casper the ghost.”

“I’d totally watch that shit—I wonder if there’s such thing as ghost porn…?”

A noise of protest emerges from Seungmin before he lurches forward to turn up the radio, effectively drowning out Minho’s curiosity toward supernatural kinks. Being his seatmate, you’re not so lucky to avoid his research on vampires and period sex. Fortunately, Hyunjin maintains a somewhat steady speed limit and manages to reach the party in record timing.

You practically throw yourself out of the vehicle before your best friend can go more in-depth about werewolf mating. Seungmin is quick to follow, along with Hyunjin, and finally, Minho.

Unsurprisingly, the fraternity house is abuzz with celebration. Muffled club music seeps past its walls, the heavy bass and percussion ricocheting through your bones like a tidal wave. Countless people line the lawn, which is already littered with enough plastic cups and beer cans to fill a convenience store, while crowd after crowd continues to pile past the front door. You can almost feel the heat radiating from inside bleeding into your skin.

“Alright, everyone remember the rules? If you go home with someone tonight, you have to text the group chat.” Seungmin shoots a pointed glare at Minho. “And that doesn’t mean sending any explicit pictures of your nasty ass penis in some chick’s mouth, understand?”

Minho pouts. “We all make mistakes in the heat of passion, Jimbo.”

“Just make good decisions—or at least ones that keep you out of jail and STD-free.” You nod when he glances in your direction, silently promising to protect your safety above all else. Satisfied with your response, you watch Seungmin take his boyfriend’s hand and lead him toward the bustling house—no doubt in pursuit of an empty bedroom to finish what was started in the car.

“So… when do you want to commence operation Bang Mr. Yummy-bin?”

“After I get a couple shots in my system,” you respond, already dragging your best friend in the direction of the front door. Despite the excitement coursing through your veins, you can’t help but notice the butterflies violently fluttering in your stomach. You pause in front of a couple grinding against the entryway, debating whether or not to kick off your four-inch heels and run for the hills. Minho must sense your distress, reaching forward to comfortingly pat your shoulder.

“Hey, you got this,” he hums. “Not only do you look hot as fuck, but Changbin’s a lucky dude—I’ve seen what that mouth do.”

“Does your vocabulary consist of anything besides the urban dictionary?”

He smirks. “I’ve known to dabble in my fair share of overly creepy pick-up lines from time to time.”

You sigh in annoyance, bumping your shoulder against Minho’s chest.

“I’m serious... What if I make a complete and total fool of myself?”

“Then you make a complete and total fool of yourself.” He shrugs. “But if Changbin’s head is too far up his own ass to not see past that, then he’s missing out on the best moment of his life with a drop-dead gorgeous woman who’s way out of his league.”

Your heart warms at your best friend’s reassurance.

“Thanks, Min. I really appreciate that.”

“Yeah, yeah—now c’mon.” You barely have a chance to catch your balance before Minho is yanking you toward the house, nearly avoiding falling face-first into the dirt. “Let’s get you buzzed for the best dicking down of your life—by the way, if you see Ryujin around, proceed to avoid like the plague.”

“Let me guess—a one-hit-wonder?”

Minho smiles. “(Y/N) (L/N), you know me so well.”

True to his word, Minho shoved three shots of tequila and a cup of jungle juice down your throat before scampering off to, as he put it, make his rounds—but you know well enough that he’s probably making out with some random freshman he fished from the crowd. And while you can normally care less about your best friend’s promiscuous escapades, it pisses you off that the fucker is probably getting more action than you are right now.

For the last two hours, you’ve been looking for a moment to steal Changbin’s attention, but it’s as if the universe doesn’t want you to get lucky tonight. When he’s not surrounded by a myriad of desperate cheerleaders, he’s conversing with one of his teammates or chatting up some chick with tits the size of watermelons. It’s like revolving doors in a nightclub—except its VIP membership only to get a piece of Mr. Yummy-bin.

After the eleventh girl, you finally threw in the towel and retreated to the safety of the kitchen. Mind you, it reeks of pot and cheap alcohol, but it’s much better than watching some blonde bimbo rubbing her ass all over Changbin’s dick. You sigh as you pour yourself another serving of jungle juice, hoping to drown away your sorrows of going another night high and dry. Just as you’re about to commence your pity party, some asshole collides into you from behind and spills your drink all over the front of your dress.

“You mother fu—Ch-Changbin!?” Your intentions of giving the culprit a piece of your mind totally vanish when you discover the same man you’ve been attempting to converse with since the first day of freshman year. His lightly tanned skin is shiny and tinted pink from sweat and alcohol and his jet black hair is a tousled mess, but his biceps are bare, big, and proud in the sleeveless white tee that leaves nothing safe from your greedy eyes.

“Oh hey, it’s… (Y/N), right?” You almost forget how to breathe when he slurs out your name, needing to grab the counter behind you to avoid collapsing to the floor in a heap. “We were partners once in chemistry?”

“Sociology, actually,” you correct with the largest grin, totally forgetting about your now drenched, alcohol-reeking dress.

“Ah right. They all just kind of blend together after a while.” He chuckles, swiping a strand of hair from his sweaty forehead. “Anyway, how come you’re hiding out in here? Not enjoying the party or something?”

“What? Oh no—nothing like that,” you quickly deny his observation with an awkward laugh. “Actually, I’ve been looking for an opportunity to talk to you.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

You hum, “Well, I find you very, very attractive, and I was just wondering if you’d like to—”

“Binnie! There you are!”

You watch in horror as a girl from your world history class pops out from literally nowhere and tackles Changbin in a heated liplock that’s more tongue than anything. After a good thirty seconds of swapping saliva, she retreats backward to pout childishly. “It’s not nice to keep a girl waiting, you know?”

“Sorry, babe. Got distracted.” Changbin smirks before leaning down to nibble at her collarbone. “Let me make it up to you, yeah?”

And just like that, the couple begin to make out right there against the refrigerator, leaving you forgotten—again. Not wanting to put yourself through anymore torture, you grab the nearest unopened bottle of vodka and make a mad dash for the upstairs, praying you’ll find a room free of anymore horny bitches trying to suck each other’s faces off—or worse.

Fortunately, after multiple traumatic attempts, you managed to snag an unoccupied bedroom to freely drown your sorrows. Unfortunately, the vodka you grabbed was severely watered down, so the alcohol contributed minimal cessation to the hurricane of insecure thoughts raging through your brain. You had various debates with yourself about just calling an Uber and sulking underneath the covers of your own bed for the rest of the night, but the possibility of spotting Changbin and his lady friend getting it on against the front door is enough to confine you to the springy mattress.

You begrudgingly take another useless swing before leaning back into the messy mountain of sandpaper sheets and crusty pillows. You try not to think about the previous activities committed on this bed, instead focusing on the vibrations coursing through your limbs—courtesy of the music blaring from downstairs. If you were anywhere else, you might actually find the sensation pleasurable, but it only serves as a reminder of your pathetic, lonely state.

The shuffling of nearby footsteps and obnoxious giggles tears you from your pitiful headspace. Before you can announce your presence to the obviously oblivious couple, the door bursts open, revealing none other than your best friend practically chomping the neck of some sophomore from your nature photography class. You roll your eyes as the pair fail to notice your presence, tossing your now half-filled bottle onto a nightstand with a dramatic huff.

“Careful, Min, or there’ll be none of her left to shove your dick into.”

Minho pulls away from his nightly catch with wide-eyes, gaping at your lounging position. His expression shifts from confusion, to concern, before finally settling on what seems to reflect annoyance.

“Please tell me you’re in here because you’re recovering from Mr. Yummy-Bin’s monster cock—or I swear to god I will beat your ass.”

You nod to your abandoned vodka. “Take a wild guess.”

“What happened to the plan? Get in, get buzzed, and then get fucked?”

“Yeah, well, apparently other people also had the same plan,” you grumble, “I was just one of the unlucky few who isn’t blonde, busty, or bootylicious.”

Minho pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “For fucksake (Y/N)...”

“I’m sorry to interrupt—but who the fuck is she and why is her pathetic meltdown interrupting my opportunity of getting laid!?” Minho’s companion whines, her high-pitched tone only increasing the pounding of your head.

You roll your eyes. “You always know how to pick the bitchiest out of the bunch, Min.”

“Excuse me!? Who the fuck do you think you are, you ugly slut!?”

“She’s my best friend—a bit dramatic, but hardly ugly or a slut.” Minho wrenches away from her with a sneer, nodding his head toward the door. “You, however, are as revolting as they come so get lost before I contract whatever parasite crawled up your ass.”

“Fuck you, Lee Minho! And fuck you too whatever your name is! I’m out of here!”

You watch in both amusement and disgust as Minho practically slams the door after the delightful sophomore stomps away, probably to resume her quest for copulation elsewhere.

“You didn’t have to be so mean, you know,” you hum, ignoring your best friend’s glare and leaning further back into the pillows.

He shakes his head. “Nobody talks to you like that, and don’t try to change the subject. What really happened tonight? No more bullshit excuses either.”

“Long story short, I had him in my sights and we were having a lovely conversation until some girl with pretty brown eyes and enough ass to cover the continent of Antarctica sunk her teeth into him first—literally.” You shiver at the vulgar memory, breathing what has to be your millionth sigh of the night. “Regardless, he barely even looked at me, Min. I think it’s a lost cause… I’m nothing compared to those girls—”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Minho hurriedly disagrees, laying a comforting hand atop your knee. “Like I said earlier, Changbin’s an idiot for choosing a bunch of losers over the most amazing woman he’ll ever meet. Don’t break yourself down over some asshole who can’t think without his dick.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t that kind of hypocritical considering just two minutes ago you were swapping saliva with some stranger whose name you don’t know?”

“What the—please tell me that’s not the only thing you took from what I just said?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore anyway,” you say, reluctantly rising from the bed to head for the door—more than ready to retire to the comforts of your own apartment. “I’ve accepted the fact that the hottest man in existence will never want to fuck me, so why bother dwelling on it any longer?”

“(Y/N), come on—”

“Just leave it alone, Minho. I’m going home where I’ll give myself yet another lackluster orgasm with a four-year old vibrator that can’t even reach—”

With your hand mere centimeters away from the doorknob, your desired escape is interrupted when you’re suddenly spun around and practically shoved against the door. A warm hand silences your rant by covering your mouth, belonging to none other than your less-than-amused best friend.

“Will you please shut the fuck up for a goddamn second? I’m trying to play my role of the supportive friend, but you’re getting on my fucking nerves.”

You make sure to mouth a deserving insult against his palm, earning a sigh and an eye roll combination from your captor. After another minute or two, you start to notice exactly how close your bodies are—you can almost feel his hips pressing against your own—and while you’re not unused to Minho’s touch, something about this particular position sparks a marathon of butterflies to flutter through your stomach.

Minho finally removes his hand after another long period of silence, laying his palm against the door beside your head. “Look—I’m sorry tonight didn’t go as planned, but have you ever considered the fact that this stupid obsession is hindering other opportunities for you to let loose and have fun?”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” you hiss.

“All I’m saying is I think you need to get laid by someone who is not necessarily Changbin—I mean, think about it, when was the last time you actually had sex? And don’t say that date with Felix because you and I both know heavy petting doesn’t cut it,” he huffs sternly.

You raise an eyebrow. “Why do you suddenly care so much about my sex life?”

“Because I’m fucking sick and tired of seeing you mope around like some lovesick teenager! You need to get over Changbin, and I’m prepared to offer a solution…”

“Which is…?”

Complete disbelief spills through your body as Minho points between you and him.

“Absolutely fucking not!”

He shakes his head. “Why not? You’re going through a dry spell, I’m always horny—it’s the perfect answer to both of our problems.”

“Did it completely slip your brain that you and I have been friends since—I don’t know—our entire fucking lives!” Your panicked, borderline aggressive tone does little to curb the serious expression across your companion’s face, only further increasing the strange feeling in your stomach. “We can’t just… sleep together! It totally goes past all and any boundaries of friendship—!”

“But you and I are best friends, so it’s completely different,” Minho argues. “As your best friend, it’s my sole responsibility to help you through the hardest times in life, therefore, I’m more than ready to help you move past your crush by offering forth my exceptional services in all things ‘holey’.”

“For the sake of my sanity, please never say that ever again,” you groan, dragging a hand down your face. “While I appreciate your willingness to help, I still don’t think this is a good idea… especially after what happened last time—”

“(Y/N)”—your muscles tense when Minho suddenly moves closer, nudging one of his thick thighs between your legs while intensely staring into your eyes—“are you attracted to me?”

“Well… yeah, I guess so.”

His dark smirk sends tremors through your knees. “Good, ‘cause I think you're hot—and you wanna know a secret…?” You hold your breath as he leers closer, allowing you to better see the firework show of lust flickering through his umber eyes. “I wanna fuck you right here against this door and listen to your pretty little whimpers and whines, knowing anyone at any second could walk by and hear what a good little slut you are for my cock…”

Holy shit.

The wave of wetness that pools between your thighs immediately soaks your underwear. It takes every bit of your lingering self control to not hump your best friend’s thigh like a horny rabbit. Even so, you find it more and more difficult to repress your dirty desires as Minho trails a hand up your leg, pausing to lift and wrap your knee around his hips. You nearly moan at the new position, pinpointing what seems to be his prominent erection pushing against your pelvis.

“Minho…”

“Just think about it,” he murmurs. “Changbin could walk through here at any given moment—I bet the second he heard you call my name, he’d realize what a brainless idiot he was for passing up this sweet cunt, hm? Tell me, baby—are you fucking soaked? Thinking about me fucking you while Changbin stands just behind this door, wanting what he can’t have?...”

“Oh shit—” Your brain completely short circuits, unable to stop the desperate cant of your hips. Yours and his moans bleed into one another as your clothed cores come into contact. Minho’s fingers tighten on your leg—just shy of bruising. You wonder if he can feel the extent of your wetness against the front of his jeans, but all thoughts are chased away when you deliver yet another roll, expertly dragging your swelling folds over his crotch.

“Fucking hell”—he hisses, his hand beside your head tightening into a fist—“I-I—hah—I’m not gonna l-last if you keep—mm—rutting against me like a kitten in heat…”

His words only motivate your intentions, sharpening and angling your rocks so your clit consistently meets what you believe to be the head of his cock. Seeking more leverage, you wind your arms around his waist and tug him even closer against your body. His face seeks refuge in the crook of your neck as you continue your assault, further fueled by the hot breath caressing your collarbones.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—I’m actually gonna c-cum—”

You silently agree with your companion, gasping loudly when his hips begin to match your rhythm. You both cling to one another as your climaxes approach one after another—Minho’s guttural groan triggering a release that spills white-hot bliss through your veins. You can feel your cunt pulsating as you fight to catch your breath, tiredly leaning your head back against the door. It’s not until you suddenly remember where you are, who you’re with, and what you’ve done that you awaken from your post-orgasmic stupor.

“What… What did we just do?...”

“Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much—”

You shove Minho arms length away with a newfound adrenaline, staring at his confused expression with enough shock to render your muscles numb. “H-How can you joke about this!? You just—I-I just—”

“Made me cum in my pants like a fucking girl boss? That you did.” His wide eyes gradually recede, being replaced with a sexy smirk you’ve seen too many times before—the same smirk he displays when recounting his nightly conquest. “And I, as promised, gave you the orgasm of a lifetime—told you I was gifted.”

The events that took place after your and Minho’s sinful exchange are blurry—likely a result of your light alcohol consumption and disbelief in your and your best friend’s previous actions—but you remember bits and pieces about an Uber ride back to your apartment with Minho blabbering on about some book he’s reading in his literature class. You couldn’t tell whether or not it was his attempt at pretending like nothing happened, or he simply couldn’t care less about what transpired just minutes before—as if dry humping his best friend of 22 years against a random bedroom door at a frat party is a daily occurrence.

You’re not sure what’s more jarring—the fact that Minho is being so casual about everything, or the fact that, despite the inner turmoil hurtling through your mind, you enjoyed the experience. Minho wasn’t wrong when he confronted you about your lack of action. It’s been almost a year and a half since you’ve felt the intimate touch of another person, savored the joys of an orgasm brought by hands that aren’t your own. And while it could have been anyone in the moment, a part of you—the one that isn’t screaming red flags like a mad woman—is almost relieved it was Minho, the same Minho who wiped your tears when your first high school boyfriend cheated and held your hand at your first blood draw because he knows you don’t like needles.

You can’t help but smile at the memory, remembering his poor attempt at distracting you by belting out the lyrics to the Phantom of the Opera in a key that couldn’t be more off. Underneath the vulgar language and rather alarming body count, the Minho you know and love would never do anything to hurt you. As he said at the party, he only wants to help you get over your stupid crush on Changbin. His intentions might not be that pure, per say, seeing as he’s a borderline sex addict, but you can look past that because he’s Minho—your closest and bestest friend.

Which brings you to the now, agreeing to his arrangement after dragging him up to your apartment.

“I still don’t think this is the best idea, but I’m willing to try.”

“Hell yeah!” Minho celebrates as if he found out he just won the lottery. “I knew you’d come around—bet you’re too curious about the wonders of my dick to say no.”

You hold up a finger. “If we’re gonna do this, there has to be rules, boundaries to make sure things don’t get complicated.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“No cuddling, no kissing, and most definitely no feelings,” you say. “We can discuss personal likes and dislikes later, but these three things are totally off the table… fair?”

“Everything will be strictly no strings attached—just two best friends helping each other burn off some steam.” You watch in confusion as Minho retreats further into your apartment, returning only minutes later with an old sketchbook he stole off your bookshelf. He quickly flips to a blank page and scribbles down a myriad of things before ripping out the paper to present it to you proudly. “May I introduce the Best Friends’ with Benefits contract, or the BFB for short.”

“The BFB? You’re kidding me, right?”

“Nah, baby—I’m dead fucking serious… get it?”

“Oh my fucking god…”

He smirks. “God, huh? I’m flattered, kitten, but let’s just stick with my name for now…”

“Can you for one second stop acting like a goddamn condom ad and be serious!?” Your outburst surprises not only your companion, but yourself too. You attempt to collect your bearings, inhaling a deep breath to clear the tightness in your chest before continuing in a softer tone: “I just—this isn’t like your other hook-ups, okay? I can’t be one of those people you just fuck and throw away like a used condom—”

“Woah, woah, hold on, (Y/N),” Minho interrupts, shaking his head in disbelief. “Do you really think that low of me? You’re my best friend, not some cheap hooker off the street—I would never do anything to hurt you.”

You can’t help but look away from his almost pained gaze, shrugging your shoulders with a sigh. “Of course I know that. I just… don’t want to lose you.”

“Hey.” You’re forced to meet Minho’s eyes when he gently takes your chin between two fingers and turns your head. His smile is small, but endearingly genuine. “Just two best friends helping each other out with no kissing, no cuddling, and no feelings—the BFB in itself.”

“Still a stupid name,” you mumble, unable to curb the smile pulling at your own lips. “Are we supposed to sign away our consent on that piece of paper?”

“Nah, that was just for dramatic flair. Consider it an unspoken promise between us.”

You move to roll your eyes, but are pleasantly surprised when Minho takes a step forward, leaving only an inch of space between your faces. You’re reminded of your escapade back at the party, your body instantly growing warm at the memory of no doubt one of the best orgasms of your life. Goosebumps scatter across your bare skin as your companion takes your hand, delicately weaving your pinkies together before leaning down to press a long peck to the swell of your knuckles. You swear your body comes alive—slick already pooling into your underwear at his touch.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop, (Y/N).” Despite the arousal clouding your brain, you recognize Minho’s gentle tone—one you’ve only heard on a handful of occasions. Your heart can’t help but flutter at his consideration for your comfort—yet another reminder that he’ll always be there for you no matter what…

“Don’t stop, Minho,” you finally concede, winding your arms around his neck to tug him even closer. “I don’t want you to stop…”

The care in his gaze instantly melts into something dark—almost sinister.

“Is that so? You better prepare for the best fuck of your life, kitten, ‘cause I’m not gonna stop until the only name you remember is mine…”

“You talk a big game, Min,” you snicker, seductively gliding your hand down the front of his silk button-up to the waistband of his jeans. “Ever heard the saying that actions speak louder than words? Unless all of it is just that—talk?”

You shiver at the malicious sneer that overtakes his face.

“I’ve been with enough guys and girls to know it’s not just talk, now I suggest you head to your room before I take you right here on the floor.”

Unable to respond, you follow his instruction and retreat to your bedroom with Minho following close behind. Once you reach your destination, Minho allows you a moment to remove your heels and plug in your phone. You reach behind your back, ready to escape the confines of your snug dress, but a second pair of hands halt your movements.

Minho hums. “So fucking glad you wore this dress—allow me to remove it?”

“Be my guest.”

You’re surprised at how sensual Minho is, slowly trailing his hands up the length of your arms, over your shoulders, and down your back as if committing the curves of your body to memory. You’re breathless by the time he actually begins to unzip your dress, using his other hand to trace your naked spine as it becomes more and more exposed. The logical part of your mind knows he’s playing with you—having heard many, many recounts from previous victims of his sadistic delight to tease.

Impatient and soaking through your underwear, you whirl around to shove Minho onto your bed. He lands with a gasp, annoyance crowding his features. You watch him open his mouth, likely to chastise your hastiness, but interrupt his motives by peeling the rest of the dress from your figure. His jaw drops at the sight of your favorite pair of black lingerie, emphasizing the very best parts of your body like a vice.

“See something you like, Min?”

“Shut the fuck up and get over here already,” he seethes.

“Someone’s a bit impatient,” you laugh. It’s evil, you know that very well, but you can’t deny how much you enjoy pushing your best friend’s buttons—even more so in a situation like this one. With a bite of your lip and a wink, you trail a single hand down your front between your breasts, pausing just above the band of your panties. “Make you a deal—I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?”

“Never expected you to be a dirty fucking tease,” Minho sasses, but smirks in amusement and listens to your intended command nonetheless. You stare with hooded eyes as he removes his shirt, taking his sweet time to undo every single button and gradually reveal the caramel planes of his chest to your greedy gaze. Your knees nearly buckle as his bare biceps flex with every movement, complimenting the leanness of his form perfectly. You don’t even realize he’s also discarded his jeans until his husky tone reaches your ears: “You gonna stand there and gawk all night? Or are you gonna come over here and ride me into the sunset?”

His suggestion is too good to pass up, which is why your feet frantically carry you to the bed where Minho’s thick thighs welcome your weight. He pulls you closer by the hips, dragging your still clothed cores against one another. You release a groan at the contact while Minho hisses, busying himself with tracing your collarbones with his tongue. You’re not sure where to put your hands, deciding to splay them behind you on his knees.

“Do you—shit”—you almost choke when he nips at your decolletage—“do you have a c-condom?”

“Back pocket,” he mumbles against your skin.

In record time, you manage to fish the contraceptive from his discarded jeans and pull it over his already hard cock. Minho pumps himself once, twice, inhales a deep breath, then looks at you pointedly. “Y-You sure about this?”

“One hundred percent,” you say, dragging aside the seam of your panties without a second thought. Once again, Minho pulls you as close as possible against his chest, assisting you in your task of lining his bulbous head with your dripping entrance. Your body screams in absolute euphoria as he begins to breach your walls, stretching your core with a delicious ache that you haven’t felt in months. You have to relax your mind, nearly cumming at the sensation, and focus on your ragged breathing instead.

“Holy shit, you feel amazing—you okay?”

“J-Just give me second,” you stutter. “It’s—hah—it’s been awhile.”

“You’re in control here, baby,” Minho assures. “Move when it feels comfortable, hm?”

“I might… I might cum…”

“Just from my cock?” You curse the cocky smirk that spreads across your best friend’s face. “Go ahead, kitten, ‘cause I believe I promised you a night of endless pleasure—that’s only one of many…”

...What did you get yourself into?

My works are not to be reuploaded, modified, or translated anywhere besides this blog. If you see someone plagiarizing my work, please let me know right way. Otherwise, thank you for reading! Reblogs and feedback are always very much appreciated!

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids au #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader smut #skz fanfic #skz smut #lee know fanfic #lee know smut #lee minho fanfic #lee minho smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #kpop au

1K notes · View notes

ahbeduo · 1 month

Note

REALLY?! U WANNA KNOW SUBJECT 2 HCS FROM LIL OLD ME?! HEHEHE I THOUGHT YOUD NEVER ASK!!!

I like to think his name is Dorian :3 leakers were digging in the files a while back and found out that the texture for his model is called “Dorian” so that’s where it came from. Dorian is Greek for “gift”, but also comes from the name Doerain, which means “wanderer” or “exile” which I think is sad but fitting LMAO. (Dorian is also in reference to Oscar Wilde’s novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray. If ur interested u should look into it, bc I’d butcher the summary lol)

I like to think that bros a more feral version of Albedo. Albedo is domesticated, Dorian is not HFHDH. He’s much easier to anger, but he wouldn’t put up a fight unless provoked or attacked first.

The reason…he was never trained in any kind of sword fighting style. He can swing a sword around but there’s a 1/99 chance that it would actually hurt someone.

I gave him a Cryo vision bc I mean. Just look at him. That pathetic little mess of a guy is the archetype for Cryo. I like to think he’s a catalyst user (and his best weapon is “Frostbearer” and he relies on it more than his sword hehe. Playstyle wise I’d make him scale off of ATK to contrast Albedo’s DEF scaling)

For his relationships, he prefers Klee’s more upbeat and bouncy nature. She doesn’t seem to mind that he’s not Albedo, and treats him like a brother regardless. He’d take her fishblasting any day <3

Albedo…he’s wary around. Even if they were to make up and all that, his vibe around would probably be very much the feeling you get when you go over to a friend’s house and you feel like you have to impress their parents in order to be allowed in. Does that make sense?? Basically he’s walking on eggshells even if Albedo tells him he’s fine LMAO

While he’s made his appearance a bit different from Albedo (red/maroon/black color scheme, hair either down on his shoulders or in a low and messy braid, and a little thinner than Albedo due to Albedo having built up muscle from sword-wielding), sometimes he switches back to Albedo’s form to mess with people. Specifically the Traveler. He’s a little prankster!!

Even tho he’s used to the cold, he loves warmth. U light up a fire and Dorian will sit so close his hair will singe at the edges. He also loves spicy food <3 (when he lived in Dragonspine he ate like. Unseasoned roasted meat and snow. So he craves any kind of flavor now)

I hc him as aro-ace, and also nonbinary for some fics I write :D I mostly do that just to differentiate between Albedo and him (I write him without a name sometimes so using the “he/him” pronouns twice over without stating who’s speaking is very complicated so I use “they/them” for ease of reading) but also bc I feel like. After 500 years of sleeping in poison dragon tummy soup, one would sort of dissociate from the whole gender thing.

Hehehehehe there u go there’s some hcs 👉👈 I love my little guy he’s so sad and I LOOOOOVE the angst potential with him. Lmk what u think :D

uwahhhh those are yummy, thank you for the snacks 😋

Idk what to say there, just know that your HCs are valid! Some of them, like how rocky his relationship with Albedo is, are something i do think of too! Like yeh they cool, but that doesn't erase the fact Albedo is the favourite child. And and and the fact he likes flavours like spicy- I think he doesn't like very sweet things either

#ask #anonymous #long post #from the anon lol

16 notes · View notes

digitalagepulao · 8 months

Note

Ok. What’s everyone’s favorite foods to eat ? Any comfort foods among the group that they will go crazy for ?

abwdjhawbd hewwo!!

mmmm lemme see... for Wukong, he rather enjoyed (and still does) exploring new flavors and textures in food, he's an adventurous foodie and he only got even more daring after he gained his immortalities. but ever since he got out of the mountain, he finds incredible comfort in any fruit fresh off the branch. it tastes like home and easier times.

Tripitaka has a fondness for soups and stews most days, and cold salads of sour fruits like papaya and mango on the hotter seasons. his absolute favorite treat is steamed lotus leaves with vegetarian filling, they were a very rare treat in the monastery and usually, he only got them when someone of his family visited for some festival or another. so for him, it tastes like being cherished, cus his family still remembers to bring him his favorite treats.

Bajie enjoys any food so long as there is enough for him to get his fill, but anything fried is particularly yummy for him. that said, he does have an incredible sweet tooth, and maltose sweets are his favorite. rice ear balls, peanut sugar slabs, sweet barley mooncakes, sugared dried fruits, you name it!

Wujing struggles with adjusting to a vegetarian diet more than Bajie, and he often leans towards mild or neutral foods as much as possible to force himself to adjust to not finding pleasure in eating. Wukong doesn't fully get the mental gymnastics of it but indulges him as much as he can and so does Tripitaka and Ao Lie (Bajie is a clown about it, cus of course). However, he remembers the lovely foods and drinks from the Heavenly banquets, the likes of which one can never find in the lower world. It's the kind of craving he can never fulfill but he's making his peace with it. For now, he prefers plain rice, xidoufen (a type of meal made from boiled pea flour) and herbal stock soups.

And for our beloved Longma, he's growing a complicated relationship with his sense of taste. In horse form, grass and hay taste AMAZING to him, but not in his other forms. He finds it much easier to maintain his diet as a horse since grazing actually is enjoyable. In his human form, however, his picky prince tastes become a major hurdle for him. Kind of hard to enjoy any food when you're used to royal banquets of blessed foods, after all xD And as a dragon, woof, only meats will do since everything else just tastes like ash and sand.

#jttw #journey to the west #xiyouji #jttw au #expedition to the west au

31 notes · View notes

bunnybeeofficial · 5 months

Text

SOOOO totally happy 2 b here!!! im soooo happy 2 meet u all

do u want 2 b happy?

do u want 2 b beautiful??

do u want 2 b mine???

((RULES AND OOC UNDER THE READMORE))

((another blog by me, bunny, the person who came out of nowhere swinging SEMI-LUKEWARM

CAUTION, TRIGGERS AHEAD, NOT ALL WILL BE TAGGED

honey will randomly blip out of existence with my motivation and energy levels! This does NOT mean that she wouldn't be communicating with your OCs during this time. I know it sucks to pilot an npc but please don't just assume honey is ignoring your oc, i seriously do not have the spoons to be as actively extroverted as her. i am an introvert.

theres going to be So much eyestrain on this blog, like to the point that almost every post would have an eyestrain tag, so please keep that in mind!

gifs are tagged "gif" queue tag is "supes cute" food stuff is "yummy stuff" nails are "perfectly painted" art tag is "artsy shit" selfie tag is "super cute selfie" makeup is "looks that kill" clothes are under "wardrobe"

my name is bunny, im 25+, i am not a social person and do not have the energy to talk to a lot of people at once, so either have patience or don't bother

i have several other blogs im not active on, but im most frequently on jujulebee

do not send me IMs in character, i will accept them as ooc if you don't have my discord, otherwise dont

do not leave Replies on my posts, i have stated this multiple times, i don't notice them in the deluge of activity notifications i receive, if you want to have a conversation on a post i have made reblog the post

youre free to ask for my discord but i dont guarantee that ill talk to you regularly, i am not a talkative person

im not Extremely picky with who i follow and will block freely and without hesitation. im here to curate my ideal experience, not save the feelings of a stranger.

while i understand that ic=/=ooc if your character is transphobic or racist in any way please dont interact, actually

honey wouldn’t want to talk to you anyway

this page does not accept magic anons

please do not godmod to try and fix honeys issues, i dont want that, genuinely

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

honey b azrael was born august 6th, 1998

she’s bi-racial korean, born in texas

she is 4'8" (her boots typically put her at 5’), approx 240 lbs

honey was embraced on january 23rd of 2021

honey's a well-known streamer/virtual idol with a truly Cultish following with a majority of her followers worshipping her akin to a god. she is obssessed with the idea of making people beautiful, with no real concept of what that Beauty is, as she believes beauty is in the eye of the one presenting that beauty, as such she would not change someone without their explicit permission. she loves to be worshipped and idolized, but denying her that adoration does nothing to dissuade her bright personality, there is nothing you can say to convince her she is not worthy of it.

honey is a 6th generation tzimisce, her adoptive sire is delilah and true sire was killed to prevent any complications

⚠️WIP⚠️Strength: 3/5 Dexterity: 2/5 Stamina: 3/5 Charisma: 4/5 Manipulation: 2/5 Composure: 3/5 Intelligence: 2/5 Wits: 2/5 Resolve: 1/5⚠️

honey is a party girl and there will be mentions of drug/alcohol use and i will tag them as “drug mention” or “alcohol mention” if mentioned

nsfw content will be tagged as “nsfw //” or “nsfw language”

⚠️EYES, CULT-LIKE BEHAVIOR, BLOOD, AND BODY HORROR WILL NOT BE TAGGED⚠️

honey is pansexual and disinterested in a romantic relationship but sexually available

honey is doing GREAT and you should trust her

honeys best friend circle consists of dolls, sam, jules, her owl butler hubert, and diana who lives inside of her

she loves making friends and talking to people, though, so feel free to shoot her a message! she WILL talk to you

if your character is rude or just generally mean for no real reason (there are funny exceptions to this rule) honey will not want to speak with you and will probably unfollow you

ooc follows are fine, if i dont interact with your character much ill probably end up unfollowing, though

will add more if i can think of anything

#super cute selfie #gif #artsy shit

17 notes · View notes

soft-teddybear · 2 years

Text

ateez - yandere! indoor dates

genre: yandere, fluff

cw: Stockholm syndrome, toxic relationship

summary: types of indoor dates ateez members would have with their s/o as bonding time or rewards.

disclaimer: this it’s a work of fiction not made to represent real life situations, i’m not affirming the members are like this and please don’t read if it makes you uncomfortable.

members under the cut

seonghwa: lego building date

you both check the sets online to decide on which one to build next and he buys it. the day it arrives is one of the happiest days in the house and your favourites because it’s date day, seonghwa would make sure that all his schedule is clean and everyone knows that he should not be bother because he’s busy with more important things, that being you and the set. you spend the whole day building the lego, listening to music and eating yummy snacks and takeout food because seonghwa it’s too focused on building the set to remember to cook and he would never let you into the kitchen.

he’s the proudest person in the world when you finish a part on your own and lets you know it, takes small breaks just to take pictures of your concentrated face and the progress you’re making. if the set is too big or complicated he’ll separate it in order to build it in different days, which means more dates. when you finally complete it he displays it along with the others you’ve made together because he’s so proud, takes lots of pictures to show everyone the growing collection and have an opportunity to talk about you.

hongjoong: clothes decoration

date buys home slippers, big hoodies and pants to complete comfy outfits to use at home and lots of decoration supplies: paint, brushes, acrylic markers, embroidery stuff (even though he’s scared you might get hurt while using the needle) and everything you could ask for because he doesn’t wants to limit your creativity. praises every single of your design, would suggest doing matching designs on hoodies or pants to have something to use the few occasions he lets you out, that way everyone can know you’re together.

his favourite part of the date is when you decorate something for him, usually hoodies or pants, while he is doing the same for you. wears all the stuff you personalise for him proudly to the studio to work on producing or recording new songs, dance practices and basically his daily life, wearing that clothing makes him feel like you are close and motivates him. loves, loves, loves when he arrives home and sees you wearing his designs, even more when you run to the door to give him a welcome hug.

yunho: dancing learning date

you both decide on a song and if it’s form a random k-pop group you learn it together, if it’s from ateez he teaches you everything. so patient with you it’s unbelievable, he knows he’s a professional so he learns faster that the average person, so he uses this advantage to help you learn it better and it’s super proud of you when you learn a particularly hard step, big smile on his face when he congratulates you.

makes sure you stretched well before starting, he can let his baby get hurt on an activity that is supposed to be fun. cheers you every time he sees you start getting low and suggest moving on from a difficult part because he doesn’t likes to see you upset. break time for everything, water, snacks, rest, bathroom, if you need a break you just need to tell it and he’ll stop everything because he’s putting your health first. when you’re done its time for a long shower to clean all the sweat and relax the muscles and then time for a big meal of something you both are craving, usually take out because no one wants to cook.

yeosang: video games date

he plans a sort of video games competition were you play lots of different games and the loser has to make something for the winner, depending on the type of game and it’s difficulty it could go form giving kisses every time the winner asks, cleaning the bathroom, doing dinner for a week or stuff like that. makes sure the game selection goes form your favourites to his to have fair conditions and make sure none of you get bored or upset for losing many times in a row or in different games.

to prepare for the date he buys a big supply of your favourite snacks and drinks and would take recommendations if you’re craving something in specific, even if it’s hard to find. makes you sit on his lap to hold you close and get cuddles, if he’s losing he would kiss your neck to distract you, but would get shy and let you win, unless if his in a super competitive mode where there’s not lovers just competition. if you play something alone while he would act as a commentator of an important game just to make you smile. would stay up until really late because you’re too exited and would count who won most games to determinate the winner next morning.

san: skincare date

it’s all about skin and body products. you take a long bath together, with lovely smelling candles, bath bombs, salt and everything to make a more fancy bath. body was to exfoliate your body before going out of the bath and apply moisturising cream on your body, san always helps you with the parts you can’t reach and you do the same for him. then it’s time for the longest skincare routine you can think of: serum, moisturising cream for the face, different types of face masks, eye mask, lips masks, hair masks, everything to make your skin soft and healthy.

all it’s done while listening to relaxing music, san singing form time to time to make the atmosphere even more relaxing and romantic, you both wear the comfiest, fluffiest pyjamas he could find, bought specially for occasions like this. san would ask you for a massage if it’s been a particularly long week at work or if his been under lots of stress, always said your touch makes him relax. yummy food it’s a must, as well as the cuddles.

mingi: making outfits date

if he loves something is this world is to buy you pretty clothes, his baby has to look as good as him, pretty just for him, so mingi becomes your personal stylist. the date is pretty much a try on haul where you put on all the new clothes he bought you and him in the outfits you both made, with different hair styles, make up looks, shoes, accessories, everything to make a full look for you to model for each other. sometimes he lets you order clothes online to surprise him and gets super happy when he notices his stylist habilites have made some effect on you.

when there’s a particular outfit he likes lots he tells you to keep it on mind or to put it away in a specific place for the occasion he takes you out on a extra special date outside, or when he orders a fancy meal for a special indoor date, because he wants everyone to know that pretty baby is all his. his phone is full of pictures of that dates, tells you that you look adorable on everything so he need pictures of you on everything, always changes his lock screen after the date, to have an actualised picture.

wooyoung: baking date

it was the funniest time you had, wooyoung would make sure you had all of the supplies necessary to make lots and lots of desserts from different types of cookies, cupcakes to regular cakes and brownies, everything you’re craving is going to be made. he’s extra careful so it took you lots of time to convince him to let you cut some of the ingredients, tired of just doing the measuring and mixing, but every time you pick up a knife is under his full supervision. what is off the limits is the oven, putting the food inside and out is his full responsibility and he’s not open to negotiation.

while the desserts are cooking you both would make different types of frosting, changing the color and flavour to make every decoration unique. let’s you have all the fun decorating with the frosting and chocolate or rainbow sprinkles while he looks at you happily. then is eating time, your favourite part because everything is so good all the times. he would save some for his members because he loves every opportunity to make everyone know how good his baby is.

jongho: reading date

dress you up pretty because you're going out for a bit. it’s a date that consists on some steps: 1) going to the book store where you pick a book of your interest, that he approves, and he picks one for himself. 2) coffee shop where he orders your favourites drinks, to take while reading. 3) going home, where you cuddle on the couch while reading your recently bought books, eating some snacks and drinking your coffee.

soft music playing on the background and you both enjoying each other company. all the time you‘re out he’s holding your hand, keeping you on eye sight and does all the talking for you, he trust you, but not the other people. loves when you tell him your opinion on the books, if you liked it or not, just loves to hear you talk. a twist of the date is when you have a started book, in those cases jongho would go out alone to the coffee shop and the date starts early.

n/a: making this was a big mess I’m tired and done with everything

#ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #rosie writes #ateez seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez yandere #yandere ateez #kpop yandere #kpop fic

383 notes · View notes

insurrection-if · 1 month

Note

when I read lempo I thought it was liempo 😭 liempo is like a pork filo dish so I was like yummy I can eat her up LMSOOOJKKKK

Ahaha, that’s hilarious! ( ´ 艸｀) Lempo is pretty delicious in a literal sense with her ambrosia, so that impression isn’t too far out there, haha!

She’s also more than willing for Mockingbird to taste her (whether it be through her blood, ambrosia, or other means), so your mindset would be greatly welcomed by her, aha!

Also, if it’s easier to use when thinking about or referring to her, Lempo’s real name is Falda Lundquist. (��´∀｀)b

The moniker Lempo is a name she adopted from Finnish mythology. She doesn’t have much interest in historical / religious / cultural studies herself (at least, not in the traditional academic sense), so her discovery and interest in Lempo originated from one of her fathers who introduced her to the historical origins of the name.

Her attachment to the name is largely rooted in the perception towards Lempo rather than Lempo themself. I have seen conflicting information over what Lempo was the god of, and their nature as more of a fiend or creature, but the main point for Falda herself is their association with love (and, as some extend them to, passion).

Love is something often revered or desired in some sense or another (in forms either platonic, familial, or romantic). Our first thoughts towards love might often veer to ideals and satisfactions: love as one’s comfort, home, support, happiness, or pleasure. But Lempo, despite their association with and offering of love, was not so pure or altruistic in their nature, showing themself to be capable of malicious or callous actions. And yet, before the introduction of Christianity, Lempo had also been tied to acts of good or grace which created a much more morally dubious (or, in simply put, grey) light. Imperfect, flawed, yet still rooted in that core aspect of love and its manifestation between others. Lempo was not innocent and pure, but neither were they wholly vile and wicked as they instead roamed somewhere in-between.

After the arrival of Christianity, Lempo was heavily demonized to the point of being compared to the Christian devil: a fallen being defined by his sinfulness, pride, and selfishness. Lempo’s love became synonymous with a love that is erratic and perilous, twisted and corrupted into something maddening and foul.

This all ties into Falda’s own gift, her ambrosia, and how others perceive it . . . as well as her own complicated relationship with it.

Rather than love, Falda’s ‘divine offering’ to the world is (against, simply put) happiness, which is similarly idealized, desired, and revered by most. Her ambrosia has an effect that often eases its recipient, injecting them with a high of pure joy and pleasant physical sensations. Much like love, it can stir intense passion, sentiment, and satisfaction. And like Lempo’s use of their divine nature, Falda did not always offer her ambrosia with intentions pure or benevolent.

Falda has utilized her ambrosia out of kindness and trickery, selfishness and selflessness. She has used it to soothe the ache and despair of those around her as a healer would. She has used it to incapacitate and subdue those who have opposed her, and those who have threatened her. She has used it to lure and entrap others for her own gain, just as she has equally used it to delight and please those accepting of her care. Like Lempo, she is not wholly benevolent or malicious. She, as a person and a Gifted, is imperfect, flawed, and grey in her nature

The ambrosia, like Lempo’s post-Christian depiction of love, became a source of madness in her followers. Its pleasures became addictive for some, desensitizing for others. The end of her cult was a rather dark affair that I won’t fully detail here and now. Following the cult’s end, however, Falda came to be seen as someone who twisted something that could have once been innocent or benevolent (happiness, rather than love) into something crazed, harmful, and lethal. Her image became monstrous to the greater world, and (like Lempo) she became an icon for all that is immoral, dangerous, and deluded about the Gifted.

Falda is somewhat conflicted on where to place the fault of her cult’s demise: on her ambrosia, herself (her nature or her actions), her followers (their humanity as something lesser or frail), or ill-fortune. She has become more contemplative over whether there truly is an innate wickedness in herself or her gift, or if these thoughts are simply the hurtful and projected judgements of others that should be dismissed with careless disregard. These thoughts are little more than a seed at the start of the narrative, but it’s a matter she’ll be mulling over as events develop.

I hope that explanation for her moniker at least makes the smallest amount of sense to someone out there! ദ്ദി(˶‾᷄ᗜ‾᷅˵ ᵕ) It’s a lot easier to understand and unravel when it’s a stream of quickly overlapping thought in my head rather than words typed on a screen.

Apologies if anything I’ve stated about Lempo (from Finnish mythology, not the character) has been horribly incorrect or ignorantly offensive in any way! I’m Catholic, and don’t have any in-person Finnish associates other than a distant cousin’s boyfriend, so my knowledge might be horribly off-base or poorly presented above. I truly hope that isn’t the case, but please let me know if that’s so and I’ll try to make amends!

For my own fun(?), I’ve briefly listed the reasoning for the monikers of the rest of the CARDINALS below. I considered adding this for the codenames of the HAWKS too, but that’s rather easy to sum up since their codenames are just the spirit animals I assigned to them a long time ago. Mockingbird is the sole exception to that trend as their codenames only calls out to their nature as an imitator, though the symbolic association with ‘individuality’ is somewhat relevant to their gift as well.

Anywho, here’s the background for the CARDINALS’s names:

Uriel: Self-named after the archangel Uriel from Christianity (though the recognition of Uriel varies across denominations). He likes the image of one who fights with and guides others to the truth, wielding a fiery conviction and a heart without pity. In childhood, he had been close to a woman devoted to the Anglican Church. He no longer adheres to the faith, but still wishes to transfer the sense of reverence and power the name Uriel once held in his eyes onto himself.

Curadora: She is a ‘curator’ of memories, and that is a far more honorable title than a ‘manipulator’ of them. A curator is one who controls but also maintains, almost like a guardian or caretaker of their collection. It is also similar to the title of a ‘curandera’, a traditional healer, which is a connotation that appeals to her.

Dearil: The name given to him by the leader of the cult he was raised in, one only granted after the manifestation of his gift. Its connotations with death make it somewhat self-explanatory, though ‘call of the dead’ is rather fitting for how his gift has managed to evolve itself (in a way the man who gave him this name did not foresee).

Kalyna: Chosen for sentiment and symbolism, the kalyna is deeply intertwined with her roots. Its connotations with innocence, love, companionship, and freedom from oppression embodies all she wishes to defend. It is also tied to nature much like her own gift.

“Golden” Retriever: His reputation in his days as a hero reflected the associated qualities and personality of the dog breed by the same name. His appearance was also heavily associated with gold.

Lempo: Explained (poorly) above, but to reiterate, an entity associated with love whose aspects and offerings, while widely(?) revered and desired, could spiral into the erratic and dangerous—much like her ambrosia. A being condemned and demonized by the morals and perception of others much like herself as a Gifted and who she is as a person.

Bacara: A demonic creature associated with deals and crossroads. The name was “gifted” to him (in reality, given with the intent to shame and harm) by a loved one. It alludes to his self-interested, (arguably) malicious nature before the CARDINALS when he offered largely material or immoral gains for a cost tailored to tease and scar or simply satisfy his own whims and desires.

Boar: A wild animal associated with ferocity and strength that poses a worthy challenge to whoever dares to hunt it. Boar likens herself to this image as someone wild and untamable, ferocious and strong, who will not die easily or quietly even as all the world hunts her down for no reason other than her born nature.

Bones: A simple title with no flash or flare. Bones are associated with death and decay, enduring remnants of something lost to death long ago (like Elov himself).

Hopscotch: The name of a game that’s considered childish and simple, much like how Hopscotch himself wishes to be perceived. His teleportation is best used across small distances, and these small “hops” from one space to the next resemble those within the game he’s named after. It’s approachable, friendly, and shows he doesn’t take himself too seriously.

Scales: As in scales that balance, one tipping down causing the other to rise, much like the equal exchange required for whatever alteration is made by their gift. It’s also reminiscent of the ‘scales of justice’ or the symbol for equality. Justice and equality are what Scales hopes to champion for the Gifted.

#c: lempo

10 notes · View notes