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subskz · 1 year

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ʚïɞ butterfly bandage - 02

note: this is part 2 of a series (part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5)

content: bang chan/reader, university au, reader is female and referred to with she/her pronouns, themes of soulmates, slight angst, slight hurt/comfort, themes of death/grief over a friend, mentions of past unhealthy relationships, nsfw scenes

18+ content: sub chan, dom reader, soft smut, unprotected sex (no condom, but reader is on contraceptives), praise, body worship, riding, light choking, under-discussed kinks (both parties are consenting), light possessiveness, biting, teasing, lots of begging, aftercare

word count: 15.8k

You didn’t want to go home.

Final exams were just a week away, and summer break would follow soon after. For anyone else, it would bring about a much-needed relief, a moment to breathe after the grueling interim leading up to the end of the semester. For you, however, all that awaited was a looming, unshakeable sense of dread.

You hadn’t returned to your hometown for nearly six months now, choosing instead to spend all of your vacation time on campus, pouring yourself into assignments and studies far sooner and far more vigorously than required. But summer break would be an exception to this new, comfortably avoidant routine of yours. The excuse that you were busy became significantly less convincing when you had no classes to attend to, and you were certain that your parents wouldn’t let you get away with not visiting home for at least a week or two, especially when the trip was less than an hour by train.

It would be the one year anniversary soon, of the loss of your closest friend. The memory was still too fresh in your mind, the wound was still wide open and festering. You hadn’t given it proper time to heal—or, any time to heal, for that matter—instead having grown accustomed to slapping on a temporary fix and replacing it only when deemed absolutely necessary. Just enough to get by, to keep yourself together.

It wouldn’t be that easy to ignore once you returned home, though. Not even close. Every flickering streetlight, every newly blossomed tree, every crack in the sidewalk that had once been so reassuring in its familiarity, was laced with memories of her. They were memories that used to make your life brighter, warmer; like a glowing ball of light you carried around in your chest wherever you went. Now, they only stung.

The sound of your phone vibrating against the nightstand snapped you out of your brooding. You reached out aimlessly for it through the darkness of your bedroom, squinting as the harsh screen light nearly blinded you in the process.

A familiar flash of gray was all you needed to see to open the notification with embarrassing haste.

chan 🐺 (3:08 a.m.) let’s go here!

For a brief moment, you were at a loss, then, the link to a nearby bungeoppang shop followed.

chan 🐺 (3:09 a.m.) their custard is so sooo sooooooo good

chan 🐺 (3:10 a.m.) akskdnsnsksjsjsk

You were grinning before you even finished reading his messages, fondness flooding your chest in place of the heavy, melancholic fog that had been occupying it all night.

you (3:11 a.m.) yummy~ we can go during finals week as a pick me up!

chan 🐺 (3:11 a.m.) yuo’re awake,??

you (3:11 a.m.) that’s my line!

Just as you were typing out another response, your screen changed to signal Chan’s incoming call, making you scramble upright in bed. You should’ve come to expect it by now, but even so, it still felt just as new and exhilarating as the first time that wolf emoji had popped up out of the blue. Predictably unpredictable.

His greeting came the instant you picked up, oddly cheerful considering how late into the night it was.

“Hey!”

“Hi, Channie,” you said softly. “Y’know, I think I’ve got you all figured out.”

“Oh?” Chan sounded taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“You’re only a phone guy when you should be asleep.”

Confusion melted into amusement, and you could hear the grin in his voice when he replied. “Hm…maybe you’re right,” he agreed. “But what’s your excuse, then?”

You paused. “I guess I’m only a good texter when it comes to you.”

The shy giggles that filled your ears didn’t disappoint. They made you feel light, carefree; like everything that had been responsible for keeping you wide awake for the past three hours was suddenly so trivial in the face of his laughter.

“So, what are you up to?” you asked.

“Trying to trick myself to fall asleep,” he said it like a joke, but you could feel the weariness behind his words. It tugged at your emotions in a way that you knew all too well. The urge to help him, to take care of him.

Your heart welcomed it, but your mind rejected it, and you were more keen on letting the latter call the shots these days. So, as naturally as it came, you pushed it away.

“By thinking about bungeoppang?”

Another giggle. “Well, more like thinking about things I wanna do with you.”

You held your breath to avoid letting a reaction slip out, but there was no way to repress the butterflies that fluttered to life in your stomach. Thankfully, Chan didn’t seem to notice. It was the one thing about you he could never quite catch, like his obliviousness to his own charm stood in the way of an otherwise razor-sharp intuition.

“How about you? What’s got you awake?”

You could clearly envision the attentive eyes and curious head tilt accompanying his question. It almost made you want to answer without restraint, to share all the thoughts that you’d been needlessly torturing yourself with for days now, rotating over and over in your head until they snowballed into something out of your control.

You stopped yourself just in time. He didn’t need to hear something like that at this hour—or, ever, really.

“Just thinking about the summer.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, and you hoped it’d be enough to get past his scrutiny.

“Oh!” he chirped. “Are you excited?”

Absolutely not. “Kinda,” you were grateful he couldn’t see your expression. “More excited about it than finals, anyway.”

“It’ll be fine!” he said confidently. “Just two more weeks, and we’re free, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I’m gonna miss our study sessions.”

Chan had switched from the astrophysics track after his spring semester of senior year—cutting it close was an understatement—so any classes you’d be taking for your final term in the fall would be completely new territory for him. You didn’t doubt for a second that he might try to continue tutoring you and Changbin regardless, but after finding out how hard he’d been pushing himself to help you with subjects that he already had experience with, you couldn’t in good conscience allow him to do that to himself again.

Not that you needed the study sessions as an excuse to see him anymore, but still, you felt strangely wistful about it.

“Me too,” he hummed, as if his mind had drifted to the same place. “That reminds me, you left your sweater here the other day.”

“Oh! I didn’t even notice.”

“You must’ve been distracted by something,” he sang.

You let your chuckle slip out this time, more than ready to indulge him. “Well, there was this really cute boy there. Do you think he’d be willing to give it back to me?”

“Ah…” his attempt at teasing you backfired so spectacularly that he went silent for a moment. “He was cute? I don’t believe you.”

“Cute enough to kiss,” you confirmed.

You registered a sudden rustling sound on the other line, followed by the faintest squeak, as if he were physically unable to contain his giddiness. The thought of it nearly had you burying your face in your pillow yourself. You wished you could see him.

“Then,” he swallowed. “He might give it back to you, for a kiss.”

The memory of his lips on yours washed over you all at once, so vividly that you could even recall how his soft cheeks had felt cupped in your palms and how his shaky breath had fanned over your skin.

“Is that a promise?” You held out your pinky in the darkness. It buzzed with warmth, and you wondered briefly if he was mirroring your action on his end, or if it was just the lingering heat that he’d left on you.

“Promise,” he breathed.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

The final lecture of PHYS 408: Thermodynamics and Statistical Mechanics, more or less went exactly as you had predicted. No review for the final exam, no rundown of what to expect, and certainly no heartfelt announcement from Dr. Choi, letting you all know what a joy of a section you’d been to teach. If it weren't for the date and time of the exam scribbled on the whiteboard behind him, you might’ve thought he’d forgotten about it altogether.

He’d droned on for the first hour of class, delivering your last lesson of the semester with the same perpetual stiffness as day one, then had so generously granted the remaining 15 minutes as free time for studying amongst yourselves. Changbin appeared ready to bolt the moment the words left your professor’s mouth, but you’d stubbornly convinced him to stay just a bit longer and study with you. It was more for his sake than anything else, considering he’d only attended one of the two final exam reviews with Chan.

Changbin, it seemed, had other plans, as he hadn’t let a minute pass by without getting distracted from the task at hand and trying to start a conversation with you.

“By the way, you'll be at the get-together won’t you? Before the summer ends.”

You looked up from your notes, already sensing some kind of trap being set up.

“And by get-together you mean…?”

Changbin’s lips curved into a sheepish half-smile; caught, even with his careful phrasing.

“Well, I guess it’s more of a party.”

You made a face. You’d been to a handful of parties the past three years of your university experience, each one having been more unpleasant and suffocating than the last.

“I’m not sure, Bin. Not really my scene, y’know?”

“It’ll be your scene if I'm there, trust me.” Changbin lifted his head with a grin, and you might have rolled your eyes if his overblown confidence wasn’t so endearing.

“Uh-huh,” you played along. “Now I'm just itching to go.”

“Doesn’t the bond we’ve built these past months mean anything to you?” he whined. “It could be our last chance to really hang out!”

“It’s not like we’re dying, Seo Changbin,” you said, unimpressed. “I know for a fact that you’re taking the same Experimental Physics section as me next semester because we both put it off.”

Changbin clicked his tongue, shutting his book dramatically—which made no difference, really, considering he hadn’t read a single line of text from it. “Alright, fine. You’ve made it clear how little you value our friendship today.”

Just when you thought he’d accepted defeat, he continued.

“And of course,” a devious glint crossed his eyes. “It wouldn’t change your mind if I told you a certain friend of mine was coming?”

Ah. Despite your vigilance, it appeared you’d fallen right into his trap anyway.

“A certain friend?” you echoed. It came casual, but inside, your mind was swarming with countless possibilities. You hadn’t yet told Changbin about everything that had transpired between you and Chan, and you weren’t sure if Chan had mentioned anything to him either. The issue wasn’t so much that you were afraid of how Changbin would react, it was more about preparing yourself to deal with the theatrics of it all, the internal battle between horror and smugness that was sure to ensue inside him; because, on one hand, he’d been right, but on the other hand, he’d been right.

You could already picture it: scolding and teasing all at once, “I leave you alone with my best friend for one night and you kiss him!?”

You would never hear the end of it.

“A certain Bang Chan,” he elaborated, looking a bit disappointed when you didn’t give him the reaction he’d hoped for.

Knowing that Chan would be there admittedly piqued your interest, but not in the way Changbin seemed to think. You were more so curious as to what would draw him into such an environment—if he would be in his element, or awkwardly out of place. He was a social butterfly, sure, with a friends list that could probably fill up your entire Theoretical Methods notebook, but even so, a college party just wasn’t the kind of pastime you’d imagined him to indulge in all that much.

Still, you could be wrong. You simultaneously felt like you knew so much about Chan, yet so little. It was like you could envision the completed puzzle of him in your mind, but still didn’t quite have all the pieces in your hand.

With a start, you realized that Changbin might mistake your silence for something else, and you forced out a response before he could get too suspicious.

“Chan’s going?” you asked. “Is that his kind of thing?”

“Hm…not usually,” he tapped your pencil against the tabletop, as if it required deep thought. “At least, he’s not big on drinking and all that.”

The surge of satisfaction you felt in being correct came so strong that you were almost taken aback. It went hand in hand with that ever-present desire to know him, every part of him, better than anyone else.

“So, what’s the occasion, then? Because I know you’re not exactly a party animal yourself, Mr. Principles.”

“I’m the life of any party I go to.” He said it so seriously that you couldn’t help but snort, earning you a defensive swat to the shoulder.

“But, you do have a point,” he admitted once your giggles had died down. “It is sort of a special occasion.”

You leaned in, fully immersed now. He was being uncharacteristically roundabout today, and when that signature, shy smirk crept up on his face, you knew there was definitely something else brewing under the surface.

“It’s an event for the student music organization here on campus, so we get to do a little showcase.”

Your eyes widened. “We? As in 3RACHA?”

He simply beamed, the look of pride on his face speaking for itself.

“Bin! Are you serious!?”

For once, you were the one turning heads in you and Changbin’s direction, but you couldn’t find it in you to feel self-conscious about your outburst. “Like, a live performance?”

He wiggled in his spot, clearly basking in your excitement. “Just one song, but, yeah.”

“Still, that’s amazing!” you piped. “You should’ve just said that from the beginning, you know I’ll go if it means seeing you perform.”

“I know,” he scrunched up his nose, the embarrassment finally starting to get to him. “But I didn’t wanna flaunt. Modesty is key, after all.”

You shot him an amused look. “Is that one of your principles?”

“The most important one,” he said proudly.

Though you were less than enthused about attending a party of that magnitude, in that moment you felt nothing but delight bubbling up in your chest; for Changbin, for yourself, for Chan. You wondered what his reaction to the news had been like, if he’d broken out into that thousand-watt smile of barely-contained glee, or if the prospect of sharing his music in front of so many people had reduced him to a panicked mess, scrambling to get everything in order to put on the best performance possible.

The clock struck 9:15 a.m. to signal the end of your final lecture period. Naturally, you and Changbin hadn’t gotten any studying done, with his little announcement serving as the nail in the coffin for your motivation to work. As you gathered up your belongings and rose from your chair, an unexpected wave of nostalgia overtook you. It was likely the last time you’d be sitting in it, given that even the most absent of students would be showing up on the day of the final and taking any spot they could find. In a weird way, you were going to miss it. Some of your most miserable recollections from the semester were associated with it—stress, exhaustion, confusion, pressure—but it had brought about some of your most cherished moments as well; some of your most cherished people.

Changbin seemed to notice the sentimental expression on your face, and he gave you a gentle nudge as you strolled together out of the classroom.

“A lot has changed since that first day, huh?”

“Yeah,” you let your shoulder bump against his. “It has.”

You hoped, desperately, that it was the start of something better.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

In the end, you and Chan hadn’t been able to line your schedules up even once throughout finals week to make room for your bungeoppang date. Amidst the storm of projects, presentations, exams, and papers, the two of you barely found time in the day to fulfill basic necessities, let alone to hang out with one another. You were particularly worried about the self-care situation on his end, already well-acquainted with his tendency to neglect his health whenever he was swamped. All you could do was send short, uplifting messages every few days, encouraging him to get some rest before the sun came up.

The dangling promise of fish-shaped bread (and, of course, the boy that came with it) had carried you through the week more than you’d like to admit, and by the time your last exam of the semester came around, your patience was on its last legs. You turned in your Astronomical Techniques test with plenty of time to spare, scurrying out of the lecture hall and making your way to the campus gym as quickly as your feet would allow.

Pushing open the doors to the natatorium where you and Chan had agreed to meet, you were immediately hit with the stinging scent of chlorine and thunderous sound of overlapping splashes. You scanned over the area in search of his familiar face, overwhelmed by the sea of identical swim caps. When you spotted him at last, he wasn’t emerging from the locker room like you’d expected him to be—freshly showered and, most importantly, clothed. No, instead, your eyes landed on him just in time to witness him rising from the pool, muscular arms hoisting his body up the ledge and sending streams of water cascading down his broad shoulders and back.

You froze, too mesmerized by the sight to even think about looking away before he could notice you. He pulled his swim cap off along with his goggles, shaking his wet curls free and confirming that it was, in fact, Bang Christopher Chan standing shirtless before you.

It was almost laughable, how your heartbeat picked up to an alarming speed, hammering faster in your chest the more you studied his figure. The full curve of his pecs, the toned ridges of his abdomen, the lean dip in his waist, disappearing into his swim trunks. His skin was glistening and almost annoyingly untouched. You wanted to sully it, to leave it marked up and littered with traces of you.

A sudden squeak of your name snapped you back to your senses. With how intensely you’d been staring, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you that Chan’s head would whip around in your direction, as if he could physically feel the holes your gaze had been burning into his skin.

“Y-you’re here!” he stammered. A part of you wondered if he might’ve done this on purpose, secretly hoping for you to find him like this when he’d suggested that you meet up with him after practice. But, judging by the way he shrank into himself, arms flying up to cross over his chest at the speed of light, he was just as mortified as you were.

You took a breath, forcing yourself to get it together. “I guess I finished my exam earlier than I thought,” your voice sounded steady, at least. “Sorry for sneaking up on you.”

Chan shifted his weight from side to side, eyes darting between you and the floor. “No worries,” he chuckled awkwardly. You made a point to avoid looking anywhere but his face for the sake of his comfort, but the way his ears had flushed a very obvious shade of red was just as distracting, if not more.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, we’re done for the day, anyway. I just gotta shower, then I’m all yours!”

You wished he hadn’t phrased it like that. “Sure, take your time.”

You managed a quick smile, turning towards the bench on the far end of the pool so he could walk to the locker rooms without worrying about covering himself up.

As if that whole altercation hadn’t been embarrassing enough already, it took the entirety of the ten minutes he spent in the shower for the adrenaline rushing through your veins to finally ebb.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

It was the first time you’d ever really heard Chan whine—childish and pouty in a way that could give even Changbin a run for his money.

You giggled triumphantly, waving the bungeoppang in his face to really rub it in.

Chan had made the grave mistake of offhandedly telling you what he planned to order as the two of you chatted on the way to the shop, and when he’d whispered to you that he was going to run to the bathroom as you were studying the menu, the opportunity that presented itself was just too perfect for you to pass up.

Instead of waiting, you’d lined up on your own, praying that you would make it before he returned. In the end, you’d succeeded, ordering for him and yourself and paying for both portions just in the nick of time, much to his horror.

“This upset over my first win?” you taunted. “I didn’t know you were so competitive, Channie.”

He huffed, pressing his lips together in a way that made his cheeks swell. The good-natured twinkle in his eyes remained, however, and he eventually accepted the pastry in defeat. “Still, thank you.”

You softened. “Of course. It’s the least I could do.”

The two of you slipped into the nearest booth, settling in across from each other. Chan looked ready to devour his order within seconds of sitting down, but before he could, you reached out, bungeoppang in hand, as if proposing a toast.

“Here’s to getting through finals alive,” you declared.

He grinned, tapping his bread against yours. “Cheers!”

You bit into your share, the light crispness of the crust blending perfectly with its filling. Chan had been right about this place’s custard; the way its flavor flooded your tongue was nothing short of heavenly.

“Oh my God,” you mumbled. “This is so good.”

He let out a blissful hum of agreement. You glanced up to find him already halfway done with his share, cheeks stuffed and lips puckered as he chewed happily away. A stray drop of custard had stuck to the corner of his mouth, right next to the curve of his dimple, and it took everything in you not to lean in and kiss him right then and there.

Chan’s eyes fluttered open as he swallowed his massive mouthful, and you straightened up in your spot, trying to pretend like you hadn’t just been daydreaming about eating custard off of his face.

“By the way,” you began. “Changbin told me you guys are performing at the end of the summer?”

“Ah…” he brought his bungeoppang up to his nose, like he hoped to disappear behind it. “Yeah, seems like it. It’s not a big deal, though, really.”

“It is! I wish you’d told me, I definitely don’t wanna miss it.”

His gaze peeked up above the half-eaten bread, and you might’ve thought he was just playing coy if the look in his eyes wasn’t so adorably hopeful, searching your expression for a sincere show of interest.

“Really?”

“Of course,” you said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Plus, Bin would never let me live it down if I did.”

“True,” he grinned. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to tell you?”

“Oh?”

“I was just kinda embarrassed about it,” he chuckled. “Dunno if I’d be able to face you after.”

Something about the way he said it nearly made you melt. How very like him, to feel self-conscious about performing in front of you before it’d even happened. Unable to help yourself any longer, you reached forward and brushed your thumb along the edge of his lips, scooping up the drop of custard—though, really, it was just an excuse to touch him.

Chan looked caught off guard for a moment, fingers flexing around the pastry in his hand. Then, the smile was back on his face, even wider this time.

“You’re so cute,” you murmured. “If you say that, it just makes me wanna see you more, y’know.”

He reached up to fiddle with his piercing, both dimples now on full display. “Will you be back in town by then?”

“I’m gonna be here for most of the break, actually,” you confessed.

His eyes lit up. “You serious?”

You nodded, praying he wouldn’t ask you to elaborate.

“So am I!” he beamed. “I’m doing an independent study, so I won’t have the chance to go home.”

It dawned on you for the first time that Chan’s family was, in fact, still living in Australia while he attended university. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that he might not be visiting them over the summer. That same, familiar ache touched your heart again—it must get lonely for him. Here you were, purposely avoiding your hometown at all costs, when he was likely longing for his.

“Oh no,” you frowned. “Not even for a short trip?”

“Nah.” He waved his hand, seemingly unaffected. “But it’s alright. I’ve got you, and my buddy Felix will be here for a while, too.”

Felix. Another name you’d heard thrown around by Chan and Changbin on more than one occasion. He was yet another junior that Chan had managed to befriend somehow, and, just like him, he’d grown up in Australia. It eased your mind a bit, knowing that he and Chan at least had each other when everyone else was home for the holidays.

“But what about you?” He cocked his head. “Any reason you’re staying?”

The dreaded question. This time, you couldn’t depend on the safety of a phone call to keep him from gauging your reaction.

“I just prefer it here, I guess.” You picked at the paper wrapping of your bread, hoping to sound nonchalant. “There’s some stuff I don’t wanna deal with back home. But, knowing my parents, I’ll probably still go for a week or so.”

Suddenly, the look on his face wasn’t quite so bright. It was subtle, just a fleeting crack in his typically bubbly demeanor, but not lost on you. Whether it was the mention of your parents or your vaguely cynical response that had brought about such a strange reaction, you weren’t sure, but you berated yourself for being responsible for dampening his mood, even if it was short-lived.

“I get that,” he said softly. “Let’s have a good time here together, yeah?”

Chan didn’t speak any further on the topic, but somehow, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he resonated with what you’d said more than he was letting on.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Three days into your visit back home, you came to fully accept the fact that you were in way over your head.

From the moment you’d stepped off the train, hit with that warm, familiar air, tinged with the scent of pine, you could already feel it picking away at you. The trip from the station to your house, which you’d stubbornly chosen to make by foot, was full of bittersweet sights, sounds, and smells that had shaped you growing up, with each one tugging your seams loose just a little bit more. It felt akin to whiplash, a harsh dive into the deep end of reality after the past month you’d spent with Chan, stuck in a giddy haze.

Thanks to him, the harsh sting of summer had become more of a dull ache, not quite fading altogether, but soothed into something more manageable, at least. With Iseul, Changbin, and all your other friends returning home for vacation, you’d breezed through the entirety of June almost exclusively in Chan’s company. More often than not, Felix would join in as well, making for an unexpectedly pleasant dynamic among the three of you. You’d taken a liking to the boy in no time—it was impossible not to, when he had a smile like the sun and an infectious sort of vitality that brought joy to even the simplest of activities. He was a bit more reserved than Chan, at least around you, but he had a similar kind of warmth, the kind that was sure to enamor anyone he crossed paths with.

Between movie nights (more superhero movies than you’d ever thought existed), day trips to the beach (with Chan, thankfully, taking your sanity into account and wearing a tank top at all times), and far too many baking sessions (some successful, most failed), what you’d initially feared to be a month of nothing but heat and misery had turned out to be some of the best weeks of your life.

It was only natural, of course, that the universe would follow them up with a week that was carefully crafted to send all that happiness you’d built toppling unceremoniously to the ground.

The pit of guilt you’d felt in your stomach about avoiding home for so long increased tenfold with every comment from your parents and relatives, joking about how you were too busy, too good for your family to waste time on them anymore. You almost wanted to be upset, because you knew they knew. But you also knew that they meant well. In their minds, they were doing you a favor by not addressing it, not daring to so much as utter your friend’s name around you. It was much easier to pretend like everything was okay. That was what you’d been doing for the past year, after all.

Still, no matter how hard you wished you could ignore it, the pesky, human desire for seeking solace in others persisted. You needed to release, to lift the top off the pressure cooker you’d kept so tightly sealed for so long.

You needed to talk to someone. But the only person in the world who you could’ve opened up to about losing her, was her.

Your thumb lingered over Chan’s contact, now on your fourth minute of debating whether or not you should throw caution to the wind and call him. You wanted to hear his voice rambling on, his absent-minded humming of whichever song was stuck in his head that day, his laughter.

With a deep inhale, you swiped out of your phone app, opening up your messages instead.

you (8:13 a.m.) hey it’s been a minute! how are u?

A response, almost immediately.

iseul 🪷 (8:13 a.m.) awful horrible miserable

you (8:14 a.m.) hello??? what’s going on?

iseul 🪷 (8:14 a.m.) family is driving me crazy and i hate men i also might be fired???? idk yet

You frowned, trying to process the unfortunate string of messages unfolding on your screen. You didn’t think it was possible for anyone to be having a worse time than you right now. It brought you back to your senses, reminded you of your place. Self-pity never suited you, anyway. Your sympathy was much better off reserved for others.

you (8:15 a.m.) oh my god? do you want to talk?

iseul 🪷 (8:15 a.m.) ugh yes i’ll ft you later at a family gathering rn 🤢 hate it here

you (8:16 a.m.) we’re in the same boat remember the right answer to every question is that ur focusing on ur studies

iseul 🪷 (8:16 a.m.) literally gonna be using that one all day ugh literally kill me

you (8:17 a.m.) being nosey is just how they show their love~

iseul 🪷 (8:17 a.m.) they should show their love a little less

you (8:18 a.m.) lmaoo

you (8:19 a.m.) btw do you still want me to look over that paper for your grad school app?

iseul 🪷 (8:19 a.m.) omg….. omfg yes i totally forgot omfg i’ll send it to u when i’m free pls read it fix it make me sound smarter

With the way Iseul was typing a mile a minute, you were certain you’d be in for an earful when you talked to her later. Strangely enough, it lifted a bit of weight off your shoulders. Maybe you could focus on reviewing her essay and offering her advice on the many, many issues she seemed to be facing as a way to take your mind off the growing itch in your skin.

That was all you had to do, really. Make yourself useful, keep yourself preoccupied with something at all times until you could return to campus and restart the process of tucking away every memory associated with the previous summer from scratch.

It was just a matter of holding yourself together. Just one more week.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but think that a day like this one shouldn’t be quite so sunny.

The sky was bright and spotless, an endless expanse of soft blue without so much as a single cloud daring to interfere. Some might say it was a good omen, a sign that you were being watched over with a smile, but to you, it almost felt like a taunt.

Still, the nice weather at least meant that your walk to the cemetery wouldn’t be met with any unexpected rain. Your mother had offered—or demanded, rather—to drive you if you weren’t going to drive yourself, so as not to keep your friends waiting; but much to her exasperation, you’d refused. You had an important stop to make along the way, anyway, one that both fueled your apprehension, and eased it.

It had officially been a year now. A year since you’d lost your best friend, a year since you’d ended your relationship, a year since your sense of self had become muddled. Nothing in the city felt like home, anymore. It had belonged to the both of you, and with her gone, there was nothing left for you.

A sudden call of your name nearly made you jump out of your skin. You looked up from the concrete, shocked to find that you’d zoned out long enough to have reached your destination without even processing it. Your eyes raked over the worn-down stand, once a pure, striking white, now chipped and rusted with age. Still, it brought a smile to your face, the first real one since you’d arrived home.

“Is that really you, kid?”

Steeling yourself, you lifted your head fully to face the man before you. He looked the same as ever, albeit with a bit less hair on his head, but his kind eyes and jovial smile hadn’t changed one bit, they never did.

“Hello, Uncle Geun,” you greeted. “How have you been?”

Gruff, booming laughter met your ears, and you were pulled into a bone-crushing hug before you knew it. The smell of his colorful apron, musky from the heat, but not unpleasant, sent a wave of sentimentality crashing over you. It took everything in you not to tear up the moment it touched your senses.

He was a man that had watched you grow up, in the truest sense of the words. Over a decade ago, on this very street, you’d rounded the corner with a bit too much energy on your way to school, slamming into another little girl and sending you both toppling onto the unforgiving sidewalk. You’d managed to come out of it with just a skidded palm, but she, on the other hand, was bawling the instant she’d recovered from the initial impact.

Even as a child, you’d gotten the feeling that she was being a bit too dramatic about it all, sobbing about how her knees hurt and how her new jumper was ruined. Regardless, your stomach twisted with guilt, and when you saw that your apologies weren’t getting through to her, you’d done the first thing your little mind could think of, scurrying over to the nearby flower vendor and asking if he could spare you a gift for her. His smile had been just as grand back then as it was now, his laughter just as boisterous as he picked a chrysanthemum from his stock and handed it to you.

The second you’d shoved the round, yellow flower in her face, her crying came to an immediate halt, tears drying up and sniffles dying down, as if on cue. She accepted it with a smile as bright as the flower itself, pulling off a few petals for you when she noticed the scrapes on your hand.

You’d continued the walk to school side by side, and by the end of the day, the two of you had come to a mutual agreement that you were now, officially, best friends.

You blinked rapidly, hoping your expression wouldn't betray you when Uncle Geun finally pulled away from the hug.

“It’s good to see you,” he beamed. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“That’s all you, Uncle. Even the flowers are jealous.”

Another raspy burst of laughter. “Clever as always.”

“Maybe that college education is worth something,” you joked.

His grin grew impossibly wider, silver tooth gleaming in the sunlight. “We’ve all missed you,” he said. “Doesn’t really feel like the summertime without the sight of you walking around the city with—”

He cut himself off at just the right instant. You felt a light pang in your chest, but you forced yourself to keep smiling.

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “You girls were always a joy.”

“We had a lot of great memories because of you,” you replied quietly.

An uncharacteristically somber look crossed his face, and your eyes fell back to the ground.

“So, what’ll it be, today?” he began, trying to put the pep back in his voice. “Don’t tell me you’re just here to give the old man a visit.”

“Chrysanthemums, please,” you requested. “They’re for her.”

You unzipped your bag, reaching in to pull out your wallet. Before you could even prepare your payment, however, his calloused hand rested over yours, shooing it away.

“This one’s on the house.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

You never made it to the cemetery.

However necessary it had felt for you to visit the flower stand and see Uncle Geun, the toll it took on your state of mind was far heavier than you’d ever anticipated—and you’d anticipated. Your conversation with him had left you disoriented, a strange ache pulsing through your body. Whether grief or nostalgia was at its core, you weren’t sure.

With blurry vision, you’d texted your friends that you wouldn’t be able to make it and returned home, clutching the bouquet of flowers close to your chest. In a matter of twenty minutes, you gathered up all your belongings, tossed them into your hardly unpacked suitcase, and arranged to take the first train back home. Your new home, the one that felt right for all the wrong reasons.

Despite your parents’ adamant protests, you stood by your decision to leave. You promised to make it up to them with another visit, and after almost an hour of arguing, the hollowness of your voice finally seemed to get through to them. Disapproving but ultimately understanding, they’d quietly allowed you to go.

The train ride was a blur. You didn’t remember much of it, and only when you approached the front door of your apartment at last did you feel the fog in your head begin to clear just a bit. As you dug around for your keys, you realized for the first time how stiff your hand had become. You’d kept it wrapped tightly around the chrysanthemums for the entire trip home, not loosening your death grip even once.

The heavy sigh of relief you let out as you stepped into your apartment was cut short when you registered an unexpected figure standing near the window. Even in all your shock, you didn’t have the energy to call out louder than your usual volume.

“Chan?”

His reaction was priceless, yelping in fear and spinning around at a breakneck speed. You were lucky that he at least managed to avoid dropping the watering can in his hand and send it crashing to the floor.

“Y-you’re here!?”

The fact that it sounded like a genuine question when you were standing right in front of him shouldn’t have endeared you so much. You placed down your bags, praying that your exhaustion wasn’t as obvious as it felt.

“Surprise,” you nearly cringed at how weak it came out.

In all your turmoil, you’d completely forgotten that Chan had offered to water your plants for you while you were gone. Though, to be fair, even if you had remembered, you wouldn’t have expected to stumble in on him doing so at near midnight.

“Welcome back!” His face broke out into a radiant smile. It felt more like home than anything you’d experienced the past week. “Are those new flowers for me to water?”

Despite everything, you smiled back at him, placing the bouquet on your countertop and padding over to him. He opened his arms in an instant, and you fell into them, squeezing him tighter than was probably necessary and earning a cute, tiny grunt.

“Thank you, Channie,” you simply said. His warmth enveloped you and his scent wafted over you, freshly-washed laundry and the fading, sweet citrus of his cologne. “It’s good to see you.”

“I missed you,” he sucked in hesitantly through his teeth before continuing. “But, is everything alright? I thought you still had another few days.”

“Yeah. Just a little change of plans,” hoping to lighten the mood, you added, “Guess I can’t be kept away from you for too long.”

You knew he wouldn’t buy the excuse, but he giggled anyway, shoulders vibrating against you as the melodic sound graced your ears. A part of you had initially been horrified by the prospect of Chan catching you like this, but now, all you felt was an overwhelming sense of calm.

Reluctantly, you pulled back to face him. His eyes were drowsy—nothing new there—but there was a healthy complexion to his skin. He looked just a bit tanner than the last time you’d seen him; he must’ve spent a lot of his free time at the beach.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” he didn’t let go of you, even after the hug had ended. “Felix will be, too. Pretty sure he secretly thinks you’re a better baking assistant than me.”

You let out a hum of amusement. “Can’t say I blame him when you steal all the chocolate chips.”

He puckered his lips into a pout. Not truly upset, but enough for you to lean in and press an apologetic kiss to them. You would’ve taken any opportunity to do so, anyway.

His breath caught in his throat—you’d quickly learned that it was inevitable, no matter how many times you kissed him—but he returned it instantly, melting into you like he’d been itching to do from the second you’d arrived. It was something you hadn’t fully adjusted to yet, how impossibly soft his lips were. They demanded all of your attention in their fullness, moving against yours with a timid sort of vigor.

You hadn’t expected it to be more than just a light peck, but once you’d gotten a taste of him, of his warmth, you couldn’t help yourself. It was his fault, you decided, for diving into you with such unabashed eagerness. Your teeth grazed delicately along his lower lip, and he opened his mouth to let out a sweet, airy sigh.

The feeling that you’d so narrowly escaped on the night you’d first kissed him took hold of you yet again, so strong in its grip that you worried you may not be able to ignore it this time. Your hands roamed down to his abdomen, brushing over it just enough to feel the outline of his muscles beneath his clothes. You remembered the sight of him in the natatorium that day—toned stomach and soft hips, smooth, irresistible skin that looked like it hadn’t been marked a day in his life. You wanted all of it, all of him.

Chan angled his head to further deepen the kiss, nose bumping against yours in the process. You felt his lips curve into a shy smile, and another sound escaped him, almost like a squeak.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you finally found it in you to break the kiss. When his eyes blinked open, he looked adorably lost, gaze falling right back down to your lips as if to ask why you’d stopped. He swayed just barely under your hands, and you strengthened your hold on his waist to steady him.

“You look like you’re about to fall over, Channie,” you teased.

“Sorry,” he chuckled breathlessly. “My heart’s kinda racing.”

It was such a sincere admission, so simple and honest. Even if you couldn’t already tell what he was thinking on your own, he wore his heart on his sleeve. Or rather, he held it out in his hands, offering it up to you.

You let go of his waist to lock your fingers with his. You’d grown used to the heat by now, but everything else you were feeling in that moment made it burn just as much as the first time you’d touched him. With just a light tug at his arm, he was following you to your bedroom, clutching your hand a little tighter.

“Is this better?” you asked, settling down on the bed with him.

He ducked his head, too flustered to respond. Playfully, you lifted two fingers and placed them on his neck, as if to check his pulse. You pressed down into his skin, and he nearly gasped. If it hadn’t been racing before, it certainly was now.

“I-it’s been a while,” he meekly tried to explain.

Given how his body reacted to your every little touch, you had no trouble believing it. You couldn’t deny how much it excited you, too. He was such a sweet boy; you felt a need, a hunger, to see the most intimate parts of him, to see what pleasure and vulnerability and desperation might look like on such an angelic face. You wanted to make him a part of you, to engulf him and protect him, to take on his emotions and forget about yours.

Driven by a newfound urgency, you all but crashed back into him. He met your fire with equal enthusiasm, parting his lips to let your tongue slide against his—hot and wet in a way that made the both of you shiver. Your hands began roaming again, feeling up the broad expanse of his shoulders, his chest, his arms. You palmed and squeezed at them to your heart’s content, as if to make sure the moment was real, to make sure he was real. It was still hard to fathom, that the man you’d been dreaming about for almost three months now was here in your bed.

You trailed further down in your touch, fingers sliding under his loose shirt and palms flattening against his skin. Suddenly, Chan tensed, retreating from the kiss just enough to speak, but still close enough that his lips brushed against yours with every word.

“W-wait,” he stuttered out. “I don’t…I didn’t…”

You paused, fearing for a moment that you’d misread the situation. He had said it’d been a while, after all. Maybe he wasn’t ready. Maybe he wasn’t used to moving this fast; you certainly weren’t.

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t have protection,” he warned quietly. “I-I didn’t think…”

Despite every cell in your body crying out in protest, you pulled back to get a proper look at him. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide and putting his longing on full display for you to see.

He seemed to be struggling with getting his sentence out, so you guessed for him. “You didn’t think this would happen?”

He averted his eyes. “Just…didn’t wanna assume anything.”

Cute, cute, cute. He was so painfully cute.

“I’m protected,” you reassured him. “You don’t have to worry.”

Even if he had brought contraceptives, against your better judgment, you weren’t quite sure if you’d be content with using them. You wanted all of him, skin on skin, every inch. Nothing else would satisfy the burn, the ache that had been burgeoning inside you since the day you’d first met him.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing,” you pressed your forehead against his. “Let me take care of you, Channie.”

The sound he made in response, low and needy in his throat, set something off in you. Miraculously, you managed to prevent yourself from digging your nails into his stomach, just to relieve some of the tension that was consuming your body at an alarming rate.

Instead, you took his chin between your fingers, tilting it up. “Is that okay with you?”

Chan swallowed, so hard that you could see his adam’s apple bob in his throat. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I c-can pull out. Just tell me when, please, and I’ll listen.”

He said it so earnestly that you pressed your thighs together. You had no plans to tell him, and you got the feeling he understood that from the look in your eyes alone.

“You’re good at listening, aren’t you?” you cooed.

He nodded, eyes squeezing shut when your hand came to cradle his head. “I’ll be good for you,” he mustered up the courage to say it, grateful for the lack of eye contact. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

Good for you. The words made your heart sing. He was already so good for you just existing. He was perfect for you.

“Whatever I want?” you brushed your thumb up and down his cheek. “Everything I want is already right in front of me.”

A blush crept up on his face, dusting it that unmistakable rosy shade that was so Chan. You felt his skin heating up as he nuzzled into your palm with a flustered laugh, and you took the opportunity to gently guide him down, resting his back against the bed. With bated breath, he watched you come to hover above him, his hands bunching nervously at the bedsheets. You slipped your fingers back under his shirt and began tugging it up his torso. He stiffened, but still raised himself slightly off the mattress to allow you to pull off the garment.

The moment your eyes landed on his bare upper body, he was looking away again, chest rising and falling rapidly in anticipation. You rested a hand over his left pec, feeling up the defined muscle and his heartbeat along with it.

“Beautiful,” you murmured.

Chan stammered out something that sounded vaguely like a protest, but he didn’t have the chance to finish before you were leaning down and pressing a kiss to his neck. His response was immediate, tilting his head and baring his skin to you. Your mouth traveled along his jawline and down the column of his throat, sucking and nibbling at every spot you touched. By the time you reached his collarbones, he was already squirming in barely-concealed want beneath you, and you stole a glance at him to find him biting down hard on his lip in restraint.

“You’re so beautiful, Channie,” you dragged your teeth along the curve of his chest, and his hips shot up into you. “I can’t believe I get to see you like this.”

“Please,” he buried his face in his hands. It was adorable, but not as adorable as the sight of embarrassment and pleasure twisting his features. So, you rested your hands over his and pulled them away, pinning his muscular arms above his head and rendering them powerless.

“You said you’d do whatever I want, right?” you began. “So, no hiding.”

His eyes glazed over with lust, so taken by how exposed he felt below you that he almost forgot to nod.

“And,” you continued, lowering yourself to speak right into his ear. “No holding back, okay? I know you have a pretty voice, let me hear it.”

“I…” for a second, he appeared at a loss for words. “O-okay.”

“Good boy,” you let go of his hands, dragging your fingers lightly down his biceps and watching him shudder. You readjusted your position to resume your earlier ministrations, kissing down the valley of his chest and fighting the temptation to sink your teeth into it—hard. You wanted nothing more than to leave his skin red and bruised and blossoming with love bites, but you knew you probably shouldn’t when any marks you made would be clear as day to his teammates during swim practice. Instead, you settled for pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along his body, grazing his skin with your teeth just enough to appease yourself without leaving a lasting trace. The softness of your lips pressed against the lean ridges of his abs, making for a contrast that neither of you could get enough of.

“Such a pretty baby,” you mumbled, licking a stripe down his stomach and feeling his muscles contract under your tongue. “My pretty baby boy.”

It slipped out like an instinct, and before you could stop to wonder if it may be too much for Chan, a long, shaky moan met your ears.

Oh. He was loud.

Suddenly, his frantic attempts to suppress himself made perfect sense. You had a feeling that he hadn’t let completely loose yet, either. Heat pooled in your stomach at the thought of what kind of noises you could draw out of him. You couldn’t wait much longer.

“Do you like that? Baby boy?” you asked sweetly. Chan raised his hips off the mattress as your fingers danced delicately along his sides, soothing and exciting him all at once.

“M-mhm.” It was all he could get out without making another mortifying sound.

“Tell me what you like,” you swirled your tongue around his belly button, slowly approaching his v-line. “Tell me what feels good.”

“All of it,” he gasped. “All of you.”

You smiled against his skin, and your lips found the waistband of his shorts, allowing you to see for the first time just how much he meant it. You’d been so focused on attending to his upper half that you hadn’t even thought about the state of him down there. He was hard, fully hard. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was leaking in his underwear by now. It almost made you feel a tinge of guilt, leaving him neglected for so long; but his building desire was palpable, and it fed into your arousal like nothing else.

Mischievously, you gave his bulge a kittenish lick. Chan all but jolted, hand flying over his mouth a moment too late to mask his hiccup.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, angel,” you promised, fingers dipping under the elastic of his waistband. “So good, you won’t be able to think about anything else.”

“Oh, God,” he whimpered. “Need you.”

“I’m right here, Channie,” you pulled his shorts down in one go, removing his underwear along with them. He hissed through his teeth as the air hit his exposed length, cooling the drops of precum that had dribbled from his tip. Carefully, you took him into your hand, licking your lips when you felt him throb at the contact.

“Poor thing,” you feigned sympathy. “You’re so worked up.”

You knew it took everything in Chan not to bury his face in the sheets. Instead, he bucked up into your grasp as a wordless plea, struggling to gain some kind of friction. His body was just as honest as he was with his words. Every subtle shift in his expression, every sensitive twitch of his body, every poorly concealed sound—they made it so easy to understand what he was feeling. He made himself so easy for you to take apart.

Gently, you gestured for him to sit up. It took him a moment to process the command, and you couldn’t help but think he looked akin to a lost puppy, blinking his foggy eyes in confusion before clumsily willing himself upright. You ushered him back until he was resting against the headboard, slipping off your own shorts and underwear and settling into his lap in one fell swoop.

“You’re not the only one, though,” you drawled, taking his cock back into your hand. You pressed his tip just barely against your heat, allowing your wetness to mix with his precum. “Do you feel it?”

A desperate groan rumbled in his chest, going straight to your core. “Y-yes. Please, let me feel you. Wanna make you feel good, too.”

You hummed playfully, circling the head of his dick around your entrance and gathering up more of your essence. His thighs jerked up against yours, a weak apology immediately following it. Just to tease him further, you stopped what you were doing and turned your attention to your own shirt, taking your sweet time in slipping it off your torso and discarding it.

The ache between your legs was almost unbearable at this point, but the way Chan’s breathing picked up when he realized what you were doing made it all worth it. You unclasped your bra from behind, letting it slip off your shoulders and exposing your bare body to him.

His stare dropped, locking on the sight of your chest with a shaky inhale. A mere few inches separated you, but he gazed at you like you were untouchable, like he could only admire you from afar. It made you giggle—even now, he was still so shy.

“Are you ready, Channie?”

He looked back up at you with a nod, and you almost wished he hadn’t, because the pure adoration swimming in his eyes effectively sent the last of your self-control crumbling.

You lined him up with your entrance and sank down on his cock all at once. The gasp you let out was only rivaled by the sound of his own cry, loud and shameless, like he himself didn’t even realize it was coming from him.

Heat rippled throughout your entire body, stronger than you’d ever felt it before. It held the exhilaration of something new, yet the intimacy of something familiar, and it set every one of your nerve endings ablaze. You clenched around Chan the moment you connected with his base, taking in his size and shape, wrapping yourself around him; all of him, just like you’d wanted.

He surged forward with another strained noise, head falling into your chest and nestling into its softness. You rested a hand on the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his curls and placing your other hand on his shoulder.

“Mine,” you whispered.

Vaguely, you heard it, timid and breathless, mumbled into your skin. “Yours. ‘M yours.”

There was no way to hide how the words affected you, not when your walls tightened around his cock in a way that made him tremble. It almost made you wonder if he knew about the burn, about the inexplicable need to make him a part of you—or, rather, to take him back as a missing part of you. Did he feel it too?

You took a few moments to calm yourself and adjust to the feeling of him buried inside you. It felt right, like he was made for you. Like you were made for each other.

Every twitch of his length tested your patience more and more, and you knew that he himself must be hanging on by a thread by now. His hands hovered awkwardly above your hips, fingers flexing as he tried to decide what to do with them.

“You wanna touch, Channie?” you urged. “Go ahead.”

He peeked up at you from where his face was burrowed, as if to ask for the permission you’d already granted. You gave him an encouraging smile, and he took hold of your waist at last, squeezing tentatively.

“Th-thank you,” he stuttered.

He was thanking you. You didn’t think you could conjure up a more endearing, a more devastating detail if you tried. It made your heart melt and your arousal skyrocket. You needed to ruin him.

“You’re so cute,” you purred. “Hold on tight, okay?”

He pressed the pads of his fingers a bit deeper into your flesh. Using your grip on his shoulders for leverage, you lifted yourself off his cock bit by bit, relishing in the feeling of it dragging slowly along your walls. Without missing a beat, you snapped your hips back down, both to elicit a response in Chan, and to satisfy the immediate need to be full of him again. You succeeded in both, engulfing every inch of him even tighter than before, as if your body didn’t want to let him go a second time.

“A-ah, fuck!”

It sounded so strange coming from him, sweet voice cracking with a whimper, but so, so delicious.

“Is it good, Channie?”

You repeated the action, gliding up and down with ease thanks to the arousal that was all but dripping down your thighs at this point. Each bounce coated his length with slickness, creating messy, wet sounds that were sure to make his ears burn.

“Feels like I’m on fire,” he threw his head back, mouth falling open to give you a breathtaking view. “So—ah—good. You feel so good, so warm.”

You puffed out a giggle, unable to get a word in amidst his babbling. Instead, you picked up your pace, fueled on by his reactions as the pleasure steadily overwhelmed him.

“So beautiful, I—” he gasped. “Need you.”

Your heart swelled with affection; he was already so far gone. “I’ve got you,” you ran your fingers through his hair and he practically keened. “You’re doing so well for me, Channie. You’re perfect for me.”

Half-lidded eyes blinked up at you, and he subconsciously tugged at your hips, trying to pull you closer.

“I’ll be good,” he repeated his earlier vow. “You can even be m-mean to me, I’ll be good.”

The words caught you by surprise. Still, you kept your expression calm, something to ease his mind amidst the slew of sensations clouding it. You slowed down to trace your thumb along his cheek, so delicately that if he didn’t focus hard enough, your touch would be lost on him.

“Do you want me to?”

Remembering how he’d reacted earlier, you let your hands slide down to his neck, resting them there experimentally without pressing down just yet. Chan let out a whine, the vibrations of it making your palms tingle.

“There, please,” he tilted his head even further back, bumping it against the headboard. “Wanna feel you everywhere.”

Your stomach flipped, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you wrapped your fingers completely around his throat. It was thick, pumping with life. You had to use both hands. Chan bit his lower lip in anticipation, another low whine spilling out of him.

Taking great care in your movements, you began riding him again, lifting yourself on his cock, then sliding back down just as you squeezed at the sides of his throat. You didn’t want to hurt him—not really. You just wanted to toy with him a bit, watch him squirm under your fingertips. You wanted to push him to his limit, then guide him safely right back to you.

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?”

“Y-yes,” he managed. “I will. Promise.”

The response was so immediate, so desperate, like he was afraid you might change your mind and stop. He throbbed inside you when you applied more force to your grip, almost sounding relieved in the airy moan that escaped him. You watched, fascinated, as his face flushed a shade deeper, whether from arousal or shortness of breath, you weren’t quite sure.

To better control your grip on his neck, you halted your bouncing to switch to a slower, deliberate grinding of your hips instead. Chan jerked up beneath you, the newfound rhythm pressing your walls against his cock and making him dizzy.

You contracted your fingers around his throat repeatedly, adding and removing the slightest bit of pressure to match the rocking of your hips. His tip brushed against your sweet spot, and you let out a soft moan that only seemed to bring him closer to his breaking point.

“Oh, God,” he groaned. “W-wait…slow down, please. ‘M getting close.”

“Slow down?” you tilted your head. “Why? Don’t you wanna cum, baby boy?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, and you loosened your hold on his neck so he could speak properly.

“Wanna finish with you,” he slurred. “Wanna make you feel good, too.”

You should’ve expected it. Of course he would have such an earnest, such an adorable reason to ask something of you—it was Chan. Even at the height of his pleasure, he was still thinking of yours, making sure you were enjoying yourself as much as he was. It spread an unbelievable warmth in your chest, different from the intense, sultry heat brewing between your bodies.

It also made you want to mess with him.

“Don’t worry, Channie,” you dragged your nails along his neck, not enough to draw blood, but enough to scratch, to make him shudder beneath you. “I feel good just watching you fall apart like this.”

His hands stayed latched to your hips, following them with every tortuous rock, but making no attempt to try and stop your movements. Despite that, his pleas didn’t let up, demanding in the sweetest, most polite of ways.

“Please,” his voice grew more frantic. “I’m really not gonna last, please, please.”

His whines chipped away at your resolve more than you let show; each one buzzing his vocal chords beneath your hands. He sounded so helpless, like he might burst into tears if he didn’t bring you to a climax with him.

“You sound so cute when you beg,” you marveled, sinking the pads of your fingers into his skin to feel his hammering heartbeat. “Maybe if you keep it up, I’ll change my mind.”

Much to Chan’s dismay, you continued your grinding, and you could see the concentration written all over his face as he fought to hold himself together. His hair had grown damp with sweat, face flushed and glistening from all his efforts. He looked so wrecked already; you could only imagine what it’d be like to see him cum.

You leaned in and kissed him. His lips were puffy and glossy and right there. It earned a cute mewl of surprise from the man, and it turned up in pitch when you took his lower lip between your teeth and nibbled. He let go of your hips to wrap his arms fully around your waist, trapping you as close as your bodies would allow.

“So—mmph—close.” His tongue slid against yours, jumbling his speech even further. “Please, please, please!”

You tugged at his plush lips one last time before breaking the kiss. “Gonna cum, angel?” You clenched around him, encouraging him to let go. “Don’t hold back. Empty inside me like a good boy.”

“Oh my God.” Chan’s whole body tensed beneath you, head dropping right back into your chest with a choked sob. You felt his cock pulse wildly inside you, and soon after, the flood of his release. Coupled with the moan that spilled out of him, drawn-out and broken and still so loud despite being muffled by your flesh, you were almost sent over the edge yourself.

“That’s it, Channie,” you played with his hair as his climax rippled through him. “Look at you, filling me up so well. Good boy, good boy.”

It was almost devious, the way you stopped moving like he’d so hopelessly been begging for, only once he’d come down from his high. He slumped against you, his pants gradually dying down into cute, content sighs. When he finally found a strong enough grip on his consciousness to speak, it came whiny, sulky.

“Not fair,” he mumbled into you. “Wanted to finish together.”

He lifted his head, and you broke out into gentle giggles. The expression on his face would’ve been one of pure bliss if it weren’t for his very prominent, very effective pout.

“Can I count this as my second win?” You tapped his nose.

He huffed, but the beginnings of a smile tugged at his features, betraying him. “Please, let me do something for you.” He glanced down at the spot you were connected, wetting his lips. It made your core clench in a way that you knew he couldn’t miss. “Let me make you feel good.”

“I do feel good, Channie,” you insisted, and you meant it. “Better than ever, actually.”

Though the guilt didn’t fade from his pleading stare and furrowed brows, he at least seemed to believe you. He studied your face for a split second longer before leaning in, nudging his nose against yours to ask for another kiss.

You could’ve easily stayed that way for the rest of the night, savoring his warmth, the fullness, the wholeness that you felt when nestled into each other in every possible way. But judging by how sensitive Chan was, you knew there was a very real chance of him getting hard again, and regardless of how much you wanted it, neither of you had the energy to go again. Reluctantly, you hoisted yourself off of his length, sharing a flustered exhale with him when some of his seed trickled out of you and dripped on to his thigh.

Ten minutes later, the two of you were laid side by side in your bed, staring at the ceiling with your hands brushing delicately against each other.

“This…” Chan spoke up suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. “This isn’t a usual thing for me.”

You couldn’t deny the relief you felt upon hearing it. The answer to a question that had been floating in the back of your mind without you even realizing. It was selfish—meaningless, too—but you felt it all the same.

You were well past the point of pretending like your relationship with Chan was something ordinary, anyway. Whatever existed between you, it was magnetic and burning and inevitable, almost like you had no choice in the matter. In fact, that had to be the case, because if you’d had a choice, you certainly wouldn’t have let yourself fall into him so hard, or so fast.

“Me neither,” you admitted.

You heard the sheets rustle next to you. “Really?”

“Really.”

There was the faintest smile in his voice as he continued, and it made you wonder if he was indulging in the same, selfish satisfaction as you. It wouldn’t be a surprise, considering the way he seemed to mirror even the most intimate parts of you— parts that you barely even knew of until you saw them reflected in him.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “I…I’m never so…quick?” You could tell he was trying to choose his words carefully, but there was only so much he could do when his emotions were still running high and his head was still in a haze. “It can take months, e-even longer sometimes, for me to—”

“I don't think you’re easy, Channie,” you teased. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

You turned your head, just in time to see that rosy tint spread across his cheeks, still visible even in the dim light. It was a sight you might get addicted to.

“I just want you to know that this means something to me,” he said softly.

Something gripped you, dropped a pebble in the calm surface of your lake. You didn’t have much time to think about it though, to worry about finding a window to break out of before you were past the point of no return. For tonight, you let yourself lean fully into that persistent flame.

“It means something to me too,” you murmured. “I wouldn’t have done this with anyone but you.”

Chan let out a shy hum, going quiet for a bit before stroking your pinky finger with his.

“So,” he began. “Are you ready to tell me what happened?”

You tensed slightly in your spot. You’d hoped he would’ve forgotten about it by now, or, at least, been too busy basking in the afterglow to bring it up again so soon. The endorphins that had been flooding through your system ebbed just a bit. This moment was too precious to sully by thinking about it—about him.

Suddenly, it felt all too reminiscent of what had transpired exactly one year ago; the first and last time you’d ever tried talking to anyone about the loss of your friend. It had been with someone you’d thought you loved, someone you’d thought loved you. And maybe, he really had believed that he loved you, too. You’d never know, now.

Imbalanced didn’t even begin to describe it. Imbalance was the balance of your relationship; you’d provide everything, and he’d take it all. The roles had come so naturally to the both of you that you’d never once questioned them, or where they might lead you.

He needed comfort, you liked comforting him. He needed support, you liked supporting him. He needed someone to depend on, you liked being depended on. Equal exchange, the perfect dynamic on paper, and—for the most part—it had worked. You didn’t really have the chance to notice how thin you were stretching yourself, because he was happy, and that made you happy.

One simple question was enough to shake that foundation, however, enough to expose how fragile it all really was and send it toppling to the ground in the ugliest of ways. A question that, in all its simplicity, hadn’t crossed your mind until you were all but forced to confront it last summer.

If your relationship was built solely on your ability to accommodate him, what happened when you couldn’t accommodate him anymore?

You were always encouraged with the most deceptively sweet words to open up to him, to share your thoughts and feelings and troubles the same way he did with you. But every single time without fail, his reaction made you want to seal your mouth shut, never to have the audacity to utter a single word about yourself again.

“I regret asking” or, “Well, now I’m just depressed” or, “Let’s talk about something else” or, sometimes, even nothing at all. You soon came to find that the role you had taken on wasn’t just to his benefit, it was to your detriment. You were a mere footnote in his happiness, and nothing could ever break that mold.

“My best friend died.”

“Oh,” he’d said. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s horrible.”

You’d nodded, sensing instantly that you would’ve felt better if you’d kept quiet.

“I don’t really know what to say.”

You shut your eyes, unsure of what you’d expected from him in the first place. It was pathetic, anyway, to hope for words of comfort that you knew would be hollow. Nothing could’ve made it okay, especially not anything he could offer you.

“That’s okay,” you replied. “You don’t have to say anything.”

A deep breath, and then, a glimpse of weakness.

“Just…stay with me, please.”

The request had sounded so unnatural coming out of your mouth, like it was a phrase you were learning to say in a foreign tongue for the first time. You winced at yourself, but it was already too late to take back.

“Oh, yeah. Sure.”

The two of you had sat in silence for some time. It could’ve been seconds or hours, and you wouldn’t have known the difference. His hand rested on your back for part of it, running up and down in a motion that you used to calm him down when he was upset. Eventually, though, he seemed to have decided it was a lost cause and awkwardly removed it.

You still weren’t quite sure how you’d managed to hold back your tears that day. But your sniffling and sobbing being the only sound echoing throughout the deathly silent room had been the last thing you’d wanted; you already felt vulnerable enough just letting him see you like that. You didn’t want to break in front of him, and you were certain he didn’t want you to either. A crack in you meant the absolute shattering of him.

After shifting around uncomfortably in his spot for a few moments, he finally spoke up.

“Maybe this isn’t the best time, but does that mean tomorrow’s off?”

It took several seconds for you to process the question. You wondered, briefly, if you’d imagined it at first, or if he really was just that horribly out of touch with reality—with you as a human being.

You wanted to glare at him, to ask him why that would even be something to consider right now, let alone ask about, but miraculously, you’d restrained yourself.

“Yeah. I might need a few days.”

More silence, and then you felt his weight lift from the cushions next to you. He avoided eye contact as you raised your head to look at him.

“I should probably go.”

A pang in your chest. “Why?”

Please don’t. You’d desperately wanted to add.

“I feel bad. Like, I shouldn't be here,” he mumbled. “Just…let me know when you’re feeling better, alright? Love you.”

And then he left.

A few days later, he’d texted you like he always did. No question of how you were, no condolences, and most definitely no apology. He’d said he missed you—which, you’d come to learn long ago, was never just an honest expression of attachment when it came to him. It was a signal, a sort of code to let you know there was something he needed from you. He didn’t just miss you, he missed what you could do for him.

Another week passed, and you’d broken up with him. It was unusually cold of you, doing something so drastic through text, but you couldn’t find it in you to even leave your apartment, let alone face the maelstrom of emotions that were sure to unleash if you’d met him in person. You’d experienced it once before, the first time you’d tried to end things. Crying, begging, apologizing, all so profuse yet so hollow.

The second time, his guilting and false assurances hadn’t worked, or rather, they might have if it weren’t for the distance between you. If you’d tested your conviction in front of his distraught, teary face, swearing that he wouldn’t be able to live without you, you weren’t so sure you could’ve gone through with it. He looked so innocent, so harmless, you’d never guess that he’d be the one to suck the life out of you without a care in the world.

When the usual tactics didn’t work, he’d resorted to anger. In a way, you understood—he was hurt, and no matter how hard you tried to spell it out for him, he simply couldn’t comprehend all the ways he’d hurt you first. He hadn’t done anything, but that was exactly the problem.

As much as you wished you could’ve brushed it off, it had stuck with you. The accusations that you were a liar, a manipulator who promised him boundless love and care only to rip it away with cruel indifference once he’d come to rely on it. Even now, you weren’t entirely sure if he’d been wrong, and that in itself was enough to make you want to lock away your heart and toss out the key for good.

But here, you had Chan. The boy who could be carrying the entire world on his shoulders, and still offer to take some of the weight off of yours. The boy who could be struggling to keep his own head afloat, and still pass you his life preserver without a second thought. The more time you’d spent around him, the more you’d come to witness firsthand just how much he did for everyone, even people he wasn’t particularly close with—from small, thoughtful acts that might go unnoticed, to favors so arduous that they left him physically and mentally drained. All with the sweetest of smiles on his face.

You wanted to be the reason for his smile, not for his weariness.

“I told you,” you said lightly. “I just wanted to see you.”

“C’mon,” Chan giggled. “I know it’s more than that.”

You wondered just how much he knew. You wondered if he knew better than anyone else. Despite the complicated thoughts unfolding within you, you grinned, turning on your side to look at him. “I promise I’ll tell you later, okay?” You held out your pinky for good measure. “Right now, I don’t wanna focus on anything but this.”

Chan curled his finger around yours, the glow in his eyes rivaling the moonlight peeking through your blinds. You must’ve thought about how beautiful he looked a million times throughout the night, but now, faced with his tousled curls and his puffy lips—still reddened from all your kissing and biting—and his gaze that was watching you like you’d put the stars in the sky, it was all you could think about. He made it so easy, you mused, to focus on nothing on him.

You tried to snap yourself out of it. He was sweaty, he was sticky, most importantly, he was exhausted. He must be uncomfortable, laying in all the heat and perspiration that had accumulated in those sheets—thirsty, too. You unhooked your pinky from his and rolled off the bed with a bit too much haste, catching his attention.

His expression changed as he watched you rise to full standing, taking some time to stretch your spent muscles before searching around for your discarded top.

“Oh. Should I get going?”

It came quiet, demure, and it made you whip your head around.

“What?”

Chan paused, uncertain. “I-I mean…do you want me to leave?”

“Of course not,” you said instantly, just short of sharp. You were almost afraid to, but regardless, you asked, “Unless…you want to?”

“No,” his reply came just as fast. “Not at all.”

You had half a mind to ask him why he would even think you’d want him gone, especially given the conversation you’d just had, but you were too distracted by the look of pure bewilderment on his face. You didn’t understand it, nor did you like it.

“I’m just getting a washcloth and some water,” your voice softened, and it seemed to get through to him, at least.

“Oh,” he repeated. “Okay.”

It was followed by a small, bashful nod that eased your concerns just a bit. You padded to your bathroom and shut the door behind you, trying not to keep him waiting for too long as you cleaned yourself up and prepared a towel for him. His eyes followed you curiously when you stepped out and passed him on your way to the kitchen, retrieving two water bottles before finally joining him on your bed once more.

There was a short delay when you offered the water bottle to Chan. He blinked at it, as if it were some kind of unknown object, before thanking you quietly and accepting it from your hands. You told yourself he was probably still just a bit dazed, but it was hard to ignore the tinge of worry that pricked your mind.

As he tilted his head back to drink, your eyes fell down to his neck, admiring the way his throat bobbed with every gulp of water. The skin around it was blooming with noticeable, red marks along the lines you’d dragged your fingernails. It made you cringe slightly at yourself. You must've been more lost in the heat of the moment than you’d thought.

“How do you feel?” you checked once he’d downed half the bottle. “Does it hurt?”

You gestured to his neck, and he raised a hand to brush his fingers over the tender skin. “It doesn’t hurt,” he gave you a reassuring half-smile before adding, “I like it.”

You tried not to let the words affect you, to make you pounce at him and take him all over again. Instead, you took hold of the washcloth you’d prepared and pressed it to his neck. The water you’d soaked it in was warm, but it still felt cool to the touch when pressed against his burning flesh. He sighed contently, eyes drooping as you rubbed the reddened areas, taking great care not to irritate them further.

“Wanna lie down for me, Channie?”

“Ah…” He looked away, already leaning back despite the hesitance in his voice. “I-it’s okay, you really don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you said simply.

Chan seemed to sense the sincerity behind it, as he laid himself out the mattress without any further objections. Sheepish, but willing. Carefully, you began dabbing the towel at his face, wiping away the sweat from his forehead and making his eyes flutter shut. His muscles visibly relaxed as you moved further down his body, rubbing his neck, his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, his hips—you left no inch unaccounted for. The warm water you’d soaked the washcloth in calmed his every nerve-ending, so soothing, it almost distracted from how hyperaware he was of your every touch.

His breath caught in his throat when you brushed over his thigh to clean up the mix of fluids that had begun to dry up on his skin, legs threatening to squeeze shut.

“You’re so sensitive,” you remarked.

He shifted slightly, an awkward chuckle escaping him. “Sorry.”

“It’s cute,” you gave him one last once-over before removing your hand, satisfied. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Really good.” he blinked up at you lazily, a silent invitation for you to stop fussing over him and settle down next to him in the sheets at last.

You placed the washcloth on your nightstand, collapsing into the plush pillows with a sigh of your own. Chan scooted closer to you within seconds and, chest swelling with fondness, you opened your arms for him to nestle into. Even in all your intimacy, the two of you still couldn’t get enough of each other, filling every curve and gap between your bodies and interlocking your legs. You pressed a kiss to the top of his head before wrapping your arms around him, leaving no room for doubt that you wanted him there.

“Good night, Channie.”

“G’night,” it was barely audible, but even so, you could still hear the faint tremor in his voice. “I…thank you.”

Your eyes flickered down to him one last time before sleep overtook you. For a fleeting moment, you could’ve sworn you saw a wet gleam brimming in the corners of his eyes.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

In retrospect, going out to buy groceries on a Sunday afternoon probably wasn’t your smartest move.

After you and Chan had awoken the morning prior—or, just you, you weren’t sure how much sleep he had really gotten—groggy and ravenous only to find an alarming lack of food in your apartment, you wanted to restock as soon as possible. In your defense, you hadn’t been home for over a week, and even before that, you’d been spending a considerable amount of your time out and about with Chan or at his apartment. Still, it was embarrassing enough for you to not want a repeat of the situation, especially given how often you’d make a point to scold him and Changbin for not eating substantial meals.

You’d trudged to the nearest convenience store with a list of basic necessities typed out in the notes of your phone, only to soon discover that you’d be lucky to find anything you were looking for judging by how packed the place was. The state of most shelves was enough to make you think people must be preparing for some kind of apocalypse unbeknownst to you. Frowning, you made your way over to the prepared meals section, hoping to at least find something to get you through the next few days. As you maneuvered past the suffocating amounts of people, the sight of a familiar face across one of the aisles stopped you in your tracks.

A sharp, sculpted nose bridge, eyelashes swooping out like a ski slope, and a slight lean in his posture. Lee Minho. You hadn't expected him to even be back in town yet, let alone to be running the same foolish errand as you at this hour (all for the sake of cola, apparently, if the ridiculously large stash in his basket was any indication).

He seemed to have noticed you just a split second before you did him, fixing you with a stare so sharp that you had to blink a few times to make sure you weren’t imagining it.

You weren’t.

His eyes were dark and unwavering, boring into you with an intensity that made you feel as if you were the only two people in the store—and not in the romantic, heart-fluttering kind of way. It was more like everyone else had scattered the instant they’d sensed the tension, leaving you to fend for yourself under a glare that singled you out with an almost predatory accuracy. You waited for the reveal, the cheeky smirk that always followed, but it never came.

Oh.

Minho didn’t like you.

He really, really didn’t like you.

You felt stupid for not realizing it sooner. At the same time, however, he’d never really given you a reason to, and you liked to think you weren’t dense enough to completely miss it if he had. Suddenly, you found yourself re-evaluating every interaction you’d ever had with the guy, scanning and analyzing your conversations down to the most minute of details to try and recall if that same coldness he was emitting now had ever been present before. You thought back to the last time you’d spoken to him, just a week into summer break before he’d gone home. The two of you had started up a short, innocuous chat about the current anime he was watching, and outside of his very serious claims that it was undoubtedly the best of the season, nothing else about it really stood out to you.

You’d even taken his suggestion and watched it in your free time—one of the many, many distractions implemented in your visit home—and you’d planned on sharing your thoughts with him when you saw each other again. With the look he was giving you now, though, like he hoped you might spontaneously combust if he focused hard enough, you got the feeling he wasn’t exactly interested in hearing what you had to say.

Minho turned his head, preparing to leave the aisle without acknowledging you any further. Despite every one of your instincts telling you not to, you followed him, too consumed by curiosity to ignore whatever kind of message he’d been trying to send with just his eyes. You needed to test things out, to be absolutely sure. You needed to know what had changed since the last time you’d spoken to him.

Well, realistically, you knew what had changed. One very major, very undeniable thing had changed. But that couldn’t be it—could it?

“Hey, Minho!”

He might not have bothered stopping if it weren’t for an older woman passing in front of him with an overloaded cart. You squeezed past the rows of people as quickly and respectfully as you could, managing to catch up with him just in time.

It was a bit harder, you noted right away, to mitigate the effects of his stone-faced expression up close. He gave you a terse nod.

“Hey.”

“You’re back in town?”

His face changed just barely, trading out stoicism for something a bit more amused. “Very observant.”

You forced out a light laugh for the sake of extending the conversation, just long enough to get a proper read on him. “How was your vacation?”

“Fine,” he shrugged, adjusting his grip on his basket. “Not long enough.”

“I feel that,” you made a noise of sympathy, as if you hadn’t spent the past two months counting down the days until the fall semester began.

“How about you?” he was at least polite enough to return your question, but for some reason, it didn't really sound like he was asking. “Had fun?”

You barely caught it—a sneer. He definitely knew. It made your stomach flip a bit, if you were being honest, but you managed to keep a straight face.

“Yeah,” you replied evenly. “Me, Chan, and Felix made the most of it.”

“I’m sure.”

In your efforts to talk to him, you seemed to have accidentally stumbled into some kind of one-sided staring contest with this guy, because he hadn’t broken eye contact even once from the moment you’d strided up to him.

“It’s a shame,” he continued casually. “That you won’t be coming over anymore.”

You paused. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on using Chan as a tutor this semester, too?”

Something about the way he said it, the way he phrased it, made it difficult for you to keep up your composed front.

“Of course not. He’s done enough for me already.”

“Good,” Minho hummed, and though it appeared to be in agreement, it only put you further on edge. “He’s graduating after this term—you know that, right? So, playing hero for you is the last thing he needs.”

You narrowed your eyes. For a brief moment, you wondered if he might actually be jealous of you, if he somehow saw you as some kind of threat. But you dismissed the idea almost as soon as it came—the look Minho was giving you wasn’t of someone who was threatened, it was the look of someone who was threatening you.

“Why are you talking to me like that?”

“Like what?” he cocked his head innocently.

“Like I’ve done something wrong.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he dismissed. “Maybe it’s just your guilty conscience?”

You wanted to be annoyed, to call him out for how he was behaving in a way that he couldn’t twist. The problem was, he was being so fucking weird. You couldn’t even fully understand what he was trying to get at, or what his angle was. You weren’t even sure if he had an angle outside of just trying to get a rise out of you.

The corner of his lips curved up into a smirk. Just like the day you’d first met him, it was pure trouble, only now, it was missing the playfulness you’d come to know.

“What’s with that face?” he chuckled. “I’m only joking.”

Whatever this situation was, you decided you’d had enough of it.

“You’re usually funnier than that,” you said curtly.

At that, you dipped your head, stepped to the side, and walked past him, determined not to let the strange feeling bubbling up inside you reach the surface.

Minho’s stare followed you as you stalked off, piercing into your back. Even after you’d rounded the corner into another aisle, the chill of it lingered on your skin.

#bang chan x reader #skz x reader #bang chan fanfic #bang chan smut #skz smut #sub!bang chan #sub!skz #dom!reader #skz fanfic #skz imagines #bang chan imagines #sub!chan #stray kids x reader #bang chan x you

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vminizzle · 1 year

Text

Hotel room

pairing : husband!jungkook x f.reader

genre : SMUT, fluff

warnings : slight dry humping, penetration, unprotected sex, LOVE MAKING, pet names, marking, they’re cute asf

words count : 1.5k

A/N : hello lovely people, here again I’m posting. I’m sorry if it’s annoying? 💀 well, another husband!jk fic. Please, take care of yourselves everyone. I hope you’ll like this fic. REMINDER: POOR ENGLISH. - sunny

FEEDBACKS ARE VERY VERY WELCOMED

M RATED

“wow! It’s so … fancy!” you gasped excited as you entered the luxurious hotel suite Jungkook booked for the both of you.

You took some days off to spend some time together since you’re always working and seeing each other not so often.

Often meant only when he comes home earlier than usual and eat diner with you. You couldn’t even finish a movie without one of you passing out on the couch from how exhausted you were.

So here you were in this splendid hotel room.

The floor to ceiling windows of this luxury room were one the many things you loved the most.

The idea of admiring the sunrise and sunset made you smiled, such a beautiful sight. Or watch the dark, calm and empty roads of the city at night from your hotel suite situated at the upper floors of the hotel.

The bed was huge, the walls were a pretty shade of dark beige, it made the place kind of warm and especially… romantic by how the deep red roses petals were withered on the bed and the little candles randomly disposed in the room.

Your cheeks heated up as you turned around to look at your husband “Jungkook.” you started softly playing with your fingers.

“that’s so .. beautiful. thank you”.

Your husband scratched the back of his head timidly, his ears turning red as he looked at the bed behind you.

“it’s nothing.” he said shyly.

You smiled looking down.

He cleared his voice as he approached the window.

“it’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

You walked to him looking at the sun ready to disappear behind the tall buildings.

“yes it is.” you replied happily.

“But not as beautiful as you.” he said cheekily.

“oh my god shut up.” you gasped hiding your flustered face behind your hands.

He chuckled taking your hands in his gently “i love you.” he whispered.

“I love you too.” you smiled.

Jungkook bent down slowly, his lips enveloping yours into a soft kiss. His hands found your hips pulling you closer to him.

You cupped his face gently as you smiled into the kiss.

He broke the kiss, caressing your sides.

“I’m happy we can spend time together for more than 5 hours.” he said laughing making you laugh too.

"yea, this week I’ll have the chance to wake up with my husband next to me.” you smiled softly.

He chuckled before pecking your lips. You pulled him back, wanting to kiss him more. You missed him. And so did he.

You threw your arms around his neck as he cupped your cheeks pinning you on the big window gently.

The cold glass made goosebumps raise on your skin.

“Jungkook” you moaned softly.

He hummed pushing his body on yours “baby.. I need you.” he breathed out grinding his crotch on you.

You could feel his growing erection pressed against your lower stomach.

“I need you too.” you admitted as your husband picked you up, his hands under your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his thin waist.

The sun was already saying his goodbye when Jungkook walked to the bed as you kept on kissing each other passionately.

He sat on the edge of the bed, you straddling his lap. Your hands wandered down his neck, fingers playing with the buttons of his shirt.

His hands were resting on your thighs, caressing your soft skin.

You started unbuttoning his shirt impatiently as you broke the kiss breathlessly. Jungkook’s hands were getting higher to the hem of your dress.

He rose the delicate fabric off your body, throwing it away on the floor, where his shirt was already lying.

“you’re so pretty darling.” Jungkook said biting his bottom lip, his fingertips dancing on your lacy bra.

His lips found your neck, leaving soft kisses on the sensitive skin before sucking on it, his tongue warm against your throat.

“Jungkook” you threw your head back as you started grinding down on him feeling his boner.

You pressed yourself down harder on him trying to feel the little friction you’re looking for. Your husband groaned at the pressure. “you’re driving me crazy baby.”

He switched position, laying you on your back as as he hovered you. The rose petals around you making you look like a goddess to him, so ethereal.

He admired the little marks he left on your neck for a moment before feeling your hands on his belt trying to unbuckle it.

“impatient?” he chuckled as he helped you unbuckle the belt.

He got rid of the rest of his clothes, freeing his painful erection from his confinement. You gulped, feeling these familiar little sparkles in your lower stomach.

Jungkook spread your legs making room for him to lay in-between them.

His fingers caressed their ways up to the hem of your panties pulling of them slightly, a silent request to give him the permission to take it off.

You nodded raising your hips up a bit to help him slide the underwear down your legs. He then bent down, biting lightly on the flesh of your thigh earning a loud moan from you.

“you sound so good baby.” he whispered as his lips reached your tummy.

“so beautiful for me.“ he hummed as he kept on leaving open mouth kisses up to your collarbones.

You grabbed his face between your hands pulling him in a sweet kiss as he aligned himself at your entrance.

He rubbed the tip of his cock teasingly on your clit making you shiver.

“babe stop teasing.“ you whined.

”may I? “ he asked playfully making you roll your eyes.

“please?” you pursed your lips making him smile.

“don’t have to ask me twice.”

Jungkook entered you slowly, making sure not to hurt you.

You groaned at the painful yet delicious stretch. He checked on you asking if you were ok as he noticed the way you furrowed your eyebrows in an uncomfortable way.

“I’m fine. Please keep going.” you looked up at him smiling at how caring he was.

Jungkook started moving in and out of you slowly, picking up the pace when he saw the way you bit your bottom lip in a way to not make a noise.

“baby let me hear you.” he said, hand cupping your cheek gently as he bent down to put his forehead on yours.

You gripped on his shoulder tightly when he snapped his hips into yours suddenly making you cry out his name. “Fuck! Jungkook!”.

He couldn’t take his eyes off your face. You looked so pretty under him, forehead covered with little beads of sweat, eyes half-open, moaning his name loudly.

He gripped one of your thigh, placing it on his hip as he thrusted into you slowly making sure to feel your warm walls contracting around him everytime he hit your g-spot.

“fuck!! don’t stop! Just right there!”

Your husband bit his bottom lip hard, the flesh turning white. Your fingernails were buried deep into the flesh of his scratched back.

“You feel so good!” He moaned loudly as he felt you tighten around him.

“so warm and f-fuck!”

You threw your head back deep into the pillow as you felt your high coming.

“I’m so near.” you moaned grabbing on his bicep tightly.

“I got you baby.” he kissed your lips, his hand travelling down between your bodies until it reached your bud of nerves.

He drew little circles on your clit with his thumb lazily making you arch your back off the mattress.

You closed your eyes shut as his name left your throat loudly.

The way your walls keep convulsing around him made your husband feel lightheaded as he dropped his head on your chest, his breathing unsteady.

You pulled on his hair as he rode your orgasm.

Jungkook didn’t take much time to come inside you, his warm cum filling you up to the brim.

He collapsed on your sweaty body, his head buried into the crook of his neck.

“wow.” he said breathless after a moment.

“that was .. awesome.” you laughed before sighing pleasantly.

Jungkook looked up at you smiling, caressing your hair gently before picking up the delicate petal tangled in your hair.

He put it on your nose still smiling“what are you doing Kook?” you laughed making the petal fall back on the bed.

“you’re so pretty.” he pecked your lips before nudging his nose with yours.

“I love you.”

”I love you too my love“.

Jungkook laid next to you, your head on his chest, his arms holding you close to him.

The moonlight lighting up the room was enough to see his features. He was so beautiful.

The sky was adorned with stars, the full moon hidden behind a little cloud.

”this is so beautiful." you said pointing toward the large window.

Your husband hummed. “but not as-”

“ah ah shut up.” you interrupted him before he could finish his flirtatious words.

Jungkook laughed before agreeing. “yes it’s really beautiful”.

“thank you again babe.” you whispered.

You left a soft kiss on his neck before laying back on his chest. He hugged you tightly, keeping you close to him not wanting to let you go.

The last thing you heard were his slow heartbeats and his sweet voice telling you how much he loved you.

—

A/N : gosh I love writing soft smut 😩 I’m so sorry I’m kinda romantic sometimes 😭 anyways, husband!jungkook is the best. Have a nice weekend luvs :) - sunny

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also-a-contradiction · 2 months

Text

kitchen phone calls - eddie munson

eddie munson x gn!reader

—> when you get ditched at a party, you know exactly who to call.

notes/warnings: mentions of parties, reader is at a party, reader gets ditched, mention of underage drinking, use of pet names like "sweetheart" and "honey", somewhat proofread, (tbh i haven't seen this show in a while so i hope everything is somewhat accurate to the characters)

eddie munson was in the middle of practicing a new song when the telephone rang. not an uncommon occurrence, but considering the late hour, he was somewhat wary.

“hello?” he asked into the phone. the sound of music could be heard playing in the background, but nobody responded. “is anyone there?”

there was a slight annoyance bubbling up inside him, thinking it might be another one of jason’s stupid pranks “carver, I swear to—”

“eddie!” your voice yelled over the phone, almost making him drop it in surprise. “eddie, I’m so glad you picked up." you said, relief evident in your voice.

eddie was instantly delighted, always beyond thrilled when you called. but the slight shakiness of your voice gave him pause. “y/n? are you okay?"

you were quiet for a second, and then cleared your throat. "yeah, yeah, I'm good, eds. I just—well, I’m at tina’s end-of-the-year party. the one I told you about last week?”

eddie remembers it well. tina had invited you and robin, and though you really wanted eddie to come with, high school parties weren’t really his scene. “yeah, ‘course I do, sweetheart.”

“well, my ride home just bailed on me."

"they what?" eddie exclaimed, a quick flash of fury coursing through him at the thought of someone ditching you, especially at a party.

he could hear you sigh. “yep, left for a different party, I guess. I’m so sorry to call you so late, but I don’t really feel all that good asking anybody here for a ride. too much drinking and other activities, if you know what I mean.”

eddie was already stumbling around the kitchen looking for his car keys, not carrying if he was tangling the phone cord. "hey, don't you ever be sorry about calling me, okay? I'm glad you did."

you laughed quietly as you heard him curse about not being able to find his shoes. "I really appreciate it, eddie. I owe you a milkshake, okay?" you promised.

"I'll hold you to it, honey." eddie laughed, not caring about the milkshake debt, but rather the opportunity to spend time with you. "I’m on my way, be there in 5."

thanks for reading!!!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #fanfic #stranger things

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justlikemebutsixfootthree · 1 year

Text

the birthday party -

pairing: matty healy x f!reader

content: friends to lovers, explicit consent, george is a good friend, matty eats pussy, safe sex, denise, p in v sex

wordcount: 6787

this blog is 18+. minors, do not interact. this blog is a safe space. no hate or disrespect of any kind will be tolerated. all work is my own. do not reupload my work on any other site without my consent.

a/n: matty healy, you will always be famous <3

maybe it shouldn't bother him as much as it does. after all, it's just another day.

but it's his birthday. it's his fucking birthday, and there are no messages from you lighting up his phone.

at first, matty tried to convince himself that it was nothing. he had woken up and expected an all-caps message, only to be met with the god-awful time of 5:00 am. but it was okay - it was early, so you probably just want to wait - to ensure that he's awake to see your message.

so he waited.

he waited through bleary eyes - surrounded by his concrete walls and his white comforter - until his alarm sounded and jerked him awake.

a rush of disappointment shattered his bones when there was no message from you. no ‘happy birthday,’ no ‘good morning,’ not even a ‘hey.’

but still, it's okay. matty went about his morning, taking phone call after phone call from family members he hadn’t heard from since last year, pretending there wasn’t a hole in his heart where you left a dent. his mom texted him once; something about going over for a party and celebrating his birthday there with his family and bandmates, and that was it.

he spends the rest of the day picking at the pancakes george made him and tries desperately to ignore your silence.

so yeah, it hurts that you didn't text him, and he's starting to think that maybe it's not okay. because you're his best friend, and you didn't even have the decency to wish him a happy birthday.

there's always been something between the two of you; dotted lines that make it hard to walk or see straight whenever you're together, usually bickering about god knows what.

george says you love him. matty flicks his forehead until he drops it.

because how could someone who loves him forget his birthday?

he feels selfish - feels like shit wishing for something other than the health and clarity he was brought up to be thankful for on his birthday.

and you still don't text him.

it's only a couple of hours later when george's air conditioning hits his face with full power, eyes watering slightly with the artificial wind blowing right into his cornea. they’re on the way to his mother’s house, and matty is bracing himself for the onslaught of aunts with their strong perfume and uncles with their disapproving looks. beside him, george hums from the driver’s seat, a clear indication he can sense matty's heedlessness.

"alright, that's it," george says, turning down the music dial until barely audible guitar strums resonate in the car. “you’ve been moping all day. what gives?”

matty shrugs. "nothing, mate."

"bullshit."

george’s eyes are switching between watching the road and glaring daggers into matty's.

“it’s your birthday, and you’re acting as if someone just killed your snake. so i ask again,” george mutters as he flicks on his turn signal, pulling off the freeway to evacuate the sanctum of subdued car horns and merge into the exit lane. “what gives, matty?”

"it’s not a big deal,” he starts, interrupted by the forced chuckle that resounds beside him. he continues when the light turns green, george slowly letting off the breaks as they near his mom's house.

“i mean, i guess it's just, like, i dunno. i thought that—” he cuts himself off, lost in his head. matty stumbles over his words, a mess of broken syllables as he runs a nervous hand through his hair, messing up the mop of curls.

“she hasn’t texted me today.”

it’s rushed, a lick of shame and embarrassment crawling up his spine as the frigidity of the air conditioning meets his neck. the car is cold, chilling matty's bones with gentle fragility until they freeze and shatter like glass. he bleeds shame, every ounce of blood in his body tainted with the reminder that you forgot.

george's breath hitches, and he clears his throat with a fist over his hand as the other one turns them into a familiar street.

his mother’s house appears in his peripheral vision, the front porch light emitting a timbre, yellow glow, and he can see shadows through the large kitchen window.

matty picks at his nails, messing with his fingers as george parks the car. he can feel watchful eyes on him when he stares down at his lap.

george turns in his seat so they’re forced to face each other. “she didn’t text you at all?”

“not since last night.”

he unbuckles his seatbelt and places a hand on the door handle. he's stopped, a tug to his arm keeping him in place and not permitting him to leave the car—leave the conversation.

“hey,” george starts, voice low and with a lilt of concern tracing the lone syllable. “i’m sure she’s got a good reason. she wouldn’t just forget your birthday.”

matty scoffs, shaking his head until strands of dark hair fall in his face, blowing upwards so he can see again. “what reason?”

“i don't know,” he says, all one breath and fidgety when he unbuckles his seat belt. “but whatever it is, i’m sure she has a good excuse.”

there’s a squeeze to his shoulder, warm fingers emitting heat where they touch his skin through smooth cotton.

“you’re too young to be going through a midlife crisis over the girl you love not texting you for twenty-four hours.”

matty doesn’t have the energy to argue, not when he knows that his friend is right.

so instead of arguing, he smiles and punches george in the arm for good measure before they head down the paved walkway to his childhood home.

his mother greets him first, halfway through his third knock because she expected them over earlier. despite the squint in her eyes, she pulls her son into a tight hug, rubbing comforting circles into his back.

“happy birthday, dear,” she sings, muffled by his chest as she stands nearly half a foot shorter than him.

“thanks, mum.” he smiles, moving aside so george can get engulfed in a hug.

he’s missed it here, the warmth that bubbles in his stomach when he’s around his family, a house full of love and people that he grew up with. it’s almost enough to make him forget about a certain someone who still lingers in the back of his mind like day-old leftovers.

almost.

“so!” his mother beams, stepping back and allowing the boys to remove their shoes and step deeper into the house. “everyone is already here, and they can’t wait to sing you 'happy birthday'.”

matty’s led down the hallway, following his mom into the kitchen. a rumble of deep-set voices and squeals call his name, and his head turns to watch distant relatives scramble to pull him into tight hugs.

he kisses his grandparents on the cheeks, hugs his aunt and uncles and tells his cousins that he missed them. they pass him presents like he’s five again, smaller gifts to unwrap now that he’s an adult and no longer asks for life-sized action figures. george joins him, staying close with a timid smile on his face as he mingles with matty’s family. the whole scene coaxes a content sigh to escape his lips, and he relaxes when his mom gives him another hug.

“i got you something too,” she whispers when they pull apart, leading them into the living room and passing him a glass of wine. they sit, lively music wafting through the speakers, and he smiles as he watches george twirl his cousins around. “it’s not here yet though, i’m afraid. you’ll have to wait a little longer.”

“you didn’t have to get me anything, mum,” he says through the bitter taste of merlot.

she waves her hand dismissively. “oh stop it. you’ll love it, i promise.”

he tries to enjoy the party—really, he does. but thoughts of how much better it could be if you were here to enjoy it with him linger in the back of his mind. it’s tough to decide whether he should miss you or be mad at you. maybe he should forget you all together right now but he can’t. not when his brain is growing fuzzy and his cheeks feel warm, patches of crimson surely paint his face, thanks to the glass he downed in one go.

“matty, come do a shot with me!”

with a huff, matty makes his way toward his friend who holds a shot glass nearly overfilled with clear liquid.

george’s grin melts away when he sees him, eyes filled with concern as he hesitantly passes the shot to matty.

“you okay, mate?”

matty clears his throat and mumbles something about allergies and how it’s stuffy in here as cool liquor spills over his fingers. george doesn’t seem to buy it, but he shrugs anyways.

he shakes off the mist clouding his brain and smirks, self-indulgence taking over his dark eyes. he clinks the glass to his friend’s, liquid sloshing off the sides before he tips it back. it burns when it runs down his throat, leaves his tongue dry in a desert of twisted intoxication he knows he’ll regret in the morning.

“shit,” george hisses through his teeth. “‘ forgot that i fuckin’ hate vodka.”

matty laughs, and there’s silence between them for a moment, then, “mate, are you sure you’re okay? ‘cause, not to be an arse, but you look fuckin’ horrible.”

exasperated, matty runs his hands through his already mussed hair.

“i’m gonna go get another drink.”

a calloused hand wraps around his wrist and stops him from pulling away. “maybe you should ease up on the booze,” george says.

“aren’t you the one that was just begging me to do shots with you?”

“that was before you turned into a sad drunk. here,” he shuffles around for a water bottle, “drink this and go get some air—maybe a smoke, too, while you’re at it.”

grinning, matty takes the water from george’ hand with a simple “thanks.”

he sneaks away to the back porch where crickets chirp quietly in the grass—a change from the loud commotion of music and chatter.

lithe fingers bring a cigarette to chapped lips, thumb slipping on the lighter to invoke a small flicker of flames that burn the end of the bud.

with an inhale, matty wonders if his room looks the same as it did that last time he was here; if his brother had claimed any of his clothes or knick-knacks he’d left when he moved out. he wonders if you would find his room childish.

with an exhale, he wonders how his thoughts always seem to trace back to you.

“what have i told you about smoking, matthew?”

“i have a good reason.”

his mom wanders her way next to matty, leaning against the fencepost next to him. “and what might that reason be, love?”

“her,” matty breathes, the smoke from his lungs floating into the distant air. “fuck, mum. it’s always her.” he pauses to take another drag. “she hasn’t texted me all day, and i’m worried about her getting hurt or somethin’.”

denise smiles, and from the corner of his eye, he sees her turn back to the door of the house. he doesn’t follow her motions.

“i’m sure she’s fine, sweetheart,” she says, turning back. “you’ll hear from her soon.”

“but—”

she elbows matty’s side. “no ‘buts’. now, i think you should put that out and come back inside, okay? that stuff is bad for you.”

“soon,” he says, completely ignoring her request, and she sighs, giving her son a final nudge before stepping back inside. matty doesn’t spare her a glance, opting to keep his eyes trained on a black, starless sky.

the familiar buzz of red wine floats through his bloodstream, and he draws another hit into his lungs, filling the void of sadness with grey smoke. he almost thinks he’s hearing things when someone speaks from behind him.

“she’s right, y’know.”

the exhale of smoke comes out in a choked gasp, and his heart stutters, chest tightening.

matty’s scared to turn around. scared to face the cause of his well-being, because there’s no way this can be real. his lip is worried between his teeth, hair falling into his face as he stares at the cigarette laced between his thumb and index finger.

the open wound you left in his heart this morning is sealed by the resound of your voice that echoes through the air.

he doesn’t turn around. you do it for him.

matty’s forced to face you with a pull on his arm, skin tingling where your hand rests. the cigarette is plucked from his fingers seconds after, the stub dropping to the ground where you step on it to put it out.

“hi,” you say, completely and utterly exhausted. “happy birthday.”

the closeness is suffocating.

you’re standing too close but somehow too far away, and matty would pull you into him if it weren’t for the frozen state of his bones.

“hi,” matty breathes, eyes glossy with unshed tears as he stares down at you.

it’s surreal—standing here with the lingering taste of tobacco and merlot heavy on his tongue—the gentle breeze blowing tufts of your hair.

“what are you—w-when did—” matty stutters, mind running a mile a minute, intoxicated brain took over with perplexion. he stops, takes a deep breath, and collects his thoughts. “how are you here?”

“well,” you drawl, shuffling closer to the stunned man in front of you. “your parents bought me a ticket to fly out for your birthday—per george’s request. after that, all i had to do was keep it a secret, hop on a plane, and here i am.”

“here you are?” he repeats. “you had me worried sick. you didn’t text or call—hell, you didn’t even wish me a happy birthday! you can’t—you can’t just waltz in here and pretend that everything is fine when you put me through—”

“matty,” you interrupt, grabbing his hands. “calm down for me, yeah? breathe.”

“no—what? don’t just-”

he pulls away and leans back against the fence. his hands run through his hair, fingers desperately wishing they were holding a cigarette.

“breathe, matty.” you sigh patiently. “how about you give me a tour?”

“can we just … stay here for a while?” he asks, and if there’s tension in the air, it’s ignored. “i just want to make sure i’m not dreaming, or something.”

“you dream about me?’ you tease, crossing your arms to try and shield yourself from the breeze.

dark eyes slowly meet yours.

“all the time.”

he pushes himself off the fence and steps closer to you. the boots he’s wearing give him some height, so he’s looking down at you as his hands move to push your hair back.

“tell me,” you whisper. “tell me what you dream about.”

it’s the urgent tone of your hushed voice that has matty caving—hesitancy swept away with the wind as he gives in, letting his hands trace the sides of your face.

“everything,” he admits, voice quiet and shy. “fuck, love, i dream about doing everything with you. anything and everything you’d want me to.”

you’re silent.

you’re silent, and matty is losing his mind, brain pounding against his skull. he can feel bitter bile rise up his throat, nauseous when he looks back at you—just standing there—lips parted and leaving matty to lie in the grandeur of his own self-destruction.

there’s already an apology forming on his tongue, the fingers that were wound through your hair curling away.

but you step closer and grab his hands, stopping their retreat.

“i dream about it too.”

the words take matty by surprise, the tenderness that coats the revelation alleviating the shake in his hands. he looks at you—really looks at you—and scrutinizes the expression on your face.

he finds no hint of a lie; no hint of cruel duplicity, or fraud. the truth of your words really sinks in when you drop his hands in favour of running the pad of your thumbs under charcoal eyes, ridding him of the hint of tears that start to seep from puffy eyelids.

“c’mon, matty. you can’t possibly be surprised. i mean really, i dropped everything just to see you.” your tone is gentle, but a laugh sneaks its way out of your mouth and curls around matty’s head, leaving him feeling warm.

he rolls his eyes; courage slowly washes over his bones and makes his hands move to pull you in by the waist.

“shut up and kiss me.”

you surge forward, capturing his lips on your own as your hands move from his cheeks to his hair; threading them through unruly curls.

matty drinks in every noise you make, welcoming them as they leave him desperate. the taste of stale alcohol still lingers on his lips, but underneath the bitterness is you; sweet and human.

he would like to pretend that he hears fireworks when your lips part, a mess of bright, colourful explosions littering the sky as he softly licks into your mouth—but that doesn’t happen.

and it’s alright. it’s completely okay because instead of the headache-inducing light and noise, there’s the muffled laughter of his friends and family, the gentle chirp of crickets, and you.

you; gasping into the kiss.

you; your hands tugging gently at his hair.

you; flush against his chest. so close that matty can feel your heartbeat melding with his.

you; jerking away so abruptly his eyes shoot open, flickering over your—now beet-red—face.

the creak of the back door had pulled you away from him, and the sight of george standing atop the welcome mat made you flush.

“um,” he says, shuffling awkwardly. “i just wanted to say ‘hi’, but i think you welcomed her home enough for the both of us.”

matty clears his throat and grins sheepishly at a very shocked george. his cheeks burn red at being caught, but he can’t really bring himself to care—not when you’re finally next to him.

george scoffs, exasperated by his love-sick friends.

“come inside,” he urges, nodding in the direction of the house. “everyone’s excited to see her.”

matty watches as you turn back to him and give a little shrug, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth—and it’s then that he decides that he’s not done kissing you yet.

“yeah. we’ll uh—we’ll follow you.”

he leads you into the house with a hand on the small of your back, and shuts the door behind him, blocking out the sounds of lingering traffic. cheerful voices seep through the walls, and the irony of how he walked in here just a couple hours ago, saddened and heavy because of the girl who’s now looking up at him with only adoration in her eyes is not lost on matty.

“okay, denise is in there laughing about how we all tricked you into thinking the worst, so prepare to be humiliated.”

matty hums in response, staring only at the back of your head as you follow george toward the kitchen. he reaches a hand out, grabs your arm and gently tugs you back with a finger over his lips and a wink.

“mhm,” he sings, leading you slowly towards the stairs. “sounds like fun.”

he doesn’t get the chance to watch as george turns around, already halfway up the stairs with you latched onto his arm.

“you’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me.” george’s exasperated voice is the last thing he hears before he’s crowding you against the wall at the top of the stairs.

his lips are on yours before you get a second to breathe, a bruising hold on your waist as he pushes you into solid plaster. he keeps one hand on you while the other presses the wall beside your head, arm shaky as he leans his weight onto you.

there’s a light push to his chest, and you gasp under him as you pull back. matty has to refrain from groaning at the loss of pressure on his lips.

“my bags,” you pant, “i forgot them outside.”

a breath of laughter ghosts over your lips. “we can get them after.”

“but my clothes are gonna get wet—matty, the grass was wet.”

your words render useless as he leans down to plant open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

“then you can borrow some of mine,” matty mumbles, trailing his way up to your jaw to suck purple bruises into tender flesh.

at the thought of drowning in his clothes, you go lax against matty’s lips; giving in to his desperate mouth.

“okay,” you agree, and that’s all it takes for matty to recapture your mouth and let his hands wander.

calloused, gentle hands trace the curve of your body as lithe hips press into yours. he manages to tear a hand away from you to feel for the cool metal of the familiar doorknob, twisting until the door falls open.

he tugs you in with sweet urgency, his old bedroom cast in soft light, the only luminosity coming from the moon where it seeps through the blinds.

maybe it’s just the heat of the moment, or maybe you don’t care—but matty’s grateful you don’t comment on the bowie posters that grace his walls as he pushes you into the middle of his bed.

you land with a light bounce and prop yourself up onto your elbows, a cocky grin making its way onto your face. “i’ve been here for barely twenty minutes,” you breathe, gasping when matty situates himself between your legs and pushes you higher onto the mattress. “and you already wanna tear my clothes off.”

the brunet dips his fingers under the hem of your shirt, hiking it up just a sliver to catch a glimpse of soft, smooth skin. “wanted to for a while now.”

he brings the hem of the shirt up to your lips. “bite,” he whispers, voice husky.

with the new expanse of skin exposed, matty's practically left breathless. he takes tender flesh between his teeth, laps his tongue at bare and unmarred skin, and sucks until he feels you arch your back and lean into his mouth. his hands trail the expanse of your ribs, feeling the delicate bones under his touch.

marks upon marks are added to your lower stomach, matty desperately trying to leave reminders on your abdomen. his lips work on their own accord, sucking bite after bite up your torso until he lands at the base of your bra. he looks up at you, eyes questioning. laughing softly, you sit up, gently pushing him back onto his knees. dark eyes trace your body, watching as you undo your bra, slipping it off and letting it fall to the floor, along with your shirt.

the man in front of you sits in awe, and lets out a long sigh. “fuckin’ gorgeous.”

you’re not sure if the words were meant for you to hear, but you blush anyways, leaning back and letting your elbows hold your weight.

“do your worst, birthday boy.”

matty laughs, the happy—and somewhat shocked—noise echoes through the small bedroom and causes you to grin. he doesn’t hesitate to drop his head; lips meeting your warm skin, teeth leaving trails of bruises.

you gasp out breathy pleas when matty flicks his tongue over the peak of your breast. “y-your—shit,” you whine, hands landing in the man’s hair, tugging at the curls harshly. “your family is downstairs, matty. what if they—ah!—hear us?"

“don’t care,” he responds, biting softly at the pink bud and rolling the other between his index and his thumb. “want this. want you.”

”fuck. i—okay, okay. you have me, matty,” you moan, pleasure dripping from your lips. “you have me.”

he surges up to kiss you again, newfound fervour in the brush of your lips as he tilts his head to lick into your mouth. you still taste sweet, everything matty could ever ask for.

“you’re gonna have to be quiet,” he whispers, leaning back on his knees and tracing patterns over your stomach, dipping his fingers into the bruised marks just to hear the masochistic whines you let out at the pain. “as pretty as you sound, i don’t want anyone hearing us.”

hearing his words over, matty backtracks, his hand stuttering over your torso.

“i mean, not that we need to like, do anything—i’m not—i don’t wanna force you into—”

your fingers wrap around his wrist, halting his ministrations to give a comforting squeeze to his skin.

“i want to,” you breathe, using your grip around his wrist to drag his hand down your stomach to rest on your belt. “i want this.”

at your words, matty rushes to tug at the buckle, effortlessly removing your belt and tossing it to the side.

your jeans are off your hips in a second’s time, but he takes his time sliding them over your ankles, bending down to leave firm kisses on your inner thighs.

you preen under his touch, and your chest heaves as you breathe, a glistening trail of spit drying on your nipples. when the jeans are discarded and messily thrown in a pile somewhere across the tiny room, matty notices the soaked bottom of your underwear.

tracing a finger up the fabric just to watch you writhe, matty tuts. “and you thought i was eager.”

your hips jerk up in response, surprised by the soft touch. your hands fly to his hair, gripping the curls so tight that he grunts against your neck.

“jesus.”

“sorry! ‘m sorry,” you sob. you manage to relax your fingers, but matty shakes his head.

“don’t stop on my account.”

you feel his fingers slide across your damp underwear, moving to mindlessly palm your thighs as he leaves burning kisses up to where you need him most. your hips rut up, chasing his hand desperately, but matty’s not having it.

“matty, please,” you huff, tugging at his hair to try and get him where you want him.

“stop whining,” he hushes. “‘wanna take my time.”

your soft gasps and whimpers start to get to him though, and he pushes his knuckles against your pussy, forcing a shocked moan out of you.

matty shushes you because while he is completely enamoured by each noise that escapes your lips, he isn’t too keen on one of his family members walking in to see him take you apart.

you relent, and worry your bottom lip between your teeth, while matty returns to the task at hand.

“pretty,” he mumbles, slipping calloused fingers beneath the elastic band of your underwear.

he pulls to gradually reveal your soaked folds and his breath catches in his throat. at the sight, he speeds up his movements and practically rips the cloth off your legs. the material joins the jeans on the floor, and finally, he gets to see you in all your splendour.

“can i taste you?” he whispers, voice shaking. you nod, already out of it as you take the liberty of collecting all of his hair away from his face, holding it back as he works his mouth against you.

“matty, you—” you start, a hand flying from his hair to his sheets. they smell like him, but you’re trying not to think about that—trying not to think about how loopy it’s making you feel—because matty’s holding your hips up, nose bumping against your swollen clit as he tongues at your hole.

“you—” you start again, but the thought gets lost somewhere. disappears as matty does something with his tongue that makes you gasp. “jesus christ—” you huff, chest rising and falling quickly.

you get your words out before you can forget.

“fuck,” you sigh, arching your hips into his face and tightening your fist in his hair, “you look good like this.”

the praise goes straight to his head, and he’s groaning. nodding his head into you, hitting a sweet spot and almost immediately, the hand in his hair pulls him up.

“i don’t wanna cum yet,” you say, quiet because you have to be—taking account of the people downstairs. “so just, go easy on me, okay? you’re surprisingly good at this.”

“surprisingly?” matty retorts, raising an eyebrow.

you don’t have time to respond before he runs his teeth against your clit, and chides, “brat,” before tightening the grip his fingers have on your thighs, pushing the digits into your skin before shaking his head from side to side. you see black, your eyes clenched closed as you try and pull your thighs together, but matty pushes them open, desperately lapping at you.

his jaw aches as his mouth moves, but your pleasure is all he knows. even though you asked so nicely for matty to not yet make you cum—the question is nothing but a distant memory in the back of his mind.

he flattens his tongue and guides it up, sliding across your slit before enveloping your clit in his mouth and sucking—forcing a strong, white current to wash over you. your hands shoot up to cover your mouth as you arch into his mouth, breathlessly stuttering his name as you come.

can’t talk, can’t speak.

the feeling is too overwhelming, too all-consuming before the come down eventually starts and words are coming out, your body shaking with the effort to stay quiet; muffled whimpers sounding behind tight fingers.

you hitch your hips up, and matty’s moving with them, basically getting onto his knees to keep you close. “holy fuck,” you breathe, looking down between your tits to where he’s kissing away your slick, only letting go when you shove your hands down between your thighs, nerves shot and sensitive.

“mmh,” you whimper, clamping your thighs together, trying to calm yourself down.

“you with me?” he asks, tucking his damp curls behind his ears. you have to laugh. have to laugh all of this pent-up emotion out as you brush stray hairs from your face.

“yeah,” you nod breathlessly. matty kisses you with a smile and you taste yourself on him. his features go goofy when he raises a brow and asks, “good?”

“fucking amazing.”

“good,” he says again, then rolls onto his back beside you. he’s unbuttoning his shirt, saying, “i aim to please,” when you’re crawling your body up his chest and kissing the shock away from his face.

“oh fuck,” he curses, fumbling to grab a hold of you. you slide your fingers onto the side of his head and taste yourself, mixed with the feel of his swollen, curving lips as he smiles against you. desperation sweeps over you, and you cup a hand over the bulge in his pants, grinding your palm down, and matty has to focus really hard to not give into your touch.

regrettably, he pries your hand away, bringing it to his mouth and kissing each one of your fingers with sentimental ease. “wanna fuck you,” he mutters, playfully biting at your ring finger until you laugh and pull your hand away.

“come on,” you drawl, moving to sit directly on his bulge. “it’s your birthday. don’t you want me to blow you?”

you have a point, matty supposes. his birthday is supposed to be the one day of the year when he gets to be selfish, and what kind of person would he be if he passed up the opportunity to feel your lips around him?

but you’re his gift. tasting you and making you cum from his mouth alone is a better present than he could have ever asked for, and matty thinks he can afford to be greedy tonight.

but to him, being greedy isn’t fucking your throat until pretty tears fall down your cheeks—he can do that another time. greedy, to matty, is taking another orgasm from you, just so he can hear the way his name sounds when curled around your tongue.

he makes quick work of slipping off the mattress and taking off the white button-up and trousers, leaving him in only his boxers.

“i’m not lettin’ you suck me off.” he smirks.

“what? why not?” you move to the edge of the bed, a look of confusion dancing on your features as you run a finger up matty’s exposed thigh. “don’t you want me to?”

it’s hard not to give in when you tease the waistband of his boxers, the light chatter rumbling from downstairs a distant memory as he loses himself in the feeling of cold fingers slipping under the elastic band. leaning forward, you press leisurely kisses against the brunet’s torso.

he allows you to mouth at his abdomen, welcomes the gentle bite when you pull skin between your teeth; a swirl of possessiveness ravishing deep in his bones when he realizes that you’re is trying to match the heart-shaped hickeys that taint your own body.

matty breaks out of his trance when you roll his boxers down until the cloth lies in a pile around his ankles. goosebumps rise to his skin and he can feel his legs begin to tremble.

before you have the chance to take his cock into your mouth, matty takes hold of your hair, and gently pulls you back.

“i said you’re not blowin’ me,” he mutters, leaning over your body until you’re forced to lay flat on the mattress, legs dangling off the edge and chest heaving at the proximity. “i know what i want for my birthday, and it’s not that.”

with a fluid movement, he flips your positions and settles against the headboard, letting you settle on his lap. his hands explore your body, nails occasionally scratching you—making you shiver.

“i want you. i want you as mine, and i want you to ride me, right here.”

matty laughs at your wide eyes, brushes sweaty hair out of your face, and relishes in the feeling of your bodies pressed against each other. he’s painfully hard, and every time you shift just a fraction of an inch, it tugs a shaky breath from his throat.

“alright,” you say, pressing a chaste kiss to matty’s lips. “do you have any condoms then?”

his hand reaches out to his bedside table. “in the drawer.”

you lean to grab it for him, and matty’s kissing you the entire time. over your chest, collarbones, shoulders, and neck as you push around his drawer, saying “you have so much shit in here.”

he turns to look. turns back to your neck. “in the back,” and he’s kissing you again, palming your ass. he slides his hands lower and bumps them against your sensitive clit, making you gasp, clutching onto the wood.

matty fucking laughs.

you shake your head. “you’re an arse.”

“you’re very distracting,” he admits.

you finally find the box, and with a packet in hand, you look down to where matty’s cock lays on his stomach, a bead of precum leaking onto his abdomen. “shit, you’re big.”

matty smirks, cocky. “think you can take it?”

huffing, you slide the condom down onto him slower than necessary. his cocky smirk dies immediately when you suck your cheeks together and allow a pool of spit to spill from your lips.

“gonna try,” you say, slicking up matty’s cock with a thick coat of saliva still partially strung to your lips, the friction slow enough for him to buck his hips and try to fuck your fist to get needed stimulation.

“tease,” he manages to choke out before you sink down onto him, hips flexing back so he slides all the way in. as soon as you bottom out, matty groans long and hard, and his head falls into the crook of your shoulder.

you don’t let him know when you’re ready, only lifting yourself up so matty can feel the drag of his cock along your insides, gasping as pleasure clouds your mind. shaky limbs help you in slamming back down, the legs of the bed creaking with the force of your bodies colliding.

”fuck,” matty moans, hands scrambling to find purchase on your waist. you sound fucked out already, blissful sighs breathed into matty’s hair. “you okay?”

you sit up again, the tip of matty’s cock catching on your folds before you lower yourself again, stuttered curses leaving your mouth.

“mhm, m’fine. y-you’re just,” you sob, trailing off and rolling your hips forward, letting matty’s cock grind against your sensitive bundle of nerves. you swallow, the sound resonating in matty’s ears as he aids your movements with a firm grip on your waist. “big.”

matty’s ego swells and he pulls you down hard on his dick, making you feel just how big he can be. it causes you to shake your head quickly.

“fuck! n-not so fast, please.”

“oh baby,” he soothes, palms sliding to grip your ass, and he uses his hold on you to fuck up into you, keeping a simple rhythm—cock hitting a part of you that makes you sob. makes you collapse against his chest, and you stuff your head into his neck and just take it.

“there?” matty asks with a twinge of something sadistic. “want me to fuck you there?”

“yeah, yeah, please—close, matty, ‘m so close.”

to try and lessen the noise, matty grabs your face and pulls you down into a bruising kiss. he swallows every sound, loving the way you struggle to kiss him back as your legs tremble.

“close already, huh?�� he whispers against your lips, drinking in every soft moan that escapes your throat.

and it’s meant to be playful, something that he can tease you about later—but with the way his name is repeated in a fucked out voice, he’s sure he’ll forget to do that later.

so he relents, fucking into you with calculated thrusts, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

your thighs ache, and the edge is so close all you can do is take what he’s giving you and whine his name pathetically.

it hits you all at once.

a white-hot heat reaches up and grabs you and you clench so fucking tight around his cock that matty falters.

he’s losing his goddamn mind. head tilted back against the headboard, he’s trying to hold back pathetic whimpers, but when your eyes roll to the back of your head and your lashes flutter shut, matty lets out a sob as he comes, rutting his hips into you as your body shakes.

your body shakes with overstimulation as matty moves you against him, milking his orgasm and running sharp nails down your sweat-ridden back.

after the comedown, you breathe out a sigh. matty’s kissing your neck. gently pecking at the hot skin, before spreading his kisses over your jaw, towards your mouth.

“how was that?” he asks, tracing a calloused finger over the marks that litter your body. they turn a deeper shade of purple when his touch lingers for too long, and he grins as you squirm in his grasp.

“i think you already know,” you quip, frowning.

“maybe. but i wanna hear you say it.”

you don’t dignify him with a response, instead shaking your head and lifting yourself off his cock, wincing at the sudden emptiness.

“cold?” matty asks. you nod and curl into yourself as he gets up to rummage through his old closet.

once you’re fully dressed, in clothes albeit a bit big on you, matty helps you stand from the bed and pulls you into a hug—your first proper embrace since you’ve been here—and rests his chin atop your knotted hair.

you hum into his chest, wrapping your fingers behind his back and trace swirls over his bare skin.

“i’m glad you’re here,” he says, pressing a kiss to your crown and pulling back to find his pants. “i don’t know if i actually told you that, yet.”

“i kinda figured you were—what with how fast you stopped crying when you saw me.”

“hey,” matty points an accusatory finger at you, but there’s no malice behind it. “you can’t blame me for bein’ upset, i thought you forgot my birthday.”

together, you fix the pillows and smooth over crumpled sheets, returning the room to the way it was before the kisses, the sex, and you.

“matty, when have i ever forgotten your birthday?”

before leaving the room, you try to smooth out your hair, carding a hand through matty’s as well so it isn’t too obvious what you’ve been doing for the last hour—though you’re sure george has a hunch.

the minute you step into the kitchen, with matty close behind, you see george down the rest of his beer and make his way over to you.

“so,” he drawls, a shit-eating grin spread across his face as he eyes you two up and down. “what have you guys been doin’?”

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songmingisthighs · 7 months

Text

how ateez treats your child

group : ateez

pairing : ateez (individual) × single mom!reader

genre : fluff

wc : 3 k

warning : children. children are walking warning signs.

a/n : this cancelled my sleep so there's that </3

buy me coffee ?

hongjoong

The door of your apartment opened and in comes your son squealing happily for you, almost running inside until Hongjoong stopped him to take his shoes off first. As Hongjoong helped him, he was grinning widely at you who walked over to meet them halfway, "Hi mommy!" He called, finally able to rush to give you a huge hug once his shoes were completely off. "Hiya, bud! How was your day with Hongjoong?" Though you asked him, Hongjoong beat him to answering, "We had a great time! Little buddy here mastered the C, D, G, and A chord on the piano!" He boasted as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pecking your lips gently making your son gag before rushing to put his backpack in his room.

You both separated momentarily and you cupped your boyfriend's face, "Seriously Joongie, thank you so much for picking him up from school, I swear I would've done-" Hongjoong stopped your rambling by planting another soft peck on your lips with a chuckle, "Hey, I told you we had a great time. I finally found someone who wouldn't complain sitting in my studio for hours on end and you can't take that away from me," teased, poking fun at the times you complained about him needing a break from his work.

Just as you were about to shower him with more affection, your son returned to push Hongjoong away with all his might. "My turn to hug mommy!" He said after he managed to unlatch Hongjoong from you. Feeling challenged, Hongjoong pulled him away just as he was about to wrap all four of his limbs around you, "No way, I spent the day with you now I want time with my girlfriend." Hongjoong knew how jealous your son can be because he too is a jealous man. So as expected, your son screeched and began to try to get Hongjoong as far away from you as he could. But of course, Hongjoong retaliated, using your son's socks clad feet to carefully push him just enough so he'd slide away from you while you stood there both confused and amused at their shenanigans.

seonghwa

On Saturdays, you'd usually spend the morning catching up with your friends and knowing this, Seonghwa made sure to sleep over on Fridays as often as he could to help care for your daughter (which is crap because he's always at your place anyways). Unbeknownst to you, he and your daughter had bonded beyond your imagination. Not that you were surprised since Seonghwa had spent years taking care of a group filled with 5 year olds, your own 5 year old must've been easy to take care of.

When you came back from your brunch, you were surprised to find Seonghwa and your daughter by the dining table, your daughter standing on a chair and Seonghwa close to her side, looking absolutely serious. They had their arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, and lips pursed as they stared at the 10 plates of cake in front of them. It was honestly an adorable sight because for some reason, you saw how they looked so similar.

"Am I interrupting something?" You chuckled as you approached them. Seonghwa welcomed you by wrapping an arm around your hip and kissing the side of your head as youe daughter answered, "Hwahwa and I are food testing again! Today's theme is bakery we can't pronounce!" She grinned widely before returning to glare at the cakes. "Aaaaaand why are you guys only staring at these cakes?" You asked with a raised eyebrow. Seonghwa sighed and shook his head, "We can't decide where to start so we're trying to rank them from the prettiest first before actually sampling them," Seonghwa explained. "And it's such a hard decision!" Your daughter groaned and dramatically leaned on Seonghwa for support. Reciprocating, your boyfriend also faked a cry, turning around to let you go in favour of hugging your daughter, "We are stuck in a dilemma!" "Well, whatever you guys decide to do, better do it fast before the ants tries the cakes first," you sighed before retreating to change, leaving your boyfriend and your daughter to go back to... whatever activity they were doing.

yunho

Babysitting was something Yunho didn't expect to do for his girlfriend. Then again, he didn't expect that he'd be dating a single mom. Luckily, you had the most precious daughter that just melt Yunho's whole being and he loves her so much that he didn't consider babysitting as babysitting anymore.

As he was washing the dishes after eating the food he got for him and your daughter, he heard the soft pitter patter of her tiny feet and then he felt soft tugs on his sweatpants. Without abandoning his task, Yunho looked down at the girl with a gentle smile, "Yes, peanut?" She giggled happily, liking the nickname a lot. "Can you teach me how to dance?" She asked, tilting her head to the side like the most adorable puppy ever. Yunho grinned widely because he had always wanted to impart some of his knowledge to someone and the most imparting he had done was turning his little brother to a gaming nerd. After wiping his hands with a rag, Yunho crouched down to the girl's level (as best he could because even when crouching down, the tiny girl only reached his chin), "Okay then, what dance do you wanna learn?"

Your daughter decided that she wanted to learn Bouncy which wasn't even in the list of dances Yunho offered her as he thought it would be too hard for her. But she was adamant, shaking her head so hard that her pigtails almost came loose. But to Yunho's pleasant surprise, the girl was amazing. She picked up the choreography smoothly in 3 tries. Sure, Yunho had to simplify certain parts but she got most of the choreography down. He couldn't help but takw a video of them dancing together and sending it to his groupmates, parents, and even you, captioning it 'look at me and my peanut ♡'.

yeosang

It was a casual day which was rare for both you and Yeosang. Since your life has been so hectic, you decided to stay in with your son who decided he wanted to use the time he had to finish his homework. Yeosang and he had been friendly with each other but they were not close (yet) as they haven't spent much time together nor have they found anything in common. But you were hopeful.

You and Yeosang were cuddled on the couch as the TV played a drama that you and he wanted to watch while your son sat on the floor with his homework spread open on the portable desk. "I'll be right back sweetie," you told Yeosang, patting him on the thigh before walking away to go to the bathroom. At first, Yeosang only paid attention to the tv but from the corner of his eyes, he could see your son looking around for you every so often, lips pouting and hand scratching his head which indicated that he was stuck on his homework. For some reason, Yeosang found it in him to be the first one to make the move, "Hey there buddy, what homework do you got there?" He asked, catching your son by surprise. For a moment, your son could only look back and forth between the homework and Yeosang, hesitating. Yeosang was about to tell him that he didn't have to share when your son grabbed his book and walked over to Yeosang on his knees and dropped the book on Yeosang's lap, "It's math but I don't know how to do this," he said sadly, gesturing to the opened page. Yeosang grinned widely and his chest puffed with pride, "Well, lucky for you, I'm a math wiz! Come on, let's solve this together."

When you came back, you saw Yeosang had situated himself next to your son on his portable desk, teaching him how to solve the equations that he was stuck on and he was conversing with the boy so well. He allowed the boy to try and solve the equation and gently letting him know where he was wrong. They were so immersed that they hadn't realized you returning to your seat as they took a break to play the multiplication game, evem teasing each other when the other took too long to answer.

san

San loved kids and it showed with how he actually volunteered on babysitting your son as you go on a business trip. At first you were worried because your son had never been away from you to be in a place that's not your home. But San convinced you that it was fine, he was fine with spending time with his best bud and if it wasn't for the great bond they had, you wouldn't have been able to leave your baby to tend to your responsibilities.

"Say bye to mommy!" San urged your son who was sitting on his lap wearing his beanie. "Bye mommy! I miss you!" Your son said as he waved his hands to the camera while San did the same, throwing lots of air kisses your way before hanging up. As soon as the call ended, your son went back to watching San played a game. "Is that uncle Yunho?" He asked, reaching forward to point at a character on the screen. San grinned widely and pat the boy on the head gently, "That's right, bud! You're starting to understand the game, don't you?" They spent another hour like that, San playing the game with Yunho, Yeosang, and Jongho as your son ask him questions and eventually even tried a round (to which he died within 30 seconds and San had to hug and reassure him that he'd teach him how to play better and in time, he might be great).

Without realizing, as it was his habit, San started singing random songs that popped into his head. The crisp sound of keyboard and mouse clicking paired with San's honey voice proved to induce sleep in your son as his eyes drooped low and his eyelids fluttered ever so gently before closing. It took a while for San to realize that your son had been quiet, only leaning on his sturdy chest. When he looked down, San almost squaled at just how adorable your son looked sleeping so comfortably; one of his eyes covered by the beanie that had shifted, his mouth agape, and his body completely relaxed comfortably in San's lap. Carefully, San took a selfie of him and your son, changing the picture to his homescreen before shutting the game and bringing the boy who wrapped his arms tightly around San's neck when San lifted him up to the bed so he could sleep soundly. Even then, your son refused to let go of San, holding onto two of San's fingers as he dozed off to dreamland where San soon followed.

mingi

Kids were something Mingi wanted in the future. He knew he wanted to have his own but he knew that he's going to have to learn and practice before actually having one. Which was a predicament considering he's dating someone with a 3 year old daughter. But she's just the most precious thing ever that Mingi pushed his insecurities away to dote on the princess.

Like now, Mingi found himself unable to peel away from your bed where your daughter was napping. He was mesmerized at how adorable she looked with her tiny tiny snores and absolute relaxed expression. "Mingi, baby, you're going to wake her up if you keep staring at her like that," you said, poking your boyfriend on his shoulder for him to simply wave you off, "No I won't, I promise. I'm just trying to understand how she's so absolutely adorable like a tiny tiny marshmallow," he squeaked in utter adoration. You couldn't help but smile and rolled your eyes at how whipped Mingi was for your daughter but you couldn't blame him. "Well, I'm going to go the convenience store because the little princess is going to want her yogurt when she wakes up and we're out. So you try your best to not eat this tiny tiny marshmallow," you teased him before leaving the room and the apartment.

After a while, Mingi felt a little thirsty so he carefully got off the bed and went to the kitchen. He was just taking his first gulp when he heard soft whimpers and sobs coming from your room. Immediately, he put the glass down and rushed to the little girl who was sitting up on the bed, sniffling because she thought she was left alone. When she heard Mingi came in, she immediately reached both hands towards him, asking to be picked up. "Minnie," she whimpered with trembling bottom lip. Without thinking, Mingi scooped the girl up in his arms and started calming her down while she clung on him for dear life. "Don't worry princess, Minnie's here, Minnie's got you," he repeated, smiling to himself when he heard the girl calming down as she nuzzled her face on his shoulder, finally content.

wooyoung

Initially you hesitated dating Wooyoung because you have a daughter. A 4 year old daughter who is your whole life and the very reason you hesitated being in a relationship. But when you found Wooyoung who absolutely adored your daughter, you knew you made the right choice taking the leap.

Usually, the men you date would make you leave your daughter at your friend's or with a babysitter or even with your parents by guilt-tripping or bluntly stating that they didn't feel comfortable with your kid. Not Wooyoung though, not at all. He's the type to want to take your daughter on your dates, even going as far as planning the date around your daughter. You couldn't forget her face when Wooyoung took her to the fox cafe, seeing them both running around the place and somehow blending in with the animals. That day, Wooyoung came home with 137 nee pictures and videos of your daughter going nuts over the animals. Since then, they were insepparable.

"Hi, I'm here to pick up my daughter," you smiled at the receptionist of the daycare who stared at you in confusion. "I-I'm sorry, but someone already came in for your daughter," she said, causing your eyes to bulge out in panic, "What? Who? Why would you let a stranger take my child?" Your voice was getting louder which scared the poor receptionist. "I-I'm sorry ma'am it-it's just that, your daughter called him papa so I-" "Papa? Who-" just as you were about to continue, your eyes saw a very familiar figure holding your daughter in his arms, happily talking. Wooyoung's eyes met yours and he momentarily paused, realizing that he got caught "kidnapping" your daughter. Just as you were about to call for him, Wooyoung grinned widely and pointed at you which caused your daughter to turn in his arms and beamed. "Now, say bye bye to mama!" He teased but your daughter did as she was told anyways, waving at you happily saying bye bye before Wooyoung whisked her away without any care, casually walking out of the daycare as if you weren't frozen in your spot, looking at them leaving just like that.

jongho

Jongho knew what he got himself into when he agreed to date you, knowing full well that you have a son. He didn't really care about whether or not you have a child but he grew very fond of the boy rather quickly. How can he not? The boy seemed to take a liking to Jongho to the point that he idolized the man. Especially Jongho's strength.

The three of you went out for a picnic because it was such a beautiful day and your son remembered Jongho saying that he should be out when the sun is out. As he was helping you take food out, he noticed the boy was doing the same, even taking glances at how Jongho was doing things. It was absolutely adorable. Suddenly, Jongho stood up and reached for a bag to produce a soccer ball. "Hey, bud," he spun and tossed the ball in his hands and you could see your son getting so hyped up, super excited, "Wanna learn how to play soccer?" Jongho asked. Seeing as your son basically had sparkles in his eyes, you could only roll your eyes playfully and shoo them off to play so you could FINALLY set the food up in peace..

They chose a spot not too far, somewhere you can still keep an eye on your son but still relax in the shady area with your book. Jongho and your son were having a blast being active together. The boy was thrilled to have been given personal coaching from the guy he admired most and Jongho was experiencing the joy of mentoring a child who looked up to him as much. "There you go, buddy! That's it!" Jongho cheered when your son managed to kick the ball with a running start. Unfortunately, once the ball was kicked, he tripped and fell on the grass. Just as you were about to rush to him, you saw Jongho rushing at the boy who had tears brimming in his eyes and a quivering bottom lip, frozen on the ground not knowing what to do. Without hesitation, Jongho pulled the boy up and hugged him tightly in his strong arms, "I'm so proud of you, buddy! That was such a good kick!" Jongho was hoping that by reminding him of his achievement, your son wouldn't focus much on his fall which thankfully happened. When your son pulled away from Jongho's hug, he was giggling while wiping the tears away with his arm, nodding shyly. "Do you think you can do that again after we eat something?" Jongho asked as he adjusted the boy before swooping down to grab the ball on the ground and walking towards where you were. You've never seen your son so excited talking about anything to anyone and frankly, you couldn't be more glad that it was Jongho who made him so.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet

taglist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @thesolarplanetarysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @angelicyeo @vampcharxter @meowmeowminnie @marvelous-llama @kawennote09 @hongjoong-lovebot @stopeatread @spooo00oky @jwnghyuns @cutie-wooyo @asjkdk @shinotani @aestheticsluut

@chloepurpy

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hennyjwrites · 1 year

Text

Rio trapping his wife again

Y’all already had 5 kids. All boys. You gave up a long time ago on having a little girl but Rio hadn’t. Your youngest was almost a year old and for some reason Rio thought that gave him the green light to have another.

“Christopher im gonna punch you if you don’t leave me alone.” You mumbled as he kissed on your neck. He had told you earlier that night. that he wanted to try for another baby. Your sons were spending the night with his grandma upon her request and that gave Rio the perfect opportunity.

“Gimme just one more.” He begged, sucking slightly on your sweet spot.

You tried to resist him, you really did. But a few more begs, traveling fingers, and a few more kisses, ended up with you fucking him. All night.

He was so good that by the end of the night, he had you begging for him to give you another baby.

That would end up being his routine. After you gave him the green light, He made sure to cum in at least once a day, to ensure he would get his daddy’s girl

A few months later, after getting sick every morning for over a week, and become nauseous to every smell, you went to the doctor. Even though you recognized the symptoms, surprise surprise! Your pregnant.

Of course Rio took care of you your entire pregnancy. Held your hair if you sick, massaged your feet, talked to the baby everyday. Only it wasn’t just him, it was all your sons too. They cared for you and their youngest sibling just like Rio did.

Rio felt this pregnancy was different. He just knew that you were having a baby girl. And boy was he right and wrong at the same time.

By the time you were 5 months you were as large as a house. You brought it up at your doctors appointment and weren’t you surprised.

“There’s baby number 1.” The doctor said showing you where the first baby sat. “And there’s baby number 2.” She moved the mouse over a little bit more. “And then there’s baby number 3!”

Both yours and Rios mouths dropped when she announced you were having triplets. The doctor asked did you want to know the genders and you and Rio both said yes.

“It seems that your having 3 identical girls!” Congratulations mom and dad!” The doctor cheered before giving you some privacy.

Rio stood and gave you the biggest hug and kiss in the world, with his eyes filled with tears. “You heard that beautiful? Three little girls.” He held you for what seemed like eternity in joy.

When you got home and announced it to your sons, the amount of joy that was through the house could blow the roof off. All throughout your pregnancy they all helped you pick out clothes, shoes, and toys all for their little sisters

3 months later and you went into early labor. Your labor lasted for 32 hours, with you screaming, crying, and even staying calm at some point. When you were finally able to push it took around 30 minutes to get each baby out.

Rio stood next to the bed holding his first daughter, on his right and his second daughter in his left. You held your third daughter from the bed. They looked more like you than him. They had the perfect shade of brown with your beautiful eyes, but they took his nose. Each girl was born with a head full of hair.

He couldn’t wait until they started to develop into their own person. He wanted to see would they take after you or him. It was his favorite parts of watching his babies grow up.

“Thank you.” Rio whispered. “You gave me 3 more beautiful kids. I love you more than you’ll ever know baby.” He leaned down and kissed your lips. When he pulled back he bit his lip. “2 more and we’re done.” He laughed, hoping you would agree.

You scoffed, before looking at your babies. “These 3 are going to run you down, not even including the other 5. your not gonna want anymore.”

You both laughed and waited for your sons to come and meet their new baby sisters.

#rio x black!reader #black reader #rio x reader #rio good girls

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gremlingottoosilly · 6 months

Text

Cabin in the woods (yandere!shasher!Konig x fem!Reader x yandere!slasher!Horangi) chapter 5

Your friend is being tortured. Unfortunately for you, Konig and Horangi aren't exactly satisfied with just his misery.

WARNINGS: Blood, dub-con bordering on non-con, general slasher-y, mild knife stabbing

Masterlist with all chapters This on AO3

— Alright, kitten, let’s try this again. The knife goes inside, the guts go outside. What is there to mess up?

— Don’t…don’t call me that. — How should I call you then? Future victim? — No? Please?

— I’m old and I’ve seen all this shit before, kitten. Let me call you what I like and maybe, I won’t prolong his death too much. Or yours, for that matter. The shorter guy pushes the knight into your hands, making you press the blade against Max’s stomach. You refuse – as much as you can, with your trembling hands and desire to survive, no matter what. Max is frozen in the chair, tied up as securely as possible without cutting the circulation in his hands – the bigger psycho told you something about letting the blood flow freely, so your first killing experience would be more fun.

Fun – the fuck was he thinking?

Max is fixated in one place and you are holding the knife – well, to be quite certain, Horangi wrapped his hands around yours, making sure that you won’t try to wrestle the knife out of his hold and aim it at them. He makes you push the blade deeper, and scrap Max’s skin – his clothes were torn by the taller killer, another sentiment of his raw strength. You feel tears collecting in your eyes – you feel dread in every inch of your skin, walling in the endless possibilities of manslaughter.

You feel the interest picking up at the level of your groin. You try to tell yourself that this is just adrenaline, a natural reaction, the big guy was basically fondling your pussy and trying to get you as aroused as possible before he got distracted by his partner – it’s only normal that your walls are clenching around nothing, that you are trying to think about different things and failing miserably. You don’t feel excited about killing your friend because it is simply impossible – even when said friend is as fucking horrible as one person can be. Even when this friend crosses the academic rivalry and dives deeper into the river of being a fucking asshole Even when…

— Her hands are trembling. Cute.

— Kitten’s first murder?

— Should have left the slut for her. Would be a nice cat fight.

— Don’t think she knows how to fight, She doesn’t even try to get the knife, Ko.

You writhe in his hold, trying to resist his firm, strong hands pressing on yours – but you both know that you are merely pretending, that you just need to try something so you won’t feel as fucking horrible about not doing anything to save your friend. You say to yourself that this is simply self-preservation. You can’t resist your captors, you don’t want to die a horrible, painful death – which is why you are so ready to inflict that on Max. You’d pray for his forgiveness in hell, but you both know that he spends most of his time on r/Atheism.

Killers just love to speak like you are not even here – and you would love to not be here, you’d pay literally anything to just run away as far as possible, to not have them after you. You tried to run already, tried to resist – tried everything you could, and yet, it was impossible. No matter how much you try, they are always a step ahead of you – sometimes even literally, when they both are pushing you between them like you are merely a toy for their amusement. Perhaps, in some twisted way, you are. They speak over you, against you, and you hate the little nicknames they are giving you – treating you like a pet even though you do not know them, and they only know you for barely a few hours.

This is probably something about you, making you a perfect victim. You always thought that your adaptiveness was just a signal of people pleasing and a horrible lack of spine – but it saving you now, keeping you interesting enough for the maniacs. You’d pay anything not to be their favorite, but you already know how they treat those who are of no use to them. And you’re fucking scared of dying.

— You need to press deeper if you want to hurt him, Schatzen.

It’s a good thing that they gagged Max’s mouth. You don’t know why, it seems like too much mercy for someone like them, but at least you won’t have to hear him screaming – especially when König envelops your hands on top of the hands of his partner, pressing it against your friend’s soft gut.

You never knew that human flesh is so…vulnerable. You don’t even need any strength, they are doing all the job for you. you are the one holding the knife but you find a small mercy in thinking of your impact as just this – being a knife. An instrument. Instruments don’t have free will, you can’t blame a gun for killing a person – blame the one who fired it. You didn’t gut your friend, you were just doing what a good object is supposed to.

God, you feel awful.

— I don’t…please, don’t make me do this, please…

You whimper, pathetically – König can barely contain his erection. God, you’re simply fucking perfect like this, hands already covered in blood splurging from the small cut you made on this guy's stomach. In a rite of passion, König moved one of his hands to rip the gag off his mouth, listening to the beautiful squeals the guy was making. All of these pig-like screaming got him wanting a nice, hot Schnitzel. He licks his lips, tilting his head to look at the screaming man.

— Screams like a pig.

— More like a whaling dog.

— Cut him again, ja? Deeper, or you’ll be sitting next to him.

König knows that he won’t do it. You might be a weird addition to their little duo, but they both knew that they wanted someone, a pet for them to share – not because of some weird kinks, although it’s part of the reason, mostly out of a desire to be dominant to someone helpless, someone pathetic and weak. Someone who is so fragile would need constant protection, and constant putting in their place. Horangi’s savior syndrome and König’s control freakiness coming from his days as colonel made them…unstable, a bit.

Until they found little ol’ you.

— What the fuck are you doing?! Max can finally scream – and he screams at you, not the killers. You cry and shake, trying not to fall unconscious because of the tension and here he is, making sure that you feel as horrible as he is – mentally, for now. The pit in your stomach grows deeper with every squeal, you want to shut your ears and scream until your throat is sore, you want to push the knife away and hide somewhere. The hands are holding you in place and you can barely move.

You plead – you want to take Max’s place, you hate being the object of their affection, your hands are trembling and your body is barely moving. Your head is still pounding and you feel like you’re going to fucking die because you can’t even breathe and you panic and…

— Hey, Calm down, ja? You don’t want to do this?

König is surprisingly gentle when you sob, hands shaking uncontrollably. He pushes Max to the ground, poor guy is falling down, still tied up to a chair, probably hitting his head on the cold basement floor – Horangi pushes him even deeper with a kick on the ribs and you hear the sobs, so uncharacteristic for a smartass like Max. You don’t want to be here, you don’t want to be here, you don’t want to be here, you don’t want to-

— Please, d…don’t…

König gently puts your face in his hands, holds you as softly as someone like him can.

Then a hand lays on the curve of your ass – a harsh, rough spank that made your skin burn even through the jeans. You yelp, tears flowing freely down your face – König laughs, putting you in your place like a fucking unruly animal. The betrayal of the previous softness makes you cry.

— It’s okay, Schatzen.

You refuse to look when the knife goes inside Max’s stomach. You refuse to look even when the second guy twists your face in his hold and makes you open your eyes. Blood, nothing but it – it stains his clothes, your clothes, it makes you want to ouke and you fall to your knees because this is not happening, it could not be happening, your hands are clean and perfect, they would never be able to kill a living, breathing being – this isn’t something that you would do, ever. This isn’t something that…

— Thought she’d be calmer by now.

— She is a bit skittish. Might have to lock her in the basement.

— And getting rid of all the thrill.

— Didn’t you want to elevate us to the next level?

— I was talking about adoption, Ko. Maybe getting a freaking puppy, for starters.

— She’s the second best thing.

König’s hand goes to scrub your neck and you exhale loudly, still terrified of him. Poor, naive girl, just how scared you are of them – it’s funny, really, ridiculous even. They could have killed you any second now, so, if they aren’t doing it, you must be calmer now, no? Your reactions are adorable, but he starts to think that he won’t be able to make you choke on his cock like this. Scared animals tend to show their teeth and, well, he still wants his dick to be with him.

Maybe with a gag…

He pushes a finger in your mouth – to his and your surprise, you don’t even bite him out of instinct. You wince, but don’t refuse – just look at him like a caged animal. He liked that look on you, made you all nice and submissive just for him and Horangi. God, it was so long since they were with someone so soft, so…weak. He counts your teeth – might need to pull something out, a trophy for him. Tugs at your tongue and you immediately started to suck on his fingertip – a welcoming intrusion. He didn’t intend anything like this, just wanted to check your biting reflex, but if you are welcoming…

Hong-jin catches the look on your face and the expression that can be so easily read on König’s face. You’re both adorable, his perfect fucking partners – or a partner and his victim, to be quite right. He swiftly helps König undo his pants, knowing how tricky those cargo and multiple belts can be – everything to not let their prey get an advantage over them in any way. Getting sloppy seconds sucks, but the bigger killer would make you nice and warm for them, broken in exactly right.

Besides, even if you would bite off a few inches of König’s cock, it wouldn’t do much difference. The man would still be a fucking stallion.

You start to panic when Max isn’t even dead yet, and the killers are pushing their pants down, making you work your mouth on the enormous bulge in König’s briefs. You wince, closing your eyes and pretending that you are not here, that this isn’t happening, and you’re stuck in your happy place, actually, forever and ever, and…you want to cry and whimper, and you do – you can feel blood slowly coating the floor.

You lapping your mouth on the underwear of a serial killer while your friend is slowly bleeding from a deep cut on his stomach. You smell the usual things, that you are accustomed to already – sweat, blood, metal. The same knife that cut Max is pressing against your neck right now, urging you not to bite on the killer’s cock. You are worried more about vomiting all over his legs – but you don’t want to get your neck scrapped too. You gulp, seeing the outline of a huge, enormously thick cock poking out of the top of a simple black briefs. There is…there is no way it would fit – your mouth can only open so far, you are not a fucking snake, you are…

Horangi pushes his boot to your clothed cunt. Presses deep, the narrow part is strangely hot between your legs. Jeans and panties are securing your dignity for now, not allowing the full strength of those feelings to rise, but you were already aroused before and the new pressure is only making it worse now. You open your mouth – maybe in shock, maybe in a feeble attempt to make them stop – and König pushes the head of his cock right in.

Your throat is welcoming him. Tight and warm around his shaft, he can only push further and further, making it impossible for you to close your teeth enough to bite. He can feel the stretch of your jaw, how perfect the bulge in your throat looks for him – he can think of a few new ways of making your body bulge both from him and Horangi. It was quite a while since they had a partner to try double penetration with.

When you choke on the dick penetrating your mouth, Horangi can only chuckle, pushing his boot even deeper against your pussy. He can feel the wetness of your intimate parts, even through the jeans – you’re a dirty thing, getting off their touches while your friend bleeds to death. If he wasn’t so unsure that those pricks don’t have any STDs to give you, he’d use Max’s blood as a lube. Maybe make you lick it as you did with his knife. Maybe he’s…shit, all of these lewd thoughts make him want to fuck you right now – and he is certain that a dick in your cunt, no matter how wet and slutty it is, will break you right now. Fuckin’ civvies and their fragile brains.

— Where we would dump his body after it’s done?

Horangi can speak normally, for now. His dick is throbbing painfully in his pants, but he knows that at least one of them should remain calm and think with their upper head unless they want you to get away with your little friend. You are surprisingly resilient for prey – albeit a bit dumb, like all normal people are when the situation turns into a life-and-death one. His boot isn’t soft on your folds, the rough fabric of your jeans only making it worse - you still squirm and moan, crying on König’s dick and sending delicious vibrations down your throat.

— C…can feed him to the river.

König is breathing heavily, his hand goes to grab your hair and make you take his dick whole. He doesn’t really care if you are choking – giving you the opportunity to breathe through your nose should be nice already. You don’t want to admit it, but it’s still better than getting killed – you suck as enthusiastically as possible, just so you won’t make them too mad at you. Just so the feeling of heavy dick in your mouth would push away every other thought – about Max, for example.

The guy is still bleeding on the chair right next to you – but every last bit of your brain, still remaining in your head, is getting pushed to the very back by König’s dick and Horangi’s boot.

You whimper when the pressure on your pussy grows faster. You don’t want to cum, you can’t cum like this – fully clothed, covered in blood and scratches, on the boot of your tormentor. You don’t want this to be pleasurable, but it’s better than having them rape you raw – you try to say that your reaction is normal, you’re just adapting, you don’t actually get off your helplessness and the feeling of complete loss of power and responsibility, but you know that, deep down, it’s all bullshit.

You like sucking him off – you’re wet enough from the lack of oxygen alone, not speaking about anything else. You like being on your knees, supported by a boot rooting in your cunt – and you also adore the fact that you don’t have to do anything. König is content with slamming his dick in your welcoming mouth without calling you a passive bitch with zero skills, and Horangi seemingly gets off just making sure you’re as aroused as possible. In a different circumstance, you’d beg them for more.

In this situation, however, you just try to block out the bleeding guts of your friend less than a meter away from you.

— We have to keep her, Tigeren.

— What if she’d run away?

— I can cut off her legs…Scheisse, she just got tighter from this. Good job, Katzen.

— We can keep her in the basement, but she needs regular walks.

— I will walk her.

— With sawed legs?

— I can hold her in my arms.

— We still need to take care of her friends first.

They both humm in acknowledgment, Horangi almost stopped pursuing your tenderness – only to slam harder, getting on his knees to take off your jeans completely. You shiver in the cold air, feeling the torn fabric falling down your legs. Of course, just taking your pants off normally wouldn’t be enough – he needed to rip them off, breaking the boundary between a fashionable and unrepairable.

You whimper – the soft, thin fabric of your simple panties isn’t nearly enough to stop your puffy cunt from being wet. The white fabric is almost transparent from your juices, it’s pathetically easy for Horangi to make you squeal on his boot. He presses and rolls the rounded end down your panties and up your cunt, making you cry from the sensation. Your little whines only make the experience better for König – who already got his hand on the back of your head and slammed all length inside, making sure that your jaw would fucking hurt.

You choke when he suddenly slams into your throat with full force – not allowing you to just hold his dick in your lips like you did before. You choke even more as his cum fills your throat. You don’t have to taste it, thankfully, your tongue laying flat under his dick. You can almost expel yourself from the situation, pretending that it’s your favorite movie characters or videogame heroes.

You can try to pretend that you are not cumming from your pussy being folded by the killer’s boot.

— Did you cum? Good girl.

— College girls became sluttier since I was in college, ja?

— I doubt you were in college, Ko.

You hear their banter and can see the bigger man showing the other one on the shoulder. You don’t react, frozen in place, on your knees. Your naked legs are scraping on the floor, which is definitely filled with corpses and some nasty vermin – you can’t force yourself to care about it right now. You can barely fucking thing, just wanting everything to end so you could go to sleep happily. So you could close your eyes and never fucking open them again.

You are being ushed to the air by your hands – like a cat, the one from insanely long memes. You whimper, thinking that killers probably have half a mind of just fucking ending your life once and for all – you gave them everything they needed, and now your helpless figure, coughing down the cum coating your throat, is probably of no use to them.

You can try to save your life. Really, you can – maybe they won’t listen to you but maybe, if they didn’t kill you yet, they can consider just…letting you go. Maybe these predators are getting sated on just Max’s body. Maybe you can still try to run away.

— I…I don’t know who you are. If I just go, I won’t even be able to tell the police anything.

— You’re implying we let you go because you don’t know who are we?

— I won’t tell anyone. I don’t even know German!

They laugh. The worst possible reaction – you feel blood drained from your body. God, are…are they going to murder you because of this little stunt? The bigger guy goes to you, cupping your face in his hand.

The other one goes under his mask.

— Hans, callsign “König”. Colonel for mercenary company, if that’s not enough.

You couldn’t even close your eyes before you saw him fully – ginger hair, uneven stubble. Face, covered in scars. You want to say that this is the face of a killer, you know this is the face of a killer – the handsome one. The pretty one. Not in the way that boyband singers are pretty, not cute – but you can’t deny that putting a face to your tormentor figure made your already soaked cunt even more wet.

— Hong-jin, callsign “Horangi”. Still think we’re going to let you go?

They are handsome – both of them. Without masks, their voices are unfiltered, pure. You see a handsome Asian man with a face covered in scars and burn masks, and his partner, covered in the same fashion. You knew they must be from the military, judging by the uniform and mannerisms – but you never knew they would be this…

You begged them to let you go, saying that you won’t tell anybody about them. You both know that you are not getting out of this forest alive, knowing their names and how they look like – you won’t even be able to pull out a “Hush” move and just text everyone who are they – no cell service and no family to try and search for you in rural Austria.

You collapse to the floor when König gently pushes your face up, smothering your lips with a kiss.

You are not getting out of this forest.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #horangi x you #horangi x reader #horangi x könig #yandere horangi #horangi #kim hong jin #slashers #slasher

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griffin-girl-r · 7 months

Text

You're not mine (Part 1)

Created: 08.10.2023

Finished: 08.10.2023

Edited: 08.10.2023

Age: 15

Word count: 1,344

Warnings: Abandonment, Child neglecting, Self harm, Blood, Blade, Arguments, Screaming, Child favoritism

Note: Please proceed with caution if you're triggered by any of the warnings above.

Request: Yes (Wattpad user) (@herospark18)

Pairing: WinterWidow

Summary: Natasha adopted you from the Red Room when you were only a baby, but when she and Bucky had their own child, she started forgetting about you.

Part 2

—

"I hate you!" You shouted, slamming the door behind you

"Y/N, we're not done!" Natasha, your mother, shouted from downstairs "Get back here!"

This was a daily occurrence by now.

The, once nonexistent, daily arguments between you and Natasha only got worse over the years.

Although Natasha isn't your biological mother, she raised you like her own after she saved you from the Red Room.

You were only 2 months old when she adopted you and everything went well. You both formed a happy little family for a while.

That was until Natasha started dating Bucky a little after your 10th birthday and she slowly started spending less and less time with you.

But not Bucky was the factor that determined your mother-daughter relationship with Natasha to drift apart.

The main reason behind everything was your 5-year-old baby sister, Tanya, who came into the world a few months after Natasha and Bucky started dating, with a little bit of help from Tony and his technology that, nowadays, seems to defy all odds.

Tanya's arrival only strengthened the bond between her parents, who had a romantic history that started years before even you were born, and, at the same time, weakened the bond between you and Natasha.

You knew the drill by now.

'Tanya is perfect.'

'Tanya is ours.'

'Tanya is innocent.'

Their voices echoed in your brain like a broken record.

Tanya knows that she can get away with everything and Tanya does get away with everything.

Since her birth, it was as if Natasha had completely forgotten about your existence.

It began by ignoring you while she focused her attention solely on Tanya.

She wouldn't feed you anymore, wake you up for school, or cuddle you at night.

She didn't even notice that you changed.

But, how could she, when Tanya was everything she noticed?

—

You stared at yourself in the mirror.

Determination was etched on your pale face as you picked up the blade that was on your sink.

It became a relief for you.

Sliding that blade on your wrist helped you forget about the unbearable pain in your chest.

The crimson blood that was pooling from the cuts held your attention. The pain of being abandoned by two different mothers was momentarily shoved at the back of your mind.

You started harming yourself 2 years ago when you couldn't take Natasha's ignorance any more.

You haven't told anyone and it's not like they would care if they knew anyways. Tanya was the center of their world, not you.

She was the perfect baby, while you were the adopted bastard and a grand mistake that Natasha made.

Natasha never admitted it out loud but you understood the message from the way she was treating you.

The blade fell down from your hand into the sink.

'Is it all because she never gave birth to me?'

And you stared at the trail of blood it left on the white sink.

'Are adopted kids not important, just because they're not blood related?'

You slowly understood.

'Will I ever be treated the same as Tanya?'

The only one left to understand was Natasha.

—

"Y/N, do you want to play with my dolls later?" Tanya asked you a few hours later, during dinner

You pulled at the sleeves of your hoodie even more, hiding your hands inside of them.

"Sure, Tatu." You gave the small child a shy smile "I think I'd like that."

"Tatiana." Natasha sternly looked at Tanya but the tone of her voice was soft "Remember we have a movie night tonight. You can play with Y/N another time."

"Can Y/N come too?" Tanya's big, innocent eyes sparkled while she asked, as Natasha refilled the girl's glass of orange juice

"I think she has more important things to do." Natasha replied, not even bothering to ask what you want "We're going to have a mother-daughter night. It's going to be just us two, sweetheart. Wouldn't it be fun?"

"Yay!" Tanya cheered, throwing her arms in the air

But as she did, she accidentally knocked over the glass filled with juice.

"Oh oh..." Tanya said, looking at the spilled juice "Sorry, Mama."

"Don't worry, baby girl." Natasha smiled, sitting up to clean the mess "Accidents happen."

"That's not what you said the last time when I accidentally knocked over my glass of water." You bitterly spat out at Natasha

"You have no right to talk, Y/N." Natasha snapped at you "Shut up!"

"Natalia, honey, calm down." Bucky, who was sitting beside Natasha, put his hand on her arm "She didn't do anything wrong. She's just a kid."

"She's not a kid, James." Natasha shouted, turning her head in Bucky's direction "She's a grown-up teenager now."

"Talia, I think you are just overreacting right now." Bucky kept trying to calm his wife, sparing a glance in your direction

He looked down at your plate that was untouched, the effect of your lack of appetite obvious on your skinny and fragile frame.

"I think I'm full." You quickly sat up from the table

"Sit back down, right in this instance, Y/N." Natasha shouted at you "You don't disrespect your mother like that and get away with it."

"Well, lately, you didn't act like a mother at all." You shouted back at Natasha, pain evident in your voice, but Natasha was oblivious to it "All you care about is Tanya."

"Because she's my child!" Natasha screamed offended "It's only normal to care for her."

"I used to be your child as well!" You shouted, tears forming in your eyes "I still am your child."

"You're not mine!" Natasha shouted and you widened your eyes shocked "You're not anything to me! You aren't my child because you don't have my blood. I didn't carry you or feel you grow day by day inside of me. But with Tanya, I did. You are just a mistake, Y/N!"

"You are the mistake here, Mom!" You cried, slightly lifting your sleeves as Bucky's eyebrows shot in his hairline "Look!" You showed your scarred wrists to the woman "This is all because of you! Why can't you love me like any mother should do? Blood shouldn't be important! You raised me, Natasha."

Bucky reached his metal arm slowly towards your extended arms to inspect your wrists but he was pushed aside by Natasha, who blocked out the fact that you were hurting because of her and ignored the truth, her intrusive thoughts winning as she said something she would never be able to take back.

"You were never truly a part of this family, Y/N!" Natasha shouted "Get that in your head. You are not our blood and you will never be. I saved you because I thought that you would change but I see that you didn't. You are the same. But I did change. I am not the same Natasha that I was in the Red Room. I am better."

Shaking your head, you took a few steps backward.

"I can't believe you." You whispered in disbelief

"Y/N..." Bucky breathed out, sitting up from his chair "Don't listen to your mother, she's just tired. She didn't mean what she said."

"She knew damn well what she was saying." You kept shaking your head, a lone tear falling down your cheek

"Then get that in your head once and for all." Natasha shouted once more, stubbornly fixated on her wrong belief that she was right

"I hate you!" You shouted at Natasha "I wish you never rescued me from the Red Room!"

And with that, you stormed out of the house and ran into the veil of darkness provided by the night.

Bucky tried to run after you but it was too late.

He found no sight of you or any clue where you might have run away to.

—

Bucky walked inside the house and looked at Natasha who was still oblivious to the damage she had done and muttered one question.

"What have you done?!"

—

Permanent taglist: @lizlil , @lovelyy-moonlight , @theunchosenonee , @ravensinthedaylight , @justarandomreaderxoxo , @youralphawolf72 , @mmmmokdok , @natashasnoodle , @observeowl , @circe143 , @kassies-take , @taliiiaasteria , @sheneonromanoff , @darkstar225

#mama nat #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #natasha x daughter!reader #natasha's child #natasha's kid #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #natasha x teen reader #natasha x baby!reader #winterwidow #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x daughter!reader

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whiskeyghoul · 6 months

Text

Coloring pages || [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A/N: This has been stuck in my mind for weeks now and I needed to put it down. This is the first fic I had proof read by someone! Enjoy and please like and reblog when you do.

Tags: Fluff, tooth rotting fluff, just fluff, coloring pages, spencer reid x gn!reader I think.

You stood outside of the Quantico building, leaning against the side of your car. The air had the early autumn chill, it wasn't cold but your oversized sweater sure made it a lot more bearable to be outside of the car for an extended period. You were waiting for your date to be finished with his work. Boyfriend. You corrected yourself internally. Boyfriend of 6 weeks, 3 days and 5 hours to be exact. Which, with Spencer as your boyfriend you had to be.

He is handsome, kind and so incredibly intelligent it is sometimes just a tad frustrating. His rambles were interesting and you could probably listen to him for hours on end. You also wanted to spend time together just enjoying each other's company. Being together, that was your type of love. The affirming touches that the other was there. The comfortable silence you enjoyed so much where you could hear soft intakes of breaths. Glances at one another to confirm that the other was still there. You loved when Spencer had invited you over to his apartment once, he still had some work to finish so you'd picked up a book from the many shelves and made yourself comfortable on his worn couch. You had looked up from the book and over to him, seen him deep in thought as he looked at the lines of writing, jotting down notes next to it. His brow slightly furrowed, lips pursed ever so slightly as he thought particularly hard. Completely unaware of your admirations of him from the couch. That's what you liked.

People began filing out of the building as the sun set, you watched and watched to catch the first sign of Spencer. When you did see that messy brown hair bounce slightly as he walked down the steps a smile spread across his face. You mirrored his expression, every time you saw him it brought a smile to your lips. A gust of wind picked up, ruffling his hair even further as he bound over his long strides causing him to stand before you in, what felt like, mere seconds. "Hey." He said softly. His hand reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear that had been swept up by the wind. His fingertip grazed the side of your temple. "Hi." You returned just as softly. "How was work?" You asked as you looked into those big, brown eyes. They were filled with warmth as he looked into yours. "It was good, no new cases which I was hoping for since I wanted to see you." Spencer spoke his emotions as he pulled his hand away. "Good, because I have something planned." You said with a smile, turning on your heels and walking back to the driver's side.

"You have something planned?" Spencer asked as he quickly dove into the passenger seat. Tucking his bag between his feet. "I do." You say as you put the seatbelt on, feeling his eyes on your profile. "Can I know?" He asked, impatiently tapping his fingers against his thighs, an air of excitement surrounding him. "Not yet. It's a surprise." Your voice sounds melodic, sing-song-y even, on the last sentence as you turned the key and started up the car. "Tell me more about your day." You say as the music over the speakers softly filled the car and the heater worked to warm your cold tinged hands.

Spencer had talked about his day, you were intermittently interrupting him with questions before he asked about your day. You were still going on about a coworker who had annoyed you when you parked the car in front of your destination. The bookstore and café combo where you had your first date. You got out and quickly snatched the tote bag you had haphazardly laid on the backseat before turning back to Spencer. "The bookstore? Why are we here?" He looked at you quizzically. You rolled your eyes playfully and put the tote bag over your shoulder. "Because we're going for coffee." You answered and held out your hand which he took. You saw his eyes dart towards the tote bag, that soft crease between his eyebrows forming as he pictured all the possibilities of what its contents could be. “Coffee at 5 P.M.? You know that feeling unaffected by caffeine could be a sign of a genetic difference or you have built an increasingly large tolerance. This could be a problem once you start ingesting dangerous amounts of caffeine unbeknownst to you.” Spencer rambled as you entered the coffee shop. You rolled your eyes playfully, “I’ll get a tea then.” you say as you get hit by the smell of fresh brewed coffee, pastries and books. There was music softly playing in the background. The shop was warm.

Pulling Spencer along to the table where your first date had been, you sat down, shedding your fall jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair. The tote bag was placed on the table, only a slight peak of its contents spilling out. Spencer’s eyes darted to it, wanting to know what you had planned and why you were being so secretive. Quickly, your hand found its way to cover the contents, pressing the tote bag shut. “After we get our drinks.” You teased, there was a sparkle in your eyes, seeing him this interested in what you were planning made it all the more fun to keep him in the dark.

“Really? Can’t you just tell me?” Spencer questioned, giving you the most pleading eyes he could muster in that moment, you were surprised he didn’t pout at you. Just then the waitress came over, taking your coffee and tea orders before walking back behind the bar. When you had looked at her Spencer seemed to have taken his chance and snuck a peek inside of the bag, before you knew it he was pulling out a set of colored pencils. “Spencer!” You admonished playfully, snatching the colored pencils out of his hand and sticking them back in the bag. “What? I was just curious.” He played innocent, giving that sweet smile he knew made you weak. “You brought colored pencils?” He tilted his head slightly, his soft curls falling away from his face. You reached out across the table, tucking a stray curl behind his ear like he had done with you before, “I did.” Your answer came with a soft sigh before folding the tote bag slightly open and pulling out the matching set of colored pencils and a book of coloring pages. “I guess the cat is out of the bag.”

“Why did you bring coloring pages?” Spencer looked confused at the book, flipping through the blank pages filled with outlines of forest scenes and insects. An amused smile on his lips, “Aren’t we too old for that?” He asked, his tone was a slight teasing one. You know he didn’t mean it to be hurtful at that moment, but still he didn’t seem as excited about it as you were. You bit your lip, holding back the twinge of disappointment that shot through your heart.

“I thought it would be fun to do something together. It’s not a children's coloring book, but you know… I wanted to work on a page together, so we have something we both did.” Your voice had an edge to it, the disappointment you tried to hide still managed to bubble its way to the top. It felt horrible, that such a little thing could make this big of an impact. Your hands fidgeted with the end of your sweater, picking at the sleeve with a hint of defeat. Eyes cast down on the table. “Woah, hey, wait no I- I didn’t mean anything bad- I just-” Spencer stumbled over his words, quickly reaching his hand across the table to hold yours. Moving his thumb soothingly across the back of your hand. “If you want to, we will. It looks fun. Really.” He corrected himself, his eyes finding yours. You could see the hint of regret at his earlier words, his sincerity in his current ones. The disappointment still lingered, but the warmth from his hand was quickly spreading through your body to wash away any doubt. “Really?” You asked again, wanting the extra confirmation. You attempted a smile, it was half hearted still but at least it was somewhat reassuring to yourself. “Really, I just get to pick what we’re working on.” Spencer smiled back, giving your hand a soft squeeze before letting go to pick up the book again.

You watched Spencer flip through, taking a quick look at the different pages until he found one to his liking. Placing the book open on the table, a flowery field with butterflies and bumble bees. “This one.” he said, looking to you for confirmation like he could make the wrong choice. “That’s perfect.” Your voice was soft, still trying to get over the disappointment from before. It was nearly gone, leaving you with mostly warmth in your heart. You grabbed the two sets of colored pencils, opening them, and setting them out on the table. Just then your drinks were brought out, a chai latte for you after Spencer’s comment about caffeine, he still had a cappuccino which made you smile a bit. You handed a set of pencils to Spencer before picking up your chai and taking a tentative sip. It was hot but delicious.

“Alright, so how do we start?” Spencer asked, looking at the page then back at you. “I want to color it together. You can start over on your side, I start on mine, meet in the middle?” You said, placing your cup back down. “Won’t it be mismatched? should we at least have the same color green for the stems?” He suggested, suddenly seeming a bit more into it than he had been before. “Okay, that sounds like a good idea. The same blue for the sky too?” You added, opening your own set of pencils. You picked out a blue, matching it with one from Spencer's set. He did the same with the green, handing you the matching pencil with a smile. “Let’s get coloring then.” He said before turning his attention to the paper. You followed suit, touching the colored pencil to the paper and began to fill in the white space.

You kept picking up pencils, filling in the flowers with different colors, sometimes your hand would meet with Spencer’s while drawing and he’d look up with a smile. Soft bumps and touches that affirmed you were both there. Light chuckles and laughter with your coloring interrupted by each other. Your heart fluttered at how he had thrown all his earlier judgment aside to make you happy. Looking up he was focused, smiling at the paper as he decided what colors would fit best. Sometimes asking for your opinion. Intermittently his drawing was interrupted by sips of coffee. Wiping the residue off of his lips with his sleeve before going back to the page. The way he was focused was cute, hairs falling in front of his eyes, a grin on his face as he gave in to the childlike whimsy of doing a coloring page. It was refreshing to see him with his shoulders relaxed, focusing on anything but words. Letting the surrounding sounds of the shop take over. Slowly you felt yourself be more and more focused on Spencer rather than the drawing. Once he noticed, he looked up, the smile still plastered on his face, “What?” he laughed out the question. One of the more beautiful sounds you’ve heard, though you wouldn’t tell him that. You shook your head no, laughing softly “Nothing.” You answered with a genuine smile. “There’s something.” Spencer pushed, still smiling, holding back the laughter that bubbled up inside of him. “You looked very focused, that’s all.” You answered, shrugging nonchalantly before you finished up your drink that had gone lukewarm from the amount of time you had been sitting there. “Well, so did you. Just not on the coloring anymore.” Spencer teased, making a blush creep to your cheeks. Biting your tongue to hold back from throwing out a retort that would have been completely unnecessary.

Your eyes cast down to the coloring page, it was almost completely filled with your combined efforts of removing every spot of white. It was beautiful to you, a bit messy but that made it perfect. Spencer looked down too, regarding the page with a certain air of pride. “I think we should frame it.” he spoke up. Your eyes darted back to his face, to see if he was joking or if it was serious. His expression was relaxed, no sign of any funny business. “Why?” You asked, a hint of confusion in your voice this time around. “It’s the first thing we made together.” His words made your heart skip a beat, the way he was so sincere had such an effect on you. “We’ll have to make another for my place then.” you answered. “Or you’ll just have to come over by my place more often to see it.” Spencer smiled, his words a thinly veiled excuse to see you in his home, to have you over, spend time together.

You smiled, quickly leaning over the table to steal a kiss after he finished his sentence. “I’d like that a lot.”

#Fluff #oneshot #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #Spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fluff oneshot

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elliespassagerprincess · 7 months

Note

Hii omg live for you're work

Could I maybe request loser ellie fluff/nsfw hcs

Headcannos: loser!ellie williams x reader

Part 1 part 2

Sfw:

☆ Loser Ellie who doesn’t make eye contact with anyone, and who gets nervous when someone she doesn’t know talks to her for longer than 5 minutes.

☆ Loser Ellie who spots you at a party and who instantly wanted to talk to you.

☆ Loser Ellie who tries talking to you the whole night but ends up on chickening out.

☆ Loser Ellie who accidently bumps into you and drops her drink on you.

☆ Loser Ellie who keeps apologizing without making eye contact.

“What the fuck you!” yelled as you felt a cold liquid run down your body. Ellie looked at you in shock.

The pretty girl. Fuck.

“i-im sorry” she stuttered as she looked at her feet, too embarrassed to make eye contact with you.

“It’s ok” you spoke softly as you put your hand on her shoulder.

Her head snapped up to where your hand was. Ellie’s jaw dropped at the touch.

“I Ellie” she spoke quickly.

You raised your eyebrows confused.

“I Ellie?” You don’t remember asking her name, and why the fuck isn’t she talking English properly?

A pink blush spread across Ellie’s cheeks. This is humiliating.

“I am Ellie- like my name. I’m Ellie. Hey!...yeah, that’s my name Ellie…” She rambled on.

☆ Loser Ellie who wants to die after that interaction, but at least she knew your name.

☆ Loser Ellie who somehow finds your Instagram and who stalks you daily.

☆ Loser Ellie who practically drools every time you post something.

☆ Loser Ellie who doesn’t have the balls to follow you on her main, so she made a separate account.

☆ Loser Ellie who almost pisses herself, when she saw you sent her a DM on her main.

☆ Loser Ellie who realized that Dina was the one who took her phone and DM’d you on her behalf because she was tired of Ellie constantly looking at your pictures.

With shaky hands Ellie opened the chat to see her message.

“Hey I’m the girl from the party! I got your Instagram from a friend, and I thought you were cute… Would you like to go on a date with me?”

Ellie groaned at the message, her eyes lowered down to see your response:

“Oh yeah! The girl that dropped some strange liquid on me:) I think you’re cute so yeah, I’d love to go”

☆ Loser Ellie who decides to take you on a picnic, and she planned the whole thing. She even made all the foods from scratch.

☆ Loser Ellie who spends 4 hours before the date on FaceTime with Dina, because she couldn’t pick an outfit.

☆ Loser Ellie who waits for you at the park and almost vomits with nerves when she sees you walking towards her.

☆ Loser Ellie who extends her hand out for a handshake, but you just rolled your eyes and brought her in for a hug.

☆ Loser Ellie who stays quiet, and barley looks at you because she was going to explode.

☆ Loser Ellie who loses her shit when you ask her about her tattoos.

☆ Loser Ellie who forgot this was a date and starts telling you all about space, tattoos and Joel.

☆ Loser Ellie who remembers this was a date and becomes all shy again.

“I’m sorry” she muttered looking down.

“For what?”

“talking so much”

“It’s ok, I like listening to you Ellie” you said with a smile.

☆ Loser Ellie who walks you all the way home.

☆ Loser Ellie who looks down to your lips hoping you’d make a move. You noticed and all you did was smirk, as you leaned forward to give her a kiss on the cheek.

☆ Loser Ellie who listened to your front door close, and she brings her fingers to the spot where you just kissed her.

☆ Loser Ellie who asks Dina to write you a texting, asking to go on another date.

Nsfw:

☆ Loser Ellie who was soaked when the two of you made out for the first time.

☆ Loser Ellie who didn’t know how to kiss you, so her hands were awkwardly on her lap as you helped her.

☆ Loser Ellie who’s hands you grab and put it on your waist.

Ellie pulled away heavily breathing, her hands still on your waist. “It’s ok if I touch you?” she asked unsure.

“Use me Ellie” you muttered as you kissed her again, and she most definitely moaned into your mouth after that.

☆ Loser Ellie who cums the first time she ate you out, and you didn’t even touch her.

☆ Loser Ellie who audibly gasped when she saw in a bra for the first time.

☆ Loser Ellie who likes to believe that she’s in charge because she’s on top, but in reality you’re telling her what to do.

☆ Loser Ellie who moans every time she gets a taste of you.

☆ Loser Ellie who loves it when you leave hickeys on her.

“My girl did this”

“yeah my girlfriend left these”

☆ Loser Ellie who’s too scared to ask for sex so she just kisses your neck and waits for you to say something.

☆ Loser Ellie who cums after 2 seconds when you first went down on her.

☆ Loser Ellie who touches herself to your pictures every night.

☆ Loser Ellie who humps her pillow imagining it was you.

☆ Loser Ellie who has a collection of your panties that she uses to get off on the nights you weren’t with her.

☆ Loser Ellie who gets wet when you smile at her.

☆ Loser Ellie who goes to the bathroom every time you come over because you were just so pretty.

☆ Loser Ellie who loves it when you praise her.

“yeah just like that baby”

“Fuck Els you’re doing great”

☆ Loser Ellie who wishes she could record your moans because they are so pretty.

Yeah she was a loser, and pathetic at times, but she was your pathetic loser.

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vampzity · 3 months

Text

𝙈𝙮 𝙊𝙙𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙔𝙤𝙪..

Pairing: idol! hongjoong x f!reader

Genre: fluff, bit of angst, valentine’s day, one shot, valentines series, pet names (mama), mini idol au, rapper au, strong language, arguing

Synopsis: It’s Valentine’s Day, probably one of your favorite holidays to spend with Hongjoong who you’ve been with for almost 4 years now. You both planned to go out for dinner at a new 5-star restaurant that opened in Seoul, which critics and fellow idol friends raved about. Hongjoong told you days before that he’d meet you at the restaurant after he finished up with the boy’s studio time for their upcoming album and you were okay with that. However, when you arrive, he’s not present. What seems like minutes soon turns into an hour as his presence never shows. Did you get stood up,.. on Valentine’s Day?

Now Playing: Star 1117 - ATEEZ

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: welcome to the first member involved in my Valentine’s Day series! I will be doing all Ateez members and will be uploading on different days, so please be patient :)) enjoy!

Masterlist Seonghwa's Pt.

“Ugh.. where is he??!!”

You sat in the corner of a restaurant growing impatient as time continued to pass. It was now 8 o’clock and your reservation time was for 6. Constantly checking your phone for notifications, even for calls from him hoping that he’d respond and he wasn’t actually blowing you off. Blow you off for what though? You guys have been together for almost 4 years now.. why now? Why would he all of a sudden abandon you without explanation?

You unlocked your phone, quickly clicking on your conversation to text him again.

You: Where are you??!!! It’s been 2 hours now! Hongjoong, we’ve planned this for weeks now.. there’s no way you’d just forget?!

You locked the phone and set it back on the table, looking around once more as you tried to fight back the tears ready to fall. Another message just ignored like the 5 messages and 10 calls you’ve sent.

“Miss, it’s getting to be 8 now. Would you like to take your order now? If not, I’m going to have to ask you to leave… I’m sorry.”

A young man dressed in a suit and tie stood before you, a worried look settled on his face as he held the menu in his hands. Anger took hold of you as you grabbed your phone and put your jacket on quickly. Apologizing to the waiter, you stormed out of the restaurant, feeling a rush of tears slide down your embarrassed cheeks. You grabbed your phone, anxious to even call the drivers that served under your boyfriend’s company. You looked up at the sky, feeling a small breeze hit your face as you sighed.

“I can’t fucking believe this.”

Your eyes met the horizon as you lowered your head, beginning to walk towards the home both you and Hongjoong shared. You didn’t need the drivers contacting Hongjoong about your sudden change of plans from the restaurant if they didn’t see him there with you. You didn’t want him to contact you at all. He ignored you for practically half of the day, and wouldn’t even respond to the texts and calls you repeatedly sent him. Now look, walking home alone, sad and hungry. How could you ever forgive him for this?

You sighed once more, unlocking your phone to call Hongjoong one last time before completely giving up. However, after a couple of rings, you were met with his voicemail once again.

“Hey! This is Hongjoong! Sorry I couldn’t pick up your call but I’ll be sure to get back to you soon! Leave a message! BEEP—”

You felt your body heat up as anger fueled you more and more, your face flushing with it as well. As much as you hated arguing, even yelling with him, you could no longer resist. He deserved to hear your pain, hear how upset he made you, how he abandoned you with no explanation on Valentine’s Day of all days.

“I can’t believe you! How could you do this to me?? On Valentine’s Day Jjoong? Are you kidding me?!” You felt waves of hot tears begin to fall down your cheeks again as your lips quivered. “You couldn’t even return my texts, couldn’t call me at least to let me know a change of plans?! You left me there for 2 hours, 2 whole fucking hours Jjoong!!! Why now?! Why do you want to suddenly ditch me like this now?!”

You paused to catch your breath as your tears began to feel choking. When was the last time you’ve cried like this? All you felt was sadness, betrayal, broken-heartedness, and embarrassment. How could this happen to you of all people?

“Don’t even think about returning a call. Whenever you decide to come the fuck home, maybe then we can talk. Goodbye. Hongjoong.” Forwarding the voicemail to him, you muted his texts and calls as you didn’t want to speak to him. Making it home, you unlocked the door, closing it aggressively behind you. You just wanted to take a shower and go to bed, not even wanting to think about what a horrendous Valentine’s this has been. You wish the day would be over, that you never would’ve had to experience it in the first place.

You replaced your shoes with your slippers at the door and made your way upstairs towards the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were red and puffy from the countless breakdowns you had on your walk home. Dried-up mascara stained your cheeks, only making you frown at your bland expression. You signed and removed your coat, placing it on the counter. Walking to turn the shower faucet on, you daydreamed of what the date would’ve been like if he had just shown up as promised.

Buzz, buzz.

Your phone had interrupted your thoughts but quickly grabbed your attention as you hadn't received a notification in hours. You scurried over to it, seeing a phone call from an unsaved number, not even a recognizable one. Your gut told you to pick it up, you’re not sure why but that’s exactly what you did.

“Hello? Who’s this?”

There was silence on the other end for a moment making you question if it was a scammer. You rolled your eyes ready to hang up until a familiar voice responded softly.

“Hello..? Y/n? It’s me, San!”

Your eyes lit up a bit at hearing him. It gave you a slight sense of relief to hear someone after the day you’d been having. Even though it wasn’t the exact person you’ve been wanting to hear from, it was still better than nothing.

“San?! How did you get my number? And it’s almost 10 o’clock! What are you doing still up?”

“I’m surprised he even is up!”

You heard a faint yell in the back as a few snickers followed behind. San groaned as he began to bicker with the other body in the room.

“Wooyoung shut up! I can stay up past 9 just like you gu— yea yea I’m sure you can, sleeping beauty!”

More laughter began to be heard through the phone as Wooyoung cut San off mid-sentence to insult him. The young man groaned heavily as he excused himself from the call, everything going silent for a second. You were sure he muted himself just to scold his younger friend and others who laughed at him in the room. It made you wonder if Hongjoong too, was in that room with them. You heard a door slam as San began to take himself off of mute.

“Sorry about that, you know how much of a pain Woo is..”

You laughed a bit, feeling at ease while talking to San. San has always been the kindest out of all the members to you, all the others were nice but San always made sure you were okay. He went out of his way to help you out and talk to you whenever he could. You guys were practically best friends.

“Anyways, I’m just calling to check up on you.. are you alright?? Captain says he’s been trying to call you for the last 30 minutes and you weren’t answering..”

Your heart sunk a bit at hearing San mention Hongjoong. So he was still with them?! This entire time?! You stood silent for a bit as your thoughts of what to say ate away at you.

“I’m okay.” You responded coldly, feeling a welt of sadness beginning to wash over you once again. You weren’t sure how to relieve your pain to San and as much as you wanted to speak to Hongjoong, you knew you needed the space to prevent lashing out on him.

“Y/n? It’s okay, I already know what’s going on.”

You froze a bit, not sure of how to proceed as you heard a small sigh come from the other side of the phone. You swallowed the lump in your throat as nervousness washed over you, your hands becoming clammy. San cleared his throat before proceeding to speak to you.

“I know you may not wanna speak to Hyung right now, but you should come to the studio. He has something for you here.”

You groaned as you rolled your eyes, knowing you just wanted to be left alone for the rest of the night. The last thing you needed was to be reminded of what a beautiful Valentine’s this was.

“I don’t know Sannie. I kind of just want to be alone right now.”

“Please?? I promise you won’t regret it, and you won’t believe how incredibly sorry Hyung is right now... I’ve never seen him this sad..”

San’s words felt like a stab to your heart. He’s never been this sad? Anger left your body slowly, not only feeling drained from the day but yearning for Hongjoong. Maybe you went a bit overboard, maybe it was all a harmless mistake but at this time, it was too late to take anything you said back. You’ve never yelled or lashed out at Hongjoong as you did in the voicemail, and to know all 7 of his members heard it? You felt embarrassed for him.

“Sannie, I’m sorry. I just want to be alone. Tell Hongjoong I’ll be home. Goodnight.”

“I understand, goodnight y/n.”

The phone hung up and you felt your body ache. The amount of hurt you felt in your heart was too much to bear. You turned off the bathroom light and made your way downstairs to the couch, lying down on the cushions. You placed your phone on the table by the couch and closed your eyes. Tears slowly escaped them as you sniffed and sooner or later, your drained body took over, drifting you into a deep slumber.

Hongjoong got out of the car, thanking the driver for a safe ride home. He made eye contact with the members who traveled in this van with him, their eyes worrying about what awaited him at home. The silence remained for a moment when Seonghwa spoke up.

“Be gentle with her. Remember this has never happened in your relationship, let alone to her. She’s probably feeling little at the moment.”

Seonghwa gave a soft reassuring smile to Hongjoong, an agreeing nod being returned by the two other members in the vehicle. Hongjoong sighed as he smiled softly. “Thank you, Hyung. I appreciate the advice.” He waved goodbye to Seonghwa and the others as the driver closed the door, making his way back to the driver’s seat.

The car sped off and he began to open the door, closing it behind him as he placed his jacket on the coat hanger. The house was dark as if you were never home in the first place. He changed into his house slippers, quickly seeing you sleeping soundly on the couch with a small frown on your face.

Hongjoong’s heart sank as he witnessed the sight of you. How you didn’t even bother to change out of the clothes you wore for him today, how your dried-up mascara stained your cheeks. You were genuinely so hurt over his disappearance, especially when it never happened before. He admired what you picked out for him. It was a silky spaghetti-strapped black dress, with a small slit on the left side. He noticed your favorite pair of sparkly black heels by the door, about 4 inches high. All things he had gotten you the last few weeks, to wear for today.

Hongjoong walked over to you quietly, wrapping his arms under you he picked you up bridal style, beginning to carry you up the stairs to your shared bedroom. You hummed softly, still half asleep as you couldn’t register what was going on. He opened the door, softly placing you on your side of the bed and pulling the blanket over you. He left the room for a moment before returning with a warm wet rag and some of your makeup wipes. Kneeling beside your face, he softly wiped off any makeup you had left remaining being sure not to wake you up.

As he began to leave the room again, you opened your eyes, confused as to how you ended up in your bedroom. You turned your head towards the bathroom door, hearing the sound of a running faucet on. Sitting up, you began to wipe your eyes as Hongjoong re-entered the room, pausing when you too met eyes. He wore a pair of black slacks and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, followed by a dark blue tie hanging from the collar of his neck. He stood there frozen, not sure if the next few words he spoke would upset you once again.

“Mama, please I’m sorry. I swear I can explain,” he spoke softly, his hands beginning to fiddle with each other. He looked down at the ground, expecting only the worst from you after your voicemail. Your heart skipped a beat, not expecting him to reference your nickname even during the heart of an argument.

You sat silent for a second, unsure of what to say. As much as you wanted to be angry, you knew it wasn’t the answer. You could tell how heartbroken he was to hear how you reacted, to see you asleep on the couch still in your clothing. The last thing you wanted to do was put up a fight.

“Where have you been all this time??? We had planned this for weeks Jjoong, do you know how embarrassed I was??”

No words were shared between you two. Hongjoong made his way over to his desk, sitting in the roller chair. You glared at him for a moment, before slowly looking away. “I know, I seriously fucked up. Please just let me explain.” He looked at you with worried eyes, not sure of where to start his story but all he could feel was a sense of guilt dawning on him as he pleaded for your attention. You nodded softly, eyes reaching back to meet his, giving him your full attention.

“Yes, I was at the studio. My phone died while I was there and no one had a charger. I told Wooyoung to remind me when it hit 5:30 so that I could meet you at the restaurant.” He looked down at his business attire and sighed as he put his head in his hands.

“I was already changed by 3:30 in case, but time went by... Wooyoung forgot to tell me, which led me being caught up in our work for today. By the time San arrived, by the time I got a charger, I knew it was too late. I was wrong... it was an asshole move. You didn’t deserve to be blown off like that and I’m so sorry, Mama. You don’t even need to forgive me. Shit, I wouldn’t. I understand completely how wrong I was to do this to you. To even plan anything at all for today when it should’ve been about us.. about you..”

Silence began to engulf you both as you were left speechless by his confession and apology. He sighed softly as he went onto his computer, clicking away through apps and files until he stopped, facing you again.

“You don’t have to say anything, Mama. It’s okay,” He smiled at you softly, brushing his black hair back out of his eyes. “This is what we worked on today. This is why I got so caught up in the studio..” He pats the bedside next to him, gesturing for you to come sit by him. You furrowed your eyebrows at him, rolling your eyes.

“Jjoong, what does this have to do with what we’re talking about right now??”

He shook his head and continued to pat the bed. “Please... it’s for you.” You sighed and scooted by him as he began to hit play on the track. It was a slower song, something you normally weren’t used to when it came to his writing. As the lyrics began to play, you noticed familiar writing within the song. You looked up at him, his eyes remaining closed as he began to feel like one with the song.

That’s when it hit you. Notes from your letters. They were small lines taken from letters that you had sent Hongjoong when you were abroad for college. Lines expressing your love for him, how much you had missed him and wished to hold him in your arms. How the stars in the sky reminded you of him, twinkling so brightly on the clearest days.

You felt tears began to swell in your eyes as every lyric began to hit sentimentally. Hongjoong looked up as he began to hear your sniffles and pulled your arm to sit in his lap. He held you tightly as you cried into his shoulder, apologizing repeatedly for lashing out at him earlier. He rubbed your back slowly, reassuring you over and over that it was okay and he deserved to know how upset you were with him.

The song hit you in a way that you’d never think of. To know Hongjoong had spent his entire afternoon composing and recording this song for you? Making sure the members sang every part exactly how he wanted to please you. How could you continue to be angry with him after this?

“Jjoong—”

He shushed you and held you tighter, resting his head against yours. He planted a soft kiss on your forehead, apologizing once more. “Don’t say anything Mama, you did nothing wrong. I hope you liked the song... I spent weeks working on this for your gift, even if the day went wrong.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting as you smiled softly. You nodded, nuzzling your nose against his own. You placed a small kiss on his cheek, bringing your thumb up to caress it slowly. “Words can’t explain how much I loved it. Thank you.”

Hongjoong returned a smile to you, placing his hand on top of your own on his face. He gazed into your eyes for a second, taking in this precious moment he had with you. One he wouldn’t trade for the world, not even a stupid Valentine’s dinner.

“What’s the song called?” You mumbled softly, hand still placed on his cheek as your cocked your head to him. He closed his eyes, his smiling widening.

“Star 1117.”

Your eyes lit up at this, realizing the small reference in the title. 11/17, the day you guys officially started dating. Star simply for the meaning of guidance, as sailors used it to guide their way through the oceans. To you personally, it was also what you had nicknamed Hongjoong. You saw him as your star, always shining even through the cloudiest of days in the sky. He was your guidance in this game called life and you couldn’t be any less grateful for him.

“Want to know my favorite lyric? Something you wrote for me?” You nodded at his words, eager whenever he talked about his lyrical logic.

“I will protect you forever, and forever you are my star..”

divider creds: @cafekitsune

A/N: i thought the meaning for Star 1117 was so cute, I had to incorporate it into this somehow. :’) *updated Seonghwa's part is now out!*

Tag list:@skzline @evidive @kittykat-25 @amuromio @xoxkii @losrpark @classyrbf @sundaybossanova @owmoiralover @vrtualsins @sanslovesblog

*comment to be part of future taglists!*

#ateez #ateez fanfic #kpop #atiny #ateez x reader #ateez atiny #hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #—♡vampzity #oneshot #ateez oneshot #valentines day #angst with a happy ending #light angst #fluff

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