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[captainchrisstan]

﴾ wild side

pairing: gang leader!bangchan x f!reader

genre: one-shot, mafia au, smut

word count: 11,8K

warnings: minor violence ⋆ blood and weapons ⋆ reader works as a waitress in a strip club⋆ dom!chris and sub!reader ⋆ lap dancing! ⋆ oral (m.receiving) ⋆ unprotected!sex ⋆ creampie!

summary: one night, while you were making your way home after work, you came across something you shouldn’t have seen and even if you run away, there was no way for you to escape the man with the scar across his face

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Someday you think, you will give up. Everything hurt — your arms, legs and mostly your head. It pulsated with every step you took and you silently prayed that you wouldn’t end up passed out on the cold, wet ground. You huffed, completely exhausted, but as you imagined yourself scrubbed clean and snuggled in your comfy bed, it kind of helped keep you motivated.

You wondered how long it would take before you just decided not to work anymore. It wasn’t like the job is bad or anything, quite the opposite. You get handsomely paid and that wasn’t a surprise. You work as a waitress at one of the most popular strip club in the city. You slept through the day, waking up late to get ready for your night shift. Every day you had to smile and giggle at the most gross and creepy men in hopes they would tip you more. But you can’t say anything to that. You have nothing to whine about and also you really liked it there. Pretty interior, good music and shows — maybe it's just your distaste for life at the moment.

Your naked feet dance across the ground, heels in your hand and you do hate yourself for forgetting about your other shoes. You did left your apartment quite in hurry. As well as now. It wasn’t the fact that walking on the ground made you literally shiver in disgust, it was mostly because you were starting to get highly aware of your position right now.

The early hours of morning are probably the most dangerous in this city. When you decided to live here, you didn’t look much into the history of the city. However every luxury and dreamlike city comes with secrets. The streets were still dark, quiet and cold, your hair sticking to your skin slightly from the humidity. You had to press your arms around your chest a little tighter when you hear a small noise behind you. You at that moment realized how unarmed you were. Cold, shivering in your skirt and light jacket, alone — you can’t help, but feel frightened a little.

This city was known for its crime, but being also so charming it makes all the tourist, just like you, blind enough not to see the danger it truly holds. Your head whipped around to look behind you. Nothing. Though you do pick up your pace, hissing at the small stones digging into your feet. Your droopy eyes flickered over the seemingly empty streets, few lamps lighting your path. You wanted nothing more than be in your apartment already as you started to feel not so alone anymore when another unexpected noise is heard.

A clinking of a glass bottle echoes around you. It was probably just a stray animal or something, but your heart still skipped a beat. You turned back around to look before you, but your eyes stopped at the well known open, alley next to you. It was a short cut, however you only took it at day when it seemed way more safe. The way the darkness almost seemed to pull you into it made you uncomfortable. You knew that you should never take a dark alley so late, even if you heard noise on the other end of the street. Something about it just screamed danger, yet it also called out to you and you knew how much time it would safe you by going that way — so you did.

Turning around the corner you couldn’t help, but look around your surroundings. Still nothing. It still scared you just a little, because you can never know, but just standing on the same spot won’t help you either. Sighing you walked further into the dark alleyway, grumbling just a little when you walked into small puddle. You really couldn’t afford being sick, another thing that made you go just a little faster. For being the city of crime at night, the rent prices really weren’t that low. You of course asked yourself if maybe moving away would be better, but you never knew that working at a strip club would make you meet the most important people in your life right now. You were just a runaway and all of them invited you with open arms. District 9 was also a city of outcasts — just like you.

Your nails dig into your jacket, piercing your skin almost from the way the pathway before you became completely dark. The only thing helping you see was the Moon and looking up, you for a second became blinded by its beauty. Cold kissed your cheeks, nose runny and your eyes slightly glossed over. Your dreamlike state didn’t last for very long, just like your sanity as you heard a very loud sound from somewhere near you.

You immediately jumped, body freezing. Your eyes widened, maybe to see better and when you heard the same noise once again you let out a small sigh of fright. However as the sound traveled to your senses, you quickly realized it was just a sound of car’s door closing. You almost wanted to laugh at yourself. Your paranoia still lingered when you looked into the direction of the sound and you fight back a shiver as it is the same way you must take to get home. You for a second wondered if there was maybe another way, but you knew that at the end, few blocks away was your warm, cozy home.

Taking a few, slow steps forward, your cold feet dragged across the ground for a second, thinking. Your ears were on high alert, eyes unfocused as it would help you hear better. Nothing, but was it really? Your hand gripping the string of your purse traveled down to open it. Fishing through it, your movements frantic, trying to find your choice of weapon. Even if your bag was rather small it got messy really fast. Before you could panic any longer your fingers finally grazed over the plastic, pulling it out quickly, your index finger immediately finding the dip at the top of the pepper spray. You kept it for years and you prayed that you won’t have to use it any time soon. You also wondered if it was still useable, but there’s only one way to found out.

The alley became less narrow the further you went, just like you remembered. You found a safe spot next to a brick wall, away from the warehouse next to you, hand dragging across the stone. You never liked that place. It was damned to be demolition and you always came across few pieces of stones falling from the walls. It seemed like a big hazard to you, but for some reason no one wanted to take it down.

As you were almost half way through the alley a flash of light flickered on the ground. You stopped in your tracks when it fell on the ground right before you, but just before it disappeared you followed it with your eyes. It flashed right before you then it traveled to the brick wall and when you turned around you realized it was coming from the building right next to you. It came from the inside, because from what you could see, it disappeared right when it hit a wall next to one of the broken windows. You couldn’t help but frown in confusion, head tilting down to maybe see inside what seemed like the basement window.

Maybe it was just some kids messing around, but when you decided to continue your walk home something stopped you. A loud sound pierced your ears, making you let out a small gasp, grasping your chest. However your noise was small compared to the short painful scream that came right after. You froze, breathing heavily, grasping your pepper spray in death grip. Turning once again you turned to the direction of the small window and from this angle you could finally see inside.

You didn’t know why you didn’t just run away as it was not worth it, but what if somebody was in danger. You probably wouldn’t be able to sleep with the guilt if you would see something in news later. You glanced back to the direction of your home and back to the window. You are troubled and just a little bit terrified. This wasn’t a good idea, but you were never good at making decisions, so you only walked closer.

And with careful steps, trying to be as quiet as possible at this hour. You bend in the knees, falling almost when the light shined yet again, but it thankfully wasn’t in your direction. You leaned closer with your free hand on the wall, lowering yourself on your knees. You fought back the disgust when your skin touched the dirty, cold ground, centering your attention on the light instead. You again followed it, watching how it was put down on something.

Your lips parted in shock, because as soon as the light was put down, the light beam hit a person rolling on the floor in agony. Then two feet dressed in fine, polished shoes stepped into the direction of the person. Their footsteps squeaked, shuffling closer and closer to the injured man. The one standing had their back turned to you, like the one on the ground, but just as you wondered what happened to the person they rolled over onto their back. Your hand immediately fell to your mouth, silencing your gasp at the sight.

Blood was everywhere on the man’s face. His hand put pressure onto his bleeding eye, but even with that he couldn’t stop the liquid from flowing out. Your legs shook and even with your fright you could still hear the words from the man standing. “Tell me their names.” The voice is low and rough. The demand meant for the injured man is only answered in series of pleas.

You were in state of shock, completely frozen in your spot. You couldn’t even breathe at that moment, watching with wide eyes as the standing man crouched down to his level. You could only see the back of his head full of dark hair, his wide shoulders caging the trembling man who raised his hands in surrender. However it didn’t seem like that man was moved by his apologies. You should’ve ran before it was too late, but how? You didn’t know what to do. Nothing, there was nothing for you to do to help that poor man as the man before him mumbled something that made the other scream in terror.

Your mouth fell wide open as when man with wide shoulders stood up again, holding out his hand. Another person which you didn’t see till then handed him a weapon — a gun. Your eyes filled with tears, because you would probably see the most gruesome sight in your life. Your breathing picked up, heart beating so fast you thought it would jump out of your chest. You couldn’t…you couldn’t look further as the dark haired man pointed the gun at the man who shook like a leaf. And then you did a very stupid thing…

You went to move away from the window, but your hand on the wall slipped, making your foot drag forward. A gasp that came from your lips was louder than the man’s cries, but not the stones rolling down from the window, landing right next to the man’s feet. You were immediately blinded by light shining into your face and you thought you almost died out of fear itself at that moment when the man turns to you.

The first thing you noticed about him was the large scar running across his face, starting from his eyebrow and ending at his chiseled jaw. His full lips were pulled into a scowl, brown eyes glaring right into yours. You felt like at the brink of fainting, because you immediately recognized him. His face was all over the news, only a sketch, but everyone knew about the man with a scar. Bangchan was his name. The most dangerous man of the whole city, a leader of an underground gang that is known for haunting these streets at night.

His whole demeanor screamed danger and hearing his voice once again, it did activated your fight or flight instinct. “Get her.” It came out cold and unemotional. His voice made your whole body vibrate, eyes falling to the gun still in his hand, but he did not make a move to raise it to your head. Instead you only heard heavy, quick footsteps and before you finally jumped away from the window, you saw three dark figures moving in the shadows — right into the direction of the side entrance to the warehouse, just where you were.

You knew you should never run to your home when someone was chasing you, but you had better chance at making it home than running back. You rised to your feet, not even thinking twice and running out of the aisle. Your legs immediately quivered at your sudden moves, feeling your muscles scream. Stumbling slightly, you almost slipped as you round the corner, running out of the alley just as you heard the sound of heavy metal doors slamming against a wall.

From the brute force you swear it vibrated in your bones. In your runaway plan you didn’t even realize you left your heels behind, but they were not going to help you anyway. You already had hard time using your legs, bare feet feeling like they would crumble at any moment. You couldn’t ignore the footsteps behind you. You looked back frantically, one of the three man a little too close to your liking. A cry of disbelief and horror left you, eyes going back to look at the sidewalk before you. You prayed that somebody would appear and safe you, but knowing what kind of people were chasing you nobody would be able to help you anyway.

You were so close. One block and you were home. You were trying not give up, lungs burning, metallic taste in your mouth overwhelmed your senses for a second. And then when your mind cleared again, you heard nothing. You didn’t stop however, only turning your head back around. You cried out in small relief as you saw nobody behind you on the sidewalk.

You didn’t think much of it as you stumbled over your apartment building. You didn’t think about the fact that they maybe were watching you, seeing that running after you was no use. Your adrenaline rush was greater than their strength. You knew that they wouldn’t give up. That man won’t give — he will hunt you down and do whatever he wants with you, because that’s just who he is. However you only felt relief when you walked inside your home, just as the orange hue of the rising sun start to peaked out from behind the tall buildings, but you also couldn’t ignore the lingering darkenss.

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A dream, a nightmare — that’s what you thought it was when you woke up. Your eyes were all puffy, mind still fuzzy, but also on high alert at the same time. You remember how the first thing that you did when you stumbled inside your apartment was deadbolting it and moving your wardrobe to block the door. It all happened so fast that you still even now think you really just dreamed all of it. However losing your favorite heels and also the pepper spray under your bed told you the opposite. You really are surprised that you even woke up, seeing that you overslept your alarm three times. You were in hurry to get to work in time, but you think should’ve called the police instead. However you know that it would put even more of a target on your head. You don’t know what this man is truly capable of and you can’t be certain that he hasn’t got anyone in the police, because he always gets away with everything. Also by the time the cops would get there, there would be no clue that would indicate that the most dangerous gang was even there.

Your paranoia and fear for your own safety led you to passing out the moment you fell on to your bed. You were still in your dirty, damp clothes, waking up half an hour late, but somehow you managed to find time for a shower, do your makeup and dress up. You at that moment realized how your life is just a show. You slept even more than yesterday, but somehow you are the most tired you have ever been. The second you walked into your work, a wave of guilt hit you. You really should’ve called the police as soon as you got to your apartment. However you really did give them a lot of time to clean up after their mess. maybe you shouldn't have gone to the window — you really thought you could be the hero.

You feel like a clown in your mid length sparkly dress and heels, staring at the small tv at the far left corner. The sign ‘Girls,Girls,Girls’ next to it made it quite hard to see clearly on the screen, but you could recognize the blurry sketch everywhere. However it isn’t a report like you expected, it is only a remind to call the police if you see anyone similar to this image. The police and probably even FBI are getting a little too desperate to your taste when they put a price on his head. They are only putting civilians into danger and you just know that taking down the leader of this gang would only cause more trouble. Everybody knows Bangchan as a bad man, a murder who steals and brakes things, like the lives of innocent people. From every report there is about his actions it seemed like he leaves nothing behind other than few hints. You wonder if all of those victims have anything in common, but if they did the federal government wouldn’t give too much information out. They are all liars and assholes. You remember your coworker telling you that they once barged in to the club with guns, leaving shortly after with no explanation what so ever. You moved to the city few months after that fiasco.

You wipe down a glass, unaware of your surroundings, so when an empty tray falls right on the counter before you, you jump right out of your skin. Your head whips to the girl before you who only gives you a look of confusion in return. “Girl, you good?” Cathy asks you, her dark hair falling into her eyes, but you still see her glare. You know her the longest out of anyone. She was the one other than her best friend Nina who dances at the private rooms who helped you with everything. A lot of people come and go, but you are greatful that she stayed here with you, just like the boy next to you.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, making your eyes fall onto David who wears the same look on his face. “What’s going on? You’ve been very jumpy today.” There’s a pull on his bushy eyebrows and you realize that it’s concern. He always has the tendency to joke around more than anything and you see him like this only from time to time, so it makes you even more nervous.

You blink at him in thought. “Did one of the guys give you trouble again?” The girl before you goes further and you fight the argue to just break down and tell them everything. You think about what to answer. If you told them, you would probably put them in danger and you definitely couldn’t live with that. You will just have to wait till your shift is over and call the police…

Your eyes flicker back to the tv that nobody other than staff stares at sometimes, there are simply way prettier things to look at. “Nothing happened, just tired…I guess.” It comes out leveled yet little and something told you that even with such a reassuring tone they didn’t believe you.

They didn’t ask you further after that, but both of them kept a careful eye on you for the next two hours and you almost quivered at their intense gazes. You prefer to be honest over anything, but you really can’t. You tried to distract yourself with looking at the dancers. Their moves were usually so mesmerizing and beautiful, but right now their sensual moves were not enough to distract you from overthinking.

Maybe it’s the fact that you were acting like nothing actually happened, because you didn’t talk about it nor called the police, but you swear you felt someone watching you. It weren’t the eyes of a peeping Tom like you are quite used to — these ones drilled holes into your back. Every time you would go away from the bar to collect empty glasses and take order which was quite frequent, because the club was packed full tonight, goosebumps would appear on your body. You can’t help, but imagine those dark, brown eyes looking at you from somewhere. Your own imagination will be the death of you.

In your hurry to get back to the bar and order the drinks from a table full of collage boys, a single shot of tequila was left behind. You know you shouldn’t do it as it is against the policy, but you find yourself not caring too much, swallowing the shot in one, smooth go. It immediately burns at the back of the throat and you look around swiftly to see if anyone saw you and to your delight no one even batted an eye at you.

“Y/N!” At the sound of your name, you freeze, thinking you actually got caught in your act, but you are only met with Cathy again. She walks up to you with heavy breaths, hair sticking to her forehead from the humidity. “They need you as a backup—“ With her words she nods her head to the direction of the VIP section, before making her way back to the bar with her own tray of empty glasses.

You frown, eyes snapping to that direction. You have never been in there, because it is a known fact that only specific people could get in there. It is like an individual part of the club and you think you have never met anyone from there other than Nina. Celebrities, politicians all sorts of known people go there from what you know and you definitely wouldn’t be able to slip in as your eyes fall on the tall bodyguard guarding the door. You snap back to reality, realizing you are literally standing in the middle of the room.

You walk up quickly to the dark haired girl, your expression still the same, but she somehow isn’t so phased by it. “At the private rooms?” You say slowly, trying to see if this is supposed to be some sort of joke.

Putting down the tray next to hers, you watch her for a second, but Cathy only nods, not even looking at you as she starts to make a Bloody Mary. “Yeah and someone is asking for you—“

You only give her another look of confusion, tilting your head in thought. Your eyes quickly travel to the stages, then to the private section and back then back to her again, “I’m not a dancer.” You almost scoff, not in disgust, but at the thought of your stiff-self dancing that way.

Her laugh is sharp and it kind of offends you in some way. “I know, baby.” David just happens to round the corner to help her, not without giving you an odd look. “They just asked you to help them back there, it’s packed full.”

You hum, still not sure why you, because someone like her or David would definitely be a better help. You still sometimes look at the recipe for certain drinks, like rainbow shots — very popular in the bar, those gave you a whiplash every time you would try to make them. The thought of the VIP section with private rooms being completely full didn’t seem weird to you. Here, at your usual section they aren’t any private rooms simply because the people at the private area are usually famous so if anything would’ve happened they would sure pay for it.

You go take your tray again, but a hand stops you, pushing it away from you. You give your male friend a small look when he points back to the direction of the private area. “Okay…and who is asking for me?” You say, walking to the edge of the bar, before you walk away.

“They didn’t say.” Answers you Cathy, running away with her tray now filled to the brim with drinks. You look quickly at David who just also walks away from you, serving another thirsty customer.

You don’t question their weird behavior anymore, seeing that they have their hands quite full at the moment, but you wonder why they behaved so weirdly towards you. It is weird in some way that someone asked for you specifically as you weren’t even a dancer. A lump forms at the back of your throat, while making your way towards the big man guarding the doors to your destination. The more you get closer, the more your heart beats faster. Something about this screamed trouble, but maybe you were just exaggerating.

Even from a distance the man at the door sees you and he sure is intimidating, even his stare makes you doubt if you can even go near his direction. He is so tall that it hurt to look up at him, almost forgetting why you are here in the first place when you stop before him. “Ehm…I’m Y/N, somebody was asking for me?” You say uncertain.

He looks you up and down quickly, before his eyes scan the room. When he looks back at you, he nods, stepping away from the doors which seemed miniature next to him. “Follow me.” He says, voice rough, like he smoked a whole pack of cigarettes before saying there two simple words. You mimic his nod dumbly, smacking your lips together to smudge your lipstick. You watch the man open the door for you, however just a little to let you slip in.

You immediately blink rapidly to adjust your vision to the darkness surrounding you. You are blinded by how dark the room is, stopping to stare at a light up stage filled with no dancers so far. Your eyes thankfully adjust to the change of lightning enough to let you see your surroundings. Confusion is the first thing you feel as you look around the area — literally no one is here. The room in some way looks the same as the section you work at, but it definitely lacks in life. You become nervous suddenly when you see the bodyguard turning around to walk back to you, seeing you aren’t following him.

You gasp slightly when he wraps his hand around your bicep, pushing you with him. His grip is so tight that it hurt to move, you didn’t have anything against going further into the room, but now you do. Your eyes follow the trail of empty tables to the lit stage again. The grip the man has you in made you scared, because there really isn’t a respond for him to do such that — only if he thought you were trying to escape…just like now.

A small sound of pain leaves you, pulling at his hand to at least loosen his grip. There really wasn’t a chance you could overpower him, you only looked stupid in the process, turning your body back to the entrance to push him back. Before he again pushes you closer to him, you get a glimpse of the outside…you never knew that those windows were one way mirrors. That made you sick to your stomach.

You stumble in your heels, but he basically walked for you the whole time. However you do almost fall forward when he twirls you around a surprisingly full table. You only see the back of their heads, but before you could wonder who these people are, the man holding you shoves you right before them. The brute force makes you double over, hands falling on to the table of their booth, shaking it in the process.

“There she is—“

You can’t breath — there is no way…you are officially dead. When you look up from the plastic table, you don’t look at the owner of the voice, but right at the man sitting before you. A choked sound leaves you, your heavy breaths fanning away your hair from your eyes to see the truth better. It is him. If the aura radiating from him wasn’t a dead giveaway, it would certainly be the scar running across his face. Your eyes met briefly, like yesterday and just like the last time, it activated your fight or flight instinct.

You turn around to run away, but you are only held back by the same man who took you here. How stupid of you to think you could get away. Your legs buckle, eyes starting to sting, because you can’t believe this is your life right now — well, probably the end of it. Chuckles are let out across the table and you become disgusted at such sound at such moment. “Oh, no where are you going?” Is said jokingly from your left side, your eyes falling onto a man with black, short hair and surpringly glimmering eyes.

You don’t know who he is exactly, but you just know that these men are all the eight members of Stray Kids. A funny name for such dangerous men, but it somehow suited them as they never stayed in one place, messing up lives all across the state like nothing. You can’t breath, your fear even blinded the pain from the grip on your shoulders. Even if your eyes go all around the whole table, your eyes still stop on him.

“No need to be scared now.” Says another, more deep voice and from your peripheral vision you see that it is the blonde man next to the leader. “We don’t bite.”

You stay quiet, your eyes falling on the sliver of skin peaking from his black shirt, too weak to look into his eyes or anywhere else. You do not believe that man, because how? There’s nothing that can make you feel even the slightest at ease right now. His voice was low, but reassuring in a sense, he tried, but it fell to deaf ears. You are starting to panic, thinking about how just few feet away from you are people that could possibly help you. However you can’t even breathe let alone move with that vice grip the bodyguard is holding you in and you realize that he probably was working for them the whole time. How did they manage to get in? With their reputation it must be hard for them to even get some sunlight, but somehow they are all sitting right before you in total relaxation. They do not look or sound angry with you, maybe because you are nothing, but a small fly to them anyway. It won’t take too much to take you down.

Your eyes trail higher, stopping at his yet again and with your blurry eyes you don’t see the small speck of softness at the corners of his eyes. “I swear, I won’t tell anyone what I saw, please don’t hurt me—“ You can’t believe you are actually begging for your own life.

“What did you see exactly?” Asks a man to your right. Your eyes travel to him, tears falling out of your eyes onto the table, clearing your vision for just a second, letting you get a glimpse of him. This one you recognize — long black hair, the famous freckle under his eye. Like his leader, his face has been seen several times and he definitely had no reason to hide such face. Now, his sharp features were pulled into mock thought, looking down at you in waiting.

Your lips parted and the men at the table can’t help, but smile at your expression. “Nothing…” You answer.

“No lying.”

You immediately turn to the leader. You frown slightly at his statement, not looking too long into his eyes, because it felt like he could literally turn you into stone by a single look. You realize that the long haired man was just making fun of you, twisting your fear into something they could smile at. You want to sneer at him, but that sure wouldn’t be smart and you can’t do anything other than blink between the leader and the place next to his head. “I saw something.” You confess, like they already didn’t know that. You look back at him again, giving him a look. “But I swear, I will not tell anyone.” There are few glances being shared between them, but yours was still on him. “I didn’t call the police…”

There is a pull at the corner of his plump lips, not even blinking as he looks into your eyes and you find yourself being mesmerized. “Of course not.” His tone is teasing and you again nervously exhale through your nose.

“What do you want?” You ask that question finally being spoken. “Just please don’t hurt me or my friends, they don’t know anything, no one—“

“A dance…” Your breath hitched at that, gazing at his lips and how each syllable roll out his tongue. You are completely left speechless. “Give us a dance and it will be as if nothing happened.”

Your lips are left parted in disbelief, eyes flickering over the whole table as you thought only of it as a joke, but none of them had a smile of amusement on their faces. You can’t believe that they really meant it. Something stabs you in the heart. It is way too easy, you have caught them in the act, they should end you like you expected. The fact that they are confident enough to know you won’t go and tell anyone after this is really making your blood boil. However they are right…you won’t tell anyone. You will pay for what you saw with just a dance, but you know that they will still keep an eye on you. You are not smart enough to take them down, you are just a girl.

Your breathing becomes leveled, seeing that they don’t have any intention to hurt you. You look up from the table to the leader who sighs through his nose heavily and even from here you can see his muscles in his legs jumping when he spreads his legs just a little wider. You can’t help but think how he would look at you if you would dance on his lap. You instantly feel heat spreading across your cheekbones, looking away from his bottom half to his face. This expression is different from any other and you are not so sure what it meant, but it sure made you bashfully look away.

“Oh…she’s shy—“ A cat like man teases and you shoot him a glare, only to receive a smile of pure amusement.

“How cute.” Coos another, the same one that had greeted you to the table. You momentarily turn to look at him, only seeing him looking at man in the center. “Maybe you should take her somewhere private.” Your heart beats faster, eyes widening. “We already have plenty here.” The dark haired man mentions to the stage and you didn’t even realize that the stage was already full of dancers. You want to open your mouth again and scream for help, but you know better than that.

You hear him move first, the leather of the booth squealing under him as he suddenly appears right in front of you. You gasp softly in shock, you didn’t even notice him making his way to you. You look up at him, just in eyes level with his chest. “How’s that sweetheart?” He almost sounds soft, however his eyes shined with fire looking down at you with his bottom lip caught in his mouth.

You sigh, nodding in shame. He doesn’t say anything else, waving his hand in the air, making the bodyguard let go of you. You stumble slightly, but you are quick enough to jump away from the hands trying to catch you. You do not need him touching you with those hands right now. You don’t look at him, looking down at his feet instead that turn to the direction of the private rooms. Your heart is in your throat, but something told you there’s no reason for you to be so scared. If he wanted to hurt, he would’ve done it a long time ago.

You wipe away your already dried tears, eyes falling on the stage and your eyes momentarily met with one of the dancers, Nina. She has to stay in character all the time, but she still gives you a quick reassuring look. You are only left confused, wobbling your way behind the man. Are you scared or nervous? You are really starting to wonder, piercing holes into his back that rips with every move of his arms. You keep your distance, watching him push a curtain to one of the rooms away and then turning around to let you in first. Your mouth opens again, like a fish. There is a small sneer at your lips as you glance at him and he gives you a raise of his eyebrow in return.

You hold your breath when you pass by him, but you still get a whiff of his strong cologne. He is close to you, so close that you can feel his breath on the back of your neck. You shiver turning to look back at him, but he is already in front of you. You stand in the middle of the lightly lit room, eyes going to the booth that sat at the corner of the small room. There is a pole in the middle of it and your mouth dries out when he makes his way to that direction. Your legs start to shake at the thought of the pole between your thighs, not so sure if it was from fright or pure excitement. You can’t lie that you haven’t thought of also dancing, but you are not sure you if you could even look half as good as those girls on the stage.

Weight is lifted from your shoulders when he comes to the table to only pull out a chair for himself. He moves the chair so smoothly, twirling it in his hand to place it before you. You hate that you are somehow mesmerized by his movements and the way he goes to sit down on the chair. You don’t even register biting on your lip, but it is mostly from how nervous you are. The man pulls his pants up to his lower region to be more comfortable and your eyes fall into that direction with wide eyes.

“I like the dress.” He breaks the silence, while spreading out his legs. Two or three more buttons on his shirt are undone, maybe popping from the size of his muscular chest. You quickly snap back to present, fingers playing with the hem of your dress at his statement, watching him slowly trail his brown eyes down your body. “Not so sure about the shoes…” Your silent question about that statement is answered rather quickly as he without breaking eye contact bends over, hand going under the booth. You can’t believe you are still getting shocked after all that happened, but it sure is surprised to you when he pulls out your beloved Jimmy Choo heels. “Put them on for me, baby.”

Something hot pools in your lower tummy at the nickname, your heart already is beating so fast that you can hear it in your ears. You don’t want to thank him for such thing, but it still made you happy. Those shoes became something very special to you as they were the first ever pair of luxury heels you bought. You catch his eyes and without word you pull your legs up to untie your way cheaper heels.

They are thrown across the room, not really caring too much at the moment as you slowly make your way to him. He holds your shoes for you take and when you stand in front of them, you definitely don’t remember them being so clean. They are shining, like brand new, but there is still that one large scratch at the pointed tip. It reminds you of the scar that the man before you has in some way.

You are close to him, the closest you have been so far and the soft orange light hitting his face makes him look devilish. Taking your shoes from him, you step back slightly to put them on, not missing how his eyes fall to your cleavage when you bend over. He licks his lips, looking you up and down again and you wonder if he likes what he is seeing. “Now, dance for me.” He demands and you remember at his tone who this man really is. “No need to be so scared…you take tips right?” The smirk adoring his lips told you that his words were meant for something else and you finally scoffed at him.

He doesn’t look offended by the sound, only pushing his body down further. You follow the movement, but your head rolls to look at the cushion ceiling right after. You feel nothing, but weak, swaying your hips softly to the beat of the music to get in the mood. You could imagine someone else in the chair, but how? You can feel him, smell him even, head falling down in exhaustion from even trying.

You roll your body the same way you have seen the dancers do it, hands caressing over your hips. If you give him a good enough dance, it would be over sooner — or he on the other hand won’t get enough. The shot of tequila in your system helps you build confidence when you walk slowly to him. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, even challenging you with his intense stare. You think you are starting to get into it as you act like you are falling over, just to smack your hands on each side of his chair. Your knees touch his, the material of his pants tickling your naked skin. Then you shiver — your eyes widened at your own body responding like that. He watches your inner struggle, head hanging low to catch your gaze. You are surprised that he didn’t look down, keeping his eyes only on yours and you straightened up at that.

When you go push your breasts back into your dress, because they almost spilled over, you almost gasp. Your nail hits plastic right between your breasts and thankfully the sound is masked by the music. It was your pepper spray, you completely forgot about putting it there. You know that it’s stupid, but he seems a little hazy and your attack would be unexpected. If you would spray him with it, then hit him with something and dash out the back door, you could call the police.

You move slowly around him, hand falling between your breasts the moment you stop behind him. However just as you pull it out, ready to turn around and spray it in his face, his hand stops you. You gasp at the strong grip on your wrist, watching him stand up from his seat to press you against the table. “Now what is this?” He asks you, eyes going to your pepper spray that falls to the ground with a heavy sound. Your mouth opens and closes, heavy breaths mixing with his from his close proximity. “You really thought you could take me out with that?” You didn’t even know that he knew about it the moment you had bend over.

His chest is pressed against yours, each hand being pinned down to the table by his. He towers over you slightly as he maneuvered you on the table a little bit. You are silent for a second, eyes going over his face. Even if there’s no smile you can see the amusement reflecting in his eyes. “You can’t touch me, the policy here—“ Are your words, because you couldn’t think of saying anything else. You again put yourself in the hands of death.

“I know the policy.”

“Then you know, you can’t touch—“

“The dancers and the waitresses?” He finishes for you, smiling down at you. “Baby…I know the rules, I made them after all.” You look at him bewildered, your expression fading into thin air when he puts his head into the dip between your shoulder and neck. “Now we will rewrite them for my and yours benefit.” Every word bounces off your skin, chills going down your spine.

You shutter, feeling him press his nose into the skin behind your ear. “This club is not yours.” You whisper, not too harshly like you intended too.

His hum vibrates on your skin, hearing him take a deep breath of your spicy perfume. “Have you seen the owner?” He asks you.

You pull your head away to look at him in the eyes. He sounded so genuine and you could even see it. Your mind quickly comes back to your first day here — you got the job few days after the interview and you remember that no owner shook your hand and congratulated you, it was actually Cathy. Your eyes widened, shaking your head in disbelief. “How? How can anyone not know about this?” You breathe out.

He can tell who you are referring to, because he lets his people look over the files of new people. His friends go here way frequently than him, but when Changbin chased after you yesterday, he immediately recognized you. Such a coincidence that you are actually already work for him. Watching you through the one way window, he couldn’t believe himself that he didn’t see you sooner. You are shining and seeing you talk with his best people in this business, he just had to have you. “Some do, trust me.” He says, his mind wandering to their sponsors. “Some of them just don’t have the balls to do anything about it and tell me why would anyone want to close down the best strip club in the city?” He laughs shortly, pulling you closer to him. “Do you know that cops come here? It’s funny really, they are so close yet so far…”

You are breathing heavily form his words, but you do not move away from him. You want to justify yourself that he was simply too strong, even if his hold was on the softer side. “Bang Chan…”It comes out as a plea and you don’t even know for what yourself.

“Call me, Chris.”

You are shocked by him revealing his name to you, because it almost sounded like a promise. Your mouth is left gaping when you see him lowering his lips to your neck. Your pulse is pressing against your skin and it jumps when his lips just barely graze over the thin layer of skin. It burns, so much that you feel by it in your stomach. “You won’t get away with this.” You say. You tried so hard to sound intimidating, but you just can’t think straight when he presses kisses on your neck.

“Oh, really?” Humming, he suddenly bites down your neck and you gasp wildly at such bold move.

“Please—“ You say, breathlessly, his name just at the tip of your tongue.

He stops at your word, turning back to you with glassy eyes. “Please, what?” His voice is rough and on the edge.

You think about what exactly you are pleading for. For him to continue or stop immediately? Something in between. Your desire is making you blind. This man before you is a criminal, a bad person you want to say, so why does his touch feel so good? “Please…don’t.” Your mind answers for you, your heart screaming the other.

“Don’t?” He repeats after you and you firstly think that he sounded offended, but then you feel his hand on your thigh. You almost whimper at his hot touch, eyes going down to his hand moving up your soft skin. You don’t make a move to stop him, your mind clouded by the way his hand perfectly fit in the dip of your upper thigh. You didn’t even feel your dress riding up your body, but it didn’t even matter as he still touches you through your underwear. “Then why are you soaking through?” You only sigh, feeling his fingers pressing right into your clothed clit. “I can see your pussy from here.” There goes another one of his smiles, eyes flying from your dripping center to yours.

“You are a bad person…” You say, voice too little.

His hand stops, but the same pressure on your cunt stays the same. “Says who? The police?” He raises his eyebrow, almost spitting that last word.

“You killed someone.”

He nods, becoming cold for a second. “Yes, but do you even know why?” You are silent, watching his face scrunch up in what seem like disgust. “That man was a bad person who definitely deserved something worse than death.”

You breathe out heavily. “So you think you are good person, because you killed a bad person and not a good one?”

“You said I’m a good person?” Goosebumps appear on your body, but not so much from fear anymore. Arousal drips out of you, his fingers pulling the material of your lace underwear to the side. You let him willingly, even eagerly. He gave you a moment to make a choice, but you only watch him with hazy eyes while he runs his pointer finger through your slick. “Though…I’m a gentleman.”

You snicker, you just can’t help it. “Oh, really? What about the hand in my panties?” His finger joins another for an answer, pressing harder and unexpectedly flicking your clit.

A brutal, filthy moan falls from your lip and he drinks it right up, playing with your clit between his two fingers. “Are you saying you don’t like this?” He sounds dreamy and you are on the edge of losing your mind over him. He lowers his head, resting it on your shoulder, plump lips right next to your ear. “I think you like the danger—“ You bite your lip not to let him hear the nasty sounds coming from the back of your throat. “—the thought of someone powerful taking over you, it excites you.”

You shake your head, your earring only being caught between his teeth. “You are just a man–“ You say, gritting your teeth in pleasure.

Your eyes are closed, but his are fully on you. “I’m, so excuse me for doing this—“ His finger suddenly breaches your hole and with no resistance what so ever.

You gasp out, your hand shooting to his. Only a one finger and he finds the spots inside you that you have trouble finding yourself. Your eyes open, head rolling to your other shoulder to look at him. He stills his hand for a second to straighten his back, watching you, trying to see if there is any hint that you want him to stop. However you only look at him with glossy eyes, red painted lips puffing out in small sighs. He can’t help himself, putting another finger inside you, curling them, pushing into the soft spot.

You whimper, feeling yourself dripping all over of his hand. “Please, I don’t know…” Your body knows — it’s already screaming just from his fingers and when your hips jump, your thigh touches his hard cock through his pants.

“I do.” He trusts his fingers in and out of you in steady yet too slow pace for your liking. “Just look at your body responding to me—“ You can see it yourself. Your body didn’t feel like yours anymore, hips bumping into his. “I still want that dance…a real dance.” He says, voice cracking at the end when he pulls his fingers out of you.

Gasp leaves you from shock and dissatisfaction. You stand before him, leaning on the table with rigid breaths. Lips parted, he looked at it like an invitation to shove his fingers in your mouth. You choke around his fingers for a second, eyes wide and staring into his, before your hand wraps around his to help you keep your sanity. You moan at your own taste, sucking at his fingers and slurping your juices and the taste of skin right up, eyes never leaving his and at that moment you realize you are in deep shit — there’s no way you can stop here.

He pulls his fingers away from you way too quickly, catching how his knuckles are stained red from your lipstick. You watch him walk backwards into the chair, not breaking eye contact when he falls into it, spreading his legs just like before, but now you don’t have to hide how much you enjoy seeing him do that. You hop off the table not even smoothing down your dress or putting your underwear back to its place. You can already feel your slick coating your inner thighs with each slow step, pressing them together to ease the ache between them.

You can’t beat yourself for behaving like this. That man is a whole course meal. Pretty, sparkling eyes hidden by his hair, flushed cheeks, bitten lips and also dangerous — you will dance for him and you won’t hold back. You feel possessed, mind clouded by arousal when you stop before him, right leg shooting up to balance your weight on the armrest of his chair. He groans lowly at your bold move, eyes going up your naked leg to your exposed cunt. “Look at you…” Before he could get a better look you, you put your leg down.

He is impressed by your change of character, letting you run your hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders. You want to moan at the muscles jumping under your touch, but then pretty nose pokes at the inside of your wrist, making short pain shoot up your body and you only now notice the small bruise on your skin. “Did he hurt you?” He asks, looking up at you.

His voice got lower, expression serious for a second. “A little bit.” You answer simply, too occupied with moving to the rhythm of the music.

The man in the chair forgets about it rather quickly as you turn around, bending over. Another, but even lower groan with hiss at the end leaves him at the view. “Yeah, that’s it bend over for me…” Curse flies out his mouth, hands gripping at the chair tightly to not just shove you into his cock right then and there. He almost drools over the swell of your ass peeking from the bottom of your dress and your panties that are dangerously melting into your cunt. He can see everything, but it isn’t enough. “I think, I have to hire you again as a dancer.”

You laugh breathlessly and then cry out when he smacks you unexpectedly across the back of your right thigh. You feel the sting and you are certain your skin will be sore tomorrow, but the pleasure that comes right after the slap is definitely worth it. “Turn around for me.” You wordlessly do as he says and you then shock yourself by just falling to your knees before him instead, however you are thankfully that you did, because the view you have is simply delicious. His hand comes to caress your face, fingers hooking under your jaw to press his thumb to your bottom lip. “Such pretty lips, think you could use them for better purpose than telling me I’m a bad person?”

“You basically said that yourself.” You fire back breathing matching his, your hands falling to his knees and you swear you see his cock jump in his pants.

“After I’m done with you, I will be the best person you have ever met.” His words are softer than expected, but the way he puts his thumb in your mouth isn’t. Your eyes momentarily close to savor the taste of his salty skin and he looks at you like he never seen anything so beautiful. “Say my name.” He gasps out, the sound hanging over the edge of being a pathetic whine.

Your eyes open, pulling out his thumb from your lips with a pop. “Chris.” You whisper, nervously playing with the waistband of his pants. How can you have such an effect on him already?

Chris lets you undone his belt and then his zipper, the crisp sound louder than the pumping music. Your mouth waters from the prominent buldge in his underwear, heart hammering against your chest. You can’t believe you are about to suck off the most dangerous man in the city — yet nothing ever felt so right to you. Your shaking fingers pull the material down, him putting his hands on yours in small reassurance. Now you only want him more.

You are again left speechless when you see the yummy, short patch of public hair and his cock slapping against his abdomen. Chris hisses at the cold air hitting his flushed, red tip, few drops of precum rolling down the length of it. Your pussy throbs painfully, pressing your thighs together at the simple view of his thickness. Maybe that is why he keeps sitting like that, to hide something like this everyday must be challenging, but now it will be your pleasure.

You don’t want to say it’s been a while since the last time you touched someone, but you want to say you have never seen someone this big. His ego sure comes from something. Your hand travels up his leg to pull out his heavy balls, not missing the opportunity to squeeze them lightly. Chris moans at your touch, head rolling back just by that. He looks so sensitive and it seems like he is. Your thumb pushes into his tip next, smearing his cum all over it, before finally wrapping your hand around him.

“Fuuuuuuck—“ Flies out his mouth, when you lean over to wrap your lips around him. You moan at his taste, rolling your tongue across his squishy yet hard cock. His hand goes to run through your hair, pushing the front strands back to see more of your pretty lipstick staining his length.

You swallow more of him, jaw hurting from the sheer thickness. Your eyes water, but you just have to look at him, moaning around him as you do so. You think have never felt this much pleasure from just pleasuring someone. The look on his face, his rising chest, sweat coating his neck…You gag when he presses you down further and even if he groans in pleasure, he doesn’t go further than that. On the other hand he pushes your head up and then back down, letting you get used to him using your mouth for its own pleasure.

The ground is stained with your juices, groans and moans from both of you echoing around the room and mixing with the music. You feel every vein on his cock pulsating, sucking on them harder to get closer and under his skin. When your nose hits the few hairs on his stomach you gargle, spit rolling out of your mouth. You are at that immediately pulled back from him, coughing wildly. “Sorry about that.” He says, not sounding too concern as he looks at your tear stained face mixed with saliva and his cum.

You nod, licking at your lips and that makes him tug at the roots of your hair. You whine at his rough manners, standing up just to be shoved into the table again with his hand in your hair helping you move around. Without a word you hop on to it, bare ass landing on the cold plastic. “Chris…” Just like him you are starting to like the way his names sounds on your lips. When you call out his name, he finally pulled down his pants and underwear, stepping between your open legs. He is dazed by the sight of his cock resting on your clothed mound, but you win his attention back with your sultry voice. You look like pure sin and with the small amount of red lipstick left on your lips he has to have it on his.

His hand in our hair softens when his lips fall onto yours. Chris can taste the hint of wax layer on your lips as well as his own musk on your tongue. You feel on cloud nine just by the way he kisses you. He kissed with so much passion that it felt like you have known each other for years. His lips are simply heavenly and sinfully delicious. “Hmm— fuck me…” Your words are swallowed by his lips, but he can feel them vibrating in his mouth.

Chris pulls away from you, not without biting on your bottom lip. “What was that?” You want to roll your eyes at his teasing tone, but only whimper instead when he puts the tip of his cock over your covered clit.

Your hips jump wildly, him holding them down with just one of his hand. “Fuck me, Chris—“ You say, lips on his throat and biting down on his Adam’s apple that bobbles up and down at your plea. He finally lets go, pulling your bottom half to him closer, your ass sliding and squeaking over the table. You watch him go down to his knees, but you quickly stop him even if the thought of him eating you out sounded nice, you want him inside of you more. “No, just fuck me–“

He looks up at you with big eyes and if you didn’t know his reputation you would say that those were the best puppy eyes you have ever seen. He wants to argue with you, tell you that he should prep you so he doesn’t hurt you, but he realizes that’s exactly what you want. You want him to fuck you so hard that his cock makes a mold inside your pussy. Pulling your right leg up, you push him forward, your pelvis meeting his. You whimper at the feeling of him between your legs, sweat already gathering across your forehead and you moan in delight when he pulls your soaked underwear to the side.

When Chris slides his cock through your folds to coat himself in your slick, he basically loses his mind. He never had pussy this dripping wet, pretty clit swollen and pulsating with every push of his hips. “You are beautiful.” He compliments you sweetly, hand holding his cock to your entrance, but not with caressing your face in his other hand first. You whimper, tummy full of butterflies from his comment. He has such a way with words and also that body of his — so good.

Your breath is knocked out of your lungs when he slides his hard cock into you. Your walls stretch around him, hungrily sucking him right him. It burns a little, legs shaking just from the feeling of him inside of you. Your heel doesn’t even touch the ground, shoe falling down on the ground while the other stays on as he kisses your neck. He licks and bites to kill the time, while he lets you adjust around him. You feel him sucking at your neck, creating purple blotches on your delicate skin. You eagerly run your fingers through his open shirt, clenching down on him when you feel pure muscles.

Chris hisses again, kissing down your collarbones, hips jumping into yours and you both groan when his mushroom tip kisses your cervix. When you clench again, it makes him slowly roll his hips again and he finally feels you relaxing in his strong hold. The way he moves makes your think he must be a dancer himself, because you are already feeling the sweet taste of your release. You both start to breath heavier, air becoming thick and hot around you the more he picks up his speed.

You whimper, almost sob, because you need more of him and just like he could read your thoughts he pulls his head away from your skin to kiss you. “Hold on, baby.” You only hum, letting him guide you to lean back, watching him pull your left leg over his shoulder. Your hand wraps around the pole next to your head and you are thankful that you do, because he immediately starts to trust in to you with roughness and precision.

You can’t help but squeal, crying from the shocks of pleasure as his hips snaps roughly into yours, filling you to the hilt with his cock. Your other leg shots up in reflex, pulling it to your chest. The way he fucks is anything but gentle, but it is all that you wished for. His pelvis hits the bottom of your thighs in loud slaps, pubic hair bumping deliciously into your clit. You fall back, not strong enough to hold yourself up anymore, only strong enough to take it. “Fuck, Chris!” Your voice doesn’t even sound like yours anymore.

The air is knocked out of you with each trust and he literally growls at the sound his name. Every time his hips snap into yours, your tits jump out of your dress and he couldn’t wonder any longer. Chis pushes roughly the material down and to his delight you didn’t have any bra on. His hands leave your hips just to grab your breasts, smushing them together. You moan as he pinches and rolls your nipples, whining loudly when he leans over you. It makes your legs press flush to your chest, his one hand falling next to your head to hover over your body while the other wraps around the pole right to yours.

“Fuck, I don’t think you can work here anymore—“ You clit is being bullied by his rolling hips, eyes becoming blurry, making it hard to see his. He helps you by squishing your cheeks between his fingers, making your lips pout cutely. “You will dance for me, only me from now on. What do you say, baby?”

His words are slightly hard to make out with the noises of skin slapping mixing with them, but even with your fucked out mind you could understand enough. You are drunk on him, spit coating his hand that falls back next to your head, seeing you are listening to him. “Are tips included?” You say, voice rough, nails biting at his shoulders.

“Oh, you will be taking the whole thing.”

You both smile breathlessly at each other, him not stopping fucking you, because seeing your pretty face screwing up in pleasure is to die for. Your sweaty hand slips from the pole and without realizing yourself, you put his face into the palm of your hand. Looking into his eyes, you see something flash in them when your fingers dance across the scar on his face. And then Chris whines — he fucking whines, like a broken puppy.

You clench around him at the sound and he only gives you another. “Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum inside of you, baby—“ He humms, grunting under his breath.

You already feel yourself falling over the edge, holding it just to make it better by cumming with him. “ Yeah, please, I want it.” You say.

“Yeah? You want it? Right here?” Chris pulls himself up enough to push his hand down on your lower stomach. You cry out, shaking like a leaf, because that is setting a whole fire inside of you. “Look, you can even see me in your cute, little tummy—“ He coos at your faces of pleasure. His hips shutter and yours jump. You try to calm your body down, but he is doing things you have never felt before. When the hand holding him up disappears, the one on your tummy pushes harder and when starts to do figure eights on your clit you are officially done for. “Cum for me, soak my cock, Y/N—“

You gasp loudly at the sound of your name rolling out of his tongue, back arching as you cum around him. Your pussy leaks, making a creamy ring of your pleasure around the base of his cock. Your whole body shakes right after the first wave, tits jumping in the air and the sight as well as the feeling of you cumming around him makes him shove his cock into your cunt the deepest he has been so far. Your ears ring, not even hearing yourself sobbing, but you do hear his moans of absolute pleasure. He stuffs you full, hand still pushing at your tummy and you whimper at the overstimulation, skin sticky with all sorts of fluids.

Your eyes are closed, concentrating on riding out your orgasm. You are simply dazed, but still you feel the small brush of his lips over yours and peaking at him through your clumped eyelashes, he flashes you a boyish smile. “Dinner?” The sight of your puffy cunt, fucked out expression and now drunk smile spreading across your lips was definitely worth the risk.

[captainchrisstan]

Principles and Laws of Magic for Fantasy Writers

Fundamental Laws

1. Law of Conservation of Magic- Magic cannot be created or destroyed, only transformed.

3. Law of Equivalent Exchange- To gain something, an equal value must be given.

5. Law of Magical Exhaustion- Using magic drains the user’s energy or life force.

Interaction and Interference

4. Law of Magical Interference- Magic can interfere with other magical effects.

6. Law of Magical Contamination- Magic can have unintended side effects.

8. Law of Magical Inertia- Magical effects continue until stopped by an equal or greater force.

Resonance and Conditions

7. Law of Magical Resonance- Magic resonates with certain materials, places, or times.

9. Law of Magical Secrecy- Magic must be kept secret from the non-magical world.

11. Law of Magical Hierarchy- Different types of magic have different levels of power and difficulty.

Balance and Consequences

10. Law of Magical Balance- Every positive magical effect has a negative consequence.

12. Law of Magical Limitation- Magic has limits and cannot solve every problem.

14. Law of Magical Rebound- Misused magic can backfire on the user.

Special Conditions

13. Law of Magical Conduits- Certain objects or beings can channel magic more effectively.

15. Law of Magical Cycles- Magic may be stronger or weaker depending on cycles (e.g., lunar phases).

17. Law of Magical Awareness- Some beings are more attuned to magic and can sense its presence.

Ethical and Moral Laws

16. Law of Magical Ethics- Magic should be used responsibly and ethically.

18. Law of Magical Consent- Magic should not be used on others without their consent.

20. Law of Magical Oaths- Magical promises or oaths are binding and have severe consequences if broken.

Advanced and Rare Laws

19. Law of Magical Evolution- Magic can evolve and change over time.

20. Law of Magical Singularities- Unique, one-of-a-kind magical phenomena exist and are unpredictable.

Unique and Imaginative Magical Laws

- Law of Temporal Magic- Magic can manipulate time, but with severe consequences. Altering the past can create paradoxes, and using time magic ages the caster rapidly.

- Law of Emotional Resonance- Magic is amplified or diminished by the caster’s emotions. Strong emotions like love or anger can make spells more powerful but harder to control.

- Law of Elemental Harmony- Magic is tied to natural elements (fire, water, earth, air). Using one element excessively can disrupt the balance and cause natural disasters.

- Law of Dream Magic- Magic can be accessed through dreams. Dreamwalkers can enter others’ dreams, but they risk getting trapped in the dream world.

- Law of Ancestral Magic- Magic is inherited through bloodlines. The strength and type of magic depend on the caster’s ancestry, and ancient family feuds can influence magical abilities.

- Law of Symbiotic Magic- Magic requires a symbiotic relationship with magical creatures. The caster and creature share power, but harming one affects the other.

- Law of Forgotten Magic- Ancient spells and rituals are lost to time. Discovering and using forgotten magic can yield great power but also unknown dangers.

- Law of Magical Echoes- Spells leave behind echoes that can be sensed or traced. Powerful spells create stronger echoes that linger longer.

- Law of Arcane Geometry- Magic follows geometric patterns. Spells must be cast within specific shapes or alignments to work correctly.

- Law of Celestial Magic- Magic is influenced by celestial bodies. Spells are stronger during certain astronomical events like eclipses or planetary alignments.

- Law of Sentient Magic- Magic has a will of its own. It can choose to aid or hinder the caster based on its own mysterious motives.

- Law of Shadow Magic- Magic can manipulate shadows and darkness. Shadowcasters can travel through shadows but are vulnerable to light.

- Law of Sympathetic Magic- Magic works through connections. A spell cast on a representation of a person (like a doll or portrait) affects the actual person.

- Law of Magical Artifacts- Certain objects hold immense magical power. These artifacts can only be used by those deemed worthy or who possess specific traits.

- Law of Arcane Paradoxes- Some spells create paradoxes that defy logic. These paradoxes can have unpredictable and often dangerous outcomes.

- Law of Elemental Fusion- Combining different elemental magics creates new, hybrid spells with unique properties and effects.

- Law of Ethereal Magic- Magic can interact with the spirit world. Ethereal mages can communicate with spirits, but prolonged contact can blur the line between life and death.

- Law of Arcane Symbiosis- Magic can bond with technology, creating magical machines or enchanted devices with extraordinary capabilities.

- Law of Dimensional Magic- Magic can open portals to other dimensions. Dimensional travelers can explore alternate realities but risk getting lost or encountering hostile beings.

- Law of Arcane Sacrifice- Powerful spells require a sacrifice, such as a cherished memory, a personal item, or even a part of the caster’s soul.

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- An in-depth worldbuilding worksheet (covering religion, lore, factions, currency, economics, and more)

- Character development worksheet

- Series roadmap

- Outlining and guided plot planning section

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[captainchrisstan]

Writing References: Plot

Basics: Plot Structure & Narrative Arcs

Basics: Plot & Other Elements of Creative Writing

Plot Methods: Save the Cat! ⚜ The Story Circle

Plot Development: The Transformation Test

Plot Twists ⚜ Types of Plot Twists ⚜ Subplots

Ten Story Genres ⚜ Elements of the 10 Story Genres

The Shape of Story ⚜ The Shapes of Stories by Kurt Vonnegut

Tips

From Margaret Atwood

From Rick Riordan

Editing

Chapter Maps

Plot Holes & Other Structural Issues

Self-Editing

For Inspiration

Character & Literary Tropes

Ways to Generate an Idea

Writing References: Character Development ⚜ World-building

[captainchrisstan]

Old Man!Price treating you like a doll after finally giving birth to his baby (🌽 link)

Price absolutely adores you before, during and after your pregnancy.

After giving birth to his beautiful baby girl, he takes even more time and care during sex. Kissing every part of you, making sure to praise the beauty of your stretch marks. Wet tongue, slowly trails the mark left on your skin when you grew his baby, all while looking you in the eye as he makes sure that you hear every single compliment that leaves his lips.

Propping you up on your knees on the mattress, his hand slides its way down to your clit, slowly pumping his cock into you. He knows that you might not be ready for it but John couldn't let your whining and pleading fall on deaf eyes. So, he takes his time with you, even though every fibre is his body is telling him to take you in every way possible. John couldn't do that to you, but he also couldn't leave you unsatisfied.

To John, having sex feels like an absolute sin now that an innocent soul has entered the household. Your whines are muffled, a squeak here and there even though John wanted you to scream his name into oblivion. He'll swallow your moans with his searing kisses, bruising your lips, tears fluttering down your flushed cheeks all while the once familiar feeling begins to consume your very being.

You let John guide back into sex, to make what has now become unfamiliar into once again an intimate worship of the each other.

[captainchrisstan]

Always Enough

Hyunjin x Gn!Reader

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The soft hum of conversation filled the room, a mixture of laughter and playful teasing bouncing off the walls of the dorm. You sat comfortably beside Hyunjin on the couch, your body relaxed as his arm rested lazily around your shoulders, pulling you close. His fingers traced delicate patterns on the hem of your shirt, a subconscious habit of his, and the warmth from his touch grounded you in the moment.

The boys were in high spirits, the rare night off giving them a chance to unwind. You enjoyed evenings like this- watching them be themselves, without the weight of cameras or expectations hanging over them. Hyunjin’s laughter vibrated softly against your side as he joked with Changbin and Seungmin, and you found yourself smiling, simply happy to be in his presence.

You shifted slightly, settling more into his side, and Hyunjin glanced down at you with a soft smile, his lips curving up in that way that always made your heart flutter. His gaze was warm, affectionate, as if you were the only person in the room, despite the chaos of the other seven boys around you.

"Hey, you good?" he murmured softly, his voice for your ears only.

You nodded, leaning your head against his shoulder. "I’m good," you replied, your voice just as quiet, content to be close to him like this. You took a breath, inhaling his fresh scent.

But as the night wore on, the playful energy shifted into something more personal. The guys’ conversation became more boisterous, jokes flying back and forth, and you couldn’t help but zone out a little, your mind wandering as you watched them.

That’s when you caught it.

"Man, Hyunjin could have anyone he wanted," Changbin said with a laugh, his voice carrying just enough that you couldn’t miss it. "The way idols are always talking about him? He’d have a line of people waiting if he was single."

Your stomach twisted, the lightness in your chest suddenly vanishing.

You knew Changbin was just joking so you tried to let it slide.

Then Felix snickered, adding in, "Yeah, seriously, Hyung is pretty. And all those pretty idols crushing on him all the time- and even American celebrities…Hyunjin wouldn’t even need to try."

You blinked, your heart sinking further with each word. It wasn’t meant to be cruel; you knew that. The boys were just teasing, like they always did. But something about hearing it made the room feel smaller, the air heavier. Maybe because they were joking about it right in front of you.

Hyunjin chuckled softly beside you, seemingly unbothered by the conversation. But you weren’t Hyunjin. You were the one sitting next to him, the one who wasn’t an idol, wasn’t glamorous, wasn’t part of that world.

You weren’t like them.

You tried to keep your expression neutral, forcing a smile to stay on your lips even though your heart felt like it was sinking deeper with every passing second. But the doubts were already creeping in, their voices loud and insistent.

Could Hyunjin do better? The thought snaked its way into your mind, uninvited. Was he settling by being with you?

He could do better. Way better. It definitely feels like he was just settling with you. But...he treats you so well. Better than anyone else.

So, you knew it was silly- Hyunjin chose to be with you, he was the one who asked you out when he had first seen you working at the pet store where he picked up Kkami's food; he was the one who held you close like you were his whole world; even when you didn't initiate the contact. He was the one who was constantly making sure that you knew how he loved you more than anything.

But that voice in your head wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t let you push those thoughts away. What if the boys were right? What if Hyunjin could be happier, better off with someone who fit his life more seamlessly? Someone who understood the pressures of being in the public eye, someone who didn’t stand out in the wrong ways?

A knot formed in your throat as you shifted slightly in your seat, your body suddenly feeling too heavy, too present. You tugged at the sleeve of your shirt absentmindedly, trying to focus on anything but the sinking feeling in your chest.

Hyunjin’s hand on your shoulder tightened gently, a small, grounding squeeze. He glanced down at you again, sensing the shift in your mood. "You sure you’re okay?" he asked quietly, concern flickering in his eyes.

You managed a smile, nodding quickly. "Yeah," you replied, your voice soft and a little too tight. "Just tired...zoning out a bit..."

He frowned, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he pulled you closer, his arm around you feeling more like a lifeline now. You leaned into him, trying to let the warmth of his body ease the growing tension inside you. But the doubts wouldn’t let go.

The conversation around you continued, but you couldn’t focus. All you could think about was how out of place you felt. The boys were like family to you, and Hyunjin always made sure you felt included. But suddenly, the gap between their world and yours seemed so vast, so unbridgeable.

You weren’t an idol. You didn’t have perfect skin, flawless features, or the confidence that seemed to come so naturally to the people Hyunjin worked with. You weren’t constantly surrounded by stylists and makeup artists, weren’t trained to be effortlessly beautiful like the idols they were talking about.

What if you were holding him back?

The thought hit you like a punch to the gut, and you swallowed hard, trying to push it down. But it lingered, persistent and sharp. What if Hyunjin was only with you because he felt comfortable? What if you were a burden he didn’t even realize he was carrying?

Your hand clenched around the fabric of your shirt, the texture rough under your fingertips as you fought to keep your emotions in check. The last thing you wanted was for Hyunjin to notice something was wrong- especially not now, not here, surrounded by his friends.

But Hyunjin knew you too well.

A blessing and a curse.

"You seem quiet tonight," he murmured, leaning down slightly so only you could hear him. His voice was soft, gentle, the way it always was when he could tell something was bothering you. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear accidentally, and you held back a shiver.

You forced another smile, hoping it didn’t look as fake as it felt. "I’m fine," you whispered back, once more, not trusting yourself to say more.

He studied your face for a moment, his brow furrowing in concern, but yet again he didn’t press further. He simply held you closer, his hand moving in slow circles against your arm as if he could sense the storm brewing inside you.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. You tried to engage in conversation, to laugh at the jokes and pretend everything was fine. But your mind was elsewhere, tangled in a web of insecurities that wouldn’t let go.

By the time you left the dorm, Hyunjin walking you home, your thoughts were spiraling out of control. You walked in silence, Hyunjin’s hand holding yours, but the usual comfort you felt in his touch was overshadowed by the nagging voice in your head.

As you reached your apartment, Hyunjin paused at the door, turning to face you with that same concerned look in his eyes. "Are you sure everything’s okay?" he asked, his voice low and careful. "And please, tell the truth baby."

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. You wanted to tell him. You wanted to spill everything, to let him know how scared you were that you weren’t enough for him, that he could do so much better. But the words stuck in your throat.

“I’m good” you said again, forcing a smile as you unlocked the door.

But even as you said it, you knew it was a lie.

The door clicked shut softly behind you as you stepped into your apartment, Hyunjin following closely behind. The familiar space felt suffocating. You couldn’t shake the heavy feeling pressing down on your chest, the doubts lingering like an unwelcome guest.

Hyunjin was still watching you closely, his brows furrowed in that concerned way he always had when he knew something was off but didn’t want to push too hard. His presence, usually so comforting, made your heart ache now. You didn’t want to burden him with your insecurities, but the weight of them was starting to crush you from the inside.

He kicked off his shoes, the soft thud of them hitting the floor breaking the silence. You stood there for a moment, your arms hanging limply at your sides, unsure of what to do next. Your boyfriend came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as he often did when he wanted to feel close.

"You’ve been quiet all night," he murmured, his voice warm against your ear, but there was an underlying concern in his tone. His fingers traced light patterns along your stomach as he held you close, his body pressed gently against yours. "That's not like you, usually you blab with Jeongin or Lee Know. What’s going on?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the tears prickling at the back of your eyes. The words felt stuck in your throat, tangled up with fear and insecurity. How could you explain that you felt like you weren’t enough for him? That you worried you’d never fit into his world, that you’d always be just a step behind?

Hyunjin sighed softly, his arms tightening around you for a moment before he loosened his grip. "You know you don’t have to pretend with me, right?" he whispered, his voice gentle. "If something’s bothering you, just tell me."

Your chest tightened at his words. He was always like this- so patient, so understanding. It only made you feel worse. You couldn’t bear the thought of him feeling like he had to reassure you all the time, like you were this fragile thing that constantly needed fixing.

But despite the urge to hide it all, your emotions had built up too much to keep locked away any longer. You could feel them bubbling to the surface, the doubts, the insecurities, the fear of losing him to someone better.

"I overheard something earlier," you said quietly, your voice trembling slightly. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid of what you might see in his eyes. "What Changbin and Felix said… about how you could have anyone… especially an idol. And...you're always around them and..."

Hyunjin’s body stiffened behind you, his hold on you becoming still. "What about it?" he asked, his voice cautious, like he wasn’t sure where this was going.

You bit your lip, trying to keep the tears from falling, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them. "It just… it made me think," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "What if they’re right? What if I’m holding you back? You could be with someone better, someone who fits your world. Someone who’s… prettier, more confident, more-"

You couldn’t finish the sentence, your voice breaking as the tears finally spilled over. You hated how weak you sounded, hated that you were even saying this to him. But it was the truth, the ugly truth that had been gnawing at you ever since you overheard those words.

Hyunjin turned you around slowly, his hands gentle as they found your arms. His expression was unreadable, his brows furrowed, but his eyes held a softness that made your heart ache even more. He brought a hand to your face, gently brushing away the tears that had escaped.

"Y/N-ah." he said softly, his voice filled with something you couldn’t quite place. He didn’t look angry, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes, like it hurt him to hear you say those things.

You stared at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking, but he just pulled you into his arms, holding you tight against his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, and for a moment, it grounded you. His hand moved up to the back of your head, stroking your hair softly.

"Why would you think that?" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Why would you ever think you’re not enough?"

Your breath hitched as you buried your face into his chest, his words sinking deep into your heart. You didn’t know how to explain it, didn’t know how to put into words the fear that had been gnawing at you for so long. "Because it’s true," you managed to say, your voice muffled against his shirt. "You could be with someone who fits into your life better. Someone who wouldn’t stand out or…or make you feel like you have to protect them or reassure them all the time."

Hyunjin pulled back slightly, tilting your chin up so you were forced to look at him. His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, there was only silence between you. His thumb traced your jawline, his gaze soft but intense.

"I don’t want someone else," he said firmly, his voice steady. "I don’t want someone who ‘fits’ into this crazy world of mine. I want you. You’re not holding me back. You’re not a burden. You’re…everything to me."

His words hit you like a wave, and you blinked, trying to process what he was saying. He looked at you like he couldn’t understand how you didn’t see it, how you didn’t realize how much you meant to him.

"You think I care about idols, about people who don’t even know me?" he asked, shaking his head slightly, almost as if the idea baffled him. "You’re the one who sees me for who I am. Not Hyunjin the idol, not Hyunjin from Stray Kids. Just me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You're giving all I've ever wanted."

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest, but the doubts still lingered. "But they’re right. I’m not-"

"They’re not right," he cut you off gently but firmly. "And it doesn’t matter what anyone else says. I love you. I love you because you’re you, not because you’re perfect or because you fit some image."

His words wrapped around you like a blanket, warm and reassuring, but you still felt a tremor of doubt. "But what if I’m not enough?"

Hyunjin sighed softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "You’re more than enough, Y/N," he whispered, his voice almost breaking. "I don’t want anyone else. I never have. And I never will. I need you to believe that."

For a long moment, you just stood there, staring up at him as his words sank in. The warmth of his hand against your skin, the softness in his eyes- it all made you feel so loved, so wanted, even if the insecurities still lingered at the edges of your mind.

Finally, you nodded, though the doubts didn’t fully disappear. But you could feel them start to fade, just a little, as Hyunjin pulled you close again, holding you like he was afraid to let go.

"I’m sorry," you whispered into his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist. "I didn’t mean to doubt you…I just…"

"Don’t apologize," he murmured, resting his chin on top of your head. "Just… trust me, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Ever. I promise."

You closed your eyes, breathing in his familiar scent, letting the steady beat of his heart calm the storm inside you. For now, that was enough.

It would always be enough.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

Sometime later...

Hyunjin stormed into the kitchen, his face set in a determined scowl. Lee Know, who had been lazily scrolling on his phone at the counter, glanced up, one eyebrow raised.

"Hyunjin?" Lee Know asked, barely glancing away from his phone. "What’s up?"

"Where’s the air fryer?" Hyunjin demanded, his voice tight but oddly calm.

Lee Know blinked, still scrolling. "The…air fryer? Why do you need that?"

Hyunjin ignored the question, eyes darting around. "And tissues. Where are the tissues?"

This caught Lee Know’s full attention. He finally put his phone down, smirking as he crossed his arms. "Ah, taking after your hyung now, huh? Makes sense. I am the best."

Hyunjin gave him a flat look but didn't miss a beat. "Eight is no longer fate, Minho. The kids are losing a chicken and a dwaekki today."

Lee Know's smirk grew wider as he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Ah, I see. A Hyunjin-style tantrum then?" He chuckled, totally unbothered. "Well, at least you’ve learned from the best."

Before Hyunjin could respond, Jeongin’s voice rang out from the living room.

"Channie Hyungggg!" Jeongin called, peeking his head into the kitchen with wide, playful eyes. "You might want to come here…Hyunjin’s about to air-fry Felix Hyung and Changbin Hyung!"

Seconds later, Chan appeared, with wide eyes. "Hyunjin, what now?"

Hyunjin sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. "I just wanted to teach them a lesson. Can I at least air fry something of theirs? Changbin Hyungs protein powder or Felix's Louis Vuitton satchel?"

Chan frowned. "Hyunjin now why would you want to do that?"

"They hurt Y/N's feelings. Unintentionally but still."

At that Lee Know and Jeongin both perked up.

"Fry them both. Now." They said in straight-faced unison.

Chan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't get paid enough to raise these kids."

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@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

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@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

[captainchrisstan]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch1. he said yes!! congrats!!

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, n have been taking care of your sick mom ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 1/x (probably 10)

ᰔ words. 7.8k

a/n. hellooo omg welcome to this debut chapter!! tysm to everyone who wanted to be on taglist for this!! i was gagged at the amount of people!! yall are amazing omg n thanks for supporting my works :''') hope you enjoy this chapter and i will see all you lovelies at the bottom <33

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 (pending)

Love thy neighbor.

Cherish thy neighbor.

Tolerate thy neighbor.

Peacefully coexist with thy neighbor. 

Fuck thy neighbor? No, wait, not that one.

It’s murder thy neighbor. That was the phrase you were looking for.

Murder thy neighbor so gruesomely that you’d leave no trace behind. Murder him and bury him somewhere no one could ever find him, so that even in millions of years from now when some other highly advanced mammalian species overtakes the planet and embarks on journeys to acquire fossils, thy neighbor will still never grace the atmospheric oxygen of the earth ever again. It’s the punishment he’d deserve for thoroughly pissing you off at the worst times possible and in the worst ways possible. The smallest of prices to pay.

“SATORU!!!” you yell, storming up the sudsy driveway of your next-door neighbor’s house at eight in the morning, clad in your dirty scrubs from the hell of a night shift you just endured working at the hospital, glass containers inside the lunchbox you were holding hitting painfully against the poor joint in your knee but you just don’t care. Anger is all you can see right now.

Your neighbor (derogatory) stands there in his pajamas with a spray nozzle in his hands, passively spraying water across the top surface of his car, and when he sees you, he pulls his left airpod out of his ear and looks you up and down once. You’re pretty sure there’s steam coming out of your ears. “Uh, do you mind? I’m trying to wash my car.”

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to park your stupid boat in front of my driveway?!” you yell at him, voice hoarse and nails digging into the skin of your palms by the clench of your fists.

“Hm?” he leans back a little to glance past you to his boat. “Oh, you mean my 2023 Boston Whaler 220 Dauntless with low profile bow rail welded stainless steel, Mercury FourStroke hydraulic power steering and, not to mention, a platinum gelcoat hull? That silly old thing? It’s not even parked in front of your driveway.”

“Yes. It is. Are you blind? I can’t move my car into my garage, hence why it’s running idle on the fucking street right now. Your boat’s on my property.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes. It is.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh. Yuh-huh.”

“Honey. I’m a real estate agent. You don’t think I’d know where my own property line starts and ends?”

“Park. It. On. Your. Drive. Way.”

“I spent a lot of money on that boat,” he sighs, “I intend to show it off on the street. Stop acting like there isn’t more than enough room for your tiny prius. It’s not my fault you have the motor skills of a toddler and don’t know how to pull into a driveway,” he pauses for a second and tilts his head upwards in thought, “Oh. Motor skills, haha, get it? Fuck, that’s funny. Hold on, I gotta jot that down,” he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his cotton plaid pajama pants, “my niece would love that. She gets all giggly about puns these days. It’s her birthday next weekend, by the way, turning five.”

“Oh, right,” you scratch the top of your head (been too busy to wash your hair), and realize the ponytail you threw your hair up into at the beginning of your shift last night is now barely hanging on for dear life, “I forgot to tell you, but my cousin said he can’t rent that pony out for her birthday party anymore. Apparently it died.”

He stares at you. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Damn.”

“Mm.”

He shrugs. “That’s fine, thanks anyway,” he swipes up on his phone, “they had crazy hair day at my niece’s elementary school yesterday, wanna see a picture?”

“Sure.”

He turns his phone to show you. “My sister let her cut her hair a little shorter this time since she wouldn’t stop asking. I guess all her friends at school were cutting theirs short too so they wanted to be matching.”

“Aww,” you pout with a small smile when you see the picture, “I think it suits her. That’s a lot of glitter though, y’know that stuff’s really bad for the environment.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, turning his phone screen back to face him, “anyway. I was halfway convinced you just came from some crazy hair day when I saw you stomp up my driveway just now.”

“I’m gonna guillotine your head off with the trunk door of my car. Now move your boat.”

“Hold on one sec,” he says, holding a finger right up to your face, and you flinch backwards slightly before going cross-eyed to stare at it, and then you’re glaring at him again. His phone is ringing in his hand. “I gotta take this.”

“Wha–” you try to interrupt him, but he just says shhh and shakes his finger in front of you, which makes you want to bite it off.

“Hi, Donna!” he exclaims into his phone, “so good to hear from you. Oh, no, not at all, you caught me at the perfect time. I’m just washing my car. Nah, you’re not interrupting anything.”

The urge to smack him consumes you.

“Oh okay, cool, I’m glad you took some time to think about it. Let me know when you want to meet again, if you’re still interested in the house, we can make an offer. Uh huh. Yeah. Sorry, what’s that? Oh,” he pulls his phone from his ear to look at the time, “yeah, that’s fine. Is that the one on 6th street? Sure, I’ll see you then. By the way, how was little Tommy’s soccer game yesterday?...Aw, that’s okay, he’ll get the next one. Hm? Yeah, what’s up? Oh, you know that I’d love to, and there’s no one that enjoys your green bean casserole more than I do, but I’m actually busy tonight! I know! Bummer! Maybe some other time? Alright. Yeah, thanks, you too. Take care. Bye.” He presses the end call on his phone, and there’s an awkward silence as he narrows his eyes at the screen in concentration for a moment while typing something onto it, and then the corner of his eye catches sight of something in his periphery, that something being you, and he jumps a little.

“Oh fuck,” he places a hand on his chest and exhales, “I didn’t know you were still standing there.”

“I’m seriously going to whack you across the face with my lunch box right now.” 

“That gigantic industrial lunch box you carry around for your 12-hour shifts?” he points at your hand, “you’d have blood on your hands. I’d be dead.”

“Yeah, that’s the goal, idiot.”

“You’re so fucking violent, jeez, I bet the inside of your head looks like the inside of Jeffrey Dahmer’s. How do you sleep at night?”

“With fifteen milligrams of melatonin, blackout curtains, a satin sleeping mask, and in the mornings.”

“...that didn’t make you sound like any less of a serial killer.”

“Whatever, at least I don’t have a complex for elderly divorced women. You know that what you do for work isn’t any better than prostitution, right?” 

“Okay. Now I have to hear where you’re going with this.”

You cross your arms across your chest, and your gigantic industrial sized lunch box with the millions of glass containers inside of it hits your hip painfully, enough to warrant a wince, but you keep a straight face as to not show any weakness. “You flirt with vulnerable women who have just gotten out of probably extremely heartbreaking marriages from their cheating country golf club husbands, and pretend to care about all their drama, just so that they’d buy a house from you. I literally heard you say to a lady the other day,” and you do your absolute best to mock him in the most insulting way possible, “‘it’s okay Lorraine. If you’re still struggling to fill your new house with someone new too, then you know where to find me.’”

“Yeah. She wanted to rent out her guest bedroom. I was gonna help her look for tenants.” 

“O-Oh,” you stutter, but stand up straighter, “doesn’t matter. You still pimp yourself out for a sale.”

“So what if I do? I’m hot, why wouldn’t I take advantage of that? You could’ve done the same thing too, but you didn’t, and now you’re stuck working miserable nursing shifts that are probably taking years off of your lifespan.”

“You’re the one taking years off of my lifespan. Now move your fucking boat.”

He sighs and slips his phone back into his pocket before walking past you to your car, that still had the driver’s side door open and was idle in the middle of the street.

“W-Where are you going?” you ask.

“I’m gonna park your car in your garage for you,” he says, waving his hand up in the air dismissively because he knows you’re about to protest, and then he ducks his head into your car, reaching his arm in for the lever that moves the seat backwards, and adjusts it all the way back before he’s able to take a seat at the wheel. And your yelling is a pestering he pays no mind to as he shuts the door.

“Wait– I didn’t give you permission to–” you shout as you step into your driveway, holding your arms out because you’re scared he’s gonna chip off your side mirror on the stern of his boat, but he deftly pulls your car into the driveway. He also almost runs you over in the process.

When he gets out of your car inside your garage, you storm right up to him and yank your car keys out of his hand. “You almost flattened me over my own driveway.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have been standing there,” he easily retorts and leans against your car before crossing his arms over his chest. “Also, case proven, there’s more than enough space to pull your car in. You’re just piss poor at parking.”

“I swear to fucking god. If you’re ever in a life-threatening emergency and wind up at my hospital, your emergency isn’t going to be the thing that kills you, it’s gonna be the cocktail of deadly meds I inject straight into your veins. And I’ll have it charted like it was a death of natural causes.”

His brow furrows and he frowns, but it’s in that sarcastic way that tells you he’s not threatened by you, and the idea of using the taser in your purse on him is briefly entertained in your mind, “I’ve got Kaiser, hun,” he says, “I wouldn’t go to just any regional hospital for healthcare. Put some damn decorum on my name, Jesus.”

“How is it you’re stupid, an asshole, have a sick fetish for elderly women, and also somehow classist at the same time? Can you pick a struggle please?”

“Stop saying I have a fetish for elderly women,” he hisses at you, “especially with that loud obnoxious voice of yours. Our neighbors are gonna think I’m a creep.” He pretends to shiver.

“But it’s true. I bet you lost your virginity to a fifty-year-old cougar the day you turned eighteen. And to one that was probably grooming you even before then, too.”

His eyes widen. “Damn. How’d you know.”

“That you’re a victim?” you ask, tone derisive, “your entire personality is living proof. Please seek help.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was never groomed, and I didn’t lose my virginity to an elderly woman,” he corrects you, “...although said woman was a little older than me.”

“I’ve literally got no fucking interest in this conversation anymore. Get the fuck out of my garage,” you practically spat at him, “the last thing I need to deal with after getting off of a 12-hour night shift is coming home to your stupid face out on the street.” You push past him, making sure to nudge him with your shoulder but he hardly budges, and you lose balance from your own attack, and now you’re doubly pissed off before you make it to the door with your keys jingling in your hand to find the right one to unlock it.

“Good night,” he calls out to you, and you click the button on the garage door so that it starts closing, and watch him as he panics before ducking his head underneath it to make it outside before you can essentially lock him to rot inside of your garage, and then you shut the door behind you, finally inside the comfort of your home.

Ah. Silence.

But it was never a comfortable one. 

“Mom?” you call out as you open the door out of the laundry room to make it into the living room, and your eyes scan the floor. You don’t see her in the kitchen, or on the couch in front of the TV, sometimes she spends time in the pantry room but she’s not in there today. You round the corner over to where the front entrance of the house is, and you see her standing there, peering out of the window to the other houses on the streets. She holds her hands loosely behind her back, and she’s so still she could be a statue.

“Hey,” you say to her, softly, so as not to startle her. “I’m home.”

She looks over her shoulder at you, and you realize her line of sight was set to next door, where you see Gojo has resumed the wash of his car. “Why are you yelling at that sweet boy across the lawn?” she asks you, “he helped me fix the air conditioning last week.”

Your eyes widen slightly, but then you sigh. Typical Gojo getting involved where he should really just mind his own business. “I’m pretty sure by fix you mean he just pressed a bunch of buttons on the thermostat until it started working again.” 

She doesn’t respond as she continues to stare out onto the street, tilting her head slightly while deep in thought, like she’s trying to make sense of what she sees. 

“Mom,” you gently tug her sleeve, “I think you should get away from the window and get some rest. You look tired, and I need to take you for chemo in the afternoon.”

She gently pulls her elbow away from your grip of her sleeve and turns to look at you. “Mom?” she repeats after you, “why are you calling me ‘mom’? Who are you?”

Your blood runs cold from her words, but you don’t have the time or the luxury to react in the way that you want to, and so you suck in a deep breath. It was one of those days. But it’s cruel that she’ll remember your neighbor and not her own daughter. “I’m your daughter,” you gently reintroduce yourself, to the woman who gave you life, “I know that might be a little weird to hear right now.”

“No…” she says, “I think that makes sense. I’m sorry, dear, I think I have a bad memory these days.” She looks at you with concentration, studying the features of your face. “My daughter, yes. You look…oh, dear, you look like you should sleep.”

You nod slowly, releasing the breath you were holding. “Yes. You too, mom.”

You place your gigantic industrial lunch box on the kitchen counter, and come back to hold your mom’s hands as you lead her to her bedroom downstairs. By the time you fix her a small meal in the kitchen, bring it to her and make her eat so she can take her pills, she’s ready to take a small nap and you know that you’ve earned some sleep now too.

The upstairs master bathroom beckons you the second you get upstairs, and even though you’ve been using the master bedroom & bathroom in this house ever since moving your mom downstairs four years ago since she had trouble getting up the stairs, it still feels odd to stand in front of the sink without a stool underneath your feet, like what you had to when you were a kid and your mother would braid your hair. You’re a grown woman now, and as you stare at your reflection, you’re not sure if you can recognize yourself anymore. But rather than dwell on if it was because of any profound reason, you figured you just needed a shower and to get some sleep before you have to wake up again in five hours. Exhaustion is evident on your face, and you swipe under your eyes to get the smudge of mascara off before it tattoos your skin forever. 

Hot water on your skin does little to help your drowsiness, but at least now you feel clean of your shift, and then you remember there are blood stains on your shoes from the stab wound patient that rolled in at 2AM last night, and you should really let them soak for a few hours while you sleep, but you just can’t bother right now. Instead, you slip into something comfortable, draw your curtains back to mimic the dead of night in your room as best as you can, grab the bottle of melatonin sitting at your nightstand and pop a few tablets, feeling feverish as you slip into your sheets. You pull the comforter up over your eyes, a decision that is less ideal than using a sleeping mask since you’ll be breathing your own carbon dioxide until you fall asleep now, but it’s okay. It’s cozy under your blanket. Just this once. And you count sheep to make you sleepy. At least until the melatonin beats you to it.

—

“You’re looking better,” Dr. Johnson says to your mother as he accesses the port on her chest, “were you able to get a good rest?”

Your mother nods and points to you. “My daughter made me take a nap.”

“That’s good,” he coos, “it’s good to get rest before chemo. Your daughter really cares about you.”

“I know,” your mother smiles up at you, “I’m so lucky.” You return her smile with one of your own.

Dr. Johnson starts to push the line of chemo into your mother’s port as she sits on the chair in the treatment lounge, and then stands up from his rolling chair before the nurse quickly moves to twiddle with the drip of the IV bag. 

“Ready for consult?” he asks you.

You grip your binder to your chest. “Yeah.”

You walk into the doctor’s office, one you’ve more than familiarized yourself with over the past couple of years, then take a seat across from Dr. Johnson’s desk as he clicks through his computer before handing you a copy of your mother’s recent lab work.

“Her tumor markers are rising,” you say as you sift through the papers.

“They are, we’ll likely switch to monitoring them every four weeks going forward. But it’s okay, not to worry,” he says, “tumor markers can raise for all sorts of reasons unrelated to cancer.”

“She had a cold last week,” you say, “maybe it’s the inflammation?”

Dr. Johnson lets out a small laugh. “I’m sorry, y/n, sometimes I forget you’re a nurse.” He hums to himself as he pens down something on the notepad in front of him. “When was your mother’s last PET/CT scan?”

“It was in February,” you say, “she’s due soon. I was going to ask if you could order one for her.”

“Yes, I will, I’ll do it right now,” he says as he types something into the computer. “You still have the standing orders for her routine lab work, correct? Do my MAs need to send you the scripts?”

“No, that’s okay, I got them already. Good for six months,” you reassure him.

“Alright, perfect.”

There’s an awkward silence that settles in the room as you shift in your seat with the binder in your lap, full of all of your mother’s medical information and emergency department discharge packets and recent lab work and imaging. You mess with the plastic cover on top of it nervously.

“It’s good she remembers you today,” Dr. Johnson comments, “I remember last week you were upset she didn’t.”

“Oh,” you say, “yeah, I’m sorry. Sometimes it’s hard.”

His eyes leave his computer screen for a second to look at you. “Are you doing alright?”

You nod slowly. You had to be alright, you had no other choice. “I’m fine, thanks,” you say, “um, actually, doc, I just wanted to share with you that I’ve been keeping track of my mom’s Alzheimer’s progression.” You open your binder in your lap, pulling out a packet of papers and placing them on his desk, turning some of them towards him but he doesn’t really spare a proper enough look. “I’ve just been noticing she’s progressively worsening a bit faster than her neurologist had projected.”

“Okay,” he says, sounding curt, and that nervousness comes back. But goddammit, you’re a nurse, you know how to deal with stubborn doctors. And it’s for your mother. There was no one else left to advocate for her except you.

“I was just wondering if we could also order a brain MRI for her?” you ask, “just to rule out anything…her brain fog has been bad, worse than usual, and I’m just really worried about metastasis, especially if it’s a glioma, I’d just want to catch it as soon as possible.”

You have sympathy for oncologists, really, you do. They must deal with paranoid family members all the time, but how could someone blame another for wanting what’s best for their loved one? You don’t think that’s an empathy that anyone should ever lose, regardless of how long you’ve been practicing medicine. 

He sighs. “There’s no indication for that right now, not with her response to treatment as well as her lab work. I’d suggest we just wait on her next PET/CT results, and we can go from there. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

“I know,” you say, “but her next scan isn’t for another couple weeks, plus the week it’ll take to have it read, it’ll be far out, so…if we could just order it now?”

He interlocks his fingers and places his hands in front of him on the desk, looking at you with a stern face, but he glances down at the paperwork you’ve sprawled in front of him with scribblings of all the detailed notes you’ve been taking of your mom’s responses to her Alzheimer’s treatments, with time stamps and descriptions of her mental state, and his furrowed brow relaxes slightly. He breathes in deep. “Alright. Fine, I’ll order one. I highly doubt we’ll find anything, though. But since there’s no clear clinical impression warranting a brain MRI right now,” he mentions as he directs his attention back to his computer, “I don’t think insurance will cover it for you with the diagnoses I put in.”

“That’s okay,” you quickly respond, “I’ll pay for it.” 

You collect your imaging orders from the medical assistants at the center of the oncology floor. The chemo nurse, Mai, informs you that your mother still has about two hours left before her treatment is done, and she gently suggests you go eat something while you wait. You tell her it’s okay, that you want to wait with her, but she tells you the hospital cafeteria is serving tater tots today for tater tot tuesday, and those tater tots are to die for. But before you go downstairs to the cafeteria, you find a few minutes to cry in a one stall bathroom.

—

“God damn,” you hear your coworker, Hana, dreamily sigh as she leans on the handle on your standing mobile nursing work desk, and you trail her line of sight to the tight asses of the EMT men that walk by while rolling a stretcher. “It’s like being hot is a part of their job requirement.”

“Uh-huh,” you agree mindlessly as you try to catch up on charting for the rounds you just ran on your patients around the emergency department beds.

4/20/2024 0200: patient notified of the importance of taking ibuprofen. Attempted to give pt the medication. Pt responded “suck on this, bitch”, gestured to his general groin area, then threw ibuprofen tablets at RN. pt upset and requests narcotics instead. Informed MD of pt’s behavior and request. MD will not order narcotic pain medication at this time. Will continue to monitor

“How’s your mom doing?” Hana says, interrupting your typing as she turns to face you now.

“She’s okay,” you say, continuing to punch keys as you stare at your monitor, “she has a PET/CT soon. It’s always nerve wracking when the next scan is coming up.”

“Have you given hospice any more thought?” she asks.

You stop typing and stare blankly ahead at your screen as your heart sinks a little. You have given hospice more thought, and you came to the decision about a week ago that you would go through with it. It’s becoming so increasingly difficult taking care of your mom at home, more than you can manage with all of her doctor’s appointments, radiation appointments, chemotherapy appointments, all of which happen during the late mornings or early afternoons so you can’t even properly rest on most days that you come home from night shifts. Even though you only work three shifts a week, you can’t remember the last time you got a full, uninterrupted eight hours of sleep because of how messed up your circardian rhythm has become. You were practically a walking zombie, and you hardly felt like a person anymore. You’re not going to switch to the day shift, because that would make it difficult to take your mom to her appointments, and also because you get paid extra with the night shift differential, and above all other necessities, what you really needed right now the most was money. Forget the fact you’re still in debt from nursing school, but you co-signed on the medical loans your mother had taken out for treatments, and five years of high acuity medical bills was a living nightmare. And you were living that nightmare. 

“I did,” you say, “I’ve been looking into hospices, but a lot of them are further away than I’d like.” You glance down at your keyboard. “I…I’m going to miss having my mom home. Even though it’s hard to deal with her mood swings and stuff sometimes, I just think the house would feel really empty without her.”

“Aw, my dear,” Hana sighs and rubs her hand up and down your arm soothingly, “I’m sure you’d love to have her home, but I think it’s becoming too much for you. I say this with love and care, but I can’t remember the last time I saw you genuinely smile.”

Your eyes widen slightly from her words, and you release some of the tension in your shoulders, tension you didn’t even realize you were holding onto during this conversation.

“It’s too much for just one person,” she continues, “while I understand you want to spend more time with your mom, the quality of time you’re spending with her could be so much better if you had some weight lifted off your shoulders, where you’re not worrying about her medication schedule or doctor’s appointments or blood draws and all that.”

You nod slowly and manage to give her a small smile, then place your hand over hers that was still soothing over your arm. “Thanks, Hana. I know, I appreciate you looking out for me. I…I think I’ll look more seriously into hospices. It’s just they’re really expensive, too, so I have that to consider as well.”

“Hmm,” she withdraws her hand from you and juts her bottom lip out as she looks up at fluorescent emergency department lighting. You hear a patient cough in the distance as your senses take in the ambient environment once again. “Y’know, there’s this really great new hospice in town that functions as a general facility and also helps manage a lot of chronic diseases too. They have nurses there that do blood draws and everything, and they also transport patients to their affiliated hospital for treatments, like dialysis and chemo and stuff. My friend’s mom has breast cancer and was recently accepted into that hospice,” she tells you, pulling her phone out and looking through some of her messages, “I think it’s only a fifteen minute drive from your house.”

You tilt your head at her with interest, wondering why it didn’t come up on your provider search through insurance, but regardless, it sounded too good to be true. “It’s probably really expensive. My mom’s under the state insurance right now, but I’ve explored government insurance plans too and they’re still really pricey. I just can’t afford it, not with all of her cancer treatments, and adding her under my insurance isn’t really going to be any better either.”

She groans. “I know. What’s with our healthcare plan? You’d think as a hospital, they’d choose better plans for their employees,” she sighs, and then stops to read some of the messages on her phone, “but my friend said that her husband was able to add her mom as a dependant, and his insurance covers 90% of it. I’m sure it depends on the illness, but they only pay a few thousand per month out of pocket.”

You blink at her. “Really? T-That’s insane…do you know what insurance her husband has?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a Kaiser facility.”

“Oh,” you sigh, “well, they wouldn’t accept state insurance. That’s a private HMO.”

“Shoot,” Hana looks at you apologetically, “I’m so sorry, love, I forgot about that. Sorry to get your hopes up.”

“That’s okay,” you smile at her, “thanks for trying. I’m glad it worked out for your friend, at least.”

Hana glances at her watch and realizes her break is over, so she heads back to her side of the emergency department, and you’re left standing at the nursing station with thoughts running through your head now, and still catastrophically behind on charting.

Hmm.

Kaiser.

You swear someone mentioned that to you recently.

Or maybe you were just remembering another one of those ads you see on television at night. No, no, you’re pretty sure it came up in conversation with someone, but you can’t remember when or why or what or where or who. Hmmmmm. Kaiser, Kaiser, Kaiser. 

Nope. Nothing.

Oh well, maybe it’ll hit you later.

—

It hits you in the form of an intrusive memory when you wake up on a Thursday afternoon in a cold sweat after having a hallucinogenic melatonin dream where you were getting chased by a giant rabbit (don’t ask). 

Kaiser.

Gojo said he has Kaiser insurance. 

And the idea that comes into your head after that is so ridiculous, so absurd, so positively bonkers that you have to slap the sleepiness off your face for a second to make sure you’re still not in some dream state of living, and the harsh sting on your cheek proves that you’re not. And the idea still persists. And now you’re swinging your legs over the edge of your bed, and grabbing your laptop, and opening it, and inputting your pin, and then spending a good three hours researching if this little idea of yours actually has any good level of merit to it, if it could even succeed, if it was even legal? You even find yourself on the phone with insurance representatives, and you stare at the tens of thousands of dollars of debt on your Excel spreadsheet where you keep track of your finances, and you feel the exhaustion in your bones, and you also remember how fucking annoying Gojo is. And yet still, the idea persists. 

And when the pieces of the plan start to unfortunately fall into place, you say, fuck it. What was worse than potentially getting into six figures of debt? It’ll be fine.

But you can only hope he says yes.

.

.

.

[reading commercial break]

hello!! this is ellie, the author. so sorry to interrupt, there is still a bit left for this chapter, but i just wanted to jump in here real quick to explain for some of my readers that may not be american so they may understand reader’s desperation to financially cover the costs of her mother’s healthcare bills. this story is set in suburban america lol, where the healthcare system is so messed up honestly, and this excerpt from the book the body by bill bryson kinda explains:

“Where America really differs from other countries is in the colossal costs of its health care. An angiogram, a survey by The New York Times found, costs an average of $914 in the United States, but only $35 in Canada. Insulin costs about six times as much in America as it does in Europe. The average hip replacement costs $40,364 in America, almost six times the cost in Spain, while an MRI scan in the United States is, at $1,121, four times more than in the Netherlands. The entire system is notoriously unwieldy and cost-heavy.” p360; “...America spends more on health care than any other nation–two and a half times more per person than the average for all other developed nations of the world. One-fifth of all the money Americans earn–$10,209 a year for every citizen, $3.2 trillion altogether–is spent on health care.” p359

unfortunately, a lot of how much you end up spending at the end of the day, depends significantly on the health insurance that you have. it could make the difference of spending a few hundreds to a few thousands to a few tens of thousands and beyond, just based on the insurance plan, even if the illnesses/treatments are exactly the same.

but yeah, just wanted to provide that context lol!! so you must understand reader’s desperation to save a buck!!! 

ok back to regularly scheduled broadcasting!! 🧚‍♀️💕✨

[end of reading commercial break]

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—

You’re sitting at a table outside your favorite cafe in town, leg bouncing up and down underneath the surface impatiently and nervously, and you glance at the time on your phone for the fifth time within the past five minutes because you’re unable to alleviate any of the anxiety you’re experiencing right now. You hear the jingling of the cafe door behind you and then you’re a little startled when someone emerges in your periphery by your side.

You look up and see Gojo standing next to you, and you see he already went inside and grabbed a coffee to-go for himself.

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you say with a small wave.

He takes a seat across from you. “What did you want to talk about?” he asks while he settles in and smooths down the fabric of his suit jacket. He’s not wearing a tie, and has a couple of the top buttons of his shirt undone to reveal some of the skin at his collarbone. Probably to seduce the divorced single moms, you think. “And if you called me here to try and convince me for the millionth time to pitch in for that fence you built six months ago, I’m just gonna say no again. I didn’t even want that fence built in the first place. It fucked up the roots on my avocado tree.”

“It’s a joint fence. Neighbors usually pitch in for that kind of stuff, asshole. At least normal neighbors do. You know I talked shit about you to everyone in the neighborhood when you refused to pay and all of them agree that you’re being a stuck-up prick about it?”

“You know that I also talked shit about you to everyone in the neighborhood and they said the same exact thing about you?”

“Wha–” you gasp, blinking a few times from the betrayal, then mutter “...those two-faced bitches” under your breath.

“So,” he pulls his sleeve back to glance at his watch, “what did you want? I’ve only got thirty minutes to talk before I need to head to an open house.” He brings his cup of coffee to his lips.

“Oh. Right. Just a favor,” you say, “I was wondering if you could marry me.”

He almost spits out his coffee.

“E-Excuse me?” he croaks out, exasperated, and he’s coughing a little bit as he hits his chest with a fist to alleviate the irritation in his throat from some hot coffee that went down the wrong pipe.

“I mean, if it’s not an issue, I’d really appreciate it if you could marry me,” you attempt to clarify, but you realize you probably should’ve thought a little more about how you were going to ask him this, and now you’re too deep to backtrack, so you just hope you’ll find the conversation along the way.

He’s looking at your like you’ve got six heads, brow furrowed and mouth hanging open slightly with that what the fuck? face you see him wear sometimes. But then he sits up a bit straighter, expression morphing into a curious one as he studies your face, head tilting a little in his scrutinization. Then, his face relaxes entirely. He has this knowing look as he nods up and down slowly, like he just figured something out, and then he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose in some type of faux frustration. And you don’t understand why you’re already seethingly angry about what he’s going to say next.

“Oh god,” he sighs, “I knew this day would come.”

“Huh?” you squeak out.

“Listen,” he says as he crosses his arms, but one of his hands comes out from where it was tucked in his elbow to waive around in the air as he articulates his words, “I know that I’m very charming, and handsome, and chivalrous, one might say the modern knight in shining armor–”

“Satoru.”

“–and yes, I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he dramatically sighs, “when I’m taking the groceries up the driveway…when I’m out mowing the lawn…when I stretch on the sidewalk before I go for a run. I feel your eyes on me like a hawk. Quite frankly, you look at me like I’m a piece of meat, and I feel very violated by it sometimes–”

“What the fuck are you talking about???”

“But I get it. Really, I do. There’s no need to be embarrassed about it–”

“I’m not embar–”

“It was really only a matter of time before you would do this. So overcome by your feelings for me that you just had to go against the grain of centuries of matrimonial standards and swallow your gigantic pride to propose to me.” 

“Oh my god, what the fuck are you saying–”

“But,” he says, collecting himself now, and taking in a deep breath, “my answer is no. I mean, I shouldn’t have to explain why. But I will. First of all, where the hell is my ring? Secondly, why aren’t you on one knee in front of me right now? Also, in a cafe? Really? I thought you would’ve known I’d have liked something a little bit more romantic than this. Y’know, private, but also where my family’s somewhere around the corner. Maybe by the beach–”

“Can you stop talkin–”

“–while the sun is setting, and I’m wearing a nice dress, and there’s bubbles in the air and rose petals on the sand, and you tell me how enamored you’ve always been of me, and how you can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with me,” he indulgently sighs, “I mean, it’s every guy’s dream. But nooooo, of course you’ve got no taste or sense for romance in any capac–”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, FORGET THIS,” you stand up out of your chair, fast enough to where it almost falls backwards, and you grab your purse to sling over your shoulder, “I cannot believe I actually thought this plan would ever fucking work.” You’re about to walk away from the table, because you’re realigned with the wisdom of exactly why you can’t stand this man, when his hand reaches out quickly to grasp onto your wrist, to keep you still, and you jump a little from the contact. You look down, his hand unrelenting in its grip as his knuckles flex slightly, and you’re not sure if he’s ever touched you from how foreign the sensation feels.

“Wait,” he says, and when you look at him, his eyes are a little wide like a puppy, “you’re being serious?”

You yank your wrist out of his grip, but the warmth of his touch still lingers, and you wrap your own hand around it to distract yourself from it. “Why would I just ask you to marry me out of nowhere if I wasn’t being serious?”

He gives you a look like the answer to your question is obvious. “Uh, to fuck with me?”

You’re still holding onto your wrist, protectively pressing it against your chest with your back turned away from him slightly, and you look up at the sky for a brief second. Hm, perhaps you could have brought the favor up a bit better, and you realize it might’ve sounded insane on his end, and you’re also still thinking about the tens of thousands of dollars you could save if he said yes, and so you hesitantly open your body language up to him again.

“Just sit,” he sighs.

You take a seat across from him again, hands finding the warm coffee cup in front of you and you purse your lips together before tucking your bottom lip under your front teeth. You take a deep breath before speaking again. “I…I’m being serious. I was wondering if you could marry me as a favor, and not because I think you’re some type of irresistible man candy, god, where do you get your gigantic ego from?”

“I–”

“Rhetorical question, shut it.”

He blinks at you. “What favor are you asking for that’ll be satisfied by me marrying you?”

You twiddle with your thumbs. “I want to put my mom in hospice,” you say, eyes flickering down slightly because you’re worried you’re about to tear up from the words, but when you realize you’ve got enough conviction not to, you look back up at him, and his eyes on you are a little too observant, “most of the hospices in town are further away than I’d like, and really expensive, but I heard there was a Kaiser one nearby…and that a lot of the costs are covered by insurance. So, if you married me, I could send my mom there. And also, under your insurance, the care network would be better, so I could get her a new oncologist and neurologist, and I’d know she’s being taken care of. And…” you clear your throat, “well, it’ll be a lot less expensive, so I can start to catch up on…well, whatever, you get the picture.”

His eyes narrow at you in thought, and he glances at your hands on the table that are nervously fidgeting, and then his eyes meet yours again. “I’m not sure if you can add a…spouse’s parent to a healthcare plan?”

“You can,” you say, “I already called to ask.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

Gojo hums to himself, laying his palms flat on his thighs and rubbing them back and forth on the taut fabric a few times as he thinks with his gaze set off somewhere in the distance. It seems like he’s running through some algorithm of thoughts in his head, and then he slowly nods to himself when he’s made a decision.

“Sure, I’ll do it,” he says.

“Y-You will?” you ask him. You’re uneasy at how easy it was to convince.

“Yeah. I like your mom. She’s a sweet lady, and I want to see her get better.”

His words touch you. And not from the distance of a ten foot pole like you’d usually allow, but more intimate somehow. And you get the feeling you should thank him, but you’re still pissed off from when he almost ran you over on your own driveway earlier this week. 

“Really?” you make sure, almost like you’re hoping he’ll change his mind because now you’re suspicious as to why he agreed so quickly. And you realize he’s already making you paranoid.

“Yeah. I’m saying yes to your proposal, y/n,” he says, “I mean, a marriage is just a legal agreement. Not a big deal. I’d want a prenup though, for obvious reasons. In case you’re a gold digger.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re too cheap to even pitch in for a fucking fence. You think I’d believe you’ve got any gold to dig?”

He sighs. “I said in case.”

“Well, anyways, we can work out logistics and paperwork or whatever later,” you say, and you extend your hand out for him to shake it.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Um. You’re going to make me shake your hand over this?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “it’s the diplomatic thing to do.”

“Yes,” he says, “for a diplomatic agreement.”

“Precisely,” you say. “That’s exactly what this is.”

He hesitantly brings his hand up to shake yours, but you quickly withdraw yours at the last second. “Nevermind. I don’t want to touch you.”

“Okay,” he easily accepts, “not how I expected to celebrate getting engaged, but whatever. By the way, when’s the wedding? Are we doing, like, a shotgun destination type vibe? Or something a bit more grand?”

“Just be at the courthouse at noon on Sunday.”

“What?! This weekend? That’s too soon,” he panics, “I need time to pick out a dress, and I need to figure out who my bridesmaids are going to be, and–”

“Satoru. Seriously. Just–...just shut the fuck up. Before the headache that you’ve already given me gets worse.”

You two sit in silence for a moment, him just mindlessly staring at a butterfly that landed on the plant at the center of the table, and you just staring off into the void past him while contemplating every life decision you’ve ever made. But that’s how it always was between you two. As much as you hated to admit it, you were jealous of him in a lot of ways. In every way that you were fucked up, he was nonchalant without a care in the world. You wish you knew what that sort of peace felt like, and you wondered if he could show you. Maybe someday when he doesn’t piss you off.

“So,” he interrupts your thoughts, “are you gonna take my last name?”

“Fuck no, I’d rather die.”

“Alright, jeez, I was just asking.”

.

.

.

[end of chapter 1]

a/n. yayy!!! he said yes!! omg congrats on ur engagement!! haha this was a lot of fun to writeee :'') i've got sm fun ideas for this fic. yea this chap was supposed to be longer lol there's still some groundwork to lay w the side quests, but will def cover more of that in the next chapter!!! tysm to everyone that wanted to be on taglist omg i hope that you enjoyed <33 love uuu guysss smmmm also my bad if some stuff doesnt make sense i'm tryna be less perfectionist when i'm editing so that i don't go insane 😍

➸ take me to chapter two!

taglist: @tremendousbouquetflower @cowgirlcujoh @joemama-2 @shinypearlywhites @sykosugu @lovebittenbyevans @luqueam @bloopsstuff @horisdope @alwaysfreakingout @crammingqueen @rideofthevalkyriess @lavender-hvze @gojocock @ceni707 @jxvajxy @catobsessedlady @madaqueue @bbyxxm @gojostit @nixie-19 @cheezitcracker @polarbvnny @cactisjuice @sleepyyammy @lysaray @k4tsukiis @kortanasworld @megumisthirdog @slut-4-gojo @drakenswifeyy @njoxuzi @elernity @jujutsubaby @secretmoneybearvoid @bunny-lily @strawberrygirl0 @httpxxg @bsdicinindirdim @v4mpieres @nanamis-baker @therealestpussyeater @air3922 @13-09-01 @marija4674 @whereflowerswenttodie @geniejunn @bakuhoethotski @ricaliscious @77uchiha77 @hellowoolf @tobaccosunbxrst @possumwho @nvrgojover @kittygrimm88 @samistars @shiin-ye @billiondollarworth @mmeerraa @fjorjestertealeaf @reinam00n @semra4 @st4ryki @new-weather47 @coltsgf @meownuuuu @strawnanamilk @lees-chaotic-brain @ironhottubstranger @spindyl @aise-30 @dunghirse @r0ckst4rjk @44ina @4y3sh4 @lindyloomoo @sweetpo1son @levisfavoriteteashop @delfiiii @fushitoru @gojosimp26 @beabadobeee @astrokenny @horisdope @muchlov3ashley @geniejunn @the-dark-creature @gojonegs @ritzes28 @mo0nforme @drownedpoetss

hope yalls fries never get soggy ever 💕

[captainchrisstan]

Wild & Free | Part 1 of 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Everybody says they want to marry Min Yoongi. But what if he only wants to say 'yes' to you.

Alternatively: While on the last leg of their PTD tour, Yoongi discovers there was such a thing as drive-thru weddings in Las Vegas - spontaneous, wild, exciting - something his pretty little brain can't seem to process having lived the last decade of his life planned to perfection by his management team, which includes you. When he goes down a rabbit hole of Youtube videos about The Little White Wedding Chapel (Omo! Michael Jordan got married there!), he starts getting all sorts of ideas - all of it starring him and you.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Childhood friends to lovers, Idol!au, Coworkers to lovers (reader is a HYBE employee)

Warnings: Mild angst, cursing lol, mentions of sex, pining and lots of it, reader is insecure, couple of idiots truly, covid didn’t happen, one mention of recreational gambling (we're in Vegas!), canon moments I botched for my own use, ginger Yoongi is a warning in and of itself, angry Yoongi, cliches ‘cos meh, possible inaccuracies about Las Vegas - been there once, but details used in the story are just from research. Also, I get that Las Vegas weddings might seem tacky to some. Coming from a background of traditional, elaborate ceremonies, the characters in this story are genuinely surprised by this simpler approach. After all, a wedding is really just about you and your partner, and that’s the essence we’re exploring here. ♡ If you can get on board with that, then let's head to the Tunnel of Love! Viva Las Vegas! 🙂

Word Count: 7.2k (approx. 30 mins.)

Posting date: August 31, 2024

Dividers: @/saradika-graphics

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist

"Yoongi, marry me!" You shout at the top of your lungs, earning laughs from the people around you. 

On the other side of the room, a couple of other people shout the same catchphrase, including Kim Taehyung, who seems to get the most kick out of it out of all the members.

Coerced to do one of those Tik Tok dance challenges, Min Yoongi stands in front of the room, hides his face behind his hands and you watch in delight as he awkwardly sways his hips side to side. More cheers erupt and two seconds after he decides he was done.

"Hajimaaaa!" Your friend says to no one and everyone, cheeks burning as he stalks back to the chair he was occupying across yours.

You push his beer bottle towards him, "Good job, gramps."

"Fuck off," he says with no real bite, taking a long swig off his drink to cool off his reddened cheeks.

It's great to finally get some down time with the crew. After such a fast-paced, high production tour, everybody needed to blow off some steam. This Korean BBQ restaurant off the Strip was the perfect venue to get the team together for samgyupsal and drinks. The vibes are, as the kids say, immaculate.

You are already sufficiently buzzed so you sit down as Seokjin takes his turn to do the challenge. He really seems to be more into it than the man currently giving you a look.

"I heard you." He narrows his eyes at you almost accusingly.

"What? It's the new viral catchphrase," you shrugged. "Everybody and their grandma is saying it these days."

"Not their grandma."

"You should be flattered."

Stop, you thought he would say. But his response catches you off guard.

"Only ‘cause you said it."

And he has the audacity to lick his bottom lip, a ghost of a smirk forming.

Fuck. Your throat dries up. When did it get so hot here?

“And in case you’re wondering…” he leans forward, a dopey-ass grin now on his face. “The answer is yes.”

Record scratch.

Did he really just-

Thankfully, you recover.

“Stop playing,” you say, trying to sound casual. But your face probably betrays the internal turmoil happening in your brain. You fear the day will come that he will have caught on to the unshakeable something you have been harboring for the better part of the last decade.

See, there’s always been an unspoken tension between you and Yoongi, something neither of you ever addressed or acted upon. Perhaps, in your younger days, there were moments when you felt your friendship was on the verge of becoming something more. But then he debuted as an idol, and things took off, and you were robbed of time. With his group’s growing popularity and you managing his personal career, the possibility of exploring anything beyond friendship and your work rapport became even more distant.

You feel like a bug under a microscope the way he observes you with a lopsided grin and while you try to hold his gaze, this clown interrupts.

"If y'all done eye-fucking each other, some of us are heading back." A drunk Park Jimin says with a mischievous grin, eyes crinkling like crescents. You could almost throw up.

Your eyes shift back to Yoongi and he just blinks in that blank way he does and bends to collect his bag from under his chair, completely ignoring his bandmate.

‘Fuck you,’ you mouth to Jimin hastily. Just enough time before Yoongi emerges with his backpack and your tote, which he already slung on his own shoulder.

You try to take it from him, but he waves you off.

"We're in bus 2," Jimin sings-songs and walks off, looking every bit the trouble-maker.

Thing is, you made the mistake of confiding in Jimin once, last year. You got drunk after getting dumped by some guy you met on Bumble three dates down, though it really was the sting of learning that Yoongi took one of Psy’s backup dancers out for coffee, even if it was just casual, that pushed you off the edge and into a bar in Hannam Intersection. Coincidentally, Jimin was there with that cute idol from Shinee and some other guys, but he joined you when he saw you looking like shit.

After learning about your long-standing crush (thank God you did not drop the L-bomb), Jimin would occasionally tease you, much to your chagrin. He’s careful not to push things too far, but it’s clear he sees himself as a bit of a cupid. You keep telling him that nothing will come of it, but he just won’t let up.

You are scared for things to change between you and Yoongi, not when everything is just how it’s supposed to be. 

Not when you believe in your heart that if anything would have happened, it already should have.

And you would snuff the last embers of the torch that you keep holding out for him if only you knew how.

"Drive-thru weddings?" Yoongi enunciates in English, with the slightest lisp that you have always found so endearing. As your tour bus passes by chapel after wedding chapel, he continues to wonder out loud. "People get married there?"

Namjoon turns his head to look at Yoongi from his seat in front. "Yeah, hyung. They don't even need to get out of their car. It's just like a McDonald's. But they get a marriage license instead of a burger."

“Really? And people do this? Like, randomly?”

“Yeah, some celebrities decided to do it that way, but I assume many people do, too. I mean, look how many we’ve passed already.” Namjoon says with a tiny grin, cheek dimpling.

"Mm." Yoongi hums and you're curious about that faraway look on his face as he stares outside.

“Are you interested?” You joke lamely, instantly regretting opening your mouth. Why do you keep propositioning him? You blame that ‘one for the road’ shot of soju you downed on the way out of the restaurant.

He studies your face, before he replies lowly, so only you can hear, “Are you asking?”

Fuck, he’s bold. He’s also a bit drunk, but everyone knows he can drink anyone under the table. You know this is not the first time he got weirdly flirty with you after one too many drinks, so you take it in stride.

“What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,” Hoseok's voice booms from the back and with a chorus of laughs ringing inside the vehicle, you take that as a sign that this is definitely just the effect of being in Sin City.

A few beats after and you steal a glance at Yoongi, finding his gaze transfixed at a sign that read: "The Little White Wedding Chapel".

Last day of the Las Vegas tour and while you are glad it is almost done, your heart aches as you remember that this is also your last one, ever. Your 60-day notice is already running, having tendered your resignation a month after LA wrapped up.

As great of a job as it is, your heart seems to always be at odds because of the lingering feelings you have for Yoongi. Everyday, you find yourself trapped in the limbo of unspoken feelings and missed chances. The endless “what ifs” weigh you down, and you can’t summon the courage to confront them. It’s not anyone’s fault but your own, and you hoped that stepping away from this life might jumpstart your next chapter, as BTS is also about to embark on theirs. 

With the group taking a break for solo projects and gearing up for their military service, it seemed like the perfect moment for you to explore something different, too. Maybe finally open that cafe you’ve always wanted. Maybe you can also meet somebody, especially since your eomma has been on your back even more lately about giving her a grandchild.

You weren't planning to sever ties with Yoongi entirely, or at all. There’s too much history between you two to just walk away from the friendship. But you were desperate to let go of the emotional baggage.

The thing is, you have not told anyone. Not even Yoongi. Especially not Yoongi. It is highly likely that he will try to stop you and press for reasons, and you can't tell him that you’re in love with him, can you? Just… no. What a fuckin’ cliche.

You don’t know when you will be ready to tell him the truth, but it needs to be soon.

You find him on the side of the stage, eyes locked in on his phone that he held with one hand and you already can tell he is watching a documentary with the way his face is screwed up in concentration. His ‘watching a cat video’ face was infinitely more smiley, that's for sure.

He lifts his sleepy eyes up as you approach, handing you a latte that he apparently picked up for you from that place across the street, because the coffee from the catering ‘tastes like shit.’

Before you can say thanks, Yoongi exclaims, “Omo! Michael Jordan got married there?” 

Your confusion must be written all over your face, because he quickly explains, “You know in one of those drive-thru wedding chapels we saw the other night. Wow. I can't believe Jordan did that.” 

He pauses the video and turns the screen toward you, revealing a white building decked out with all sorts of decorations reminiscent of Valentine's day. The way he looks at you, expectantly, makes you feel like you should share his excitement, but you're a bit stumped. “Yoongi-ah, why are you watching this?”

He fidgets with a sheepish grin. “Well, I’ve never seen anything like this before. Korean weddings can be so complicated, you know? Hyung was really frustrated with all the traditions at his wedding.” He shrugs, still looking a bit embarrassed but trying to stay casual. “Here, it seems like you just need the right person. And maybe some courage. Okay, a lot of courage. I just— I don’t know, I find it fascinating.”

He nods to himself, gnawing on his bottom lip.

Totally endeared, you hop to sit beside him on the stage, bump your shoulder with his, and say, “Go on, press play.” 

The tiniest of frowns that has settled between his brows smoothes out and he angles the screen more towards you before resuming the video.

Turns out it really is fascinating (Omo! Joe Jonas also got married there! But wait, isn't he divorced now?), so you watch a few more clips, before soundcheck starts.

You’ve always known Yoongi to have massive hyperfixations. In fact, you’re not at all surprised when that night during the concert, he even cheekily says to the crowd during his ment, “Welcome to Las Vegas, with the drive-thru wedding.” And of course, the audience eats it up, those wearing Shooky headbands, veils or holding “Yoongi, marry me” signs end up being the loudest.

But while you’ve supported all his previous mini-obsessions (League of Legends, Dalgona coffee, woodworking) until he over-indulged to the point of almost flushing it out of his system, you are not quite sure how else to help him with this one.

Unless of course, you… hah, you wish.

The tour wraps up successfully. The boys have different group and individual schedules before they return to Seoul. For Yoongi, a shoot for his photofolio, and some b-roll content for his upcoming documentary was on deck for him, you, and his crew. 

The drive up to the desert was pretty uneventful as mostly everyone was asleep. You arrive sometime in the afternoon and immediately get to work in order to catch the golden hour. Yoongi has disappeared into the makeup trailer and you busy yourself with checking the preps.

The theme was glamping. Though Yoongi would never admit that that was the concept he approved. He would most likely say something more deep and poetic, that the setting is a poignant portrayal of his growth as a person and a metaphorical exploration of his artistry… Or something like that.

Things were running a little later than you like, which always happens when you are doing shoots overseas, so you volunteer to help with the set design. Placing some of the props near the camper van, you take a second to decide whether to use the metal cup or the ceramic mug, when a sleepy voice interrupts your thoughts.

"Set looks great. Good job."

You turn your head to look at Yoongi and wow his hair is orange.

The color of his favorite citrus and of course he looks sexy as fuck. He smells phenomenal, too–like mandarins with a hint of spice. You are in so much trouble. Seems your mouth is filled with cotton the way you are unable to make a sound.

“Yah! I spent hours on this new hair, you're not going to say anything?” he whines with a small pout.

You snicker at his cute expression, reaching out to touch the ends of his hair very lightly else the glam team unnies might scold you. “You look like a cat.”

“Ugh,” he groans, walking away with what you now realize is a stick of marshmallows in his right hand.

“No, Yoongi, it's cute,” You follow him as he stops in front of the bonfire, roasting the marshmallows over it briefly before taking a bite, still not placated by your words.

You decide to put him out of his misery. “You look good. Like really good. ARMY would probably even say sexy.” You inwardly cringe at the last bit–using ARMY to voice out your inner thirst, really?

Nonetheless, Yoongi's reaction is priceless. His lips stretch into a thin line, chin dimpling as he pretends to not enjoy the compliment that he very well fished for. 

“Ok quit acting like an emoji and let me take your photos for IG.” You take your phone out and snap a few pics of him posing with the marshmallow, some without it. A couple of him grinning, gummy smiles on display, and you know you need to keep some of these for yourself when the inevitable comes and you won't see his face everyday. 

“C’mere,” he pulls you to his side, arm going around your shoulder. A whiff of his musk has you swooning which you hope he does not notice.

Your phone is taken. He snaps a few selfies of you both and tsks when he sees your lock screen. 

“Tablo-hyung, still? You know he's literally married and has a kid, right?”

You make a face and snatch your phone from his grasp. “Yah! As if you're not an idol and your face is not the wallpaper of thousands of people.”

“I think you mean millions.”

“Ass.” You try to shove him, but his hand closes in on your phone again. 

Swipes and taps later, he seems satisfied and your phone is handed back to you, before he walks off without so much as a goodbye.

What did he do?

Wait.

Tablo is gone. 

And the tableau in his place is one of the photos you just took with him. Eyes twinkling, smiles identical. The picture of a seemingly perfect couple.

Oh, damn. You really are a goner.

You send the pic to Jimin a little later. His response was unwelcome.

Jimin: You two have literal heart eyes for each other. So cute.

You: Not helping.

Jimin: Just tell him how you feel.

You: Again, not helping.

Jimin: What's your plan?

You: Do you really wanna know?

You ring him. Might as well tell somebody.

In between layouts, Yoongi films interviews for some magazines. You have complete faith in him and his media relations skills at this point. Smart, thought-provoking Yoongi can wow any interviewer, sometimes to the point where numbers have been slipped inside his coat pocket. Thank God this one is on Zoom, ‘cause you can’t deal with something like that happening right now.

You caught wind of something that he said during the interview and you made a mental note to ask him about it later.

“Sometimes, it feels like my life is just a sequence of obligations and schedules,” he tells the online reporter. “I can’t even remember the last time I made plans for myself. Being here in Las Vegas is refreshing. It’s like everyone is just living by their own rules. I don’t think I’m like that at all.”

"Do you want to be like that?" The reporter asks.

"Maybe..." he shrugs, sinking a bit lower on the chair he was on.

It was late and the crew was just winding down before packing up the set.

“How was your day?” he asks you with a soft smile. You can see the tiredness in his eyes.

“Not bad,” you say, taking a spot beside him on the picnic blanket that was still on set. He seems pensive.

“Did you ever think we would get this far?” he asks. “Couple of Daegu kids, now running around in America.”

“Who would've thought…” you say, observing him. His eyes were stoic, but you know he's got something else on his mind, something bothering him.

“You said something in your interview earlier.”

“Nothing bad, I hope?”

“Not bad per se, I just never heard you say it in an interview before. About not feeling like you can make your own plans. Like life has become a series of schedules.”

He hums and takes a sip of something from the mug he is holding. Your nose tells you it is definitely not hot cocoa.

“I’ve come to terms with it for the most part, you know,” he sighs looking out into the vastness. “But plans are good. Makes me feel like there is a point to all this.”

You follow his line of vision and sigh. You knew he was feeling a lot of stress lately. His life was not easy. You hate that you have to pile on top of it.

“We need to start planning D-day soon. It's going to be so busy with the album and the tour and all the content we have to make. Oh God, we might have to do fan calls, but I'm so embarrassed when I do it.”

You mimic his hum, getting disoriented with his use of ‘we’. He still doesn't know that word would be null and void soon.

“By the way, we gotta come up with a different name for the Youtube show. I can't pronounce it. Sich? Sush? Shit-”

“Suchwita,” you say, guilt settling in your tummy.

“...and we have that collab with Halsey for what’s that game again? Doom? No, Diablo! We used to play that before, remember? I think we might be doing a music video for that one.”

Just tell him. This would be the best time.

“Look, Yoongi I-”

“Thank you,” he suddenly says, in a tone so soft, and the way he punctuates it with your name makes your heart soar.

Your eyes snap to him, the slight pinks dusting his cheeks make him look like the teenage boy you met in music school.

“I’m not good at this - fuck, this is so awkward - umm but I've really been meaning to tell you that I appreciate you.” He continues, “You're really important to me.”

You try to fight back a smile at how elated you are, but can’t. And maybe he needs to see how happy this is making you. How happy he is making you.

In the years that you've known him there were two distinct moments that made you believe that just as you have been in love with him, maybe he was in love with you, too. And as you watch him rub his crinkled nose, trying to act chill but can't, you somehow convince your fickle heart that this might be the third.

“I’ve been thinking a lot, with all this talk about our ‘chapter 2’...”

“Yeah?”

“I know things are going to change, but I’m glad you’re still here. I honestly don't know what I'm doing half the time, but you, you give me direction,” he smiles, a hand scratching the back of his neck.

“Are you seriously thanking me for my constant nagging?” 

“No,” he chuckles to himself. “I’m thanking you for being my friend.”

Oh. Ouch.

His lips keep moving and moving, and he is saying things with a fond smile, but your ears can’t register a single word. Except that single word: friend. Because, that’s all he sees you as, and that’s all you’ll ever be, and lest you need a reminder, that’s why you did what you did.

Disappointment cracks through your core and your lungs are suddenly devoid of air and you feel the urgent need to step away.

“Sorry Yoongi, I- I have to go.”

“Huh?” The light in his face fades, replaced by a frown and confused eyes that are watching your every move.

“Wait, did I say something? Tell me what's wrong.”

Don’t cry. Shit. Don’t cry. 

“I've nothing to tell you.”

You grimace at how stiff you sounded but before you can rectify anything, your feet take you to the nearest trailer. You close the door and drop to your knees as uncontrollable sobs rack your body.

You rein yourself in after a few minutes, wiping your tears on the back of your sleeve. You fish your phone out from your pocket, the photo on your lock screen twisting the knife lodged in your heart. 

You ring the first person on your recent contacts.

“I can’t do it, Jiminah.”

“What happened? Talk to me.”

You tell him how you were just talking and it was getting deep then he got sentimental and said thank you…

“For being his friend.”

A beat, then Jimin finally speaks. “He is such an idiot.”

“I can’t do this,” you say, with finality. “I’m going to finish this tour, but I’m really leaving. I can’t be around Yoongi anymore.”

You finally get a couple of days off and decide to dodge Yoongi after coming back from the desert. It’s oddly easy—he’s not seeking you out like he usually does. You left him hanging the last time you talked, and now you’re stumped about how to fix things. You and Yoongi never really fight, at least not seriously. You handle work stuff through Kakao, like sending over today’s recording schedule for the award show. He left you on read.

Jimin immediately calls out for you as you step inside the set. It was just one of the penthouse suites in the hotel you were staying in. You feel awkward as some eyes shift over to you as you barely had time to fix yourself, you just aren't in the mood.

“Hi,” you respond simply. “How's everything?”

Jimin glances over his shoulder, and you follow his gaze to find Yoongi staring blankly at the coffee table, a face of thunder.

“He knows. He heard you on the phone with me.”

Your heart immediately drops to your ass. “Shit.”

Jimin shrugs, a mixture of sympathy and amusement on his face. “Yeah, he’s pretty confused… and a little pissed.”

“Did you–”

“I would never,” Jimin interrupts quickly, holding up his hands. “It’s not my story to tell.” He pats your shoulder reassuringly. “Just talk to him. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You’re not sure if Jimin’s optimism is comforting or just making you more anxious. You’ve spent years imagining every possible outcome, every scenario where he finds out you felt something deeper. And most of those scenarios end in heartbreak.

Either way, you know you’ve got to face the storm brewing in Yoongi’s eyes.

The shoot goes on without a hitch. You and Yoongi avoid each other like the plague, so much so that one of the makeup unnies takes notice. You downplay it, not wanting to be the subject of workplace gossip.

The schedule wraps up and as you get ready to leave, there is a light tap on your shoulder.

“Hey noona,” Jake says, looking a bit nervous but flashing a tentative smile. “Umm, a bunch of us are heading out tonight. If you don’t have plans, you should join us.”

Jake’s one of the newer camera guys, and while he’s been nice—always greeting you and opening doors—he’s barely scratched the surface of what could be considered a friend. He’s not just polite; he’s actually pretty cute. You’ve never really hung out with him before, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to say no. It was one of the last nights you have in Las Vegas, and maybe, you should live a little.

“Ok. What time are we leaving?”

“Can we meet at the lobby by 10?”

Just as you’re about to respond, there’s a loud crash from the other side of the room. You catch a glimpse of Yoongi and Jin amidst a flurry of crew members rushing over. Whatever happened, it looks like it’s already being dealt with.

“10?” you repeat, still distracted by the commotion.

He nods.

“Got it,” you reply, trying to shake off your unease. 

Jake adjusts his backpack and gives you another nod, his smile still lingering as he heads out. “Cool. See you tonight.”

“Ok…” you nod, a little dazed as you watch Jake fistbump one of the producers on the way out.

“Hot date?” Jimin appears out of nowhere, casually sipping his Americano. His grin is a little too knowing—clearly, he was eavesdropping.

“Not really. He just mentioned that a few people were planning to go clubbing and asked if I wanted to join.”

Jimin’s eyes light up. “So, he wouldn’t mind if we tagged along, right?”

“Who’s ‘we’?” 

Yoongi lifts his wine glass at you, smiling and unbothered.

Is this him extending an olive branch?

“Hey, Danbi, Eunchae…” he says, his gaze drifting past you to the two girls from Design. They look momentarily stunned, then offer hesitant waves, clearly not accustomed to this rare gesture from the usually wordless Yoongi.

Seriously?

This asshole.

A knot of frustration tightens in your stomach. Not only is he acting like nothing happened, but he’s also playing it cool, like he’s completely unaware of how much this is getting under your skin.

You’re sad, but now you’re kinda pissed, too. And the worst part of it all, he knows he looks fine.

Ginger hair slicked back to reveal the fresh undercut, He’s wearing some black shirt and black pants, with Jordans you would guess, and you know if it was any other man wearing that, he would have been stopped at the door. 

You shift the strap of your dress slightly, conscious under his taunting eyes. The little number was something hot you recently picked up, the kind that might end up on somebody's floor.

“Are you going over to them,” Jake asks casually, leaning closer to your ear.

“No,” you say, breaking eye contact with Yoongi and moving to the next table where the others were, with Jake following closely behind.

A chorus of hellos started as you reached the table. There were a couple of girls from Hair and Makeup and some of the videographers, too. As if on cue, a tray of colorful shots are suddenly placed on the center console. The night is about to begin.

Jake has been incredibly attentive so far, but the truth is, it’s someone else’s attention that you want. You are hyper aware of Yoongi’s presence and it’s like having an itch you couldn’t scratch.

You spot Yoongi by the bar, alone and absorbed in his own world. As usual, he's oblivious to the pair of women casting lingering glances in his direction. 

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and make your way towards him. You notice his shoulders tense and stiffen as you approach, a clear sign of his unease, which almost made you want to retreat. But you know you can't go on another day of this unresolved tension with him.

“Yoongi, can we talk?”

He looks up, smirking as he swirls his drink. “Nah.”

Alright. You were not expecting that. 

“Look, I just wanna explain–”

“It’s cool. You don’t have to,” he cuts you off, his voice casual but his eyes fixed stubbornly on the lowball glass he’s holding.

“But I–”

“You don't wanna be around me anymore, simple. Dunno why you're here.”

“Wait, Yoongi, you don't understand.”

“Don't understand? You never told me shit.” You notice how his fists are clenched, knuckles turning white. “I would have apologized if I did something wrong. Thought you knew that. Thought we were friends.”

It’s that word again. You chuckle bitterly. “Friends, I know. You keep saying that.”

At this he looks up at you, brows furrowed, but it was your turn to avert your gaze. 

“‘Kay. You're leaving anyway, right? You can start now.”

“Fine.”

“Bye.”

You take a few steps, but something tugs at you, pulling you back. You glance over your shoulder, hoping to catch him watching you leave, wishing he’d somehow intervene, stop you from walking away.

But he isn’t there. His chair is already empty, the space where he sat now as vacant as if he’d never been there at all.

No one knows you better than Yoongi, and apparently no one else can hurt you quite like him, too.

The night is young. The club is electric. It is the hottest spot in town and you are hell-bent to experience it to the max.

Spirits and sugary shots tempered the hurt that settled in your gut after your encounter with Yoongi, now replaced with an urge to forget, to almost rebel.

The dance floor becomes your sanctuary. Shots of sweet, potent liquor flow, loosening you up and syncing your movements with the music. The crowd sways around you, a sea of bodies, but Jake remains a constant anchor. 

His hands rest confidently on your stomach, your back pressed against his chest as you grind slowly against him. With one arm raised, you hook your hand around his neck, letting your bodies move in perfect rhythm. It's been a while since you let yourself go like this, but it's Vegas, after all.

You can feel the warmth of his breath as he leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “You’re so sexy, noona.”

“Wanna get out of here?” The words leave your mouth before your brain can stop you.

Jake's eyes widen slightly, but he nods, quite enthusiastically actually, and you think: fuck it, he's cute and you are leaving the company anyway. 

Disappointingly, the heat between you and Jake cools with every passing second as you make your way back to the hotel. Yet, you cling to the idea of seeing it through, driven by the need to prove a point: that a) your life doesn't revolve around Min Yoongi; and b) you are attractive and can pull anyone, even if Min Yoongi does not want you.

In another world, this would be a whirlwind of clothes flying off, bodies pressed against walls, hands exploring with urgency. But instead, you both enter the hotel room in silence, the air heavy with a tension that contrasts sharply with the passionate encounter you’d hoped for. The quietness between you feels like a stark reminder of how far you are from the fantasy you envisioned. 

Jake notices the maze of thoughts you were lost in.

“Noona,” he says, placing his jacket over the arm of the couch. “Are you sure you want this?”

Want. It was hard to stitch words as a response to that. Not when your heart has only wanted one person for years.

To be fair you do want Jake in your bed tonight. Objectively, he is super attractive - his soft, wavy hair, those wide, doe eyes, and a jawline that could cut glass.

No time to waste. You turn to him, slowly unzipping your dress and letting it slip to the floor. “Does this answer your question?”

“Yes, yes, it does,” he walks in long strides over to you, yanking up his shirt in one fell swoop, revealing his toned stomach.

His hands cup your face and soon you feel his lips against your… neck? Ok, you can get into this. It’s not like you hate it. 

He spends a few moments kissing you there. You close your eyes, willing your brain to shut off and just be in the moment.

“Can I touch you here?” One of his hands ghosts the side of your rib, inching towards the underside of your breast.

But before you can answer, loud knocks pound at your door.

“What the hell?” You hastily pull up your dress, zipping it up quickly. The furious raps continue and you can hear a voice behind it.

Jake follows you as you head to the door, picking up his tee from the floor and pulling it over his torso.

Bothered at the urgent banging, you don’t think to view the peep hole as you swing the door open, revealing 

“Yoongi?” you squeak.

“Get out.” Eyes bloodshot, he strides past you and goes for Jake, who quickly tries to side-step him, moving a few steps back to create distance between them.

“Yoongi-ssi?” Jake's eyes, wide as saucers, go to his elder then to you, before a realization dawns on him. “They said you weren't– Fuck, I swear I really thought–.”

"Get. Out." His voice is cold, laced with a fury you’ve never heard from him before. He grabs Jake by the arm, practically shoving him toward the door.

Jake casts a pitiful glance back, mumbling, "Sorry, noona," even though he’s done nothing wrong. But you don’t see it. Your hands are covering your face, trying to shield yourself from the shock and shame crashing over you as the scene unfolds.

“Fuck off, kid.”

And then the door slams shut.

Yoongi paces the room like a caged animal, his hand raking through his sweaty hair in frustration. His breathing is heavy, almost ragged, as if he’s on the verge of losing control.

You finally find your voice. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You can't just barge in my room like that!”

“I just did,” he fires back. “Why are you with him?”

“It's none of your business. But since you really wanna know. I was about ready to fuck him.”

He clenches his jaw, his voice strained. “Did he touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck!” 

His hand shakes as he drags it through his hair again, his frustration barely contained. “Did you want him to?”

You can't understand why he’s asking these questions, why he’s reacting like this.

“Yoongi,” you exhale heavily, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. “Why are you here?”

Yoongi’s POV

Min Yoongi likes being in Las Vegas. The city buzzes with an electric energy, a stark contrast to his own chill demeanor. It’s a place where neon lights flash all night, and the unpredictable atmosphere makes him feel like a fish out of water—a thrilling kind of discomfort. He doesn't get why a city so loud and chaotic captivates him, but it does.

He was never one for outlandish, over-the-top spectacles, but the Cirque du Soleil show he watched with you and Hobi the other night instantly became one of his favorites.

He never liked recreational gambling, but the way you lit up with joy and hugged him tight after winning just 20 bucks at a random slot machine—it’s now one of his most cherished memories.

He never fared well in big, buffet restaurants, but if it means hearing you shout “Yoongi, carry meeee” (so stupid) as you beg him for a piggy back ride after downing five heaping plates, then maybe he can start looking up some buffets back home, too.

Las Vegas is free. Las Vegas is wild. Min Yoongi is not. 

At least, not until that night when he tore past wild and plunged into nothing short of primal.

Straight out of a segment from The Animal Planet, he was a tiger, lounging contentedly with his pack. You were his queen, his chosen mate—though you don’t know it yet. But when a looming threat emerges, the alpha in him awakens, tapping into ancient survival instincts to protect what’s his.

First, he observed the threat.

Some guy from production. Jake. He’s HYBE's new ace videographer from Australia. Isn’t he younger than her?

Oh shit, this was the dude Yoongi actually handpicked to be the director of photography for his documentary. He might have to rethink this, depending on how things play out.

Fucker has his hand on your back and you shift subtly so his hand falls away. This is good, you don’t seem to be too into his advances, Yoongi tells himself, relaxing slightly on his chair.

Second, he assessed the situation.

Unfortunately for him, the situation escalated quickly.

Never in his life has he ever wanted to gouge his eyes out so badly. If he could actually shove his fingers in his eye sockets and scoop his eyeballs from his skull he would have done it right then. Yet somehow he couldn't look away. There was a sick, sadistic pleasure in watching you lose yourself on the dance floor. Like a voyeur, he stared, mouth slightly parted, breathless as your body grinds in time with the bass. He didn’t want to acknowledge the other man in the picture, the one that wasn’t him.

“You’re drooling, hyung,” Jungkook teases, and Jimin erupts in a fit of giggles, almost falling out of the bar stool.

Yoongi wants to deny it. But between the ache in his heart and the boner in his pants, he did not have it in him to lie. “Pass me a napkin, dipshit.”

Third, he sensed danger.

Unfortunately again, he had to use the toilet at some point. And as he returns to his spot on the balcony, he panics.

“Where the fuck is she?”

Jimin looked at him, warily. “They left.”

No, he thought. No, no, no they’re not leaving this club. They are not leaving his sight.

Fourth, he took decisive action.

A rush of adrenaline coursed through his body spurring him to run out the door, his phone on his ear as he tries to reach his driver.

“Hyung, stop.” Jimin runs to keep up with him. “Where are you going?”

“You know where.”

“Why?”

His head is pounding. He cannot think straight. And Jimin asking so many questions is so fucking annoying.

“You know why.”

Jimin sighs exasperatedly. “Why didn’t you idiots just talk about this like normal people?”

He doesn’t answer his friend, but he knows Jimin will be coming with him, whether he likes it or not. Because Jimin, nosy as he may be, is also one of the last real ones in his life.

Fifth, he confronts the threat head-on.

Which has brought him here, in your room, acting like the unhinged motherfucker he never aspired to be.

Your stern voice shakes him from his thoughts. “If you’re just going to stand there, just get outta here, Yoongi.”

“No.”

“No?” you let out a huff, a bitter sound cutting him. “You got some fuckin’ nerve. You ask me all sorts of questions, but you can't answer mine, huh?”

He has never seen this look in your eyes, and he starts to regret the hasty decision to come to your room. 

Now, he was confronted with the first and very real possibility of you walking out of his life.

“Again, why are you here?” you ask, your voice a notch softer than it should be. It’s clear you’re exhausted, your tear-filled eyes an indication, wanting nothing more than for everything to make sense.

He cautiously pads towards you and gently reaches out for your hand. To his relief, you let him take it and he envelops it in both of his.

He takes one good look at you, committing your face to memory, because in his mind, this could be the point where your friendship ends.

He takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes for a moment, before a confession finally spills from his lips. “Because I can't lose you.”

You blink and a lone tear spills free.

“I heard you on the phone with Jimin and what you said broke me. I keep thinking what I did wrong, but I can't figure it out. Then I saw you with that guy and I lost my shit. You know I'm terrible at expressing myself, but I need you, ok? More than I can say. Don't go. I can’t let you go.” He tugs you gently towards him, encasing you in his arms.

It didn’t take long for you to return the hug, pressing your cheek against his chest, and he is certain you can finally hear his heart that beats only for you. How he wishes he can summon the courage to say so. But the moment feels so delicate and he wants to tread lightly. 

“Yoongi…” you sigh out his name and his heart races at how tenderly you seem to have surrendered to him. 

“I’m so sorry that I was such a dick to you. Didn’t mean to ice you out. Honestly, that’s the last thing I ever wanted.”

“What is it that you want, then?”

“This.” He tightened his arms a tad against your frame to make a point, before pulling his head back, just enough to be able to see your eyes when he says, “You.”

Your breath hitches and he is unable to read the expression in your face. Was it just shock? Was it dismay? A slight panic bubbles in his throat. Did he misread the signs? Did he just blow it? But you felt so pliant under his touch, you still do. So he had to ask, even if your response might just end him.

“Y-you don’t want this?”

“No, I do, I do,” you say, almost too quickly, nibbling on your bottom lip afterwards. His thumb goes to caress your cheek, and you lean slightly into his touch.

‘Fuckin’ do something,’ his brain screams at him, the way it has for years now. 

So many words are still unspoken between you two, but as he looks at the affection and the want in your eyes, he decides–fuck it, you can talk later.

"I really want to kiss you right now," he finally admits, his voice low but steady. "Is that okay?"

You nod, but hesitate. "I’m just—” you place a hand on his shoulder, as if to anchor yourself on him. “I’m afraid that if I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

He lets out a breath, a smile playing on his lips as he sees yours curve into a shy grin.

“That’s exactly what I want,” he murmurs as he closes the gap, his lips almost grazing yours.

“I don’t want to just be your friend anymore, Yoongi.” Your nose nudges his, inviting him to make the next move.

“You were never just a friend,” he whispers against the corner of your mouth.

“And after this,” you say, moving your hands to the back of his neck, “I might want you all to myself.”

His lips brush against yours, featherlight. It’s barely a kiss, just a fleeting touch, but it leaves you both craving more.

“Baby,” he breathes, “I’m already yours.”

A/N: What do we think??? Feedback is appreciated! Do we hear wedding bells, or nah? See you in Part Two! 🙂

Tag: @tea4sykes @mggv97 @jajabro @yooglefics @codeinebelle @tinytan-gerine @comingupwithacoolnameishard @dontcribuyabag @mizz-kraziii @angelfuzzy2 @marnz1990 @speedyhandsbonkpalace @amarawayne @coffeedepressionsoup @little-cherry01 @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @lolpanda94 @parapiop7 @wobblewobble822 @dazzlingjade @storyofafangirl @yoongrace @mzbtsreads

Thank you so much for reading, you beautiful human! xo

[captainchrisstan]

✿ Fic Recommendations ✿

Sorry some members don’t have as many as others, these are just genuinely writings I love and have come across souly on my page. Does not mean I like them any less. Side note realizing now some of these are links to my reblog of the fic🙃

-Everything here is smut (I believe lol)

˚ ༘❀Bangchan

•Angel Baby @chanstasy

•Bangchan Worshipper @felixknow

•Just Once - Say Yes @bandgie

•Breeding Kink @straykeedz

•So Perfect @skzdust

˚ ༘❀Lee Know

•Raspberry Pie @tasteleeknow

•Growing Pains @cinnaminhoroll

•*No Tittle* @slutforleeminho

•Off-Road Trip @puppym3

•Pussy Drunk @fluffylino

˚ ༘❀Changbin

•Stretch @baby-yongbok

•RentABoyfriend.Com @cheesiedomino

•Worship @httpdwaekki

•In Your Strong Arms @moonchild9350

•Worship @dwaekkicidal

•Under The Table @puppym3

(Love that theirs so many Worshiping fics with him)

˚ ༘❀Hyunjin

•Drummer Hyunjin @minniesmutt

•Honey’s @cbini

•Guidance @quokkawritesarchivee

˚ ༘❀Han

•*No Tittle* @number1jeonginstan

•Impatience Kills @sugarstainzz

•Yeah I Hate You Too @byeoltoyuki

•Desire Thee @minniesmutt

•*No Title* @number1jeonginstan

•Siren Jisung @minminbunny

˚ ༘❀Felix

•Quiet @daisykihannie

•Listen @minniesmutt

•Little Things @hyungszn

•Tonight @miss-daisy04

˚ ༘❀Seungmin

•Everyone Adores You (I Hate That I Do Too) @seung-mong

•What Are You Looking At? @quokkawritesarchivee

•Pussy Drunk @fluffylino

•Needy Nerdy @bluejutdae

•Good Pup (2Min) @bandgie

•Backseat @baby-yongbok

˚ ༘❀Jeongin

•In control @godslino

•Prove It @luvyeni

•Grown (VocalRacha) @daisykihannie

•My Baby @puppym3

˚ ༘❀Series(s) Master Lists

•NSFW Alphabet @miss-daisy04

•All Bark And No Bite @doitforbangchan

•Enter The Chat Room @minniesmutt

•The Incident @dwaekkicidal

[captainchrisstan]

Probably doing it cuz if not Felix will be crying for 2-3 hours

[captainchrisstan]

　 ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ℳ.

as of 09/11/2024.

WARNINGS: ☁️ — angst | 🌹 — smut | 🪽 — sensitive themes

࿐ ! 𝑻𝑿𝑻

🩵 YEONJUN ─── 𐙚˙⋆.˚ 🎞️

① ( rain flower ) ࣭ 𖧷 ⸰ ͘ ࣭⠀⸰. 2.5k ☁️

“ one rainy day in august, you meet again. he wishes words were enough. they’re not. he’ll try to convince you otherwise. ”

࿐ ! 𝑺𝑲𝒁

🤍 HYUNJIN ─── 𐙚˙⋆.˚ 📷

① ( use me ) . ♡ ۫ . ୧ ⠁ ⟡ 4.3k ☁️🌹

“ hyunjin would make you stay—he’d give anything. ”

② ( lavender girl ) . ♡ ۫ . ୧ ⠁ ⟡ 6.9k ☁️🌹

“ before bang chan, there’d been hyunjin. deranged, tatted up, borderline alcoholic hwang hyunjin, and his obsession with you. your angel doll, always and forever. ”

③ ( pisces sun ) . ♡ ۫ . ୧ ⠁ ⟡ 3.7k ☁️🌹

“ the tone of his voice—don’t trust me, sweetheart. i will lie to you and get away with it—he thinks you ignored it. he thinks that was a mistake. one he doesn’t care to fix. ”

🤎 JISUNG ─── 𐙚˙⋆.˚ 🎼

① ( 11 o’clock tick tock ) 軟 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚ 11k part II of HOGWARTS.

“ you ask yourself when it changed. when did runes become decisions, and books holes to hide unspeakable truths? was it when you neared your captain with the Golden Snitch, and he couldn’t look away from the gold? or was it when he ran after you the first time but not the second one? decisions accumulate, you conclude. they do, and they mean everything. ”

🖤 CHANGBIN ─── 𐙚˙⋆.˚ 🎤

① ( days of candy ) . 𖤐 ‎ . ⠂ 14.9k ☁️🌹🪽

“ a lot of things happened in motel rooms, even more happened between him and girls like you, girls that ride on his bike and have him by the balls. ”

🩶 CHAN ─── 𐙚˙⋆.˚ 🎹

① ( bad habit ) 𓏲  ָ   ֙⋆ ᜊ﹗ 4.8k ☁️🌹🪽

“ chris has never asked or needed anyone’s help—except yours. ”

② ( route 66 ) 𓏲  ָ   ֙⋆ ᜊ﹗ 2.8k ☁️🌹

“ you should’ve known, the moment you’d enter route 66, you’d be his. chan isn’t a generous man—he doesn’t share well. ”

③ ( daddy issues ) 𓏲  ָ   ֙⋆ ᜊ﹗ 6.9k ☁️🌹🪽

“ what can Chris say about you—you’re his girl. he’d do fucking anything for you. ”

④ ( put me in a movie ) 𓏲  ָ   ֙⋆ ᜊ﹗ 4.1k 🌹

“ chan will show you—he can be anything you want him to be. do anything you want. in exchange for your compliance. ”

⑤ ( dawn to flight ) 𓏲  ָ   ֙⋆ ᜊ﹗ 8.6k part I of HOGWARTS.

“ history will include him in its thickest books. but you? if you stay with him, you’ll be nothing but a mention, an afterthought. ‘she was there, but he was bigger than life,’ and it’ll be true, but it will all be for him, and it wasn’t jealousy or envy— ”

⑥ ( i was all over her ) 𓏲  ָ   ֙⋆ ᜊ﹗ 5.7k ☁️🌹

“ you get off exactly at two o’clock every night. chris is patient—he drinks, and watches. you don’t look very happy where you are. he wants to change that, wants to know why. he’s not happy, either. but he could be, maybe. with you. for you. ”

⑦ ( say yes to heaven ) 𓏲  ָ   ֙⋆ ᜊ﹗ 8.1k ☁️🌹

“ i’m too weak to let you be, to walk away from you. it’s a twisted, distorted thing, what’s going on inside me. i see no end to it, no relief. only suffering. i did this to you, my heart, and i cannot apologize. i don’t want to. i’m jealous, i’m jealous, i’m wretched. ”

⑧ ( teeth ) 𓏲  ָ   ֙⋆ ᜊ﹗ 10.1k ☁️🌹🪽

“ he was born with a gun in his hand, a ticking time bomb in his head. it’s been counting down since, the brain has festered into a landmine, a battlefield. no. peace is a foreign word. reserved only for you. ”

💛 SEUNGMIN ─── 𐙚˙⋆.˚ 🎧

① ( midnight diner ) ꙳﹒☆˚﹢ 8.2k ☁️🌹🪽

“ he’s seen a lot of shit in his line of work. but this—he couldn’t let this go. not when you were involved. ”

② ( darling ) ꙳﹒☆˚﹢ 8k 🌹

“ it hasn’t stopped raining for weeks. as you enter his life, as you walk out of it. he just needs one chance with you. ”

🖇️ MASTERLISTS ──

LAS VEGAS 🌙 TBA.

HOGWARTS 🪄 HIATUS.

ANTHOLOGY 🌊 INDEFINITE HIATUS.

[captainchrisstan]

*⑅୨୧*sharing is caring minsung x f!reader x ot8 partner sharing

summary: it's simple, really - you, jisung and minho, you like sharing. you like sharing and watching and being watched and putting on a show. and when opportunities present themselves, why would you say no.

word count: ∼75k

warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex (don't!), threesomes, foursomes, you name it. individual chapters will come with their own warnings

author's note: I'm a whore for two things: minsung and poly. this is both of those things. a set of loosely connected drabbles about you, minho and jisung sleeping with other members

skzms' masterlist // ko-fi

TAGLIST CLOSED 🔖

༺♡༻ part 1 - hwang hyunjin x f!reader (x han jisung)

summary: Hyunjin knows you're Minho and Jisung's girlfriend, but he's still attracted to you. Not that he would ever act on it – except one night you flirt with him and Jisung doesn't get angry. Quite the opposite …

word count: 7.2k warnings (detailed in chapter): voyeurism & exhibitionism; unprotected sex; dirty talk; oral (m & f receiving); fingering; squirting; creampie; switch!reader and switch!hyunjin; being filmed, sexting, masturbation

ೀ♡ part 2 - yang jeongin x f!reader/lee know x han jisung

summary: Jeongin is being weird and you don't know why. when you confront him, it turns out hyunjin told him about your little … moment, and it got him wondering. but there's no way he can fuck anyone in front of his hyungs. but maybe if they stay in the next room …

word count: 7.6k warnings (detailed in chapter): voyeurism & exhibitionism; unprotected sex; creampie; lots of dirty talk; 69; a tiny bit of foot stuff; cocky innie with a lot of stamina; dom!minho and sub!jisung

˖°♡°˖ part 3 - lee felix x lee know x f!reader x han jisung

summary: “You know how we talked about it and I said I would probably be less involved if we decided to fuck other people?,” Minho says suddenly, voice barely making it above the sound of the music from the speakers. “I think I want this one.”

word count: 9.5k warnings (detailed in chapter): voyeurism & exhibitionism; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it & pee after sex, guys); dirty talk; spit; degradation; oral (m & f receiving); petnames (minho calls lix 'little boy' but not in an ageplay way); mommy & daddy kink; breeding kink; rough sex; dom!minho, sub!felix, sub!jisung, switch!reader

✧˚.♡.˚✧ part 4 - 3racha x f!reader

summary: You didn't plan on sleeping with them when you started riding Jisung on the studio sofa, promise! but it just ... happened. though it seems this time, you and jisung may have bitten off more than you can chew and jealousy starts brewing

word count: 7.6k warnings (detailed in chapter): voyeurism & exhibitionism; unprotected sex; oral; fingering; daddy kink; chansung action; sub!jisung

♡ˎˊ˗ part 4.5 - the aftermath

summary: when you get home, emotions run high

word count: 5.2k warnings (detailed in chapter): unprotected sex; oral; spit; degradation; jealousy; rough sex; boy on boy action; jisung calls minho daddy

bonus content ask: why is minho so upset about chan and changbin?! ask: I know Changbin's off limits now but their chemistry was skvijfjffjrjdjdndjdjd ♡ˎˊ˗ minho barking at chan ♡ˎˊ˗ minho barking at changbin

꒰ა♡໒꒱ part 5 - lee know x f!reader x kim seungmin

summary: You had fucked them all, Seungmin realizes. All of them. Well, all of them except him. why not him?

word count: 6.2k warnings (detailed in chapter): voyeurism & exhibitionism; unprotected sex; oral & fingering (m receiving); edging/orgasm denial; some tears; some degradation; puppy as a nickname (no pet play); sub!seungmin, dom!reader and dom!minho

♡ˎˊ˗ part 5.5

summary: “Do it to me,” he pleads, "I've never wanted to sub, but now I do. Do it to me."

word count: 4.3k warnings (detailed in chapter): voyeurism & exhibitionism; unprotected sex; sub!minho, dom!reader; handjob; oral; dry humping; degradation; choking; spit; edging/orgasm denial; reader calls minho kitten (but no petplay)

♡ˎˊ˗ a hyunsung drabble - more hyunjin bonus content coming soon 👀 ♡ˎˊ˗ pirate AU dream sequence crack drabble

♡ˎˊ˗ truth or dare ot8 x reader summary: you, jisung, minho and the rest of the boys get drunk. changbin suggests spin the bottle. the bottle gets spun, questions get asked, dares get made and things get a little out of hand – not just for the three of you

word count: 7.1k warnings (detailed in chapter): lots of slightly drunk making out; so much voyeurism and exhibitionism; implicit but no explicit consent; mxm action; dry humping; dom/sub dynamics; unsolicited but appreciated nudes (don't ask); unprotected (bathroom) sex

♡ˎˊ˗ truth or dare - minho's pov drabble

♡ˎˊ˗ five's company hwang hyunjin x lee minho x f!reader x lee felix x han jisung

summary: it's the first night since that fateful night of truth or dare that you're all together and can blow off some steam. and tonight, it looks like you might be able to finally explore what this could turn into.

word count: 9k warnings (detailed in chapter): exhibitionism & voyeurism; so much boy x boy action; unrealisitic synching of orgasms; protected and unprotected sex; oral sex (m&f receiving); fingering (m&f receiving); anal sex; dry humping; mommy and daddy kink; one tiny mention of small penis degradation; spit; creampie; public orgasm; moments of insecurity

more seungmin thots <3 ♡ˎˊ˗ jisung getting involved with seungmin thoughts 💭 ask answers 1 and 2 ♡ˎˊ˗ painslut seungmin, inspired by the lab skz code ♡ˎˊ˗ ‘Let me show you how to do it properly puppy’ with seungmin and two different scenarios

♡ˎˊ˗ chanlix backstory!

more? asks, gifs, etc. here

🔖 general taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library 🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!

[captainchrisstan]

SKZ DRABBLE-Minsung

Falling in love with someone isn't a walk in the park. It usually involves a lot of self doubt, realizations, missed signs, and a whole lot of dumb. Falling in love with your best friends-both of them-when they're already in love with each other? That's a whole new level of dumb-maybe even absolutely idiotic. Ouch. This is gonna hurt.

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, SKZ Drabble, Han Jisung, Lee Minho, Minsung, Poly!SKZ, minho x you, minho x reader, jisung x you, jisung x reader, minsung x you, minsung x reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, General idiocy

Title: More Than Us

A/N: This turned out way longer than expected. 😅 God speed.

Han Jisung isn't quite sure when he started to fall in love with you.

At first it terrified him-because of that whole thing everyone's told him all his life-You can't fall in love with someone new without falling out of love with someone old.

However, he realized pretty quickly that loving you didn't change any of his feelings for Minho. In fact, if anything, his feelings for the both of you just kept getting stronger.

So in confusion, he had approached Minho after work one night, blurting out all of his tangled messy feelings and emotions, and the older man had simply stared at him with a a characteristic blank expression on his face, before he finally gave a half shrug and said-

"Contrary to societal belief, a relationship can include more than two people, Ji."

And the wheels had started turning right then and there.

Because if there was one thing Han Jisung was more than sure of, it was that he loved Minho with every fiber of his being.

And he loved you too.

****

You aren't quite sure when you had started falling in love with Han Jisung and his boyfriend, Lee Minho.

Gosh, that sounds crazy doesn't it?

But it had happened.

One day, you were friends with the couple-both dramatically different, Jisung bright and happy, Minho reserved and quiet-and then the next, something shifted in your mind, and your whole body started to whine to be next to them, to be with them, to be more.

And the wheels had started turning right then and there.

You couldn't ruin what they had, you wouldn't.

Because you loved them both, and they loved each other, and that was why you needed to keep your space.

****

You step in through the door and are immediately greeted by the sight of Minho sitting on the couch, surrounded by he and Jisung's cats, contentedly hidden almost completely behind a pile of purring fur.

He glances up when you enter, customary unreadable expression on his pretty features, and flicks you a wave, glancing back to the movie he's watching as he quips casually, "Hey, Duchess."

"Hey." You hedge back, stumbling as you try not to get hung up on the cutesie nickname he has always used for you falling from his lips, the way it sounds in his low baritone.

Normally, this is the point where you would tease him for sitting on the couch with his cats on a Friday night, instead of going out with you and Jisung, and he would maybe grumpily protest and playfully place you in a headlock beside him on the couch as you giggled and struggled to break free.

But things are not normal-not since your realization-so instead, you simply leave it at that and avoid his gaze as you duck into the adjoining kitchen.

Jisung is at the stove, working on a steaming pot of ramen that smells amazing, and you swear he has supersonic senses, because almost before you can even enter the room, he's turning to you with that wide, heart shaped grin.

The kind of grin that used to make you laugh and smile in return, but now just hurts your already aching, pining heart.

"(Y/N)!" He exclaims brightly, leaving the spoon and pot of ramen to cross the kitchen to you, arms wide. "I thought I was going to have to go out on my own tonight! You know how old man Minho-hyung is." He whispers the last part as if it's a secret, but it's much too loud, and the shit eating grin on his face tells you he wants Minho to hear him.

"Hey, I heard that, asshole." Minho's annoyed voice retorts sharply from somewhere within the other room, making Jisung's grin even wider.

Mission accomplished.

You sidestep Jisung's hug, trying to ignore the hurt confusion that crosses his face at your rejection, and clear your throat.

Don't let yourself get caught up in their banter, in the warm feeling of being with them, in the feeling of belonging they always bring to you. Just do the thing and get out. It's best for everyone.

You hold up the backpack in your hands toward Jisung. "Felix said you left this at his apartment the other night. I just came to drop it off."

You don't look at Jisung's dark eyes, don't meet his gaze, don't let your fingers brush as he takes the backpack from you.

You can't, because you know you'll see the hurt there and you know you'll break down.

You force yourself to breathe and take a step back from him. "Anyway, I have to go."

"(Y/N)."

Jisung's soft, desperate voice stops your backward descent toward the door, your traitorous feet freezing in their place, even as you will your body to keep moving, to run, to get out of here.

You look up at him, and his eyes are soft, scanning your face, full lips pursed as if to ask you a million questions at once. "Are you okay? Did we do something?"

You shake your head violently, if only to stave off the tears suddenly threatening to clog up your throat. "I'm fine, we're fine, promise." Lies. "I've just been stupidly busy with work and school and my brother's in town-"

It all sounds like such bullshit, even to yourself.

Minho appears in the doorway behind Jisung, and though his emotions aren't clear on his face, the way his hand goes up to rest on Jisung's shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric there, tells you everything you need to know.

"I have to go." You repeat again stupidly, and before either of them can say anything else, you're out the door and stumbling through your tears and the dark back to your car.

*****

Jisung likes the way your eyes crinkle when you're happy.

Cute, he thinks, as you lean over to show him something in the textbook, still laughing, and your perfume wafts into his nose.

"Are you listening to me?" You ask teasingly, as you knock your shoulder into his where you lay beside him on the living room floor, earning yourself a playful glare in return.

"He's not." Minho remarks dryly from his spot on the couch, scrolling through his phone, dark eyebrows raised, plaintively ignoring the mess of papers the two of you have created on his living room floor.

"Yah!" Jisung shoots up dramatically at his boyfriend's words and chucks a pillow at his head, which Minho easily dodges, trying to hide the smirk on his plush lips. "I was listening."

He turns to you, brown eyes wide and overly innocent. "I was listening, (Y/N). Promise." He points to the open page of the textbook and hopes that you don't see how badly he wants you to lean over close to him again. "Look. I can tell you everything you just said."

Minho snorts. "Yeah right."

Jisung shoots him another glare, and the older man flashes him a satisfied smirk, eyebrows raised once more in his direction, and Jisung flushes, because he knows-he knows-his boyfriend is thinking about how whipped Jisung has become for you.

Shut up. He mouths to the older man, who merely laughs and goes back to his phone.

****

As soon as you burst through the door of your own apartment your brother-reclining on the couch, watching some stupid anime-is sitting up, eyes curious.

One look at your face, and his lips instantly pull down into a stern, thin line.

Your tears have dried, but you must still be wearing all your emotions stupidly on your face.

"That good, huh?" He asks reluctantly, as you slouch down onto the couch beside him.

"I don't wanna talk about it." You huff, crossing your arms over your chest before you elbow him hard in the side. "Now hand me the chips."

"Ow take it easy." Changbin growls out, rubbing at his side as he shoots you a glare and tosses you the open bag of chips from the other side of the couch. "I'm not the pair of boyfriends you're desperately in love with yet are too stupid to tell how you feel."

You hit him this time, and he yelps, scrambling away from you down the length of the couch and out of hitting range, before he gives you another sharp glare. "Can you not?"

"Can you not?" You repeat back pettily, matching his dark glower, as you stuff a handful of chips into your mouth and glance toward the tv. "Also, why do you watch this, it's so stupid."

Changbin looks affronted. "Seriously?" He motions to the anime playing on the tv. "You can insult me but I draw the line at insulting Soul Eater."

You humph and push a few more chips into the crevices of your mouth.

There is silence for a bit, just the sound of the anime and the crunching of your snacking, but you can feel Changbin still watching you warily from his safety corner of the sofa.

"What?" You finally snap, not looking at him, because you suddenly feel like crying again and the chips feel like they're turning to flavorless ash in your mouth.

Changbin shrugs. "I know you don't wanna talk about it, but I think you should."

"I don't care what you think." You retort back, still not meeting his gaze.

"Shocker." He quips back, and you almost laugh, and the corners of his lips twitch as you finally glance over at him. He sighs, stretching an arm along the back of the couch, and his voice is serious again. "C'mon, sis, you know I'm only trying to help. I hate seeing you this miserable."

You swallow, your throat dry, and reach for the water bottle Changbin has left on the coffee table. You'll berate him for not using a coaster later.

"I know." You reply quietly after taking a swig of the liquid, though it does nothing for your dry throat. "I hate being this miserable."

Changbin scoots toward you, crossing his legs beneath him as he faces you, and if the two of you were touchy, he probably would have reached out for your hands, but since you're not, he settles for flicking your knee with his socked toe.

"Hey, c'mon." He waits for you to look at him again and then offers you the hint of a smile. "That's not the sister I know. The sister I know just doesn't give up."

His words settle into your aching heart and somehow make it heavier.

"Not anymore." You sigh out, leaning your head against the back of the couch and closing your eyes. It all hurts too much. It's all too much.

Your phone buzzes inside the pocket of your jacket that you had forgotten you were wearing, and you don't pull it out, because you know if you do, Jisung's contact name will be flashing at you brightly, and you can't deal with that right now.

Not now.

"(Y/N)." Changbin leans forward to look at you, even though your eyes are tilted away from his own. "You have to talk to them."

You swallow hard, the feeling of tears coming back with a vengeance. "I can't. I can't ruin what they have, Bin." You whimper, and you cover your eyes with your hands, forcing yourself to take in a few deep breaths. "I can't ruin our friendship like that. I can't risk losing them."

You are surprised to feel Changbin's hand rest on the crown of your head, and when he speaks, you know he's telling you the harsh truth.

"If you don't talk to them, then you already have."

*****

Minho's phone buzzes beside him on the table, but he ignores it, intensely focused on cutting the onions just right so that they give bursts of flavor but don't overwhelm the entirety of the dish.

The phone buzzes again. And then once more. Insistent this time.

He sighs, rolling his eyes and abandoning his knife, as he strips off one of his gloves and reaches for the cursedly annoying device yelling at him from the countertop.

He glances at the screen, wiping away the condensation there, gathered from the closely boiling pots on the large stove, and rolls his eyes again, harder this time.

Of course it's the stupid group chat you and Jisung had made him join.

He swipes open the conversation and reads through the string of new messages.

Ji 🖤

Yo, buttknuckles, u

wanna get coffee after

class? 😜

Duchess 🐈

Only if it's poisoned

so I don't have to

spend time with you.😘

Ji 🖤

Ouch.

In that case, I guess

I'll see if my BOYFRIEND

is available.

Duchess 🐈

✨💖💜👌😎

Where is your

boyfriend btw. I'm

starting to think

he's imaginary.

Ji 🖤

Probably at his dumb

restaurant being a dumb

sexy chef or something

idk.👨🏽‍🍳🍆🍑

Duchess 🐈

It is pretty dumb

of him to be so

sexy all the time.😜

Ji 🖤

That's what I said!!

Just plain rude.😡

Altho, he can have my

eggplant any time

iykwim.👀

Minho

Would you two

shut up already?

Wasn't there a coffee

invite on the line

somewhere before

all this idiocy?

Ji 🖤

*GASP*

HE LIVES

Duchess 🐈

Wait if Minho's

going then I'm

back in. 🏃🏽‍♀️

Minho locks his phone, ignoring the continuing message tones, and sets it aside, returning to the recipe he's working on.

Seriously. He swears most days he hates the two of you.

Actually, most days he hates most people. He much prefers cats.

However, he can't deny the slight smile that stays on his face through the rest of the work day as the messages continue to pour in and the coffee date grows closer.

*****

"I need you to kill me." You groan out on Monday morning, after a weekend full of tears and more ice cream than you care to admit.

"Why would we do that?" Chan asks worriedly, as you slump into your seat beside his desk and rest your cheek on the cool wood.

"I'll do the honors." Hyunjin offers from his position in the doorway, snapping his exam gloves loudly as he takes a step toward you.

"Nobody's killing anyone." Chan speaks up, waving a frantic hand toward the advancing Hyunjin, who merely shrugs his slender shoulders and leans back against the wall of the office once more.

When the dentist turns back to you once more, his voice is low and sympathetic. "Seriously though. Why do you need us to kill you?"

You groan and tilt your head up from your arms to meet the man's concerned dark gaze. "I had to see them this weekend."

"Uh oh." Hyunjin says from behind you, and you nod in agreement before hiding your face once more.

"It was awful." You groan out, thinking of the hurt look on Jisung's face, the wary look in Minho's eyes, the unanswered string of text messages still weighing down your phone. "And then Changbin said I needed to talk to them."

"I mean, he probably has a poi-" Seungmin chirps up from beside Hyunjin, having entered the office to see what was going on and getting the tail end of the conversation.

There is the sharp thwack of someone hitting Seungmin's arm, and a yelp as his words trail off, and then his voice is back, slightly higher this time. "-sonous mind disease because that is the stupidest idea ever! What an asshole, ya know?"

You push your chair back from the desk and stand, reaching up to run a hand through your hair. "Listen, thanks for trying to make me feel better guys, but it's not gonna work. I think I just need to focus on other things."

Chan stands too, still eyeing you cautiously, but gives you a hesitant smile as he adjusts his lab coat over the dark teal of his scrubs. "Okay, well, we're here if you need us."

"And I can still kill you if you want." Hyunjin sidles up to you and whispers as Chan turns to ask Seungmin about an upcoming patient.

You give him the hint of a smile. "Thanks, Jinnie. I always knew I could count on you."

There is the sound of a crash from down the hallway in one of the exam rooms, followed by alarmed yelling, and then Jeongin-the newest dental assistant-comes sprinting into the room, eyes wide, scrubs covered in toothpaste and water stains.

"Um-" He pants, trying to catch his breath, as you all stare at him, before he gestures back the way he came. "Someone better come. I think the machine is on turbo mode and it's stuck in Mrs. Shen's hair."

Chan pats your back as the other boys scramble to go help the patient whose routine teeth cleaning has turned into a dentistry nightmare.

"You said you wanted distractions. No better place than the office."

****

The first time you realize you might be in love with Han Jisung is when you're playing Mario Kart.

"Ha!" Jisung exclaims loudly, as he shoots a red shell into the tires of your horse mobile and speeds past you to cross the finish line first, throwing his controller up into the air in triumph. "I win again!"

"This is bullshit." You complain, leveling him with a glare, as you flip him off, the overly cheery music from the game not seeming to fit the sudden dark cloud of losing that has descended over you. "You're cheating."

"No such thing, baby." Jisung replies smugly, his arms behind his head, as he leans back into the couch beside you and smirks at you. "I'm just better than you at Mario Kart. Admit it."

You stick out your tongue at him. "Never."

"You wanna go again?" Something competitive gleams in his dark almond eyes as he sits up and leans toward you, long fingers ticking the buttons of his controllers in a steady pattern as he watches you. "I mean, I'll keep beating you into the ground for as long as you want. Just don't start crying on me or something."

You shove his shoulder and make him lose his balance as he laughs. "I don't cry, Han Jisung. Especially not when it comes to you."

He raises a finger from where he's now lying on his back on the couch, stretched out beside you. "That's not true. Remember when I got my appendix removed-"

You leap onto him and slap your hand over his mouth before he can continue, and you can feel the way his body shakes silently beneath your own with his quakes of laughter.

"Shut up!" You hiss out, fingers clenching into his jaw, as you glare down at him, pinned beneath you. "You promised you wouldn't bring that up again!"

You feel him grin beneath your fingers. "Okay okay. I just thought it was cute that you cared enough to cry over me."

"I wasn't crying over you." You protest with a sniff, removing your fingers from his face, but still remaining on top of him. "I don't like hospitals."

"And Minho doesn't like cats." Jisung snorts and you lean over to glare at him again.

Suddenly you're aware of just how close the two of you are.

You can see the golden flecks in Jisung's eyes, feel the way his chest moves with each breath beneath your legs, the way his full lips-the bottom fuller than the top-part as if he wants to say something but can't find the words.

The Mario music is still playing in the background.

And you're still sitting on top of one of your best friends.

You scramble off of him, cheeks suddenly hot, and reach for your controller once more, trying to ignore looking in his direction.

You clear your throat as Jisung sits up beside you. "One more match. And if you win again, I swear I'll call Minho in here to beat your ass."

*****

The first time you realize you might be in love with Lee Minho is when you're watching the movie Aristocats.

It's raining outside, and Jisung is on campus taking a test, and so Minho suggests the two of you sit down and watch a movie until he gets back.

So here you are, nestled under a blanket, thighs barely brushing, sharing a bowl of popcorn and watching Minho's favorite childhood movie.

He'll never admit it, but you're pretty sure it's just his favorite movie.

"I had a crush on O'Malley growing up." You admit quietly, watching the familiar orange tabby cat appear on the screen, dancing his way into Duchess's and the kittens' hearts.

Minho glances at you, brow raised. "Really? The alley cat?"

"Hey." You shrug your shoulder into his and he lets out a little grunt of annoyance. "I've always liked the outcast morally grey characters."

"Figures." Minho mutters under his breath around a mouthful of popcorn, and you shove him again.

You both watch the movie in silence for awhile, the sound of the rain slanting against the windows a comforting backdrop, and it is not until the part where O'Malley and Duchess are sitting on the rooftop that Minho speaks again.

"You know this's where your stupid nickname came from, right?"

You glance over at him, surprise written across your face. He scoffs, rolling his eyes, and motions toward the movie.

"What, like, Duchess the cat?" You ask, still slightly shocked, the surprise coloring your tone as you continue to stare at him. "Why?"

"Dunno." Minho shrugs one shoulder noncommittally, not looking at you, eyes back on the screen. "I guess it started out as a way to annoy you."

You roll your eyes, reaching to push him, but he ducks out of the way, having caught on by the third time, and shoots you a glare that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"But then." He continues, cocking his head as he studies you, and suddenly, you feel a weird swirl start to begin in the bottom of your stomach. "I guess it just fit. And now it's stuck."

You can't help but notice the way Minho's top lip is fuller than his bottom, but you try not to focus too much on that, as you ask curiously, "But why a cat?"

"Hmm." Minho makes a sound and shrugs again, turning his attention back to the movie, and you're suddenly all too aware that your thighs are pressed against one another. "Dunno. I guess I just like cats."

*****

You are on the bus home from work when your phone dings in the pocket of your coat.

You know it's from them. It's always from them.

Sighing, you reach into the pocket, and against your better judgement, swipe open the lock screen to the waiting text messages.

The sight of both their names on the lit up screen has you instantly regretting your decision as your heart breaks in two.

👌🏽Sungie👌🏽

Hey I know ur not

reading these but

if u do we need 2 talk.

👌🏽Sungie👌🏽

Pls.

Minnie👴🏽

We can't fix

anything if you

won't talk to us.

Minnie👴🏽

And this is stupid.

You take in a deep breath through your nose and click the phone off, but you hesitate before putting it back into your pocket.

The sounds of the driver announcing the next stop are suddenly too loud, and you glance out the window, noting briefly that you're passing through Jisung and Minho's neighborhood.

And suddenly, something crazy, something desperate takes hold of you and you yank down on the red chain beside you.

The bus comes to a grinding halt and you squeeze through the disgruntled riders-muttering apologies-to the front, before paying the driver and stepping out into the cool evening air.

You don't know what you're doing.

You're not even sure if you want to be doing it.

But your feet take you resolutely down the path that you've walked so many times from the bus stop to the apartments hidden in the trees, and after another deep breath, fists clenched into the fabric of your coat, eyes watering from the cold, you step inside.

****

Knocking on the door is the hardest thing you've ever done, and you almost bail at least five times before you hear the sound of the lock and the handle turning.

The door is pulled open to reveal a rumpled Jisung wearing nothing but sweatpants and a thin overly large t-shirt, and suddenly you realize that it's late, and probably time for dinner and they've both just gotten comfy after getting home from work-

"Shit, I'm sorry." The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, panic starting to rise and claw at your throat as you take a step backward. "I forgot it was so late and you're probably busy-"

"(Y/N)-" Jisung reaches out a hand toward you carefully, cautiously, as if he's trying not to spook a frightened deer.

When you don't take a step toward him he sighs and rakes his hand through his already disheveled hair, and for the first time you notice the dark circles that smudge the skin beneath his eyes.

He motions inside the apartment. "Will you please just come inside?"

You hesitate, but force your feet to move past him and into the warmth and light of the apartment.

"Who is it, Ji?" You hear Minho call from the kitchen, where you can smell something delicious cooking, and he appears in the doorway, wiping his hands on a rag.

His eyes widen slightly at the sight of you, but that's the only thing he gives away.

"Oh."

You feel like you're suffocating.

You realize, as the three of you stand there staring at one another, that Mario Kart is playing on the tv, overly cheery music filling the awkward silence, making the air even more stifling, as if in some sick twisted joke sent to mock you.

Of freaking course this would happen.

"This was a mistake." You choke out, already turning back toward the door and the safety of the night.

"(Y/N) wait!" Jisung desperately calls out from behind you, and you feel as if the tears clouding your vision are making his voice sound like its underwater. His fingers curl around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know you found out somehow, and it made you uncomfortable, and you pulled away and that's all my fault and I'm just-"

He's gasping over his words now and when you turn to look at him, you're surprised to see tears in his eyes mirroring your own. His fingers flinch reflexively tighter on your wrist when your gaze meets his.

"I'm so so sorry." He finishes softly, worrying his plush bottom lip between his teeth, eyes dropping from your own.

"What are you talking about?" You breathe out, because you have no clue what he's referring to, what he thinks you found out, what you were even supposed to have figured out.

His fault? This was your fault.

Jisung's gaze snaps up to your own, eyes wide. "You don't know?"

"Know what?" You sound stupid, even to your own ears, but you honestly still have no idea to what he's referring.

"That he loves you."

Minho steps up behind his boyfriend, hands coming down to rest gently on his shoulders, discerning eyes scanning over the look of shock that flashes across your face.

"Yah." Jisung sniffs and reaches back to halfheartedly smack Minho on the chest. "Don't say it like that." He glances back to you, almost shyly this time, cheeks flushed. "He loves you too, ya know. He's just too hardcore to say it out loud."

You feel as if a thousand tons of bricks has simultaneously flattened you to the floor and been lifted from your shoulders all in the same breath.

"You-" You try out the words on your tongue before you finally manage to slide them out past your lips and voice them out loud. "You love me?"

Jisung nods, and his fingers loosen ever so slightly on your wrist, as if he's not quite so afraid anymore that you'll bolt as soon as he lets you go.

"I was worried that it would be weird. Or that it would ruin things with Minho." He glances over his shoulder at the older taller man, who gives his shoulders a squeeze and nods slightly. Jisung faces you once more. "But I brought it up to him, and it turns out that we both felt the same way and well-" Jisung scuffs his socked toes into the carpet at his feet and bites his lip once more. "I just didn't know how to bring it up with you."

"And then I got all weird." You say breathlessly, the pieces all starting to click into place, your heart doing a weird irregular beat deep in your chest.

"And then you got all weird." Minho reiterates, and when you glance up at him, the hint of a sardonic smile is starting to pull his plush upper lip.

"So I just wanted to say I'm sorry if you found out and it made things weird and ruined our friendship." Jisung is babbling again, and his fingers are tightening on your wrist again, making you wince. "I never wanted that. So if we can just forget everything and go back to how it was because we both really really miss you-"

"Jisung."

Jisung's words come to a halt at the sound of his name coming from your lips, his eyes wide, and you offer him the hint of a smile, reaching up to tap the fingers that still hold your wrist.

"First off, I'm not going to run, so can you please let go of the stranglehold you have on my wrist?"

He releases your arm as if your skin suddenly burns his fingertips.

"Secondly." You swallow, hard, and force yourself to take a step toward them, and your heart is pounding again beneath the warmth of Minho's gaze, beneath the cautious curiosity lighting Jisung's features.

"Secondly." You start again, now standing in front of them, and force yourself to meet their gazes, even though you can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks and your lungs screaming for air.

"I'm in love with you too."

Jisung's mouth drops open so fast that you can't help but laugh, and Minho reaches around to slot the younger man's jaw back into place as he says teasingly, "You're gonna catch flies, Ji."

"Are you serious?" Jisung asks, his voice hoarse, and you're suddenly worried, because he looks like he's going to faint. Luckily, Minho is still behind him to hold him up. "Why didn't you say something??"

You shrug, embarrassment warm on your cheeks again, and it's your turn to scuff the toe of your sneaker into the carpet at your feet.

"Because you two are perfect for each other, and I didn't want to ruin anything."

There is silence for several beats, and then an incredulous laugh bursts past Jisung's lips, catching you off guard.

"What?" You ask defensively, arms crossing over your chest as you muster up a fierce glare to shoot in his direction.

"You didn't want to ruin anything?" Jisung asks, still in shock, staring at you with eyes so wide you're sure they're going to pop out of his head. He turns to Minho, suddenly all business. "Hyung, let me ask you something. If you have a perfect recipe, and you add another perfect ingredient to it, what do you still have?"

You roll your eyes, but Minho answers before you can start to protest.

"A perfect recipe."

"Aha!" Jisung whirls back around to face you, finger waving in your face.

"Will you shut up?" You quip back, sticking your tongue out at him, as Minho watches the two of you helplessly from the background. "I just confessed my love to you and now you're making metaphors. I can still leave ya know!"

"But you won't." Jisung retorts, a smirk suddenly crossing his face as you shut up at his words.

"I could." You threaten, but it's lost some of it's muster from before.

"Honestly, I want both of you to shut up." Minho growls dryly, stepping forward as he's massaging his temples as if he has an oncoming headache. "I know the procedure to get Ji to shut up, but I guess we'll have to see if it works on you too, Duchess."

Before you can ask him what he's talking about, Lee Minho's fingers are sliding along the length of your jaw, angling your chin upward, and his lips are slanting over yours.

You instantly melt, because kissing Minho is like everything you ever imagined.

He's warm and steady beneath your hands, and the way his plush upper lip fits neatly between your own has your body tingling all over, lips parting to breathe him in, the taste of his cherry chapstick strong on your tongue.

And when he pulls away, you want to chase after him, because suddenly, your body is begging and whining for more.

He glances down at you, at the stupid star struck expression you must wear, and a smirk lifts the corner of his lips.

"Guess it does work after all."

"Holy shit."

You both glance over to Jisung, who had been partially forgotten in the moment of the kiss, and his eyes are wide, lips parted slightly, as he stares between the two of you, Minho's hands still resting on your hipbones.

"Was that okay?" You ask hesitantly, as you slide out of Minho's grip and take a few steps toward Jisung, suddenly worried that you've done something to upset him.

Maybe he wasn't okay with you just kissing his boyfriend like that in front of him and rightly so.

"Okay?" Jisung coughs out, reaching up to push dark, thick bangs back from his forehead, before he lets a long, low, controlled breath out from between pursed lips. "That was more than okay. That was super hot."

Something inside your stomach coils pleasantly at his words and you step toward him.

"Is it okay then-" You force more confidence than you feel and reach out, tugging him the final inches toward you by the front of his shirt, a shirt, you now recognize, as one of Minho's, until you're almost nose to nose. "If I kiss you?"

Jisung's breath is warm on your face, and the golden flecks within his eyes seem to be lit from within.

You are aware of Minho coming up behind you as you wait for Jisung's answer, his arms going around your waist, his lips ghosting over the juncture of your neck, making you shiver.

His voice is low in your ear, and his gaze is smoldering on Jisung, your fingers still wrapped in the fabric of his t-shirt. "Ji's a great kisser. But he can get a little ass-grabby in the moment, so be prepared."

Jisung's eye's go wide with shock at his boyfriend's words. "Yah, hyung-!"

His words-and your laugh-are cut off as you cover his mouth with your own.

Jisung is a great kisser.

He's gangly and awkward and all over the place in all other aspects, but when it comes to kissing, he knows his way around.

You pull his plush bottom lip between your teeth, gently, just a little nip, and his lips part in return, his tongue darting out to trace across your mouth, and you reward him with a slight gasp as your fingers dig into the material of his t-shirt, pulling him even closer.

More. More. You need more.

You are distracted from the feel of Jisung's tongue on your own by Minho's lips on the side of your throat, and your body feels like it's going to explode into flames at any moment.

Luckily, Jisung pulls back from you then, eyes dark, pupils blown, lips swollen and wet from kissing, and you both stare at each other dumbly, before he says breathlessly, "See? No ass grabbing."

"Dammit." You respond with a slight grin in his direction.

"Ugh." Minho groans at the flirty teasing and rolls his eyes. "You guys are already unbearable."

"Yep." You pop out between your lips proudly, as you lean up to press a quick kiss to his lips. "And it's only going to get worse."

Jisung's hands slide around your waist and loop into the belt of Minho's pants, pulling him toward the two of you so that he's close enough for the younger man to lean up and kiss him as well, sandwiching you between the two of them.

"Um, excuse me, I'd like to breathe." You complain, but your tone is light and your heart is even lighter.

"Shut up." Jisung quips back, grinning down at where you're squished between the two of them. "Now that we finally have you, we're sure as hell not going to let you go."

*****

BF1😎

Yo, we on for

coffee L8r? ☕

(Y/N)

That depends.

Will Minnie

be there?😍

BF1😎

Ouch. U hurt

me deep. 💔

LY 2 boo.

BF2😑

I'll be there.

BF2😑

Now both of you

shut up. I have

recipes to test.

BF1😎

So much luv

in this relaish.

(Y/N)

Who said

anything about

love. I'm just

here for those

dicks. 🍆🍆

BF1😎

I'm calling

the police.

BF2😑

And I'm muting

this chat.

(Y/N)

WAIT COME BACK.

.....

I love you.💞

BF1😎

Luv u 2,

shawty.😘

See u @ ☕

BF2😑

I love you

both too.

🙄

(Y/N)

OMG HE USED AN EMOJI

BF1😎

OMG✨

THIS IS THE BEST

DAY OF MY LIFE😍

SOMEONE CALL

EOMMA LEE😭😭😭

<BF2😑 has left the group chat>

[captainchrisstan]

About Me

Hi I’m Aris!🐶 (she/her) 23 years old♍ US (EST)🌎

I will mostly post about Enhypen, Stray Kids, TXT, ATEEZ, BTS, Seventeen, &TEAM, and a few other groups.

Fanfiction Recommendation Masterlist

My Top 10 Favorite Stories

My Favorite Authors  

My Favorite A/B/O Fanfiction

A/B/O Fanfiction (Part 1) 

A/B/O Fanfiction (Part 2) 

A/B/O Fanfiction (Part 3) 

A/B/O Fanfiction (Part 4) 

A/B/O Fanfiction (Part 5) 

A/B/O Fanfiction (Part 6) 

A/B/O Fanfiction (Part 7) 

A/B/O Fanfiction (Part 8) 

A/B/O Fanfiction (Part 9) 

My Favorite Soulmate Fanfiction

Soulmate Fanfiction (Part 1) 

Soulmate Fanfiction (Part 2) 

Soulmate Fanfiction (Part 3)

My Favorite Free Use Fanfiction

Free Use Fanfiction (Part 1) 

My Favorite Multiple Partners Fanfiction

MPF (Part 1) - Stray Kids (Part 1) 

MPF (Part 2) - Ateez (Part 1) 

MPF (Part 3) - BTS (Part 1) 

MPF (Part 4) - BTS (Part 2) 

MPF (Part 5) - Ateez (Part 2) 

MPF (Part 6) - Stray Kids (Part 2) 

MPF (Part 7) - Ateez (Part 3) 

[captainchrisstan]

The dads universe | OT7

⤷ in a world where these seven wonderful men became fathers.

the taglist is opened !

all parts contain mature content | 18+ | warnings listed in each part

Before you | jjk

↳ jungkook has taken a huge place in your life after he tattooed you, and you can’t even picture how life was before him. he has always been there for you since day one. but how will things change after you find out you’re pregnant?   

Until i found her | kth

↳ taehyung is your best friend, he’s been part of your life for as long as you can remember. his love life is a complete chaos. there is only one girl he has truly ever loved. that girl is you. but how would things turn out when he finds out that you love him back?

[captainchrisstan]

bts fics that u should read pt. 3 ✮⋆˙

bts x reader, 18+ and contains mature themes. MINORS DNI 🔞

(c) pinterest

pt. 1 here

pt. 2 here

// jeon jungkook

romance is not dead by @personasintro

the act of falling by @kooktrash

candles & flames by @taegularities

proposals by @pjxmin

paint me naked by @gimmethatagustd

strictly platonic by @jeonqkooks

// min yoongi

set on you by @bymoonchild

don't hold hands by @whatifyoulivelikethat

the early shift by @hobidreams

love language by @gukslut

for the night by @aaagustd

please be naked by @floralseokjin

straight shooter by @snackhobi

winter: you’re the one who bloomed me by @hot-soop

want a taste? by @suga-kookiemonster

wine. by @junghelioseok

the second time by @yoongiphoria

yoongi fingering u til you squirt by @here2bbtstrash

cybersex by @gimmethatagustd

vows by @hamsterclaw

the pink pill: “no one else” by @dollfaceksj

// kim namjoon

hammer it home by @gukslut

bloom by @hobidreams

a fine line by @moni-logues

// jeon jungkook/park jimin x reader

knife's edge by @readyplayerhobi

// kim namjoon/min yoongi x reader

collateral by @theharrowing

— to authors mentioned, thank you so much for your stories! 🥺

[captainchrisstan]

The Early Shift | Masterlist

pairing: barista!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst, fluff parts posted: 3/3 + minis below words: 21.4k contains: coffeeshop au, enemies to lovers, much banter, hatefucking

First Sip

your coworker yoongi is always infuriatingly late. except the one time he’s much too early.

genre: smut words: 4.9k preview: but hey, you figure, you can hate someone’s guts and also want them to fuck your brains out, right? 

Second Taste

determined to find the truth, you pay yoongi a visit at his apartment and get more than what you bargained for.

genre: smut, angst (+anger) words: 7k preview: “or what? are you gonna tell me you came here today because you missed my cock that much?”

Last Cup

the last sip of coffee is always the most bittersweet.

genre: smut, angst, sprinkling of fluff words: 9.5k preview: “i’m sorry.”

one - yoongi meets the new (never late) coworker. two - the first time he says it out loud. three {m} - maybe yoongi likes you a bit more than you thought. (ch1 pov shift) four {m} - to celebrate yoongi’s first big break, you give him a proper treat. five {m} - “hey, do you remember the first time i did this?”

[captainchrisstan]

🌃⊹°˖➴ in my dreams, i never have to be alone kim seungmin x f!reader (implied x yang jeongin)

summary: prologue to don't wake me, I'm dreaming of home, but can be read separately. you, seungmin and jeongin have been best friends since the day you met - more than best friends, you've been living in each other's pocket, sleeping all three in a bed more nights than not. what happens when you and seungmin climb into the frat house jacuzzi at one of their parties? lines may finally be crossed

word count: 7k words

author's note: I have no reason for this except I couldn't stop thinking about them <3 can be read separately, but I really recommend reading the whole thing because the fic is so very dear to me. if you want to know, this is the gifset I was staring at while writing this. he's so dreamy. (also I have barely had time to write so this was written over many sessions so if it sucks, pls don't even tell me lol I know it's probably not my best, but it's the best I could do)

warnings: college!au; codependent besties to lovers; (implied) mxm action, as usual; unprotected and intoxicated (but very consensual!) sex; semi-public sex; dirty talk; fingering; body hair otherwise pretty vanilla!!

skzms masterlist // ko-fi

“Y/N we can’t …” Seungmin hiccups, “we can’t do this here!”

You giggle. The world spins a little bit, the stars in the night sky all blurry and streaky. EDM music booms from inside the frat house, through the clear night air, dulled by the closed windows and doors, but still clearly audible. The night air is balmy, the first warm one of the year.

The big terrace and the lawn of the frat are empty. It’s well past midnight. Chan herded everyone inside hours ago to avoid another noise complaint. You and Seungmin stole outside to smoke, shared a joint on the steps to the side entrance, huddled together, whispering, giggling, you sitting a step below him, your head on his thigh, sleepily blinking up at him in a way that sent his mind reeling.

On your way back inside, you spot it, mostly hidden from the main windows in the living room, behind an awning. The jacuzzi. One glance into the living room tells you that you’re alone. The party is in full swing, nobody’s watching. You don’t need any more of an excuse.

Alcohol makes you giddy and impulsive.

“Ah, come ooooon,” you singsong, already skipping over to it, kicking your sneakers and pulling your socks off. Seungmin follows, footing uneven, his sense of reason floating about five feet above his head, courtesy of the drinks and the weed and the energy and maybe even the cloudless night and the first smell of summer on the air.

The jacuzzi bubbles, shimmers an inviting light blue. It’s one of those nights where you feel invincible. Like the world was made for you. These are the nights you will tell your children about once they’re all grown up, you think. The nights that will prove to them that their Mom used to be cool, too.

You cross your arms, take a hold of the hem of your thin knit jumper, and pull it over your head without hesitation. The tank top you’re wearing underneath it follows. You don’t look back to see if Seungmin is watching. Something deep inside you hopes he is.

Alcohol makes you giddy and impulsive. Weed makes you horny and makes you want the two people you know you can’t have. Makes you toe the line, hoping you’ll stumble and finally fall across it.

“You know Innie would do it, if he were here,” you hum as you pop the button of your jeans.

Seungmin sucks in a breath. He could stop, he could not look, but your back is facing towards him. And he’s watched you plenty of times before, secretly, through a crack in the door, or not so secretly, before you crawled into bed with him and Jeongin, eyes greedily raking over any inch of skin you granted him to see. And a part of him wonders if you want him to watch. If you feel it all, too.

You shuck your jeans down your soft thighs, bend over to push them the rest of the way and kick them off your legs, and the rational part of Seungmin’s brain is fighting a losing battle. He thanks his lucky stars that he doesn’t get hard easily because you’re already descending into the hot, bubbling water, the fabric of your underwear clinging to you, before you turn around, waving him towards you with a smile on your face that spells trouble. Seungmin wonders if tonight will be the night that everything changes.

The jacuzzi is warm, but goosebumps race over your skin nonetheless. Maybe it’s the cool night air on your wet shoulders, or the weed, or the thrill of being out here while everyone else is inside. Or maybe it’s the way Seungmin is looking at you, his face unreadable, as always, but his eyes glimmering with something you don’t dare name. You lick your lips, and watch deliriously as Seungmin’s eyes follow the motion as if in a trance.

You smile, lift your finger, crook it, motion for him to come closer. He hesitates for only a second before he does.

Without taking his eyes off you, he toes off his sneakers, pulls off his socks, and finds the hem of his shirt with his hands. Tonight, you don’t look away. Watch him reveal inch after inch of milky, soft skin, stretched taut over his skinny frame. There’s a shadow of a happy trail under his belly button that you know too well, having spent too many stolen moments committing it to memory. His chest isn’t thick, but sweetly defined, his nipples pebbling in the cool night air. There’s a smattering of soft, dark brown hair curling on his chest. His collarbones look like they could cut glass, give him the air of a statue hewn from marble.

Then he pulls the shirt the rest of the way off, and he meets your eyes again, and you don’t know if you’re terrible at hiding just how much you want him, but you think his chest is starting to rise and fall more rapidly. Then his long, gorgeous hands find the fly of his jeans and your mouth goes dry.

Your eyes, glued to his hands as he undoes his pants, nearly makes Seungmin lose his head. He doesn’t know if you’re aware of the way you’re looking at him, or if you’re not looking at him in any way at all, and he’s just imagining it.

He pops the button, drags the zipper of his jeans down. You blink, like you’re coming out of a daze, then your gaze shoots up, your eyes meet his and heat licks up his spine. He realises he’s on borrowed time now, only precious little time to get undressed and into the water before he can no longer hide what you do to him. And he’d rather not find out like that, if wishful thinking has made him delusional.

You watch as he shoves his pants down, your gaze dropping right back down, over the swell of his cock in his briefs, mouth-wateringly heavy-looking even just like this, then down further, over the soft skin of his thighs, the sparse hair that decorates it. When his pants are finally off, your heart is in your throat, your fingertips aching for him to get in, to come closer, even if your courage fails you, even if you don’t get to touch him, just so he’s at least closer, but …

You huff out a laugh.

Seungmin looks up from where he’s haphazardly folding his jeans to throw them where his shoes are and meets your sparkling eyes, giggling.

“What?!”

“Just …” you laugh, the weed making every giggle fizz bliss through your veins like they’re filled with champagne, “just … god, just leave them and get in here.”

You hope Seungmin can’t hear the neediness colouring your voice. Seungmin does hear it. It makes his dick start filling out in earnest, and he throws his jeans out of dodge. He throws his jeans out of dodge quickly (he still doesn’t want them to get dirty and wet, he’d prefer not to have to walk home all the way across campus in only his wet boxers, thank you very much) and takes his first step into the fizzing water. It’s pleasantly warm. The bubbles of the jets tingle on his skin, sensitive from the weed.

Under your watchful eyes, he takes the next step, then another, until he finally sinks down onto the little bench opposite you, warm water lapping up to his chest, a bubble jet massaging his side.

You both freeze there for a moment, but you never stop looking at him, and it’s not like Seungmin can tear his eyes away from you. Your body is mostly hidden, miles of soft skin, hidden under the bubbling water washing against you, droplets beading on your shoulders. Your face is bathed in light blue, shadow and light dancing over your skin, making your eyes sparkle with every movement. A smudge of mascara under your left eye. A sore spot on your lip where you’ve no doubt been biting it, a habit you never could shake. Somewhere inside, the music is still playing, but it feels like the source of it, the party you escaped from, is half a world away. Like there’s only you and him in this moment. Seungmin’s heart hammers in his chest. It’s not the first time he felt like he was standing right at the precipice of something, with you and Jeongin, like one careless movement could change everything. But it’s never, ever felt this real.

Your breathless laugh breaks the silence, makes Seungmin’s eyes flick back up from where they were glued to your lips. Your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest, your whole body screaming for him. You get up on shaky legs, watch Seungmin’s eyes dip down to the swell of your tits in your wet bra for only a split second before they’re back to being trained on your face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. It almost makes you laugh. He’s adorable. You take a tentative step forward.

“Why are you all the way over there …”_

And really, you’re clumsy on a good day, much like Jeongin is. Seungmin makes fun of you for it at least once a week, calling you a danger to yourself and society, taking hot pans and sharp knives out of your hands, his heart thumping in his chest. So he shouldn’t be surprised, when you take a step, your eyes widen, and your foot finds a smooth piece of the floor, instead of one that is covered in those little bumps that are meant to prevent just that – and tumble forwards.

You manage to catch yourself with a hand on the side of the jacuzzi next to Seungmin’s head, but you would’ve slipped sideways, maybe cracked your skull open, if his arm hadn’t shot out, as if on instinct, catching you mid-fall, wrapping securely around your waist and letting you down gently on the bench next to him, one of your legs draped over his lap and–

Oh. He caught you, of course he did, he always catches you, but … you’re so close. He’s right in front of you.

Your Seungmin. Your and Jeongin’s Seungmin. Your best friend. Your home. With his broad nose and his full lips, his cupid’s bow so pretty and kissable, his perfectly arched eyebrows furrowed in concern, probably because you just nearly fell, but you can’t care about that. His concern makes him look all serious and stern, his big, dark eyes, at half-mast, fluttering down to your lips. When he looks back in your eyes, all the sternness melts. Into something softer, something hungrier, something that you greedily wish was made just for you. It’s irresistible. You stare into his eyes. He stares back, his eyes flitting back down to your lips.

And you don’t know who leans in first, but his lips find yours and the only thing you can think is finally.

His lips are plump and as soft as they look, and they move against yours without a shred of hesitation, the tip of his nose pressing into your cheek. His hand comes up behind your head, nudges your head to the side, gently slides his hot, velvet tongue into your mouth and your stomach swoops. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life.

When his tongue brushes against yours, you let out a choked moan that goes straight between Seungmin’s legs and if he was needy before, he feels like he’s starving now. He kisses you deeper, presses closer, feels your fingers run up his chest, over his shoulders, up to the sides of his neck, pulling him closer in turn, pressing your sweet lips against his harder, dragging his bottom lip between your teeth, and he follows, desperately, blindly, until you lose your balance and nearly fall backwards into the water again, but he tightens his arm around you just in time, uses his grip on you to haul you up and into his lap, a wave of water lapping over the side of the jacuzzi as you come to rest there, your knees on either side of his hips, your pretty ass on his thighs.

For all the times you’ve touched, all the times you’ve sat in his lap, you’ve never crossed this line. He thinks it’s because you both knew that if you had, you would’ve ended up right here.

You blink at him, your lips, swollen, kiss slick and slightly parted in the most adorable little o and then wet hands slide into the hair at the back of his head, and you’re kissing him again, so deeply and greedily arousal lances through him and his hips stutter up into nothing. His dick is hard. Just a little bit of kissing with you, and he’s full-mast, absolutely rock fucking hard and aching. He would laugh if your tongue wasn’t in his mouth and he wasn’t trying to not lose his damn mind.

He winds his arm around your waist, but he doesn’t even have to pull – you drag yourself closer all on your own, chest pressing against his, your hips dragging forwards until oh good god.

He doesn’t dare move, sitting there with you perched basically on his cock, you sucking his tongue into your mouth because … because … There’s not enough … fuck, there’s not enough fabric between you. Your chest is covered, but he can feel your belly against his, the softness of your arms over his shoulders, your naked waist under his palms – and your barely clothed heat right above his cock, only separated by two flimsy pieces of soaking wet cotton that allow him … he drags you closer, kisses you harder, his breath hot and heavy against your tongue, trying to distract himself but also selfishly, foolishly, desperately needing you closer because – fuck, he can feel every single curve of your pussy against his cock, and he has never wanted anyone as badly before in his life.

Your hand slides deeper into Seungmin’s hair, tugs just enough to make his breath hitch, as you slowly, carefully, experimentally grind your hips forward, carding through the short black hair as you kiss him, pulling ever so slightly, which makes him groan into your lips desperately.

Your other hand slides down, explores every inch of him you can reach, gliding over the skin of Seungmin’s shoulder, his arms. When your palm drags down his chest, grazes his nipple, smoothes up towards his collarbones and his neck, his cock twitches underneath you and, shit, you knew Seungmin was big (though not too big, you always thought, judging from the stolen glances when he was in his boxers or his sweats – long and thick in just the right proportions that he would probably feel heavily inside of you) but feeling the thickness of his cock drag against your barely clothed centre makes him feel so much bigger.

You would be nervous, but you know you can take it; have shoved several fingers into yourself on nights alone in your room, or those few nights when it was just you, alone in Seungmin’s bed, pressing their pillows into your nose, dreaming of Seungmin, dreaming of Jeongin … The thought of Jeongin nearly makes you buckle under the weight of your longing. Your mind is still hazy, and it’s ridiculously easy to imagine what it would be like if he were here with you, instead of back home, for his grandma’s birthday. If he was right here, in this damn frat house jacuzzi, almost naked, too, his eyes dark, the tips of his hair dripping rivulets of water that run down his toned, thick chest. You find it simultaneously easy and difficult to imagine what he would be like, maybe because you know him so well. Your mind wanders. You imagine the heat of his body behind you, his beautiful, big, knobby hands wrapping around your body, one cupping your breasts, the other reaching out further, sliding into Seungmin’s short, dark hair, tugging even harder than you are, or maybe softly cupping his face … You imagine his hard cock, rutting against your ass as he leans over to drag Seungmin into a filthy, open-mouthed kiss …

You whimper into Seungmin’s lips and Seungmin’s swears he gets dizzy, with you, the heat of the jacuzzi, the grind of your pussy over his cock, your greedy, demanding hands mapping out each and every inch of his body. It’s everything he wanted, but he can’t help it, his mind wanders because it inevitably always does, to you and … to Jeongin.

Seungmin’s hand runs down, smoothes over the plush of your ass, down your thighs and up to your ass again, and he wonders, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like if Jeongin was here.

The mental image of him, sitting in one of the deck chairs, leaning back casually, maybe, his ridiculously built arms crossed over his thick chest, that stupidly cocky grin on his face, narrow, foxy, almost predatory eyes locked onto you and Seungmin, watching you, watching the filthy kisses and Seungmin’s hands and the way you’re rutting your pussy over him, the water doing nothing to hide what’s going on. God, keep going, imaginary Jeongin says, laughs, leans forward, brings one hand down to palm his cock, I’ve been wanting this for years …

Seungmin nearly comes, right there and then, only holds on by a thread and an ungodly amount of self-control, his fingers digging into your hips, forcing you to still.

His head falls back with a quiet groan, eyebrows drawn together and when his head lolls back forward, your breath hitches in your throat. He looks wrecked. He looks beautiful. You’re so fucking in love with him.

“Y/Nie,” he whispers, screws his eyes shut, but you interrupt him.

“Don’t tell me to stop. Please, don’t tell me to stop.”

It’s a breathless whisper, your eyes glued to his lips, your wet hands coming up to cup his face, one of your thumbs swiping over his cheek. His heart aches. He blinks. His heart cracks open. His feelings bleed out of his fingertips and into your skin.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he murmurs, and you meet his eyes. And you understand. The smile that tugs on your lips is beautiful, lit as it is by the blue of the jacuzzi, and he’s helpless. He’s so fucking in love with you.

He winds his hand around the back of your neck, leans up and crashes his lips back into yours.

This time it’s you who pulls away, breathing hard, pressing your forehead against his like being any further away from him would physically hurt you. Your eyes meet.

“Jeongin,” you mutter, and you look so worried. But Seungmin knows. He’s seen how you look at him, how your eyes follow him across any room. How you always stretch an arm over him when he’s in the middle, so you can touch Jeongin, too. He has worried, agonised, of course, whether it was him, only him, but now, with you in his lap and all the love in the world in your eyes, all he can do is let out a nervous laugh.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “me, too.”

You pull back a little, far enough that you can see his entire face.

“You … too?”

It makes nerves bubble in his veins. He’s not good with words, never has been. He thought he could get away with not having to take the chance, not having to say it.

“You’re in love with him,” he says, almost matter-of-factly. The blush blooming on his cheeks says otherwise. You blink at him, then huff in defeat. Here goes nothing. You hope he kissed you like that because he loves you back.

“I … I am, but … I’m also in love with you.”

You say it so sweetly, so calmly. His belly erupts into butterflies.

“M-me, too,” he mumbles, pulls you closer again until he can kiss your lips softly. “Both of you. Always have been.”

You let the words sink in. You laugh out in disbelief. Something in your chest clicks into place.

“Do you …” you start, leaning in to nudge your nose against Seungmin’s. His eyes flutter shut in a movement so vulnerable it sends your heart into a flurry. “D-do you think he loves us, too?”

Seungmin smiles almost sadly, drags you closer, presses a kiss to your cheek, all without opening his eyes once.

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully.

Your lips brush against the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, then his jaw. The gesture is so soft it makes his heart skip a beat. He runs a thumb over the skin of your lower back.

“I think he might …” you murmur, press another kiss to the bottom of his jaw that makes him shiver, despite the warmth of the water.

“Yeah?”

Seungmin asks, and you nod. You press a sloppy, wet kiss against his neck and his cock twitches. God, he’s so turned on.

Gently, he coaxes your face from his neck, cups your face until you’re looking into his eyes again. His other hand disappears back under the water, to your thigh, wandering up, hooking a finger under the waistband of your panties at the side of your waist. Your breath hitches and he smiles at you, makes sure you’re listening, before he manages to get it out.

“And just for the record, I love you, too,” he mumbles, and you stare at him for only a split second before you dive in.

The kiss this time is much less gentle. It’s sloppy, giddy, your smile brushing against the one he can’t hold back any more, pressing your body closer, swivelling your hips down over his cock, still half hard, despite all the talking. The finger he has hooked into your panties drives you fucking crazy. With one of your hands still buried in his hair, you let the other find his there.

When you pull it away from your body, you feel him falter, like he’s about to pull back and apologize, but when you slowly guide his hand between your legs, he shudders out a breath. And he doesn’t need to be told twice, though his breath comes shallower as his fingertips gently brush you over the cotton, the water making everything feel so different, but still mind-numbingly good, but still not even nearly enough.

“Come on,” you mutter, kiss him again, let your tongue dip into his mouth and right back out, making him chase your lips, “touch me. I’ve … ah I’ve waited too long for this.”

And to his credit, he doesn’t hesitate. His fingers slip the material of your panties to the side, and then his middle and ring finger slide over your clit, wet and slippery with the water, and your head falls forward, your forehead thunking against his almost painfully.

“Holy fuck, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal. He rubs at your clit softly, gently, before dipping down, exploring you with his fingers. They’re sure in their touches, almost practised, and the thought makes jealousy flare up in your chest. You’ve only known him, known them, for two years, but that had always felt like a fluke. Like something had gone wrong somewhere, like you were meant to have grown up with them, meant to have been there to be their first, to not have to deal with the knowledge that there was someone before you.

Seungmin dips the tip of his ring finger inside of you, does a little twirling motion with it that makes you half insane with need. You rock your hips down, causing his finger to slip in to the first knuckle, and he sucks in a breath. You kiss it away, hips still moving in little movements, gentle fucking yourself on his finger. And he lets you. Just kisses you back, offers you his hand to hump, and it’s infuriating.

“Seung, please, for the love of God,” you huff against his lips, and he laughs, breathlessly, “I know you’re trying to be all gentle and shit, but I trust you, I’ve been waiting for this for two years, I need you inside of me yesterday.”

Seungmin doesn’t say anything, but there’s something deep, swirling in his eyes, before he pulls your hips down and buries his finger into you to the knuckle. His other hand, that’s still resting on your waist, traces a tortuously slow pace up your side. He leans forward, presses his lips to the wet, salty skin of your neck, sucks. You hope it leaves a mark.

“Two years …” he breathes. He fucks his finger into you, slowly but deeply, and it makes pleasure shiver down your spine. Then he crooks his finger, rubs the pad of it against your walls, and you can’t hold back the helpless twitching of your hips into his touch.

You nod blindly, but you can’t think of anything but the feeling of him inside of you

“M-more, pl-please,” you murmur, and this time you don’t have to wait. Seungmin bullies a second finger inside of you, and you sigh, eyes screwing shut because the pressure is so good. He sets a slow pace, fingering you open on his fingers so deeply and intentionally that you nearly double over, your thighs threatening to start trembling with every brush of his knuckles over your g-spot.

Seungmin knows he’s staring, but he can’t rip his eyes away. You look like a vision, better than any of his dirtiest dreams, better than any porn he’s ever watched; not like that ever did much for him, anyway. But you, towering over him, one of your hands on his shoulder, nails digging into skin, your eyes shut, head thrown back, sinful mouth open, moaning softly – your bra strap fallen down your arm, back arched, your tits jiggling with every bounce as you take your pleasure from him, fuck yourself on his fingers … it’s insane. He’s insane.

“Fuck, I love your fingers,” you babble, almost drunkenly. Seungmin’s chest swells with pride. “You have the nicest hands I’ve ever seen. Except maybe Innie’s.”

Seungmin’s guts burn with arousal. Should he be jealous? He’s not. He huffs out a laugh, but it’s gravelly.

“Except Innie’s, huh,” he teases, and watches as your lips pull into a smile. He crooks his fingers and you moan through it. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You lean down, find his lips, lick into his mouth filthily.

“You don’t think so?” you murmur into his mouth, and suddenly Seungmin understands the game you want to play. You unravel him with one sentence.

“Do you think I don’t see when you stare at his hands? Like last week, when he touched your thigh …”

Seungmin shivers. Last week, when you were all lounging on Seungmin’s couch on their phones, sending each other TikToks back and forth, when Jeongin’s hand had casually found his knee, slid up to rest on his thigh, just high enough to brush against the fabric of his shorts that had ridden up. Seungmin thought he had been at least a little bit subtle, though he knows his eyes were glued to Jeongin’s beautiful hand, his long fingers, the heavy silver ring, his thumb over his skin. He didn’t know you were watching then. God, you had been watching.

He shudders, and you huff out a laugh, though he can hear how much this affects, you, too. You fuck yourself down on his fingers harder, and it rips another twin moan out of both of you.

“W-wanna f-feel you both,” you whisper, and Seungmin’s thoughts spiral, imagines what it would feel like, Jeongin’s fingers, trailing up his wrist, up his own fingers, pushing inside of you alongside his, knuckles grinding against his as you writhe and beg above them, stretched, riding their fingers, begging for …

“Fuck,” he gasps out, the moan that follows louder than any sound he has ever heard himself make. His hips stutter up hard, make a wave of water rush out of the jacuzzi, soaking the wooden deck surrounding it.

You laugh, grind on his hand, your heart thundering in your chest. You feel manic. Insane. Drunk and high and everything in between.

“F-fuck, baby, fuck,” Seungmin curses. His brain feels like it’s about to leak out of his ears. “I never thought I would say this but, fuck, please let me fuck you. Please. I’m going insane.”

Another laugh, light as air, but with something laced into it Seungmin has never heard before. He feels crazed.

You tug at his wrist, enough to let him know to remove his fingers from you, and he complies, nearly loses his head when he feels your fingers tug his boxers down. It’s all a little bit awkward in the water, with you perched on his lap, but somehow you manage it. You suck in a breath when his cock finally springs free. He tries not to let it get to his head but fails spectacularly.

“Like what you see?” he teases, trying to play off just how affected he is. You wrap your hand around him, start stroking him torturously slowly and hum in agreement. You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth with a soft laugh and a lazy grin that’s infuriatingly hot.

“Do you have any idea,” you mutter, press a kiss to his lips, “how often,” another kiss, “I’ve woken up,” another, deeper now, as you pull your underwear off your legs, “with your or Innie’s hard on pressing into my ass?”

Seungmin can’t help but laugh, but it’s breathless. He nearly chokes when he feels the head of his cock nudge against your folds. Everything suddenly feels too hot.

Your eyes get softer, and then you sink down.

“I’ve been dreaming of you for years,” you murmur and bottom out, and Seungmin feels like the breath is punched out of him. His hands fly to your hips, your back, trying ground himself because the feeling of you wrapped around him, so tight and hot and inviting is nothing short of overwhelming.

When he’s buried in you to the hilt you pause, take a moment to get used to the stretch, to the overwhelming knowledge that it’s Seungmin inside you, his hands on your body, his beautiful dark eyes staring into yours, his plump bottom lip caught between his teeth like he’s trying to hold on, too.

It’s surprisingly comforting to be here, in his lap, your nails scratching over his scalp, your chest pressed against his, skin on skin. But then again, it makes sense. It’s Seungmin. You’ve always been safe with him.

You let your forehead fall forwards, come to rest against his again, before you carefully raise yourself up until only the tip of his cock is buried in you, before you sink down again. Seungmin moans, deeply, gutturally, slides down the seat of the jacuzzi to give you more room, to angle his hips and when you fuck yourself down on him again, it’s so good you nearly collapse into his arms.

His hand on your hip is steady, strong, and he uses it to coax you back up, then down, until you’re starting to set a steady rhythm. It’s pathetic, really, how gone you are, your thighs already shaking, but the pressure of him, the way he fills you and drags against you – it’s perfect. He’s perfect. You’re so close already.

He drags the hot palm of his free hand up your spine, settles between your shoulder blades, drags you forward, until he can press his face against your sternum, his hot breath ghosting over you, before he starts pressing kisses there, travelling from there to your collarbones, down the swell of your breasts. You loosen one of your hands from where they were digging into his shoulders to drag down the cup of your bra and Seungmin groans and immediately latches his mouth onto your nipple, lapping at it, sucking it into his mouth, making you sob out in pleasure. Nobody has ever made you feel this way before, and you have no idea if it’s because it’s him, or because you’re in love, or because your bodies are just that perfect for each other.

Your belly burns with pleasure, hot and tight with an orgasm that is building, but can’t be reached because your legs are trembling, and the stupid water makes it difficult to set any kind of faster rhythm, and the frustration makes tears build in your eyes until you can’t hold back the frustrated sob.

Seungmin’s head shoots up, and he stares at you worriedly for only a second, before he puts two and two together. Carefully, he lifts you up until his cock slips out of you, pecking your lips when you let out a pitiful whimper at the loss, and then he wraps an arm around your waist, supports himself on the back of the jacuzzi and hoists himself to his feet. You squeal, tighten your hold around his waist with your legs, cling to his shoulders, but he doesn’t stand for long, instead turns, places you down on your back on the decking of the jacuzzi, your ass sitting perfectly on the edge, before he all but crawls over you, his arms next to your head, his legs still in the water.

“Please, don’t cry … that just … that made me feel things I didn’t know I could feel,” he grumbles out, his pupils blown, eyebrows furrowed together like he can’t believe what he’s saying and God, you love him so much. You giggle, drag him closer until you can pull him into a filthy kiss, one he reciprocates immediately. You pull back, swipe a thumb over his bottom lip, watch in fascination as Seungmin’s mouth opens, his tongue darts out to lick at it.

You look at him with all the fake coyness you can muster.

“You don’t wanna make me cry on your cock?”

Seungmin groans, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he half-heartedly punches the decking next to you.

“Oh God, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles, and your heart swells. You run your hand down his back, drag your nails over his skin until he shivers.

“You can’t die, we need to tell Jeongin we love him, still,” you giggle, completely, stupidly, desperately in love, and Seungmin laughs into the skin of your neck.

“God, I hope he loves us back,” he mumbles, before he pushes himself upright, his eyes still glued to you, but his whole body on display for you, and wraps a hand around his cock and starts stroking himself. You don’t even know where to look.

“Me, too,” you breathe, watch as Seungmin runs a reverent hand down the side of your thigh, wraps your leg around his waist, leans in, lines up his cock and pushes back into you in one smooth movement. The moan you let out sounds like a sigh of relief.

“F-fuck,” he stutters out, “I’ll never get used to this.”

You only whimper in return, a sweet, pitiful sound that stokes more of that fucked up fire in the pit of Seungmin’s stomach. He always knew sleeping with you or Jeongin would rock his fucking world, nothing like high school girlfriends and ill-fated, casual club hookups that didn’t care to learn what he wanted. He always knew sleeping with someone he was in love with would be it for him – but nothing compares to the real thing. He’s obsessed. Utterly, and entirely fucking obsessed with the way you look like this, the way you wrap around his cock like you were made for him, the way you trust him so easily, let him take care of you, the way your features he knows so well helplessly fall into pleasure. It makes him feel drunk on bliss, his whole body burning, every sensation dialled up to 11. You blink at him, your eyes rolling back for a second when he fucks into you deep, and then you reach out; stretch out your hands, tug at his arm until he folds himself over you, and you drag him into a kiss that makes him groan into your mouth.

The kiss is sticky and hot and wet and messy and your legs are wrapped around his waist, hips rocking up to meet every one of his thrusts, and he knows he won’t last long. And it gets even harder to hold on when he fucks into you, bottoms out and grinds his cock in deeper and probably grinds over your clit because you tighten and gush around him so hot and constricting that it makes the world around you blur into the background, his mind, his body, everything, filled with you you you.

His hips work almost by themselves, something animalistic in the way he thrusts you into you, trying to go deeper, get closer. His nails dig into the wood of the deck, his other, shaky hand wrapping around your thigh, trying to hold you in place as he fucks you into you like a madman, spurred on by every moan, every gasp, every delirious little sound he manages to pull out of you.

He’s hurtling towards his orgasm so fast he can barely catch his breath and warn you, slurring something half-conscious into your lips that makes your hands fly to his ass, angle him to grind into you just right, and he’s rewarded with a quiver of your walls around him that punches the breath out of him.

He fucks into you, chasing his high, your high, moans tumbling freely from his mouth right into yours, slick lips sliding over slick lips, hot breath colliding until you squirm, grind into him just as he grinds into you, and then you’re coming, right underneath him. Your back arches, your breath catches in your throat, and you sob out in pleasure, your cunt clenching around him so tightly he can barely move, but it’s enough to send him hurtling over the edge as well. He pulls back, not too far because he feels like he might die if he does, but just enough so he can slip his cock out of you and fist himself desperately until his toes curl and his eyes roll into the back of his head, and he spills, hot and heavy, all over your belly.

When he’s spent, he collapses into your arms. It only takes a few seconds before post-nut clarity hits him like a truck; suddenly, he can feel the ache in his thighs and the pruning of his fingers, remembers where you are when the music from the frat house slowly filters into his consciousness. Before he can freak out, he buries his face in your neck, forces himself to take a few deep breaths, lets the realisation that he can touch you like this now, without hesitating, without overthinking it, soothe him. You’re his. Nothing can hurt him now. You run soft fingertips down his spine. If this is aftercare, he realizes now, it’s what he has always needed.

Slowly, gently, he pulls back, until he can see your face. Sleepy, lax with pleasure, make up smudged and a small smile on your face. Gorgeous. He has to force himself to look away. To turn, to fish his soaked boxers out of the jacuzzi, using them to wipe gingerly between your legs, wipe his sticky cum off your abdomen.

You’re quiet, until you’re not, and your words make him freeze.

“Why did you pull out? Do you hate me?”

Seungmin blinks at you, the shock and disbelief on his face so serious it makes your poker face slip immediately, and you dissolve into giggles. You feel like you’re floating, booze and weed and the hormones from your orgasm making you feel like you’re barely there.

“Just kidding, thanks for not getting me pregnant,” you sigh, when your giggles have calmed down, and Seungmin huffs and rolls his eyes, but it’s different this time. He doesn’t turn away, instead dips in to press a quick kiss to your lips, less as a response to what you said, more to reassure himself that this is real because the way his heart is aching with affection for you and how needy he’s suddenly feeling is threatening to make him freak out.

Your lips are still hot and swollen and pliant, but the kiss itself is softer now. A lazy, loving dance of tongues, your fingers tracing the shape of his jaw, threading through the hair on the side of his head. He shivers, and not because of the cold night air.

When you pull back, you’re smiling. Seungmin’s heart seizes. “We’ll talk to Jeongin,” he says, watches as your eyes soften even further, a devastating little sigh drips past your lips. You nod.

“After his game?” you ask, sadly. You don’t need to say anything else. Seungmin understands. But it doesn’t mean his heart doesn’t ache at the thought of having to resist making every one of his dreams a reality and having to keep something from Jeongin for two whole weeks. But he knows you’re right. You can’t risk it. There’s too much riding on Jeongin’s game.

“After his game,” he agrees.

You kiss him again, sweet and quick, then deeper until his mind is fuzzy, but then something shatters in the house and there’s yelling and Seungmin once again realizes that you’re both naked in the frat house yard with half the college just a few yards away. He gets up, stretches his hand out for you to take, and pulls you to your feet.

“Let’s go home, yeah? Before someone realizes we just fucked in their jacuzzi.”

skzms masterlist // ko-fi

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