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cheers-to-you-th · 5 months ago

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Don't Play Games (my heart is too fragile)

Pairing: Streamer!Seungcheol x Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut !MDNI!, s2f2l (kinda)

Tags: Fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, smut, Streamer!AU, former college classmate!Seungcheol, very short period of angst, slow burn

WC: 21k

Summary: Getting addicted to watching hot men play video games was definitely not on your year's bingo card. Getting addicted to watching Choi Seungcheol of all people? The idea would have been laughable.

Warnings: Smut, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (they’re dumb, you shouldn’t be: wrap it before you tap it), pet names (princess), bigdick!Seungcheol, praise, some angst, lmk if I missed anything

taglist: @christinewithluv @cherry-zip @orngejuic @duckieo

The first time you stumbled upon Seungcheol's stream, it was an accident, a shocking one at that. It was just another boring day at work, your normal podcasts weren't doing it for you- listening about murders while writing a report on "harassment" between two employees who were simply arguing gave you some ideas that would not be very HR Manager of you- so you instead decide to go on twitch, your coworker had once told you it was perfect background noise.

You clicked on the first stream in the gaming category: Val w/coups by 'everyone_woo'. The stream had opened and the face of your old college classmate filled your screen and you nearly got whiplash from the double take you did.

Apparently the aforementioned "Coups" was the former infamous president of Chi Beta Zeta, Choi Seungcheol. It makes sense, you suppose- that they'd be friends- having been in the same frat, but the idea of shy Wonwoo from Engineering and not-so-shy Seungcheol, your fellow Communications major, was a little off-putting. That is, until you remember the other thing they had in common along with the rest of CBZ: sex.

Rumors constantly circulated: who Seungcheol brought upstairs at the last party, what girl Wonwoo was seen dragging into the supply closet near the library; although you were never a part of the rumors they spread like wildfire.

You shoved those thoughts aside as you finished the report, and when the rest of the day went by quicker than normal, you reminded yourself to thank Jeonghan later.

(And you definitely maybe went home and looked up "S.coups" on your computer before deciding his gravelly voice would be your new favorite white noise machine.)

Soon enough listening to him had become a habit; you were working? He was raging over a new fps he was trying; you were cleaning the house? He and Wonwoo were trying a new game pre-release.

—

On Wednesdays you, Minghao, and Jeonghan have a tradition: the three of you meet at a whole-in-the-wall cafe to gossip catch up with each other outside of work-talk. It started back in college, an agreement to always meet in the middle of the week for a break from everything—stress, assignments, life. Even now, years later, with jobs and responsibilities pulling you in different directions, Wednesdays remained sacred.

Today the three of you find yourselves in the same dimly lit restaurant you’ve all sworn by for years. It’s not anything fancy, but its quiet, comfortable, and, most importantly, they have a bartender who never questions the amount of time you all spend loitering at a table long after the food is gone.

Minghao is already there when you arrive, scrolling through his phone with the slight air of disinterest he always carried. Jeonghan shows up moments later, his usual carefree smile in place as he slid into the seat across from you.

“You’re late,” you tease, setting down your bag.

Jeonghan waves a hand dismissively. “Traffic.”

Minghao snorts, locking his phone. “We chose this place because it’s closer to your office so you can walk here.”

“Exactly,” Jeonghan says, grinning. “Too many people in my way.”

You roll your eyes but let it slide, already used to his antics. The three of you order your usuals, conversation flowing easily between catching up on work drama and not-work drama. It’s comfortable, familiar.

Then, as if on cue, Jeonghan’s eyes gleam with mischief, and you know what is coming before he even opens his mouth. “So,” he starts, resting his chin on his hand, “how’s our favorite Twitch streamer?”

You groan. “We’re not doing this.”

“Oh, we absolutely are,” Jeonghan counters. “Minghao, did you know our dear friend here has been religiously listening to Choi Seungcheol rage at video games?”

Minghao raises a brow, intrigued. “Seungcheol? That Seungcheol?”

You huff, sinking into your seat. “It’s just background noise. I put it on while I work.”

Jeonghan’s smirk widens at your dismissal. “Sure. Background noise. Because out of all the streams in the world, you just happened to choose your old college classmate’s?”

Minghao, ever observant, takes a sip of his drink before adding, “You know, he mentioned you a couple times.”

You blink. “What?”

Jeonghan nods enthusiastically. “Oh yeah. Back in CBZ, there was a few months where all he could talk about was you. He thought you were cute and would get really annoyed when you brushed him off. It was super funny seeing him finally get rejected, even if it was just because you were too oblivious to notice him flirting with you.”

“Dense,” Minghao supplies. “That was the word he used.”

You roll your eyes at them, “I wasn’t dense or oblivious, I don’t even remember talking to him for more than ten seconds. I was too focused on trying to graduate, plus he wasn’t my type.”

“Suuuuuure.” Jeonghan leers, “That’s why you listen to his voice on a daily basis now. Regret some things?”

You don’t roll your eyes at him, focusing intently on your drink as you swirl the liquid in your glass. “Whatever, I just thought it was more interesting to listen to someone I kind of knew instead of some random person.”

Jeonghan and Minghao exchange a look that makes it clear this conversation is far from over, but, mercifully, they let it go—for now.

—

A week later they grill you about Seungcheol one more time before finally deciding to let it go, thinking finally you can live in peace.

That’s why you’re almost having a heart attack as you exit the elevator to see the very man of your dreams standing outside the apartment adjacent to yours, moving boxes in hand. Frozen, you stand there gawking looking at him. As if he can feel your gaze, Seungcheol looks over at you and raises an eyebrow in question, looking borderline nervous and irritated. It broke whatever trance you were in as you introduced yourself (trying your best not to stutter) as a former classmate. He visibly relaxed at that while his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Professor Han’s class, right? We had a study group together one time.” You nod, thinking back to how girls had glared at you during class for daring to be randomly grouped with Seungcheol. The session had gone by quickly, slipping your mind until now.

“Uh, yeah, for midterms practice I think. I’m surprised you remember.” Your response has a smile pulling at the corners of his (annoyingly perfect) lips.

“Hard to forget such a pretty face.”

His words cause your eyes to roll, some things never change you suppose. You hum in response, “Except when I first came up here and you looked like I had insulted your entire bloodline or something.”

Seungcheol’s smile, you decide, is your favorite sight. His eyes crinkle at the sides, the cutest dimples form on his cheeks when his lips curl upwards, a chuckle escaping them. “Sorry, I just thought- it doesn’t matter. It was really good seeing you again though.” A matching smile on your face, you offer to help him with any boxes but he only shakes his head.

“I was taught to never let a lady carry her own things, carrying mine? Unheard of. Although if you want to cheer me on I wouldn’t mind seeing your face more.” He winks and you just shake your head, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks. You respond with something about outdated views before excusing yourself to the safety of your apartment, taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart.

—

Over the next few weeks, the two bump into each other frequently; exiting your apartments, entering the complex; each time briefly chatting before going your separate ways. Some nights you would get a notification about a stream, only to hear him talking through your bedroom wall. Part of you felt bad watching him play, guilt gnawing away at your thoughts and distracting you.

It’s fine you tell yourself as you write the marketing team’s monthly performance report.

It’s fine you delude yourself as you hand said report to your deskmate, Minghao, to review.

It’s fi-shit you finally are snapped out of your denial when Minghao hands your report back covered in red pen marks and shame. He says your name with concern lacing his voice, “Have you been doing okay? You seem kind of… off and I’ve never seen this kind of work from you before.”

You shake your head, burying your face in your hands, “Sorry Hao, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He just tilts his head and tells you that, if you ever need to talk, he’s here. That was the downside of working with your best friend– you could never hide anything from him. Normally you’d take him up on the offer- tell him your woes and such- if it wasn’t so goddamn embarrassing. You brush him off before taking a deep breath and steel yourself as you weigh your options. You could either tell Seungcheol that you watch his streams or stop watching them altogether, and you sure as hell wouldn’t be inflating his ego anymore (at least that’s the reason you tell yourself, it’s definitely not that you don’t want him to feel uncomfortable around you).

The rest of the day goes by at a torturing pace, no commentary in the background to make time fly quicker. By the time you get on the bus, you’re half-asleep, and then you’re full asleep, head lulled to the side, bouncing uncomfortably on the window, not that you notice.

“..am? Ma’am this is the last stop. You need to get off now.” The driver of the bus stands in front of you while you rub the sleep out of your eyes and look around. Taking note of the darkness outside the window and unfamiliar street, you sigh and lean your head against the window again, flinching at your slightly bruised head.

Could this day get any fucking better.

You apologize to the driver, who just looks at you with pity, and get off the bus, gauging your surroundings and sighing, breath fogging in front of you. Your bus stop is one of the last ones, meaning after a second you realize where you are and groan, pulling out your phone to call a car. Except of-fucking-course your phone is dead. It’s late, the watch on your wrist reading 11:56 (thank god at least something of yours is working) and look around one more time, hoping a taxi would drive by and save you from the cold night. Shoulders slumped in resignation, you start walking towards your apartment, it’s only a few blocks away, a maybe twenty minute walk, as long as your notoriously shitty sense of direction screws you over, which it does. By the time you reach your building you’re shivering, nose and fingers red as you reach into your bag for your keys.

Keys.

Keys that you remember setting on your desk at work but don’t remember picking up. You want to scream. And cry. Mostly cry, if you’re gonna be honest because now your shitty day turned into an even shittier night. Morning, you realize as your watch now reads 12:34. A shaky laugh escapes your lips as you slump down next to the apartment complex’s glass door that seems to taunt you, as if it's rubbing in your face how close relief is and how unreachable.

You feel your throat start to tighten and tears begin to well in your eyes.

“Y/n?”

You think you’re starting to go insane from the cold until a warm hand lands on your shoulder, a shadow crouching in front of you. Looking up hesitantly, you come face to face with your new neighbor, plastic bag in hand from what you assume to be a late-night snack run. The tears in your eyes start to fall as you begin to sob, if you were in your right mind this would be the most embarrassing moment of your life, but right now you’re cold and hungry and scared and this man appeared like an angel sent from heaven just to help you.

“Oh my god, you’re freezing. What are you even- nevermind that come on.” Seungcheol’s arms wrap around you as he helps you up, getting into the building with his keys and walking with you to the elevator. When it starts to ascend, Seungcheol sets his bag on the ground and takes his jacket off, wrapping it around you. You don’t even have the strength to argue with him, all of it spent on the tears that now slowed to a stop as you look down at your feet, shame starting to kick in. You don’t want to imagine the look on his face right now, knowing it’ll be the same pitying glances you’ve received all day.

The elevator dings as it arrives on the correct floor. Your feet start moving, muscle memory kicking in until you’re at your door, realizing you still don’t have your keys. When an arm once again wraps around you, you don’t even protest, allowing Seungcheol to guide you into his apartment, where he sets blankets and pillows on his couch. When you move to lay on it, he stops you.

“What are you doing? I’m sleeping on the couch, you can take my bed.” The words seemingly bring you out of the numb trance-like state you’d been in ever since you stopped crying.

“I- what?! No, oh my god Seungcheol no, I couldn’t- I mean you’re already doing so much for me and-” A warm hand cups touches your forehead, promptly cutting off your rambling as your frantic eyes meet Seungcheol’s warm gaze. Fuck he shouldn’t look at you like that.

“No offense Y/n but you look like you’re on the verge of hypothermia, you need the bed more than I do.” His hand moves from your cheek to pat the top of your head as you huff, letting Seungcheol guide you to his room where. You can’t help but feel guilty as you watch him rummage through his closet before emerging with a victorious smile and a large T-shirt.

“Wear this- before you argue,” He cuts off your protests before they can even start, “think of it as me not wanting dirty clothes on my bed and, as much as I would love to see it, you are way too cold to be sleeping in panties tonight.”

Your face flushes as you grab the shirt he holds out to you, avoiding his gaze. “Thank you Seungcheol. Really. I’m sorry that you have to do this, but I really do appreciate it.” Glancing up at him, you watch as his teasing smirk melts into something different, softer.

“Don’t apologize. I’ll always be here if you need help with something, what are neighbors for?” walking towards the door, Seungcheol looks back at you one more time, “I normally wouldn’t let you sleep without at least having a warm bath to stop a cold, but I think you’d pass out in the shower if I tried. Get a good night’s rest, yeah? I’ll see you in the morning.” And even after he leaves the room, his warmth stays, the soft gaze he’d given you burned into your eyelids as you drift to sleep.

—

The scent of coffee and bacon wakes you from deep sleep. For a second, you're disoriented, the unfamiliar surroundings causing a brief panic before switching to embarrassment as memories of last night flood back. You're in Seungcheol's bed, wrapped in his sheets that smell faintly of pinewood and something uniquely him.

Sunlight streams through gaps in the curtains, painting stripes across the room. You stretch away the ache in your muscles from the cold and stress of yesterday, tugging the oversized shirt Seungcheol lent you down as you swing your legs over the side of the bed.

Your bare feet hit cool hardwood, as you shuffle towards the bedroom door, following the enticing smell of breakfast. In the kitchen, Seungcheol stands at the stove, his broad back to you.

As you approach, Seungcheol turns, spatula in hand, and flashes you a heart-stopping smile. "Morning. How are you feeling?"

You run a hand through your sleep-mussed hair, suddenly self-conscious. "Better, thanks to you. I can't believe that happened."

"Hey, don’t worry about it," he chuckles. "I figured you could use the rest. Coffee?"

You nod gratefully while he pours you a steaming mug. Seungcheol plates up eggs, bacon, and toast. The domesticity of the scene isn't lost to you - here you are, in his clothes, sharing breakfast in his kitchen. It feels dangerously intimate.

"Thanks," you murmur, accepting the plate he hands you. "You really didn't have to do all this."

Seungcheol waves off your gratitude as he settles across from you at the small kitchen table. "It's no trouble. Besides, I couldn't let you face the day on an empty stomach after last night."

You take a bite of the perfectly crispy bacon, trying not to moan at how good it tastes. As you eat in companionable silence, you can't help but sneak glances at Seungcheol. His hair is slightly mussed from sleep, a slight sleepy haze in his eyes. He looks softer like this, less like the polished streamer and more like the boy you’d seen in college.

"So," he says after a while, setting down his mug. "Want to tell me what happened last night?"

You hesitate, your fork hovering over your plate. What were you supposed to say? That you had been thinking of him non-stop for the last 24 hours? That you were a mess whose sense of direction was almost as bad as your work-life balance? That you'd been caught in what was arguably one of your worst moments, by none other than the main cause of your original turmoil?

He seems to sense your internal conflict because he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. His tone softens, playful but not prying. "You don’t have to, y'know. I just figured you might want to talk about it. Seems like you had a long day, I won’t judge."

You sigh, feeling the weight of exhaustion creep back in. "It’s not even that interesting," you start, avoiding his eyes. " It was just... one thing after another. Fell asleep on the bus, could’t call a taxi caus’ my phone died, forgot my keys at work; Honestly, the world was conspiring against me the whole day, I swear."

Seungcheol hums thoughtfully, swirling the last of his coffee in his mug. "Sounds rough. No one likes walking around in the freezing cold with no way to get inside. It was a good thing I went out when I did, maybe it’s a sign I should take more midnight snack runs."

You laugh softly and promptly ignore the stuttering of your heart, "Hopefully it won’t happen again," you admit. "And… either way it’s not exactly something I want to bother you with."

He raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "You weren’t a bother at all. Besides, I think helping you out is the bare minimum of what neighbors should do, don’t you?"

Neighbor. The word feels heavier than it should, he’s right; all you are to him is a neighbor, nothing more nothing less. You try to play off the feeling of your heart dropping into your shoes, shaking your head with a small laugh. "I have to admit, I’d never have guessed you were the knight-in-shining-armour type. At-night-in-UnderArmour maybe, but this is unexpected"

Seungcheol grins, his dimples flashing. "Hey now, don’t let the frat guy rep fool you. I’ve always been nice."

You laugh at that, the tension in your chest loosening. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

As he rinses the dishes, you take a moment to look around his apartment. It’s cozy, a mix of modern furniture and personal touches—a stack of books on the coffee table, a framed photo of what looks like his old frat brothers on a shelf, and a ridiculous number of gaming peripherals on his desk. It suits him, you think, the same way his easy smile and annoyingly perfect hair suit him.

"So," Seungcheol says, drying his hands before turning to face you. "Any plans today? Or are you planning to crash and catch up on sleep?"

"Work," you groan, already dreading the thought of going back to the office. "I have to deal with a report I butchered yesterday."

"Rough," he says, leaning against the counter. "Tell you what—after work, if you’re up for it, I’ll make dinner. Consider it part two of my neighborly duties."

The offer catches you off guard, but you manage to nod despite the sudden flutter in your stomach. "You don’t have to keep feeding me, you know."

Seungcheol just shrugs, a teasing glint in his eye. "I know. But I want to. Plus, you owe me. You cried on my shirt last night, remember?"

Your jaw drops, heat rushing to your face as you groan. "I did not—!"

"You totally did," he interrupts with a laugh, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. "It’s okay, though. It’s a good story."

"You’d better not go spreading this around mister." you say, pointing a warning finger at him. But the smile tugging at your lips betrays you, and Seungcheol just grins wider.

"Hmm I make no promises madam."

As you gather your things and prepare to face the day, Seungcheol’s warm gaze and easy laughter lingers in your mind, making you feel giddy and guilty at the same time. And as you step out of his apartment, you realize you’re already looking forward to the evening.

—

The day drags on slower than you’d like, each hour feeling like an eternity between the mountain of emails, the endless meetings, and the painstakingly slow process of fixing your stupid report.

By the time you get back to your apartment (with your keys this time, thank god), exhaustion is settled deep in your bones. You drop your bag by the door and kick off your shoes, barely making it to the couch before collapsing in a heap. The thought of getting up, even to change out of your work clothes, feels like an impossible task.

A soft knock at your door jolts you out of your half-asleep state. For a split second, you consider ignoring it, but then you remember Seungcheol’s offer(demand?) from this morning. With a groan, you drag yourself up and shuffle to the door, opening it to find him standing there, a grin on his face and a grocery bag in hand.

"Thought you might be too tired to make it over," he says, holding up the bag. "So, I figured I’d bring the dinner to you."

You blink at him, caught off guard. "You… didn’t have to do that," you mumble, though the smell wafting from the bag has your stomach growling in protest.

He laughs, brushing past you into the apartment. "I know. But you seemed like you had a long day, and I wasn’t about to let you skip a proper meal. Plus, I’m not sure I trust you to make anything edible in your state."

"Hey!" you protest, following him into the kitchen. "I’m perfectly capable of cooking, thank you very much."

He raises an eyebrow, eyes scanning your kitchen clearly unconvinced. "Sure you are. When was the last time you had something that wasn’t instant ramen or takeout?"

You open your mouth to argue, but the words die on your tongue because… well, the empty takeout boxes in your kitchen speak enough. Instead, you cross your arms and huff. "Fine. You win. But only because I’m too tired to argue."

"Glad we’re on the same page," he says, already unpacking the bag and setting up in your kitchen like he owns the place. You watch as he moves with practiced ease, pulling out ingredients and utensils like he’s done this a million times before.

It’s oddly comforting, watching him work. The kitchen feels warmer, cozier, with him in it. You find yourself leaning against the counter, a small smile tugging at your lips as he chats about his day—about how his coworker accidentally sent an email to the entire company, or how he nearly slipped on ice outside his building.

Before you know it, the smell of something delicious fills the air, and your stomach growls loudly, earning a laugh from Seungcheol.

"I guess you’re hungry," he teases, sliding a plate in front of you.

You roll your eyes but can’t hide your grin as you pick up your fork. "If this is bad, I’m never letting you live it down."

He smirks, leaning against the counter as he watches you take your first bite. The flavors hit your tongue, and you can’t help the satisfied hum that escapes you.

"Okay, fine," you admit, reluctantly. "This is… not bad."

"Sure, not bad. Dare you say good?" he says, his grin widening. "You’re welcome, by the way."

The two of you eat together, the conversation flowing easily. It’s light and playful, with just the right amount of teasing to keep you on your toes. By the time the plates are empty, you realize you’re smiling more than you have in days.

As he helps you clean up, you find yourself glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. There’s something about the way he moves, the way he laughs, that makes your chest feel a little too tight and your thoughts a little too scattered.

"Thanks for this," you say softly as he dries the last plate. "I really needed it."

He looks at you, his expression softening. "Anytime," he says simply. "That’s what neighbors are for, right?"

Neighbor. There it is again, that word. But this time, it doesn’t feel as heavy. Because maybe, just maybe, it’s not about what you are to each other now, but about what you could be.

—

A few days pass in a blurry haze. Seungcheol’s number was now saved in your phone, his occasional texts making you more giddy than you’d like to admit. The two of you occasionally see each other in the hallway, tonight he knocks on your door with food in hand, claiming he made too much and offering you some. You invite him in to share the meal (you’re just being a good neighbor), laughing and joking around as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And honestly, it kind of was.

Seungcheol insists on brewing you a cup of tea before he leaves, claiming it’s the perfect way to wind down after a long day. You let him, mostly because you’re too tired to argue but also because, well… It's nice having him here.

He chats while the kettle heats up, leaning casually against the counter like he belongs in your kitchen. The way he speaks, the rhythm of his voice, fills the quiet space in a way that feels natural—like he’s not just filling silence but adding something to it.

When he hands you the steaming mug, his fingers brush yours briefly, and you try not to overthink the spark of warmth that lingers long after he pulls away.

"So, any big plans tomorrow?" he asks, settling into a chair at your kitchen table. It feels oddly domestic, like this is something the two of you do all the time. You shake your head, cradling the mug in your hands. "Just work. Again. Though I’m praying for fewer disasters this time."

He chuckles, resting his chin in his hand as he looks at you. "Sounds like you could use a break. Maybe take the weekend off, do something fun."

You snort softly. “Like what, go clubbing or something? Not really my vibe."

"Doesn’t have to be that extreme," he says, grinning. "It could be something simple. A walk in the park, binge-watching a terrible reality show, or trying out that café down the street you keep mentioning but never go to."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Are you suggesting I take myself on a date?"

"Hey, self-care is important," he says with a shrug, though the teasing glint in his eye suggests he’s enjoying himself. "But if you need a plus-one, I might be available."

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you’re not entirely sure how to respond. Is he joking? Probably. But there’s a softness in his expression that makes you wonder if there’s more to it than that.

"I’ll think about it," you say finally, trying to sound casual. "But don’t get your hopes up, Cheol. I’m not easy to impress."

He smirks, leaning back in his chair. "So it’s Cheol now, huh? Don’t apologize- I like it." he once again practically reads your thoughts, “And here, once you’re done thinking, let me know, yeah? Or in case you get locked out again.” Seungcheol slides over his phone with a new contact open as you roll your eyes, typing your number in anyways.

It’s late by the time he finally leaves, the mug you used now washed and drying on the counter. As you close the door behind him, your apartment feels quieter than it did before. Not in a bad way— the kind of quiet that lets you think. You find yourself replaying the evening in your head: his laugh, the way he somehow managed to turn your chaotic kitchen into a space that felt warm and inviting, the way his gaze didn’t leave you once when the two of you talked.

Shaking your head, you force yourself to focus on getting ready for bed. It’s nothing, you tell yourself. He’s probably just trying to make some new friends in the neighborhood.

But as you crawl under the covers, your mind drifts back to his earlier word, "If you need a plus-one, I might be available." The thought lingers, a soft thread of warmth that wraps around your chest as you grab your phone, typing a message before you can change your mind. Your fingers hover over the screen for a moment before you close your eyes and press send.

You: So how about that date?

The text felt heavier as the three little dots that blink back at you in reply. You hold your breath, heartbeat thudding in your ears.

When his text pops up on your phone, a shy smile automatically spreads across your face as you read it.

Seungcheol: How about Saturday?

Seungcheol: I’ll plan it—just be ready by 10.

The squeal you let out could rival one of a teenage girl on her first date as you kick your feet giddily in bed. Fuck, you were already down so bad. When you hear a chuckle through the wall your phone drops to the floor with a thud as it buzzes again..

Seungcheol: Careful, I might start to hope you’re looking forward to seeing me

This arrogant correct motherfucker. Your fingers type a quick response, trying to save whatever dignity you have left.

You: Saw a spider

You: Anyways where should I meet you?

His response makes your eyes roll with endearment annoyance.

Seungcheol: I think your memories are getting mixed up, spider was what everyone called Hoshi, not me. And no spoilers, just dress comfortably.

—

Two days later, Saturday morning rolls around, and you’re standing in front of your mirror, staring at your outfit for the third time. He said casual, so why are you frantically searching for the perfect attire?

It’s fine, you think, not over the top. He doesn’t know what your closet looks like anyways, for all he knows you always wear this kind of clothes.

Your cozy beige sweater is paired with jeans and ankle boots, casual but still nice. Your makeup is light, natural.

A knock on your door makes your heart jolt. Grabbing your bag, you take a steadying breath before opening it.

Seungcheol stands there, hands casually tucked in his jacket pocket, a grin already spreading across his face. His eyes flick up and down your body once, twice, hitching in some areas before finally settling on your eyes.

“You-” He clears his throat, “You look really good.” His eyes flick away from yours briefly, you swear you hear him mutter something along the lines of too good but it must be your imagination, flustered by how the man in front of you seems almost shy.

“Thanks,” you reply, giving him a similar once over to the one he’d subjected you to earlier.

Black cargo pants with a dark denim jacket (that somehow looks warm) over a white graphic T. The outfit might look sloppy on someone else, but Seungcheol makes it look like he should be on a runway, the clothes draping over him perfectly as though everything was custom-made for him.

“You don’t look half bad yourself.”

“You really are hard to impress huh?” he teases. “Lucky for you I’m always happy to deliver. Ready to go?”

The two of you walk to the parking outside as you chat, getting into his annoyingly nice car. You can’t help but wonder where he’s taking you as the roads out the window blur. No matter how hard you try to pry the information out of him, he doesn’t budge. A lesson in patience, he tells you. When the car finally stops, you look around, surprised– an amusement park.

“Seriously?” you ask, poorly trying to hide your smile as you stare at him.

“What? Too childish for you princess?” he says with a sly grin. You just hum in faux indignation, giving up on any attempt at hiding your smile.

The park is alive with bright lights, lively music; the smell of popcorn and funnel cakes wafting through the chilly air. You wander through the attractions, playing a few games and riding the tamer rides to start. At one of the stands, Seungcheol picks up two pairs of animal ears, holding them where you can’t see.

“Pick a side.” he states with a sparkle in his eyes, hands behind his back.

You roll your eyes at his antics and do as he asks.

“Good choice,” he said, handing you a pair of floppy bunny ears, putting the other set- wolf ears- on his own head. “How do I look?”

You snort. “Ridiculous.”

“Come on princess, I think yours suit you perfectly,” he teased, tugging gently on one of the ears now perched on your head. He drags you over to one of the photo-booths scattered around the park and pulls you inside as you laugh.

His arm is wrapped around you, who instinctively leans into his shoulder as the screen counts down. After some more silly shots, the last timer runs on the screen. The two of you are posing when you impulsively turn your head and press a kiss to his cheek as the flash goes off. Before you can try and see Seungcheols expression you quickly get out of the booth, crouching down to wait for the photos to print. A shadow surrounds you but you ignore it, grabbing the two photo stips and standing up, actively avoiding looking at the man behind you until you feel strong arms circle around your waist.

“Don’t get shy on me now, princess.” Seungcheol’s voice is low and quiet, his breath tickling you neck. He gently turns you around in his arms, forcing you to face him. When you do, you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips.

His eyebrows raise, expression soft and questioning as you raise your hand to his cheek. “You’ve uh.. Got a little something on here.” Before you can wipe off the lipstick mark a hand grabbing your wrist stops you. Seungcheol just hums, the smile on his face growing as he responds. “Leave it there, I like it.”

You look away, flustered, “It might stain.”

His smile only grows further as his hands squeeze your waist reassuringly, “Even better.”

A few more hours fly by in a blur of laughter, shared glances, and the occasional screaming as you ride a roller coaster. As the day winds down, Seungcheol leads you toward the Ferris wheel.

“Ending with a Ferris wheel ride at sunset huh?” you tease with a smirk. “Classic.”

He chuckles. “You’re smiling, so I think it’s worth being cheesy.”

Your face flushes as you step into the car with him, the soft glow of the park lights casting everything in a dreamy haze. As the wheel lifts you higher, you take in the moment—simple, sweet, and perfect.

The car sways gently as it begins to ascend, the world growing smaller beneath your feet. Seungcheol leans back in the seat across from you, his arm casually draped across the edge, as though the intimacy of the situation didn’t seem to bother him at all. Meanwhile, your heart is racing, the memories of the day making it difficult to keep your composure as you keep your eyes trained on the park as it gets smaller and smaller.

“Nice view,” the man across from you murmurs. When you sneak a glance at him, his eyes aren’t on the horizon—they’re focused on you, his soft expression making your breath hitch.

You bite the inside of your cheek, turning to face the window again. “Yeah, it’s beautiful,” you agree, your voice coming out shakier than intended. The warmth of the sunset casts a golden glow across the park below, lights beginning to twinkle as the day faded.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Seungcheol shift slightly closer. “You’ve been smiling all day,” he comments. “Do I get some credit for that, or was it just the funnel cakes?”

You laugh, turning back to meet his gaze. “Oh definitely the funnel cake, But you’re decent company too, I guess.”

He grins, leaning forward just slightly. “Decent? Come on, you can do better than that.”

You raise a brow, trying to hold your ground despite how his closeness makes you feel like melting into the seat. “Don’t push your luck.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the distant hum of the park and the creak of the Ferris wheel as it carries you higher. His expression softens, and he tilts his head slightly, as though weighing his next words carefully. “You know,” he starts, his voice low, “I wasn’t kidding when I said I hoped you were looking forward to seeing me.”

Your breath catches, and you search his face for any trace of teasing, but his expression is nothing but sincerity with a tinge of nervousness. “Maybe I was,” you admit quietly.

His smile widens, dimples returning with full force as the confidence that had momentarily wavered in his eyes returns. “I’m glad. Maybe I was hoping to see you too.”

The car comes to a stop at the top of the wheel, leaving the two of you suspended in the sky. The view is breathtaking, but all you can focus on is the way Seungcheol’s eyes shine, on the curve of his nose, where your lips are stamped on his cheek, how soft and welcoming his own lips look. His fingers brush your own and your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice smooth and steady, as if sensing your hesitation.

You nod, your gaze flicking between his eyes and the hand now gently covering yours. “Yeah. Just… you make me nervous.” As soon as the words leave your mouth you want to jump out of the ferris wheel.

He chuckles softly, the sound halting your thoughts. “Ditto.” he remarks and you swear your heart stops as he leans closer, his voice barely above a whisper. His face is inches from yours, the space between you charged with tension. You could feel the warmth of his breath mixing with your own, the weight of his presence grounding you and making your head spin all at once.

And then, as though the universe decided it hated you, the car jolts slightly, the Ferris wheel beginning its descent. The tension clears, and you both laugh as it dissolves into something softer and more familiar. When you both reach the ground, Seungcheol offers you a hand as you step out of the gondola, not letting go until the two of you reach his car.

Seungcheol opens the passenger door for you, his hand lingering on the frame as you step in. He waits until you’re settled, closing the door with a gentle thud before walking around to the driver’s side. As he slides into the seat, the soft click of the doors locking echoes in the quiet night.

The drive home is comfortable, the radio humming a mellow tune as the city lights streak past the windows. Neither of you speak much, but for once you don’t mind the silence, it’s comfortable, as if the events of the day are still settling in your minds.

When the two of you finally arrive at your adjacent apartments, he turns to look at you.

“So,” he begins, his voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt, “did I live up to your standards of being ‘decent company’?”

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin. “I guess you weren’t terrible,” you reply, feigning nonchalance.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he leans against the wall. “I’ll take it. Progress is progress.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward—it’s heavy with the weight of the day, the laughter, the quiet moments, and the words that neither of you seems quite ready to say.

“Well,” you finally say, your hand moving to the door handle, “thanks for today. I really needed it.”

Seungcheol doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the photo strip from earlier at the amusement park. He holds it out to you, his fingers brushing yours when you take it.

You glance down at the photos—the silly poses, the bunny ears, the surprised look on his face as you kissed his cheek—and your chest tightens in the best way possible. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice almost lost in the stillness.

When you look back up, he’s watching you, his expression unreadable. He shifts, fingers lightly grazing yours.

“Hey,” he says quietly, his voice steadier than you feel. “If you’re up for it… we should do this again sometime.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, all you can do is nod. “Yeah,” you manage, your voice soft. “I’d like that too.”

His smile grows, and for a split second, you think he might lean in, but instead, he squeezes your hand gently before pulling back. “Get some rest.” he says, his tone light but his eyes lingering on yours.

As you open your door, the apartment inside feels emptier than normal. You pause, glancing back at Seungcheol.

“Text me when you’re free,” he says, his grin now fully teasing. “Or, you know, just knock on the wall or something.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you softly close the door. Your heart races as you lean against it, the photo strip still clutched in your hand. You glance down at the images, your smile widening as you run your thumb over the glossy surface.

You were screwed—completely and utterly fucked—but for the first time in a long while, you didn’t mind one bit.

—

Jeonghan is late again, you’d think he’d learn to use his time better on Wednesdays but some things never change, you suppose. You sit across from Hao, sipping on your coffee as he eyes you suspiciously.

“So,” he begins, placing his tea on the table, his voice carrying that signature teasing lilt. “You went on a date.”

You nearly choke, coughing into your hand as you set your drink down. “Excuse me? How do you know that?”

He just smirks, leaning back in his chair with an air of triumph. “I was just guessing but you just confirmed it.”

Your jaw drops at his audacity. “That’s not fair—you tricked me!”

“Hardly,” he replies, stirring his tea with mock innocence. “You’re just too easy to read. So was it good?”

Before you can fire back, a familiar voice cuts in, smooth and teasing. “What’s this about a date?”

You turn to see Jeonghan strolling toward your table, his blazer slung over one shoulder and his hair annoyingly perfect, as if he’d stepped out of a magazine, not his office. He grins as he pulls out a chair to join you.

“Oh, great,” you mutter, sinking into your seat. “Now it’s both of you.”

Jeonghan raises a brow, clearly delighted. “Both of us? This sounds like a story. Go on, I’m listening.”

Minghao smirks, pointing at you with his spoon. “She went on a date.”

“Stop saying it like that,” you shoot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jeonghan’s eyes light up as he leans forward, resting his chin in his hand. “Ooh, let me guess, the new neighbor you told us about?”

You sigh, knowing you’re outnumbered. “Okay, okay fine. Yes, with the neighbor, and it was nice. That’s all you’re getting.”

“Nice?” Jeonghan repeats, feigning disappointment. “That’s all? Come on, you can do better than that. You haven’t been on a date in god-knows how long and all you can say is ‘nice’?”

“Why are you even here?” you snap, though you couldn’t help the laugh that slipped through.

Minghao tilts his head thoughtfully. “Was it ‘okay’ good or ‘planning another date’ good?”

“I’m betting it’s the second one.” Jeonghan said, his voice lilting.

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. “Why do I tell either of you anything?”

Jeonghan flashes his signature cheshire smile, nudging your arm. “Because we’re your favorite. Now, come on. Was there a spark? A magical moment? Did you trip over something and land in his arms? Don’t leave us hanging.”

“Nothing like that, you dork.” you respond, trying to hide your smile but failing miserably. “It was just... fun. Exciting. Better than I thought it would be.” Jeonghan and Minghao exchange a look, one of those silent, unspoken conversations that only the three of you could understand.

“Definitely planning date two,” Minghao says, deadpan.

You groan again, but the warmth of their teasing—playful and supportive—makes it impossible to be annoyed. “I hate you guys,” you mumble, though your laugh gives you away.

“And yet,” Jeonghan teases, raising an imaginary glass, “you keep us around. To your nice, hot neighbor for finally getting you out of your apartment!”

Minghao raises his tea to join in. “Cheers to that.”

Rolling your eyes, you clink your mug against theirs. “You’re both insufferable.”

“For sure,” Minghao says with a smile, “that’s why you love us.”

—

Weeks pass in a blur of updating your nosy friends and texting Seungcheol, soon enough you find yourself looking forward to his messages, giddy feelings replaced with warmth and comfort. The banter is light but always at the edge of something more lingering between every word.

Cheol: So u finally going to admit that you miss me?You: I don’t wanna lie to you Cheol.Cheol: You say that now, but wait until this weekend. You’ll be begging for more.You: Oh? What if I have plans this weekend? You know, being busy and all that.Cheol: Then I guess I’ll have to cancel my dinner reservations :(You: We can't have that can we?

The next message is an address and the words: 7pm

Saturday evening comes faster than you expected, and when you glance at the clock, the realization hits that you’re running behind. You rush to get ready, a mix of excitement and nerves churning in your stomach as you pick out an outfit matching the nice restaurant Seungcheol had sent you. You want to show him a side of yourself that’s more than you coming home or leaving for work.

You choose a dark red dress that hugs your curves in all the right places. The neckline dips just low enough, an elegant slit running up the side. Paired with black heels and a sleek necklace dangling almost dangerously low, it feels just right. You spend a little extra time on makeup, defining each feature and topping it off with a red lip that matches your dress. By the time you’re finished, you feel more confident than you have in a while.

A knock at your door sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins.You check the mirror one last time before stepping toward the door, trying to keep your composure.

When the door opens Seungcheol just stands there for a second, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. The intensity of the gaze almost has you feeling self-conscious, until you see the way his eyes take on a slightly glazed quality instead of the usual teasing glint.

“Damn,” he finally breathes out, his voice low and shaky. “You look… wow.”

You bite back your smile, feeling your cheeks heat up at his gaze. “Thanks,” you say, trying to act nonchalant, but failing miserably.

He steps closer, his gaze still lingering on you, and you can almost feel magnetic pull in the space between you. “I… ” His eyes flick down to your heels and then back up to your face, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “I might need to take a second to adjust.”

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of his hands burning your hips through the fabric of your dress, “Well, would you look at that? Choi Seungcheol is actually tongue-tied.”

Seungcheol’s grin widens, “How could I not be speechless when you look like that?”, he asks before taking your hand and leading you to his car. The ride is short, but this time, it feels different. The air between you is thick with anticipation, neither of you speaking much—words feel unnecessary when the moment speaks for itself.

When you arrive at the restaurant, the valet greets Seungcheol like an old friend, and you can’t help but notice the way he carries himself—confident, composed, like he belongs in this world. He guides you through the entrance, a small smile on his face as gently takes your hand.

The restaurant has an air of quiet elegance, the kind that feels effortlessly luxurious. The lighting is soft, casting a golden glow on the crisp white table-cloths, the flickering candlelight adding a comforting warmth. The faint murmur of conversation fills the background, but you feel as if the two of you are in your own little world.

Seungcheol pulls your chair out for you as you sit, and you can't help but feel a little overwhelmed by how natural he makes everything feel, despite the grandeur of the setting. You settle into your seat, your hand instinctively resting on the edge of the table, your fingers brushing the silverware as you glance around. The atmosphere is luxurious, yes, but there’s something reassuring about the way Seungcheol carries himself, like he’s right at home here.

Once the menus are set in front of you, Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate. He scans the offerings with a casual air but glances over at you as you study the menu in your hands. "Don't let the fancy setting fool you. The food here is surprisingly good. I’ve been here more than once.” he says, his voice smooth and low, the confidence he carries in all things evident in the casual mention.

You chuckle, glancing up at him. “Take a lot of your dates here, do you?”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, that signature smirk tugging at his lips. “Only one.”

You can’t help the shy smile that spreads across your face, “Who would have known you’re secretly a softy.”

He leans forward slightly, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “I’ve got layers, princess. Lots of layers.”

The way he says it, so effortlessly confident, causes your stomach to flutter a lot little. You take a sip of your water, trying not to let him see how much he’s affecting you. “I’m sure. I bet you’re the life of the party at places like this.”

Seungcheol smirks and leans back in his chair, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I can be. But I also know when to appreciate the quiet nights. Sometimes it’s better to enjoy the little things.” His gaze shifts to meet yours then, a quiet intensity in his eyes. It’s a subtle change, but one that makes your heart race.

You swallow, suddenly acutely aware of his gaze. You glance at the menu again, though you haven’t truly registered anything on it. “I’ll take your word for it,” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady.

When the waiter returns to take your order, Seungcheol speaks for both of you, his choices seemingly effortless. You take the time to fully appreciate the man in front of you; the way his red tie is the same hue as your dress, how his white button up stretches across his chest giving an outline of a fit physique further supported in the way his sleeves strain against his arms.

Seungcheol clears his throat, and you realize you’ve been caught red-handed, so you decide to just shrug because yeah, he’s hot. There’s something more serious about the way Seungcheol watches you now, his eyes tracing the curve of your neck, the way the candlelight plays in your hair. It’s as if the energy in the room has shifted, becoming a little more personal.

“I have to admit,” he says after a long pause, his voice softer than before, “I’m having a really good time.”

You laugh, but it’s not from nervousness. It’s a genuine sound. “You’ve been teasing me nonstop for days. I’d hope you at least had a good time after all that hard work.”

His lips curve into that familiar teasing smile. “I’ve been doing more than teasing. You just don’t realize it yet.” He tilts his head slightly. “I’m glad you came, though. Really.”

The words, simple as they are, catch you off guard. It’s one thing for him to be flirty, but for him to show this side of him, this quiet sincerity... you weren’t prepared for it.

Before you can respond, the drinks arrive—a crisp white wine for you, a rich red for him. The clink of glass as it’s set on the table draws you back into the moment. Seungcheol raises his glass, his eyes locked on yours. "To good company," he says, his tone earnest but playful.

You smile and clink your glass against his, the material cool against your fingers. “To good company,” you repeat, your voice just as soft.

The conversation flows easy after that, not forced, but natural. He talks about his favorite restaurants, his travels, and how he’s surprisingly fond of quiet nights. You find yourself opening up more than you intended, sharing stories about your childhood, what drives you, what you love most about your work. He listens intently, his gaze never wavering, his attention fully on you. As if every word matters to him, every sentence is important.

It’s hard not to notice how his gaze shifts from playful to something more thoughtful as you speak, his eyes locking on yours with an unreadable emotion that makes your breath catch every time. You don’t want to admit it, but his attention feels like a constant pull on your thoughts, something that you can’t seem to escape.

When your meal arrives, the soft clink of silverware against the fine china is the only sound for a moment. You both pause, then Seungcheol leans back slightly, eyeing your plate with a mischievous grin. “You’re not going to finish that, are you?” he teases. “I’ll be happy to help.”

You raise an eyebrow, shooting him a playful glance. “I think I’ll manage just fine.”

The two of you laugh easily over the shared dish, the comfortable intimacy of it all settling around you like a familiar blanket. It’s rare to feel so at ease with someone in this kind of setting, but with Seungcheol, it’s effortless.

At some point during dessert, Seungcheol reaches across the table and gently runs his thumb along your hand. The motion is slow, deliberate, and for the first time, he’s not teasing. His touch is softer, and his eyes—god those eyes—hold a sincerity that has you feeling like you’re the only person in the room–in the whole world even.

“You know,” he murmurs, “I’m really glad you agreed to come out with me tonight.”

You hum, feeling a flutter deep in your chest. “So you’ve mentioned.”

After a moment you respond again, “I am too.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, the tension between you now wrapping around your mind and dulling the outside world. The soft clink of glasses, the quiet hum of the restaurant, the distant murmur of conversations... it all fades into the background.

Finally, after a long moment of simply looking at each other, Seungcheol stands and walks around to your side of the table, offering his hand. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice low but steady.

By the time you’re at the door to your apartment, the tension between the two of you is almost suffocating. You invite him inside, and Seungcheol takes a deep breath, “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back.”

And when you lean close to his ear and tell him then don’t, it’s like floodgates open. Seungcheol shuts the door behind him, crowding you against it as he leans close to you, hands finding your hips and breath warm against your ear. “Do you even know what you’ve been doing to me all night?” he asks, voice so low it's almost a growl.

You smile, hands trailing up his torso to wrap around his neck, “I guess I clean up well.”

Seungcheol chuckles darkly, experimentally squeezing your hips, “Too bad I’m gonna get you all dirty again.”

When he tilts your chin up to meet his lips, you expect the kiss to be hungry, as desperate as he has you feeling, instead Seungcheol kisses you slowly, tenderly with a sweetness rivaling ambrosia. Your arms wind themselves around his neck, pressing yourself harder against him as if even a second apart would be painful because, quite frankly, that’s how kissing him felt. He takes his time to savor each brush of your lips on his, each sigh that you breathe into his mouth.

Seungcheol looks absolutely ruined. His pupils are blown out, hair messy with your hands in it and red lipstick smeared on his swollen lips. You’re sure you don’t look much different, as the two of you crash back together at the same time. This kiss is how you expected the first to be, hungry, desperate, and hard.

Even when your lungs burn for air your lips chase after him when he separates from you, pupils blown out, hair messy, your lipstick smeared across his mouth, Seungcheol looks absolutely ruined.

The only thing you can hear is breathlessness before you’re tangling your fingers into his hair to crash your lips together again. Seungcheol presses into even more, hands pushing against your door as he intoxicates you once more. The kiss isn’t soft this time, lust taking over and pulling the two of you into each other. His hand moves to your jaw, switching the angle and taking away any last bit of brain function you have because even when kissing you with such passion Seungcheol still isn’t rough with you. He kisses you with a confidence and control that has you whimpering into his lips.

The sound clearly affects him, his tongue prodding at your lips and a small breath leaving him when you open your mouth further. He starts exploring your mouth as his hands move to explore your body, sliding up and down your waist to your thighs, where he squeezes before lifting you up seemingly effortlessly.

“Your room?” Seungcheol murmurs into your mouth. You break apart from him once again, hands on either side of his face, forehead resting against his. “Same layout as your apartment.” You recall, resuming the kiss once more as he carries you over to your bed, gently setting you down on the edge.

He drinks the breathy sound that leaves your mouth when his fingers find the zipper on your back, slowly drawing it down and caressing each new plane of skin revealed to him. You lift your hips, helping him get the dress fully off your body and thrown somewhere on the floor. You try to pull him in closer to you but Seungcheol is frozen. You wiggle impatiently and he just shakes his head at you, a breathy laugh leaving his kiss swollen lips.

“Be patient baby, let me appreciate you, fuck.” The last word comes from a deep place in his chest, an almost guttural sound as his hands gently trace up your legs, hips, waist, settling just below your dark red lace bra that matches your now discarded dress. He looks at you with an awe equal to that of meeting a deity, as if he’d never seen anything more captivating and never will in this lifetime. His gaze makes you flush because you’re just you, sure you put on a pretty matching set but even then you didn’t think he’d be this into it. You apparently verbalize your thoughts unintentionally because Seungcheol looks up at you once more, this time gaze filled with disbelief.

“Just you? Just you? God, you really don’t know how beautiful you are, do you, princess?” The nickname causes a shiver to go down your spine, his hands gently as they move behind you, unclipping your bra. “So perfect, so pretty for me.” His words are accompanied by his hands slowly massaging your now bare chest before he dives into you, mouth ravishing every inch on your skin as he pulls sounds from you. Your fingers find their way to his hair, tugging when he nips at your skin. After thoroughly stealing your breath his lips start making their way down to where you need him most. His nose presses against your core causing an embarrassingly depraved whimper to leave you.

“Fuck princess, you’re so ready for me,” he says as he pulls your panties away from your body, holding them up for you to see the ruined fabric. You don’t have time to think about them as he starts to leave hot open mouthed kisses on your inner thigh before dipping his tongue ever so slightly into your weeping hole. Your hands tug slightly on his hair and seemingly break whatever resolve he has as he starts to devour you. He knows exactly when to slow down, licking your cunt up and sucking in ways that have your head spinning. Your insides clench around nothing, leaking arousal as his lips wrap around your clit. He drinks all of your juices, his tongue collecting your wetness like water.

When he focuses his tongue on your hole, prodding timidly inside you as your walls beg to be stretched, your hands tug harshly at his hair, making him moan right into your cunt, as if he’s enjoying the pull of his hair as you use him for your pleasure. Your orgasm approaches at the speed of light, quicker than you’d ever thought a man could pull from you.

You spasm with each swipe of his tongue that gets faster as he notices how close you are. When he decides to focus on teasing your clit, something snaps in you and you come undone on his tongue.

He practically makes out with your cunt, stretching out your orgasm and making your legs tremble at his sides. You can feel the big smirk across his lips through your pleasure-induced haze. He doesn’t move away even when you start to feel over stimulated, you tug on his hair.

“You can give me one more, right princess?” He looks like something straight out of a porno, mouth covered in you, hair messy between your fingers, how could you possibly resist such a sight, especially when his finger runs up and down your entrance teasingly.

“Please” is all you have to say before he disappears once more between your legs. His fingers start to stretch out your walls, tongue lapping up any juices that escape. The pounding of his fingers inside you drag you close to the edge faster than before, and when his fingers graze one spot you’re seeing stars.

“There, right there fuck Cheol please–” your words get cut off by a breathy moan as he sucks on your clit, vision going blurry as you come on his fingers. When you’re coming down from the high, you watch as he takes said fingers and licks them clean with a groan, “You might just be my new favorite meal, princess.”

Your eyes roll at the comments as you shakily climb to your knees, earning a raised eyebrow from Cheol as you grab his shirt to pull him towards you, “You’re looking way too clothed to be saying that right now.” You mutter, making quick work of his buttons. His laugh turns into a groan when you press a kiss to his neck, sliding his shirt off of him and running your hands across the expanse of his torso. His muscles are firm and defined, and you don’t resist the urge to bend over and softly bite his chest, reveling in the choked sound he makes. His hands grab your head, pulling you into a wet kiss as you pull at his pants and boxers, sliding them down his legs to free his hard cock. As you look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, long, thick, deliciously curved, this man will be the end of you.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips. A whimper escapes you, and Seungcheol hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, princess. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he thrusts his hips up, causing your movements to stutter as you gag. “You can take a bit more, yeah?” his question ends with a groan, his fingers tightening on your hair.

You lower your head further in response, taking in another more of him. His hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair.

“Fuck, just like that baby, want you to choke on it,” his voice is gravely and low, the sound going straight to your core. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and your eyes start to water. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure.

“Fuck my throat,” you beg ask, “Please”

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips as he guides himself into your mouth, smirking at how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “Well since you asked so nicely.”

You whimper around him, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. Suddenly he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with a sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. He crashes his lips to yours in response before pulling away suddenly.

His eyes widen as he looks around, suddenly looking frantic, “Shit, condoms. Stay here, I’ll quickly get dressed and run to my–”

“Are you clean?”

Seungcheol’s eyes go wide at your suggestion before slowly nodding, “I got tested last month, you’re not suggesting…” His voice trails off.

Have you ever let anyone hit it raw? Absolutely not. Did you have the patience for him to go to his apartment and grab condoms? Also absolutely not.

“I’m on birth control, clean, and way too fucking horny for you to be anywhere except inside me.” You state blankly. He shakes his head in astonishment before climbing on top of you, kissing you once more.

“God, you’re perfect.” he sighs, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks at you one more time for approval. “Ready?”

“Please— Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head slides inside you, eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. He barely pulls out before fucking into you with a little more force. “Shit, you’re so tight, fuck.”

“Cheol please,” you gasp, not quite sure what you're asking for when you latch onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. You’ve never felt this full in your life as Seungcheol waits for you to adjust, pussy spasming around him in ways that make his eyes roll back. When you give him the okay he pulls out slowly, so you can feel every vein as it drags on your walls before he fucks back into you.

His pace starts to get faster and the sounds from both of you sound straight from a porno, but you don’t care because all you can think about is how good his dick feels inside you, how full you feel. From this position, you can see the way his face contorts in pleasure, brows furrowed and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips and sucks hard. “Fuck princess, you’re so perfect shit– pretty pussy made for me, huh?”

“For you,” you pant, thoughts reduced to just the feeling of him inside you. “All for you Cheol.”

His mouth curves into a soft smile as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Seugcheol’s hand slides down to grasp your hip, squeezing the soft skin and pulling you harder against him, impossibly closer.

“You’re perfect princess, my perfect pretty baby,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he repeats, more to himself than to you, voice strained as he tries to hold himself back, chasing your release before his own.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening, and you’re sure you look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, but the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Cheol, I’m—”

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you baby, let go for me. I’ll take care of you,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall (thank god his room is the only one next to yours). Your body obeys him, a gast tearing through you as you moan Seungcheols name like a prayer. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, his expression as wrecked as you feel. “Tell me where—.”

“Inside.”

“Shit, are you sure?”

“Fill me up Cheol, please. Want it so bad.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. He buries himself inside you, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls. He ruts against you, his body trembling against yours before he collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms and kissing you gently. You almost cry when he slips out of you, hating the feeling of being empty as he finds your bathroom and returns with a towel to clean you up, eventually lulling you to sleep.

—

The first thing you register when you wake up is warmth— you soft sheets tangled around your limbs, the lingering scent of cologne woven into the fabric. The second thing is weight, the steady rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek, an arm draped around your waist, fingers splayed possessively over your hip.

Your eyes flutter open, and for a moment, you’re disoriented. The golden morning light filters through the curtains, casting lazy patterns across the room, but it takes another second for reality to catch up.

Seungcheol.

His presence is unmistakable, the solid warmth of him anchoring you even before you tilt your head up to look at him. His face is relaxed in sleep, soft in a way you don’t think you’ve seen before. His lashes rest against his cheeks, lips slightly parted, one hand still gripping your waist as if unconsciously keeping you close .

You take a slow breath, careful not to wake him just yet, allowing yourself the luxury of watching him like this. The confidence he always carries, the sharp smirks and teasing remarks—none of it is present in this moment. Right now, he’s just Seungcheol.

Your fingers move instinctively, tracing the curve of his nose, the contour of his lips. His grip on your waist tightens slightly in response, and you hear the low, raspy sound of his voice.

“Mmm.” A deep inhale, then a groggy mumble. “It’s too early.”

You laugh softly, then for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, the quiet of the morning stretching between you. His fingers skim along your spine absentmindedly, tracing patterns into your skin. It’s dangerously intimate, this kind of quiet closeness, and you find yourself holding your breath as you wait for him to say something.

When he finally does, his voice is softer than before. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod against him. “Yeah. You?”

His thumb brushes over your hip, slow and deliberate. “Best sleep I’ve had in a while.”

There’s something unspoken in his words, something that lingers between the two of you, but neither of you address it. Not yet. Instead, you stay like this for a while longer, wrapped in each other. Eventually, though, reality has to creep back in. You sigh, shifting slightly. “We should probably get up.”

Seungcheol groans dramatically, pulling you tighter against him. “Or we could just stay like this.”

You laugh, pushing at his chest again, this time with more force. “You have things to do, and I—”

“—have to stay here and cuddle me,” he finishes smoothly, peeking one eye open again and giving you a peck on the lips. “Sounds like the perfect plan, right?”

You roll your eyes but don’t immediately pull away, allowing yourself one more stolen moment of peace before finally sitting up. Seungcheol watches you, his gaze heavy-lidded, filled with something you can’t quite name. Then, just as you’re about to move off the bed, his hand catches your wrist, stopping you.

You glance back at him, and his expression is unreadable for a beat before he smirks, tugging you down just enough to brush his lips against yours.

“Morning,” he murmurs, and it feels dangerously close to something more.

You swallow, the weight of the moment settling over you, but instead of overthinking it, you smile. “Morning.”

—

A week later you find yourself lying in the same bed, missing the man who had laid with you. The two of you haven’t seen each other since—your schedules never quite aligning—but the texts haven’t stopped. If anything, they’ve only gotten more frequent and flirtatious.

Cheol: You avoiding me or just giving me time to miss you? You: Are those the only options? Cheol: Unless you’d rather admit you can’t stop thinking about me. You: You’re so full of yourself. Cheol: And you love it.

You hate how much you do love it.

You turn and nearly walk into two people standing in the hallway.

“Whoa—careful,” a deep voice says as a steady hand catches your elbow.

It’s Seungcheol. Of course, it’s Seungcheol. He’s standing in front of you, that familiar grin spreading across his face. Standing next to him is a man you instantly recognize—Wonwoo. His calm, sharp features are exactly as you remember, though he seems a little more refined since college. You school your expression, feigning polite curiosity.

“Hey,” you manage, adjusting your grip on the bag.

“Hey yourself,” Seungcheol says, his grin widening. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Uh, I live here,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the sudden thumping in your chest.

Wonwoo clears his throat, glancing between the two of you. “Cheol, are you going to introduce me, or should I do it myself?”

“Right.” Seungcheol gestures toward him. “This is Wonwoo—friend, buddy, compadre, if you will, and frequent pain in my ass. Wonwoo, this is…” He pauses, “Her.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow but extends a hand to you. “Nice to meet you, ‘Her.’ Or, nice to see you again, I guess.”

You laugh, shaking his hand. “Nice to see you too. I’d remind you of my real name, but apparently Seungcheol forgot it.”

“Hardly, you’re the only thing he’s been talking about recently. You were friends with Kwan’, right? I think I crashed your study sessions a few times.”

The mention of Seungkwan brings a smile to your face, he’s now roommates with Jeonghan, even though he’s grown so much since you first met him the younger boy will always have a special place in your heart, “Yeah probably, he always had someone tagging along with him. That kid was a real social butterfly.” Wonwoo opens his mouth to respond but Seungcheol cuts him off.

“Yeah, great, glad you guys are close.” Seungcheol crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he studies you. ”Small world and such.”

Your stomach twists slightly, but you keep your expression neutral. “Yeah, crazy coincidence. It’s almost like we went to the same school.” you say sarcastically, “So, what games will you be playing today?”

Seungcheol narrows his eyes at you, “Who said anything about playing games?”

You swear your heart stops at that moment.

“Oh-uh,” Think, think, think, “Well the walls don’t do a very good job at masking your swearing at night, just assumed that’s what was going on.”

Wonwoo, ever the observant one, stays quiet, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—like he’s connecting dots that you’d rather he didn’t.

“Sure,” Seungcheol responds, still watching you closely. “Anyways, we should get going.”

You nod, stepping back toward your door. “Yeah, it was nice seeing you both. I should put these away before they melt.”

“Uh huh,” Seungcheol mutters, stepping aside. Wonwoo simply nods politely, his expression calm but unreadable.

Once inside your apartment, you set the groceries down with a sigh, your mind racing. You didn’t slip up that bad, right? At least you had covered your mistake pretty well? Still, there was something about the way Seungcheol looked at you– like he was trying to piece together a puzzle– that left a sinking feeling in your stomach.

—

Another few days pass before you hear from Seungcheol outside of the usual teasing texts. You’re curled up on your couch when your phone buzzes.

Cheol: So, are you going to keep eavesdropping through the walls, or are you finally going to come over and play?

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

You: Who says I want to play?

Cheol: You wound me. But fine, if you’re too scared to lose, I understand.

You: Oh, please. Like you could actually beat me at anything.

Cheol: Prove it. Tonight. My place.

You hesitate for a moment. It’s one thing to comment on him playing games, but actually playing with him? You can’t be sure you won’t slip up again. But then again, you can’t let him think you’re scared.

You: Fine. What time?

Cheol: 8. Wonwoo will be there. And a few others. Don’t be late.

You stare at your screen for a moment before shaking your head. There’s no way this is a good idea, but you’re already getting up to change.

—

At 8:03, you knock on Seungcheol’s door. He opens it almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for you.

“You’re late,” he says, pouting slightly.

“It’s literally been three minutes, you big baby.”

“Three minutes too long.” He steps aside, letting you in. “Come on, the others are already here.”

His apartment is warm and filled with an easy kind of chaos. Wonwoo is lounging on the couch, a controller in hand, looking perfectly unbothered as he glances up at you. “She showed.”

“She did,” Seungcheol confirms, closing the door behind you.

At the other end of the room, four other guys are gathered, already deep into conversation. Seungcheol gestures toward them. “These are the guys. That’s Jihoon—" he points to the one sitting cross-legged on the floor, focused on a laptop. Jihoon barely glances up, offering only a short nod. “Vernon—” the boy next to Jihoon gives a small wave, expression relaxed. “Mingyu—” the tall one grins and throws an arm around Seungcheol’s shoulder. “And Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung—who you recognize from random campus events back in college—immediately brightens. “Wait, I know you! You were friends with Seungkwan, right?”

You laugh, nodding. “Yeah, that was me.”

“Small world, huh?”

Seungcheol claps his hands together. “Alright, now that introductions are out of the way, let’s get down to business.”

“Games,” Mingyu supplies helpfully.

“Winning,” Seungcheol corrects, looking directly at you.

You raise an eyebrow. “You wish.”

He grins. “We’ll see.”

—

The first game is an intense round of Mario Kart, and to no one’s surprise, Wonwoo dominates. “You guys suck,” he mutters as he crosses the finish line first yet again (as if you and Seungcheol weren’t on his tail the whole time).

“Okay, okay,” Seungcheol says, waving a hand. “Let’s switch it up. How about teams?”

You find yourself paired with Jihoon, who simply shrugs. “You ready?”

You smirk. “Let’s kick some ass.”

“Hell yeah.”

The match starts, and it’s immediately clear that Seungcheol is more competitive than he let on. The room is filled with laughter, shouts of victory, and groans of defeat. Soonyoung nearly falls off the couch at one point, yelling dramatically when your car pulls ahead of him.

Through it all, you feel yourself relaxing, the nervous energy from earlier fading away. When you glance at Seungcheol, he’s already watching you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he grins again.

��

As the night stretches on, the games gradually give way to easy conversation and laughter, drinks appearing in everyone's hands. Mingyu pours shots for everyone, insisting on a toast to new friends, while Soonyoung—already a little tipsy—challenges Jihoon to a battle of wits (which mostly consists of Jihoon sighing heavily while Soonyoung rambles on).

You find yourself nestled into the couch, comfortably warm from the drinks, the buzz of conversation wrapping around you. Seungcheol drops down next to you, draping an arm along the back of the couch. “Having fun?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You let out a quiet laugh. “Guess you’re not as unbearable as I thought.”

“High praise.” He grins, taking a sip from his glass.

Eventually, the night winds down, one by one, the others heading out or claiming their spots to crash for the night. You stretch, standing up to grab your things. Seungcheol watches you with an amused glint in his eyes. “Need someone to walk you home?”

You raise an eyebrow, a huffed laugh leaving you. “What, for the whole two feet I need to walk?”

“Exactly,” he says, standing up and smirking. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you in the five steps it takes to get there.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips as he walks you to your door anyways. As you turn the key to your apartment, you look back at him, maybe it’s the alcohol in your system, or maybe it’s the confidence from meeting his friends that has you leaning up to place a soft kiss on his lips, “Goodnight, gamer boy.”

You realize your mistake the next morning, hoping he didn’t.

—

Still, life goes on, months pass by with you and Seungcheol seeing each other but never giving what you have a label. Your affection for the man starts to pile more by the day along with your guilt, feeling as if you’re betraying him with every brush of your skin on his. Tonight you’re curled up comfortably by his side, his TV playing some rom-com in the background as the two of you feast on fried chicken and soju, a perfect evening. You don’t know when your conversation became talking about your childhood, but you don’t care as Seungcheol tells you a story of the messes he got into with his older brother.

“You’ve always been a trouble-maker haven’t you?” you exclaim, kissing the tip of his nose. He giggles, humming in response and you admire the way it makes his face light up, warming your heart. Everything is so perfect, the way his arms wrap around you, the way the alcohol makes your brain slightly fuzzy. How he presses kisses all over your face as you laugh, finally getting a real kiss pressed to your lips as he lays you down on his couch. Sweet, gentle, and full of an emotion you don’t want to name. When he pulls back the same emotion fills his eyes.

“I really like you, you know?” he says shyly. You nod in response, smiling up at him. “We should make things official then, yeah?” You’re about to nod when the guilt you’ve been suppressing comes back stronger than ever, “I- I’m sorry.” You tell him. Before he can question you further, you stand up, rathering your stuff, “I’m really sorry Cheol.” You say once again before leaving his apartment, too drunk and too scared to face him.

The next day, as much as you try to avoid him, you run into Seungcheol in the hallway and he stops you. His teeth worry at his bottom lip, brow furrowed, “We need to talk about last night. Did I do something? I thought we– I thought things were going well but– just.. Tell me what I can do. Please?”

His words shatter any resolve you had to keep things from him.

“I know you stream.” the words fall from your mouth and make the man in front of you go ridged, “I mean, I’ve watched you a few times– more than a few– I found you a few months before you moved in and didn’t really know what to do.” You wring your hands together, too nervous to look him in the eye.

A few moments pass before he replies, “So what, you just planned on never telling me? Even after we started hanging out? After we… after everything?” His voice sounds defeated, broken. You shake your head but no sound comes out of your mouth. What could you say? Had you ever planned on telling him? You never knew things would get this far, if you did would you have told him sooner. You can feel Seungcheols heavy gaze on you, prompting you to speak, “I— I don’t know Cheol. I’m really sorry I just- I don’t know.”

He nods in response, and you can practically feel your heart drop, “Give me some time.” Is all he says before walking away, leaving you feeling empty.

Another week passes without a word from Seungcheol. Then another. Guilt is eating you from the inside, you don’t know what Seungcheol is thinking, if he’ll ever talk to you again. You can’t say you’d blame him if he didn’t. Once again at work you start slipping up, eventually Minghao decides that enough is enough.

“Spill, now.” He says when you take your usual seat across from him. You try to convince him to wait until Jeonghan arrives but he’s firm in his insistence.

“Tell me what's going on, from the beginning. No lies, no excuses, no ‘I’ll figure it out on my own’ bullshit.” And so you do. You start from the beginning, Jeonghan's recommendation, the comfort it had brought you until your new neighbor appeared, the dates, the late-nights, the avoidance. You spill your guts out and Minghao listens. When you finish your tangent he just shakes his head.

“I know I’m an idiot Hao, but what was I supposed to do?” You defend yourself, from what exactly, you aren’t sure. Your throat starts to tighten and Minghao places his hand atop yours on the table, “Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re overthinking it.” He talks the panic out of you like he has so many times before, guides your breathing and soothes your nerves.

“Just because you’re an idiot doesn’t mean you can’t fix things.” His statement makes you laugh, his hand squeezing yours reassuringly. “Trust me, I’m sure you and your little gamer boy can work things out. Just tell him the truth, the same way you just told it to me.” You nod in response. The rest of the break the two of you talk like you always do, laughing and jabbing your coworkers as Minghao just rolls his eyes at you.

“Y/n?”

Your name from across the room breaks the comfortable bubble you’d been in with your friend. Seungcheol stands a few feet away from your table, betrayal evident in his eyes. You stand up to go towards him, but his scoff makes you stop in your tracks. He turns on his heel and walks out.

“What are you doing? Go after him, dumbass.” Broken out of your trance you hurry out the door, ignoring how the cold wind bites at your skin, your jacket left behind you. Seungcheol’s back is towards you as you chase after him, grabbing his arm and forcing him to face you.

“Wait a second, I-”

You’re cut off when he yanks his arm from your grip. Your chest aches when you see the look in his eyes. It’s unfamiliar, the face of the man you once found comfort in contorted into something else, something that scared you.

“Don’t start with me Y/n,” his tone is harsh, cutting through the cold air straight into your chest, “I trusted you, you know that? I really trusted you, I thought- it doesn’t even matter because you turned out to be the same as everyone else. This is all, what, some sort of twisted game? You wanted to get into my life and have a piece of me like every other crazy bitch that watches me, right? Well congradu-fucking-lations, you win. Your sick game is over now.” His eyes looked at you, filled with anger, betrayal, hatred, “And to think, after I started to believe that maybe, just maybe you had a reason to lie to me, that you actually cared about me, I see you with another guy. You can’t even go one week without finding a new boy-toy to play with, can you? You’re just another attention-seeking whore.”

His words hit you like a slap in the face. Here you are, freezing your ass off to try and explain yourself all for what? Finally all the emotions that have been boiling under the surface start to bubble over, “Excuse me?” Your voice comes out dangerously calm, seemingly stopping Seungcheol’s next sentence.

“First of all,” you clarify, “you’re the one who moved in next to me, let's not get things twisted. And yeah, I didn’t tell you I knew who you were, you wanna know why? Because the first time I saw you it looked like you were about to have a nervous breakdown because I recognized you. Of fucking course I said I knew you from college, I wasn’t about to make you more uncomfortable than you already were! I haven’t watched a single video since that day out of respect for you and your privacy. You are the one who kept talking to me, you are the one who asked me out, you are the one who kept doing things that would make it impossible for me to not start falling for you. A whore? I’ve been so worried about you that I make stupid mistakes in the simplest fucking tasks at work and my coworkers started to get worried, my friends started to get worried. So I finally tell them what's going on and when they convince me to come clean and explain everything to you, you decide to jump to conclusions. You can say whatever you want, Choi Seungcheol, but don’t you dare think for a second that I don’t care about you.” Hot tears stream down your face, but you don’t care, the words come pouring out from you, and you watch as Seungcheols expression morphs from anger, looking away before you can see what it turns into. His hand reaches out for yours but you pull away, not looking at him because you know if you do it’ll change your mind. “I hope you can find an attention-seeking whore to play with Seungcheol because I can’t do this. Not anymore.”

When you return to the cafe, Minghao doesn’t scold you for letting your emotions control you, offering instead to cover for you so you could go home but you refuse. Because what is home, you think, without Seungcheol.

You stay at Jeonghans for the next few days, calling out sick from work to instead watch dramas with Seungkwan. He doesn’t question your sudden appearance, nor the tears that fall whenever the drama leads would interact, which you’re thankful for. He gives you a steady shoulder to cry on and a reliable source of laughter to cheer you up. The two of you are currently huddled under a blanket, watching as Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams run towards each other in the rain. Your hands are holding his tightly under the blanket as you both squeal when they kiss. When the movie ends tears stream down both of your faces and Seungkwan bumps your shoulder lightly, “Whatever you’re going through must be serious, you never cry during The Notebook.”

You roll your eyes at his statement, laughing along with him as you turn the T.V. off. He turns to face you, suddenly serious and you know what's coming.

“You’re not kicking me out, are you?” The smile accompanying your joke doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and Seungkwan notices with a sigh.

“You know I would never, but you also know you can’t avoid going back forever. Eventually you’ll need to go back to your apartment.” He gives a pointed look at your too-big hoodie and sweats courtesy of Jeonghan. “Listen Y/n, you know I love you but–”

“I know Kwan’, I know. I’m just scared. Even if I know you’re right. I don’t think I’m ready to face him yet.” You cut him off, tears welling in your eyes once more. Seungkwan clasps your hands in his.

“Remember my senior year when I had a mental breakdown and called you at ass-O’-clock in the morning?” You nod, the memory vague but there. He continues, “I went over to your house and told you I was scared, that suddenly everything felt so real with job applications, interviews, and graduation getting closer. I didn’t know what to do, I wasn’t ready to be an adult yet and suddenly life was being shoved in my face and I didn’t know how to cope. Do you remember what you said to me?” A small smile forms on your face among the tears, Seungkwan giving you a reassuring one in response.

“There are some things you’ll never be ready for, but the clock still ticks and the Earth still spins, no matter how terrified you are. You just have to do it scared.”

You recite the words with him, words your parents had told you when you were eighteen and unprepared for college life, words you lived by since then, that had gotten you through your darkest times and happiest moments. Words that you had somehow lost in the chaos of adulting.

You wipe your face on your sleeve, small laughs replacing your sobs as you look at your lap, “Thanks Kwan.”

You don’t need to say anything else, he knows, like he always does. Like all of your friends always do because at the end of the day no matter how tough things get you will always have an amazing support system full of amazing friends. No man could change that, no amount of distance could break the bond your little entourage have. Because they, you realize, are home.

Seungkwan wraps you in a warm embrace as you tear up some more, not sad this time. The two of you rock back and forth for a while before pulling away and making eye contact.

“Tomorrow?”

“Can’t we wait until the weekend?”

“Fine, you stubborn pain in the ass. Saturday. Morning.”

You groan in response but don’t bother to hide the smile on your lips.

—

Saturday morning comes faster than you’d like. The moment your eyes flutter open, reality crashes into you like a wave, heavy and unrelenting. For a fleeting moment, you consider burying yourself deeper into the blankets, pretending that you could stay in Jeonghan’s guest room forever. But Seungkwan’s words from the night before echo in your mind. You just have to do it scared.

With a deep breath, you push yourself out of bed. Jeonghan is already in the kitchen, sipping his coffee with an all-knowing smirk when you walk in. "So, today’s the big day, huh?"

You roll your eyes, reaching for the mug he’s already set out for you. “You act like I’m about to get married.”

“Considering the dramatics, it might as well be.”

You groan, dropping your head onto the counter. “Can you not?”

Jeonghan chuckles, patting the top of your head before walking away. “Just rip the bandaid off, Y/n. You’ll feel better once you do.”

You’re not sure about that, but you know he’s right.

By the time you reach your apartment complex, your heart is pounding so loudly that you can hear it in your ears. The familiar hallway feels foreign, your feet carrying you toward your door on autopilot. You turn the key in your apartment door, the familiar creak of the hinges sounding louder than usual in the quiet hallway. The space is just as you left it—dim, still, and eerily empty. It feels foreign, like you don’t quite belong here anymore. Maybe because, for the past few days, you didn’t. With a heavy sigh, you drop your bag by the door and toe off your shoes, making your way to the couch. The exhaustion from carrying the weight of everything settles into your bones. You lean back, eyes fluttering shut, trying to steady your breathing.

It takes a few days for you to settle back into your apartment. At first, everything feels too quiet. You find yourself reaching for your phone to text Seungcheol before remembering the way things ended. You distract yourself with work, with cleaning, with anything to keep your mind from wandering to the ache in your chest. But no matter how much you try to push it down, it lingers.

—

You haven’t seen him since that night. You don’t expect to. Instead you go back to how things had been before he moved in, ignoring the ache in your chest whenever you hear him through your thin apartment walls.

Some nights, you lie awake, staring at the photo you had taken with him on your first date, wishing to go back in time. You listen to the faint sounds of his life bleeding through the walls, wondering if he does the same, or if he threw the picture away all together. The murmur of his voice on the phone, the clink of dishes in the sink, the low hum of his TV. It’s almost cruel how easily he seems to slip back into routine while you feel like you’re unraveling. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That you’ll get used to it. But the silence in your own apartment is deafening, and the space he left behind feels colder than it should.

You start wearing headphones more often. It helps, a little. Drowns out the ghost of his presence. Keeps you from wondering if he ever pauses, mid-conversation, mid-laugh, mid-breath, thinking about you. You don’t let yourself hope.

But late one night, when you’re standing at your sink rinsing out a mug, you hear it—your name. Soft, hesitant. Muffled by the wall but unmistakable. Your breath catches, fingers tightening around the ceramic. You wait, straining to hear more. A part of you wants to move closer, to press your ear against the wall, to pretend that he’s just on the other side, that nothing has changed. But then you hear footsteps, the creak of his door opening.

And then nothing.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You tell yourself it was nothing.

But you don’t wear your headphones that night.

—

The next morning, you wake up with the imprint of your phone against your cheek, the playlist you put on last night long finished. Your first thought is that you dreamed it—his voice, his hesitation. That your mind is just playing tricks on you because it wants so badly to believe he still thinks about you.

But then, as you move through your morning routine, you catch yourself hesitating near the front door. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s the weight in your chest, the feeling of stepping into the world once again without him waiting to greet you. You push the feelings aside.

When you finally open the door, you nearly step on something– small and familiar, sitting right in the center of your doorstep.

Your scarf.

You freeze. Your fingers twitch at your sides.

The scarf you’d left at his place weeks ago, back when you still had a place there too. It’s neatly folded, like he took care with it, but there’s no note, no explanation. Just the scarf. You swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the fabric as you pick it up. It still smells like his apartment, like the faint trace of his cologne, like something that used to feel like home.

You stand there too long, cold air slipping into your apartment through the open door, numbing your fingers, your face. Your mind races with all the possibilities—did he find it by accident? Did he mean to leave it for you himself? Did he hesitate, just like you are now?

You don’t know what to do with it.

So you do what you always do—you tuck it away, shove it into the depths of your closet like you can bury the feelings that come with it.

But that night, when you curl into bed, your hand drifts toward the closet door. Before you can stop yourself, you pull the scarf back out. Hold it in your lap. Press it between your fingers. Like maybe, if you close your eyes, you can pretend—for just a little while—that you never had lied to him in the first place.

—

The scarf stays on your nightstand after that. You don’t wear it. You don’t even move it. But you don’t put it back in the closet, either.

It’s stupid, you tell yourself. It’s just fabric. Just something that happened to be left behind. He probably didn’t think twice about it. He was just returning something that wasn’t his, nothing more.

You keep going to work, settling disputes with coworkers who seem to have nothing better to do than fight (you ignore the way you almost reach for your phone to listen to Seungcheols voice as you work).

You keep meeting Jeonghan and Minghao on Wednesdays, occasionally Seungkwan joins the three of you (you ignore the way they glance at you with pity).

Everything is where it’s supposed to be (you ignore how everything you do feels like it’s missing something).

It’s late, and you’re lying in bed, not really asleep, not really awake. The walls between your apartments have always been thin—thin enough that sometimes you can catch pieces of his voice, low and tired, when he’s on the phone late at night.

But this time, there’s no conversation. Just footsteps. The sound of a drawer opening, then closing. A pause. And then, so quiet you almost miss it—your name.

Your stomach twists.

You tell yourself it was just in your imagination, don’t let yourself dwell on why he might have said that because he didn’t (you ignore how you know that’s a lie).

The next morning, you wake up feeling like you never really slept at all. Your body is heavy, your mind clouded with something you don’t want to name. You go about your day like normal—like nothing happened. Like you didn’t hear him say your name. Like it didn’t send a crack through the carefully constructed distance you’ve been trying to build.

But it lingers.

You don’t mean to, but you start listening to him more. Not on purpose—at least, that’s what you tell yourself—but your ears tune in anyway. You notice the little things: the way he moves around his apartment, the late nights he stays up, the mornings he leaves just a little later than he used to.

And then one evening, when you step out of your apartment to grab something from the corner store, you nearly run into him.

You freeze.

So does he.

For a moment, neither of you speak. He looks… tired. Like he hasn’t been sleeping well either. Like maybe he’s been feeling the same weight pressing down on him. Your throat is tight. You should say something. You should walk away.

But then his gaze flickers, just briefly, to your door. To you.

When he starts to turn around Seungkwan’s reminder rings in your head.

Do it scared.

And before you can stop yourself, before you can think better of it, his name slips past your lips, “Seungcheol.”

His breath catches.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself, “We should talk.”

Seungcheol freezes, hand hovering above his door knob for a second before dropping to his side. When he looks up at you his eyes are full of so many emotions it makes your heart ache; shame, regret, hurt, hesitation. It almost makes you change your mind, but then you see it, the tiniest sliver of hope behind his gaze, that helps you keep going, inviting him into your apartment. He hesitates before entering, you walk in after him, closing the door.

Seungcheol doesn’t sit, so you don’t either. Instead, you stand near the couch, gripping your hands together to keep them from shaking. It’s silent for a moment, you aren’t used to his presence anymore.

“I meant what I said before,” you begin hesitantly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

His gaze flickers with something unreadable. He responds softly, voice sounding almost broken, “Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

You exhale, the numbed frustration and regret rising again in your chest. “At first I thought it wasn’t important, you were just my neighbor, and you looked nervous when we first met so I figured you’d rather stay anonymous. But then we started to get to know each other and suddenly I was keeping a huge secret and I didn’t know what to do. I-,” You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and stop your rambling, “I was scared. I didn’t want to ruin whatever this was—whatever we were. I thought if I told you the truth, you’d push me away.” You let out a small, humorless laugh. “Looks like I managed to do that anyway.”

Seungcheol sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “You should’ve given me the chance to decide how I felt about it instead of lying to me.”

You nod slowly, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. “I know,” you whisper. “I should’ve told you the truth. I should have done so many things differently, but I didn’t, and I hurt you.” You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his eyes even though it makes your stomach twist. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Seungcheol looks at you, nodding, “Me too. For what I said.”

“Don’t worry, I get it, you had every right to be mad.” You protest.

He flinches, shaking his head. “Not like that.” His hands ball into fists at his sides before he sighs, running one through his hair. “Yeah, you should have told me. And yeah, it hurt. But what I said to you?” His jaw clenches. “That wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve that.” His voice is thick with guilt, his brows furrowed in frustration—at himself, not at you as he looks away. “Did you- when we would be together who were you thinking of?”

You tilt your head in confusion, so he elaborates, “I guess what I’m asking is if you just thought of me as S.coups, if you thought it was just another game.” When he meets your gaze once more it’s as if all the confidence was drained from him, he looked unsure, raw vulnerability in the way he bites his lip and wrings his hands together.

“It was never a game, not for me at least. To me you’ve always been Seungcheol, even when you first moved in, I didn’t really think about your job other than being worried that I would make you uncomfortable by knowing. Even when I’d watch you play, when you were having fun you were Seungcheol playing games like you used to during class. On days you didn’t seem as into it you were Seungcheol doing your job.”

You hear Seungcheol inhale sharply as you continue, “Back then and now you mean so much to me, I never meant to hurt you, but I did. And I don’t expect you to forgive me just because I apologized. If you still hate me that fi–”

You’re cut off by lips on yours, gentle and nervous until you kiss back. After so long it feels like the world finally clicks into place, a hand sliding into yours gently as your tears mix with his.

When you separate Seungcheol’s hand grips yours tightly, eyes still closed as if he’s scared you’ll be gone when he opens them. “I don’t hate you, Y/n.” His voice is softer now, barely a whisper. “I never did.” This time you lean into him, pressing your lips together once more. His free hand moves to cradle your face, yours lightly gripping the front of his shirt. Muttered ‘I missed you’s are scattered between kisses as you make your way to the couch, placing yourself on Seungcheol’s lap when he sits. Neither of you can help the tears on your faces.

After who-knows-how-long you’re still in Seungcheol’s embrace, his strong arms wrapped around you, drawing slow patterns on your back as the two of you sway back and forth gently. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, a quiet rhythm that makes you feel like you can finally breathe easy. You don’t know how long you sit there, tangled together on your couch, his arms around you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go. Maybe he is. Maybe you are too.

“Thank you. For coming back.” Seungcheol murmurs into your hair. His voice is soft, careful, like he’s afraid of saying too much, of pushing too hard.

You shift slightly, just enough to look up at him. His eyes are still damp, lashes clumped together, and the sight of it twists something in your chest. “Always,” you whisper. “I’ll be here as long as you still want me.”

His breath shudders as he exhales. “I do.” He presses his forehead against yours, voice thick with emotion. “Always did, always will.”

You close your eyes, soaking in the warmth of him, the weight of his hands resting at your waist, grounding you. “No more hiding. No more running.” you say softly.

Seungcheol nods, his grip tightening like he’s holding onto something fragile. “No more running,” he agrees. For a while, neither of you speak. You just exist in the quiet, in the warmth of each other, letting the weight of everything settle. Eventually, Seungcheol chuckles, breath fanning against your cheek. “I don’t want to move,” he admits.

You smile, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “Then don’t.”

His lips twitch into a grin. “You’ll let me stay?”

You pretend to consider it, tilting your head. “Depends. Are you planning on stealing all the blankets again?”

Seungcheol laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin. “No promises.”

You sigh dramatically. “I suppose I’ll allow it.”

His arms tighten around you, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to yours. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I don’t think I can let go just yet.”

Neither do you.

—

“You ready to lose again?” Seungcheol asks, raising an eyebrow, the usual playful confidence in his voice.

You roll your eyes, scoffing. “In your dreams, Cheol.”

It’s silly, how normal it is, how easy it was to slip into the rhythm of this again. Your friends around you in his apartment, all laughing and having fun.

"Hoshi, I’m going to kick your ass!" Seungkwan yells from across the room, his voice high-pitched with mock frustration.

"You've got a lot of nerve talking, considering you're in last place," Soonyoung teases back, his grin wide and infectious.

"I can’t believe we’re playing this game again," Mingyu groans dramatically, even though he’s clearly enjoying himself despite the complaints.

"You’re just mad because I hit you with a shell. Like this," Jihoon shoots another shell at Mingyu’s cart, the corner of his lips curving upward as he hears Mingyu’s swears.

Seungcheol laughs, his usual confidence shining through as he skillfully handles his character. Every now and then, his hand would brush yours, and in those moments, it felt like time had slowed just enough for you to savor the simple joy of being surrounded by friends—by family.

"You’re about to lose!" Jeonghan said, voice full of amusement as he leaned over to look at the screen.

Seungcheol shot him a mock glare. "You’re not even playing."

But despite the teasing, the tension was long gone. No more waiting for the right moment to speak, no more hiding. It isn’t perfect—nothing ever is—but it's real. And that's enough.

You lean back against the couch, your head resting against Seungcheol’s shoulder as you pull into fourth place with a groan.

Seungcheol leans in, nudging your shoulder lightly with his. “So, when do you plan on winning?” he teases, his grin wider than before.

You glare at him, but the corners of your mouth betray you, lifting into a smile you can’t fight. “I’ll win when I’m good and ready, it’s not my fault my boyfriend is a professional.” you reply, your voice playful as you pout at the man in front of you. He laughs and presses a kiss to your lips, “Boyfriend, huh? You’re trying to use my weaknesses against me aren’t you?” You look up at him with the best innocent face you can manage, “That depends, my dear, is it working?”

“Maybe.”

“Ugh, get a room, you two.” Seungkwan’s complaints cause a wave of laughter as Seungcheol just pulls you closer into his side, sticking his tongue out at the younger boy. The teasing continues for a while longer, but you can feel how the warmth in the room isn’t just coming from the shared space or the game. It’s the laughter, the familiarity, and that makes a smile spread onto your lips. No distance, no walls. Just warmth, joy, and the comfort of being surrounded by people who cared. People who you knew would be by your side through thick and thin because the clocks still tick and the Earth still spins, time moves forward with them by your side to move with it.

A/N: Wooo she’s finally done!! Thx @orngejuic for being my beta reader ilysm.

#seventeen #svt #choi seungcheol #seventeen seungcheol #svt imagines #svt x reader #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #angst #seungcheol angst #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol imagines #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan

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melminli · 6 months ago

Text

BANG BANG BANG

summery - thanos was always just such an easy person to argue with. you really hated the guy and that was something that was never going to change, even if your life was on the line and it fucking was.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.8k

contains: violence, death, dark content - just usual squid game stuff really

prev. l next.

"I ask for your attention. The first game will begin shortly. Each player will have their picture taken, then they will follow the staff onto the pitch."

You eyed the confusing and pastel-colored building you were standing in as you listened to the instructions. It wasn't too loud although, there was a bit of whispering from the crowd, the line to the photo booths was pretty organized as well. That was until you suddenly noticed a commotion from a corner, and look who was at the center of it. You just rolled your eyes when you saw the purple-headed guy standing casually between his fans and looked away annoyed after he winked at you charmingly.

Thanos didn't let your subtle rejection bother him. He called out your name and gestured with his fingers to indicate that there was an empty spot next to him - you know, for the group photo. "Hey, you can join the photo, too. Come on."

You continued to ignore his voice and moved forward as the gap between you and the others in front of you widened. Eventually, the loud voices faded into the background, and it was your turn to take the photo. However, while you stood in front of the camera and looked at the smiley face before you, all sense of happiness vanished. If only you weren't so desperate for money, you wouldn't feel compelled to remain in this strange place surrounded by these people.

The flash went off without you even realizing it and caught the absent look on your face. You continued to follow the moving queue like a grazing animal following its herd, lost somewhere in your thoughts until suddenly a person grabbed you by the shoulder.

You instinctively started to defend yourself with widened eyes. "What the hell dude?!" you screamed silently in a panic until you saw the grinning perpetrator in front of you. "Su-bong? What's your problem, I told you to stay away from me asshole, are you stupid?" you grunted angrily and tried again to catch up with the person in front of you so as not to block the way any further.

Thanos just shrugged his shoulders disinterestedly while he casually climbed the stairs behind you. "You really talk a lot, so don't hold it against me when I tune most of it out," he replied, which made you walk a little faster and made him pick up a little more speed to keep up with you.

"Hey, wait a second, woman!" he called out and followed you. "Besides, you know what? You should just call me Thanos, everyone does - it's the name I go by, you know? Not that I expect someone like you to understand the creative thought behind it, but come on. At least try."

You raised your palm to stop his flow of words and perhaps also to put up an imaginary wall between the two of you. "You can explain it however you want, but that's not your name, it's stupid, and I'm definitely not going to call you that." you laughed at him. "Only someone like you could watch every single Marvel movie there is and then identify with the ugly mega villain, really."

That's why I'm not listening, he thought to himself, running his tongue through his teeth in annoyance. "Can you like not be a bitch for a second? You're killing the mood," he spoke out before leaning over the railing and shouting. "The mood is dying!"

"Shut up!" you whispered aggressively as you dragged him away by the arm and rubbed your face in frustration. "What did I do wrong in life besides being born to deserve this..."

Su-bong shook his sleeve from your grip as he sighed himself. "Don't be so dramatic. Are you really still angry about that thing with -"

"Yes," you answer without hesitation, not needing to know how he finished his sentence. Why? Because ever since you knew him, this guy had only made decisions that made you angry. When you thought of the reason that finally broke the camel's back, you had to stop yourself and take a deep breath. "Whatever, someone like you isn't worth it," you declared and then walked with several others through some gate, into the open. No, you were still surrounded by walls, even if they disguised themselves as the sky and clouds.

"Welcome to the first game. All players, please wait a moment on the field. I repeat -"

You continued to look around and noticed people entering from two more entrances. Thanos stood in front of you to block your view. "Are you seriously ignoring me right now? You women are all the same."

You only confirmed his statement with your silence and by averting your gaze from him. Before he could object any further, the gates suddenly closed behind you and the voice from the loudspeakers started talking again. "The first game is called: Green Light, red Light."

A game for children? You repeated perplex in your head and tuned out the voice explaining the rules of the game. You often played this game as a child anyway, you knew how to play it. Do we really earn money by playing this?

"Listen to me! Listen carefully, everyone!" A man suddenly shouted out, attracting the attention of the crowd by trying to explain that losing in this innocent game would mean death.

Unconsciously, your heart began to beat faster as various thoughts raced through your mind. What is this crazy guy talking about? You get killed if you lose? What nonsense. But on the other hand, there must be a catch, who else would give out money for something like this? Maybe -

"Don't worry, that guy just has a few screws loose." Su-bong's voice suddenly spoke out next to you as he turned his index finger next to his head to visualize it. "I can see that there are a million completely unnecessary thoughts running through your little head right now because you always have this funny look on your face when you do," he explained and you just tried really hard not to pay attention to him. He just had to make life difficult for you.

Your eyes wandered again and you looked at the disbelieving faces of the others, who were also just looking at the front man strangely. I'll just be careful and see what happens. Someone will probably lose and then we'll see if it's true or not, simple as that.

There was an announcement that the game was about to start and you saw the stopwatch at the front set to five minutes. You took a deep breath and finally, the robot girl moved to look away. "Red light, green light."

Your concentration was fixed on watching her movements so that you could stop at the right moment. You didn't want to rush, but the time pressure was real. You found yourself glancing at the time too often and subconsciously started to count the seconds you had left. You usually weren't a person who could work under such circumstances, but you had to manage the whole thing somehow. You really didn't want to lose, especially not be the first to do it.

"Freeze! Don't move!"

Shut the fuck up. This guy was seriously getting on your nerves. Your eyes were looking forward while you just stood still and then, a bee flew in front of you. Stay away you stupid thing, you thought as the distance between the insect and your face grew smaller and smaller.

A female voice next to you finally spoke out. "Is this guy on drugs?" She asked when the strange man started to scream again, you didn't know if it was that which caught the bee's attention or her sweet perfume that was suddenly being carried through the wind in your direction, but it didn't matter. You were just glad that it wasn't your problem anymore. Though, you couldn't breathe a sigh of relief since you didn't dare breathe at all when that creepy doll was turned in your direction. The thing looked like it could shoot lasers out of its eyes at any second or something.

"Nope, that's not how you act when you're high." Thanos replied from beside you, and even if you could hold your breath for as long as you needed to, things looked a lot different when it came to a petty comment.

Your mouth didn't move when you spoke, like that of a ventriloquist's. "Of course, you would know best, you fucking drug addict." was all that came out of you while you looked at his back.

Thanos grunted as several ideas popped into his head about how he could twist your words, but he tried really hard not to say any of them. I could really take some pills right now. "I'm about to really hurt your feelings, sweetie."

"No! Really?" you let out as you pretended to be really scared of what was about to happen before your tone changed back to being monotone. "I'm pissing in my pants, please don't."

Ignoring your argument, the little innocent bee finally landed on the neck of number 196. "Hey, what's that?" she uttered as she felt a slight tingling sensation on her neck.

Thano's eyes turned to her figure beside him as he answered her. "Don't freak out, it's just a bee."

"A bee?!" She exclaimed in a panic and started waving her arms around wildly to scare the insect away as quickly as possible. You watched her, as many others probably did right now, but the girl herself realized her own mistake far too late when she finally stopped moving and looked up at Thanos. "Shit." she laughed out. "I just moved."

As soon as she finished her sentence, a bullet flew straight through her skull and dropped her body motionless to the floor. You felt a cold shiver run through your whole body and your heart suddenly stopped before it started beating like crazy in your chest. That didn't just happen. Your head automatically tried to calm you down with some kind of slander, but your eyes couldn't help but move to the dead body on the floor, which was now smeared with fresh blood. No, it really did.

next.

#squid game thanos #squid game season 2 #squid game #squid game x reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #x reader #thanos x reader #thanos #thanos squid game #choi seunghyun #chou su bong x reader #cho su-bong #choi su bong #choi su-bong x reader #fanfiction #t.o.p #player 230

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burningembers91 · 6 months ago

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The Beauty of Vulnerability - Choi Su Bong (Thanos) x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up Piece to: Not Who I Want to Be

Synopsis: Thanos is ready to show who he really is

Warnings: Alcohol and drug misuse/addiction, p in v, oral, 18+ only!

Your phone buzzed once, twice, three times before you finally picked it up. Thanos had sent you a selfie of him posing on his balcony, the Seoul skyline in the background. He had his usual goofy expression on his face, his tattoos visible on his shirtless body. He’d followed the selfie up with several emojis and a plea to join him on his balcony. You couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help but zoom in on his abs visible in the lower lefthand corner of the screen. It had been six weeks since your meeting in the nightclub, and as much as you’d tried to resist, he’d charmed his way into your life.

Thanos was unlike anyone you’d ever met. He was so vibrant, so full of life and yet so broken. His eyes were filled with such sadness, a sadness that never quite went away no matter how hard he laughed, or how many jokes he told. He was the classic class clown, always striving to make you laugh. You hadn’t believed him when he told you he was a famous rapper, not until you’d Googled him the next day. Your friends didn’t believe you’d met him either, not until you showed them the message you’d sent him. you’d listened to his music, and although it wasn’t entirely to your taste, there was no denying the man had talent.

You’d met a few times since then, mostly at Thanos’ apartment. You’d once made the mistake of heading to a restaurant for dinner and spent the entire time fighting off screaming girls armed with iPhones and killer glares in your direction. You hadn’t quite got a feel of who this man was, didn’t quite understand what made him tick. He was a wildcard, but there was an underlying sweetness about him.

While you were reserved with your feelings, Thanos was head over heels for you. You gave him a reason to wake up in the morning, gave him purpose on days that without you would have been filled with drugs and booze. He hadn’t quite managed to quit the narcotics, but a lifetime habit was hard to break. But you’d inspired him to write music again, had given him an entirely new lease on life. The day after he’d met you, he spent all day messaging you on Instagram. The next day, he removed the parasites from his apartment, the ones who only came round when they wanted to party, take drugs or cling to his coattails. He deep cleaned his apartment, tipping bottles of booze and pills down the toilet. He sat at his piano for the first time in years, penning a song that was so different to anything he’d written before. The music seemed to flow through him, the words coming so naturally. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d written something sober, the melody overwhelming him until he was reduced to tears. He’d spent so long pretending to be someone else, it was nice to have a piece of the real him shine through.

He understood you wanted to take things slow, and he’d be a fool to rush into this headfirst. That had always been his mistake. Thanos usually acted first and thought later, but he didn’t want to fuck up whatever this was that he had with you. There were a few times when he slipped back into his old habits, taking a pill when the world got a little too much, drinking himself to sleep when his racing thoughts wouldn’t let him rest. He hadn’t told you about his addictions, but you knew.

You saw it in his eyes, saw the ways his hands shook when he was starting to withdraw. You’d seen friends addicted in the past, and it hadn’t ended well. That’s why you were taking things slow; you were waiting for the moment Thanos would inevitably break your heart. Your head screamed at you to leave, but your heart told you this man was worth fighting for.

You joined him later that evening on his balcony, just as the sky turned candy floss pink as the sun began to set. He handed you a glass of champagne worth more than your monthly salary, kissing you softly on your cheek. His days were long and lonely without you, counting down the hours until he saw you again. You were the anchor that kept him grounded to the world, the woman who stopped him from floating away into the clouds. His fingernails were painted black today, the colour matching the thickly tattooed line that snaked from his middle finger to his neck. you liked to trace that line, smiling as he shivered against you. you hadn’t slept together yet, but every day you found it harder to find a reason not to. His lips skimmed your cheek again, making their way down to your lips. Thanos loved kissing you, loved the way your lips felt against his. You were impossibly soft, your tongue meeting his as you wrapped your arms around his neck, the glass of expensive champagne long forgotten.

“I wrote a song for you,” he whispered, playing with them hem of your skirt. “Can I play it for you?” You nodded, tilting your head back as his lips continued to kiss you, trailing across your jawline and down your neck. He was so crazy about you, so head over heels he felt like he might go insane. You made his entire body tingle, from his scalp to his toes, and he found himself constantly getting lost in your eyes.

Pulling you from the comfort of his outdoor sofa, he led you to his music room, offering you a seat on his plush leather stool. He sat at his piano, nerves wracking his body as he took a deep breath. Usually, he’d pop a pill to calm his nerves, or down a few shots of tequila. But not tonight. Tonight, he wanted to sit with those nerves, to show his vulnerability to you in a way he’d never shown anyone. As he began to play, his voice singing in perfect harmony with the notes, you watched in silence. Every inch of you was covered in goosebumps, the tune on the piano so beautifully encompassing his feelings towards you. Never had a man treated you the way Thanos had; he made you feel like a Goddess.

When the song was over, Thanos stayed at the piano, his bottom lip trembling. You watched him for a few moments, your heart aching as a lifetime of emotions bubbled to the surface. He was so tired of being someone he wasn’t, of surrounding himself with people who didn’t give a shit about him. Until 6 weeks ago, he had no one to call when he was lonely, no one to hug him when he was feeling sad. He’d had no one to turn to when the world got dark, but you were here now. Sitting across from him, your eyes brimming with tears, he didn’t know how to convey his feelings towards you other than through song.

Nothing about him was real; nothing was authentically him. His name wasn’t even real; he’d modelled it on a fucking purple CGI villain. A single tear fell from his eye, landing on the ivory keys with a splatter. A deep, wracking sob escaped him and his closed his eyes as he felt the darkness closing in. He longed for a release, longed to feel the numbness that came with the pills he popped like candy.

Your arms encircled him, pulling his shaking body into yours. You stood there for a while, stroking his shock of purple hair while he sobbed into your chest. He’d never cried in front of a woman before, had never shown any emotion other than unabashed confidence. “My name isn’t even Thanos,” he choked after a while. “I know,” you smiled, “I doubted your parents named you after a Marvel villain.” You wiped his tears away with the pad of your thumb, placing a soft kiss on each of his eyelids. He looked so fragile, so broken as his head slumped against your breasts, his body still shaking with the occasional sob. “What is your name?” He looked up at you. He hadn’t said he real name for years; Thanos had become his brand, the crutch he used almost as much as the drugs and alcohol. “Choi Su-Bong,” he whispered. “My name is Choi Su-Bong.”

You kissed him, pulling him down onto the soft carpet of his music room floor. “Choi Su-Bong,” you smiled, “My Choi Su-Bong.” He made love to you right there on the floor, the sounds of your moans melting into the sound-proof walls. Su-Bong had never felt like this with anyone before. He was usually completely numb when he fucked someone, if he remembered fucking them at all. But with you, he was sober, perhaps for the first time in his life. He felt every touch, every thrust so deeply. He let you take charge, straddling him as you lowered yourself onto him. Your fingers traced his abs, the sensation overwhelming him as your nails dragged gently across his skin, tracing the tattoos that littered his torso and chest. He’d never known something could feel this good, had never realised that your entire body could feel like it was on fire in the best way possible. He was desperate to touch every inch of you, to feel every part of your exposed skin. He guided your chest towards his mouth, his lips locking around your sensitive nipple as he took it gently between his teeth. Your moans were heavenly, more beautiful than any song he’d ever heard. He came with an earth-shattering groan, his fingers gripping the skin on your thighs as he finished inside of you. He carried you to his room after, laying you down on his silk sheets before drawing out your pleasure again and again. Your body shook for him, your breathy moans spurring him on. You tasted like heaven, your slickness coating his mouth and tongue as he devoured you again and again.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, waking up as the sun broke over the horizon. Thanos was gone, but Choi Su-Bong had replaced him. His arms cradled you as you watched the sun rise, his lips peppering kisses along your shoulder and neck. Finally rousing from bed, he padded through to the kitchen. He was no chef, but last night had worked up quite the appetite. He ordered breakfast from a local café, spreading out the food across his expansive kitchen. He wasn’t sure what your favourite was, so he ordered one of everything. You sat and ate together, smiling at each other over your coffee mugs.

There would be hard days ahead, but Choi Su-Bong was determined to start fresh. New music, new friends, a new perspective. He’d never had anything in life that made him want to be a better person. But now he had you, and you were worth fighting for.

#squid game #squid game 2 #squid game x reader #thanos x reader #thanos squid game #squid game thanos #squid game smut #squid game fanfic #choi su bong x reader #choi su bong #squid game x you

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lvrgurlblobbu · 2 months ago

Text

dolled up

“all dolled up just for me, my beautiful wife.”

zayne x fem!reader

⤿ part of snow angel series : )

⤿ cw: MDNI, p in v, thigh riding, cunnilingus, fingering, creampie, breeding kink, mirror sex, spanking, rough sex, sprinkle of brat tamer!zayne

⤿ word count: 5.2k

⤿ synopsis: zayne has been having a rough week due to multiple surgeries, meetings, and tons of paper works so one night, you decided to give him a little surprise : )

ao3

You were lounging in the living room, scrolling through your phone while the television murmured in the background. The house had been quiet the past few days since Hyacinth decided to join her grandparents—Zayne’s parents—on their four-day trip. A small smile tugged at your lips as her grandmother sent a photo of your five-year-old daughter beaming at the camera, cradling a tiny kitten in her arms. The caption read, “She wants to take the kitten home.”

You glanced at the calendar. They were due back in two days, and you couldn’t wait to hug her again and hear all about their little adventure.

You went through your other notifications, eyes scanning for your husband’s name. These past few weeks had been hectic for Zayne—back-to-back surgeries, endless meetings, and a mountain of paperwork waiting on his desk. The exhaustion was written all over his face, dark circles shadowing his eyes. You’d been gently urging him to take a day off, but being the workaholic he was, he always found a reason to decline. He insisted he couldn’t step away, not wanting to fall behind on his responsibilities.

You were about to take a nap when you heard the doorbell ring. You immediately sat up and padded toward the door. As you peeked through the peephole, you realized it was just a delivery. Opening the door, the delivery man gave you a polite nod and handed over an electronic pad for you to sign. You signed your name and thanked him, then took the medium-sized box into your hands. It wasn’t heavy, but it felt like something carefully packed. Closing the door behind you, you walked back into the living room and placed the box on the coffee table.

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. When you checked the notification and saw it was from a clothing brand, your lips curled into a small smirk. Wasting no time, you grabbed a cutter to unbox the package that had just arrived. As you peeled back the flaps, a smile spread across your face—it was the lingerie set you’d ordered online. Without a second thought, you picked up the box and made your way to your shared bedroom, eager to try it on.

It was a pastel pink babydoll-style nightdress made from sheer, lightweight fabric.The bust area features embroidered floral lace with underwire support and satin ribbon detailing in the center. It made your cleavage pop due to its padding. Thin double shoulder straps add a dainty touch, and the skirt flows gently down about a few inches from your intimate area, ending in layered ruffled hems for a soft, romantic look. It also came with a laced pink thong that goes well with the lingerie, as well as an accessory which is a pearl choker and a simple necklace with a small pendant.

And of course, being the little tease you are, you couldn’t resist. After slipping into the delicate lingerie, you sat on the edge of the bed, angled your phone just right, and snapped a mirror selfie. With a sly smile, you sent it to Zayne—who was still at work—along with a message that read: “When are you coming home? I miss you...”

It hadn’t even been five minutes when his reply came through.

“Sweetheart, you look gorgeous. However, I’m in the middle of an important meeting right now.”

You bit your lip, amusement dancing in your eyes. Switching to the front camera, you adjusted the angle and took another photo—this time showing only from your chest down to your thighs, the sheer fabric leaving little to the imagination. With a light tap, you sent it off.

Not long after, another message lit up your screen.

“I’ll be home in ten minutes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, setting your phone down as you settled back on the bed. Mission accomplished.

***

You heard your front door and that signaled that Zayne is already home. With a soft giggle, you stepped out of your shared bedroom then went downstairs to greet him.

“Hello, my love—“ He was suddenly taken aback and his coat dropped to the floor when he saw you standing before him, wearing the lingerie you bought. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Hm? Why would I be? I feel perfectly fine..” You answered before placing a peck on his lips, “Welcome home.”

You caught the faint flush creeping up his neck, his ears turning a telltale shade of red as his eyes roamed over your figure. His gaze faltered, locking onto the curve of your hips—specifically, the absence of that laced thong you’d been teasing him with earlier. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, trying (and failing) to keep his expression neutral.

You bit your lip, barely containing a giggle at the way his composure unraveled.

“Hungry?” you asked, your voice low and teasing, the double meaning lingering in the air.

He gave a slow, slightly dazed nod.

You reached out and laced your fingers with his, giving his hand a gentle tug. “Come on, then.”

Guiding him to the kitchen, you revealed the small dinner setup you’d prepared—candles flickering, plates warm, and everything in place. The contrast between the tension in the air and the peaceful domesticity made it all the more intimate.

You both sat down to eat, the silence between you charged but comfortable, like a storm waiting just past the horizon.

As you finished, the two of you did your usual routine— wiping the table, washing the dishes, placing the leftovers inside the fridge.. However, the way his eyes flicker to you, the clenching and unclenching of his hand, his reddened ears, and deep breaths doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

Currently, the both of you are enjoying ice cream for dessert, the quiet clink of spoons filling the cozy air between you. The soft lighting casts a gentle glow, making everything feel just a little more intimate.

You glance at him, a small smile playing on your lips as you tilt your head.

“So, how are you, my love?”

He looks up from his bowl, his expression calm, almost unreadable. He gives a small shrug, stirring the ice cream around absently.

“Same old,” he replies casually. “Had three surgeries, two meetings and finished the paperworks that was sitting at my desk for days. How about you?”

He scoops another spoonful without looking at you, but there’s the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth—like he’s trying not to let on too much.

“It was fine, just missing our little girl. Your mother sent a picture earlier, Hyacinth is cradling a tiny kitten in her arms and she wants to take it home with her..” A quiet laugh slips from your lips, fond and wistful, as you glance at him.

“I have no objections to that,” he said smoothly—but just then, you noticed a small smear of ice cream at the corner of his lips. Instead of reaching out to wipe it away, you leaned in slowly, eyes locked on his, the air thick with unspoken tension. Your lips brushed the corner of his mouth as you licked the bit of ice cream off, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

When you pulled back, a playful smile tugged at your lips.

“You missed a spot,” you whispered.

His eyes darkened slightly, jaw tightening just a fraction as he stared at you, that neutral composure starting to crack.

“[Name].. Love..” He muttered, gaze locking into yours. “What?” you respond, a small smile curling on your lips.

“You’re being such a tease..”

“I am not…” you denied with mock innocence as you hopped off the stool, deliberately swaying your hips on the way to the fridge. Bending down slowly, you opened it with an exaggerated hum. “Hmm, what should we—ah!”

You yelped softly as a sudden, firm smack landed on your ass. Glancing over your shoulder with a smirk, you found him standing behind you, eyes dark with intent.

“Oh?” you teased, scooting your bare ass back until it pressed against the hard outline of his clothed crotch. You gave the slightest roll of your hips, just enough to feel the sharp breath he drew in behind you.

Before you could even process his next move, strong arms wrapped around your waist, and in one smooth motion, he hoisted you over his shoulder.

“Hey—!” you started, laughing, but his voice cut through, low and full of heat.

“I’ve had enough of this teasing, my love…” he growled as he began striding purposefully toward the stairs. “Let’s see if you can hold onto that attitude of yours.”

You gasped, heart pounding with anticipation, the fridge long forgotten as he carried you up to your shared bedroom like a man on a mission.

As you both enter your room, he strides towards your bed before gently tossing you to lie down, the mattress dipping beneath you as he looms over, eyes dark with intent. You used your arms to anchor yourself as you stared at him..

“Hm??” You teased, brow raising at him as hig gaze trails from your face, to your chest, and down to your exposed cunt. Then you felt his fingers teasing your folds which caused you to whimper..

“Z-Zayne..” you whimpered as he began to massage your wet folds..

“Yes, my love? Wouldn’t want your effort to go to waste, hm?” He whispered as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “My wife waited for me to come home dressed like this, all dolled up just for me. I am a lucky man.” He muttered before his lips met yours, melting in a passionate kiss.

His lips moved against yours with slow, deliberate tenderness, savoring every second like he’d been starved of your touch. Then, you felt him insert his finger inside your pussy which made you moan, he used it to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips to taste you fully—hungry, aching, possessive.

A soft moan escaped as he pressed closer, his body flush with yours, the weight of him grounding you in the moment. He pulled back just slightly, his lips brushing over yours as he whispered, “You have no idea what it does to me, seeing you like this… knowing you’re mine.” he whispered as his kisses trailed down your neck, nibbling on your sensitive skin. Hard enough to the point he’s certain that it’ll leave a mark.

Then he pulled back slightly, taking in the sight of you— face flushed with lust and desire, lips kiss-swollen and parted, chest rising and falling with every shallow breath. His eyes roamed over you, dark and hungry, as if trying to commit every detail to memory.

“God, look at you,” he murmured, almost to himself. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, admiring the way it trembled beneath his touch. “So beautiful… and all mine.”

“Z-Zayne— ahh!” You arched your back as you felt him fasten the thrusts of his fingers in your wet heat, back arching as you gripped the sheets.

“That’s it, say my name.. My love..” He mumbled as his kisses went down your pussy, “Let me have a taste of you, wife.” He whispered before he used his tongue to lick your slit. His fingers still pumping in your pussy, while his other hand is gripping your hips to keep it from moving.

“Mmphh!” You moaned as he continued to flick his tongue against you, his fingers curling inside as he kissed and lapped on your sensitive flesh. Then, you felt the tension building in your core and you’re sure that he feels it— the way your legs tremble and pussy clenched around his digits.

However, it seems like he has other plans because just as you were about to come, he suddenly retracted his fingers and lips from your pussy, leaving it soaking wet and hole gaping.

“Zayne?!” you exclaimed, chest heaving and your pussy aching from your denied orgasm.

“What?” he said with a soft chuckle, his eyes never leaving yours as his fingers worked slowly down the buttons of his polo. The fabric parted to reveal the firm lines of his chest, and your breath caught just a little at the sight.

Once the shirt was off, he moved to sit at the edge of the bed, his posture relaxed but eyes burning with intent. He patted his thigh, gaze smoldering. “Come here,” he murmured, voice low and coaxing. “Right where you belong.”

You moved toward him, each step feeling heavier with anticipation. The moment you settled onto his lap, his hands immediately found your hips, pulling you flush against him. The heat between your bodies was undeniable, electric.

He let out a quiet, satisfied sigh as his hands slid up your sides, fingers brushing the fabric clinging to your skin. “There we go,” he whispered against your neck, placing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below your ear. “You feel so good… so warm.”

One hand cradled the small of your back, holding you close, while the other traced slow circles along your thigh. “I could stay like this forever,” he murmured, lips trailing soft kisses along your jaw. “But you’re making it very hard to be patient.”

“Zayne.. please—“ you pleaded as he trailed wet kisses on your neck.

“Please what? Use your words sweetheart..” He replied, his hands traveling down your thigh then to your ass, cupping it gently. “Do you want to come, sweetheart?” He asked in which you nodded in response.

“Only good girls deserve to come, do you think you’ve been good? Hm?”

“Y-Yes, please, my love—ah!” You yelped as his hand came down on your ass with a sharp, unexpected smack. The sound echoed in the room, followed by a rush of heat blooming beneath your skin.

“Wrong answer.” He hand lingered, soothing the sting with a gentle caress before gripping you firmly, possessively. “Do good girls send suggestive pictures of themselves? Because I don’t think so, good girls earn a reward and what happened to bratty ones, like you?”

“Mm… Sorry—ah!” you gasped as his hand connected with your ass once more, the sharp sting making your hips jolt against him. The second smack left your skin tingling, heat flaring both where he touched and deep in your core.

He grinned against your neck, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re not sorry,” he growled playfully, his voice thick with arousal. “You like it when I make you squirm. Since you wanted to come so bad, work for it.” He said as he guided your hips to grind on his clothed thigh, his hand finding its way to massage your clit while the other was cupping your breasts. Then he tugged the lingerie down, exposing your bare chest before leaning in to suck on your sensitive bud.

You clung to his shoulder for support, grinding desperately against his thigh. Your head fell back, a moan escaping you as the friction of your bare cunt dragging over the rough fabric of his pants sent lightning through your nerves. Every roll of your hips made your legs tremble, but you couldn’t stop—even if you wanted to.

He watched you, eyes dark with hunger, letting you use him, letting you fall apart. His fingers, which had been expertly circling your clit just moments before, suddenly withdrew. You whimpered at the loss, your hips stuttering, needing that contact again—but he had other plans.

His hand slid upward with deliberate slowness, trailing over your stomach, grazing your ribs, before finally cupping your breasts—firm, possessive. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, coaxing them into tight peaks. Then he leaned in close, lips brushing your ear.

“Touch yourself,” he growled, low and commanding.

Before you could even think to hesitate, his mouth closed around one aching nipple, tongue teasing, teeth grazing just enough to make your back arch. His free hand kneaded your other breast, palm warm, fingers rough with need as they rolled and tugged your nipple between them. You gasped, body torn between the heat building in your core and the overwhelming pleasure of his mouth on you.

You slid a shaky hand down between your thighs, fingers slipping over your soaked folds. The contrast of your own touch, slick and hot, while his tongue dragged over your skin, made you cry out. You rubbed small circles against your clit, pressure building again too fast, too strong.

"Good girl," he murmured against your breast, voice vibrating through your chest. "Don’t stop. I want to feel you fall apart on me."

“Z-Zayne... Mm, near…” you moaned, the words trembling from your lips, barely coherent through the haze of pleasure flooding your body.

He growled low in his throat at the sound of his name like that—half-whimpered, soaked in desperation. His teeth grazed your nipple, then he sucked hard, sending another jolt straight to your core. His hand tightened on your breast as he glanced up at you, eyes heavy with lust and control.

“Then come for me,” he rasped against your skin, voice thick and raw. “Don’t hold back—I want to feel it. Want to see you fall apart on me.”

His thigh tensed beneath you, giving you more pressure, and your fingers moved faster on your clit, chasing the wave that threatened to break. Every breath you took was laced with fire. The world narrowed down to him—his mouth, his voice, the way his body held you like he’d never let go.

Your moans pitched higher, body trembling as your climax surged, sharp and overwhelming. Your hips jerked against his thigh as the pleasure crested, stars exploding behind your eyes.

“Zayne—!” you cried out as you came, body locking up, then shuddering hard against him.

He didn’t let up. He kept his mouth on you, kept his hand steady, drawing out every pulse of your orgasm until you were a boneless mess in his arms, chest heaving, fingers still twitching where they’d been between your thighs. Then he pulled back just enough to look at you—flushed, wrecked, glowing with satisfaction. A slow, wicked smile curved his lips.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “You should see yourself when you come for me.”

Then he lifted you with ease, strong arms wrapping around your waist as if you weighed nothing, and laid you back onto the bed with a gentleness that contrasted the heat still crackling in the air. The sheets felt cool against your overheated skin, but your eyes stayed locked on him, hungry, dazed.

He stood at the edge of the bed, gaze dragging over your body like a promise, dark and slow.

Without a word, he began to undress.

First, he discarded his unbuttoned polo. The fabric hit the floor somewhere behind him, forgotten. Your breath caught at the sight of him—broad chest, toned muscles, skin flushed with desire. Your thighs pressed together instinctively. Next came the belt. The soft click of the buckle sent another rush of heat through you. His fingers worked with calm precision, sliding it free, letting it hang from one hand for just a second too long—like he wanted you to imagine what else it could be used for.

Then he dropped it.

You watched as he unbuttoned his pants, the zipper dragging down with a low rasp. He let them fall, the fabric pooling around his feet. He stepped out of them, slow and deliberate, eyes never leaving yours. Now, all that remained between you and him was the tight press of his briefs—already tented with the unmistakable outline of his cock. Your mouth went dry.

His smirk deepened as he caught your stare. “Like what you see?” he asked, voice low, teasing.

But you could only nod, breathless, already aching for more.

He wrapped his hand around his cock, giving it a few slow, deliberate strokes. His eyes never left yours, watching your every reaction—the way your chest rose and fell, the way your thighs shifted, needy and slick with anticipation.

The sight of you spread out beneath him, still trembling from your last orgasm, clearly drove him wild. Then, with the grace of a predator, he crawled onto the bed—each movement controlled, powerful. The mattress dipped under his weight as he moved closer, until he was hovering above you, arms braced on either side of your head.

His cock rested against your stomach, hot and heavy, pulsing with need. You could feel the heat of him, the sheer size of him, and it made your mouth go dry all over again. He leaned down, lips brushing your jaw, then your neck, trailing kisses that made your skin burn.

"You’re so wet for me," he murmured against your throat, voice thick with praise and hunger. "You ready for more?"

His hips rolled ever so slightly, letting his length drag along your slick folds, teasing your entrance without giving in just yet. The sensation pulled a needy whimper from you, your hands gripping his arms, nails digging in.

"Say it," he whispered, mouth ghosting over your lips. "Tell me what you want."

“You… I need you, Zayne,” you breathed, voice barely more than a whisper as your hands rose to cup his cheeks, fingers trembling slightly with need.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes softening just for a moment, grounding you in the middle of all that burning heat. He turned his head and pressed a tender kiss to the center of your palm, as if anchoring himself there—before his gaze darkened once more.Then, without another word, he shifted his hips and thrust into you in one smooth, deep stroke.

You gasped—your back arching as he filled you completely, the stretch making your whole body shudder. He slid in with effortless ease, your slick heat welcoming him, clenching around him like your body already knew exactly who he was meant to belong to.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice low and ragged, forehead resting briefly against yours as he held still inside you, letting you feel every thick inch of him.

The air between you buzzed with heat, your breaths mingling, your bodies already molding together like puzzle pieces that had finally locked into place.

“You feel like heaven,” he murmured against your lips, his voice reverent. “So tight… so perfect.”

You could only moan in response, your legs wrapping around his waist, urging him closer, deeper—already desperate for more. And then he began to move.

He didn’t ease into it.

Once he had you stretched around him, gasping and shaking beneath him, he pulled back—just enough to make you feel the loss—then slammed back in with a force that made the headboard rattle against the wall.

You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders, but he didn’t slow down. His pace was relentless, each thrust hard and deep, driving the breath from your lungs. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with the wet, obscene sounds of your body welcoming him again and again.

“God—Zayne!” you gasped, legs tightening around him. Every time he bottomed out, you swore you saw stars. The way he filled you, stretched you, claimed you—it was almost too much.

But you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted more.

He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, his grip firm, dominant. His other hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and circling it with quick, rough precision.

“You wanted this?” he growled into your ear, voice dark and wicked. “Then take it. Take every fucking inch.” Your back arched off the bed, body twitching under the dual assault of his cock pounding into you and his fingers working you to the edge all over again.

“Such a good girl,” he snarled, voice breaking with lust. “So wet, so fucking tight. You were made for this—made for me.”

You were unraveling fast, the pleasure coming in crashing waves. Your walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper, tighter.

“Come for me,” he demanded, thrusts growing faster, rougher, slamming into your sweet spot over and over. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

And with one more stroke—just right, just perfect—you shattered, your orgasm ripping through you like a storm. You screamed his name, body convulsing under him, toes curling, thighs shaking.

But he didn’t stop. He kept going—riding you through your high, chasing his own. His rhythm grew messy, desperate, and then with a strangled groan, he thrust one final time, deep and hard, before spilling inside you, his whole body trembling above yours.

Even as his body trembled, even with his release still pulsing inside you, he stayed hard—still hungry. He growled low against your throat, teeth grazing your skin as he pulled out slowly, leaving you slick and aching.

“Not done with you,” he muttered, voice thick, breath hot against your ear. “Get on all fours.”

Your body obeyed before your mind caught up—already sensitive, already spent, but somehow still needing more. You turned over, chest pressed to the sheets, ass lifted for him, trembling slightly as the cool air hit your slick heat.

Then he grabbed your hips, dragging you back until you were perfectly positioned—back arched, legs spread, completely exposed. But it wasn’t until he reached forward and tilted your chin toward the side that you realized what he wanted.

Your eyes met your reflection in the mirror across the room.

You looked wrecked—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, bite marks blooming on your neck and collarbone. Your hair was wild, sweat-slicked skin glowing, thighs streaked with your combined release. You barely recognized the desperate, cockdrunk expression staring back at you.

And it only made the heat between your legs flare up all over again.

“Look at yourself,” Zayne growled from behind you, lining himself up once more. “Look at how fucked out you are—and I’m still not finished.”

Then he slammed back into you.

You cried out, eyes flying wide at the sight of him driving into you from behind—his hips snapping against your ass, cock filling you just as deep, just as hard as before. The mirror gave you everything—his expression twisted in lust, the way your body took him like it was made for this, the obscene wet sounds of him thrusting into your still-dripping cunt.

His hands gripped your hips bruisingly tight as he pounded into you, relentless, unmerciful. Your arms gave out, collapsing you to your elbows, but you couldn’t look away from the mirror—you watched yourself come undone all over again, watched him ruin you.

“This is what you wanted right? Dressing all dolled up for me. You knew exactly what you were doing. Teasing me. Tempting me. Acting like you were so innocent.” Smack! “You’re acting like this on purpose,” he growled, voice gravel and heat as he slammed into you again, making your knees slide forward on the sheets.” Smack! “Just so I’d punish you, isn’t that right?” Smack!

You cried out, nails clawing at the bedding, body trembling as he fucked you with brutal, punishing thrusts. Your cheek pressed against the mattress, mouth open and panting—but you couldn’t speak. You didn’t need to. Your body answered for you.

He reached down and yanked your hair back, forcing your head up—forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror again. Your eyes were glassy, your mouth swollen, tears streaking your cheeks, and your cunt was stretched wide around him, dripping and ruined.

He slammed into you again—hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs.

“You wanted this,” he growled. “You wanted to be bent over and fucked until you couldn’t think. That’s what you really want, isn’t it? To feel me cum so deep inside you it sticks.”

“Yes—fuck, yes,” you cried out, the words spilling out broken and raw as another orgasm coiled tight in your core, overwhelming and impossible to fight. He released your hair and grabbed both your hips, dragging you back onto him with a bruising grip as he pounded into you mercilessly.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered through gritted teeth, voice sharp with dominance.

Your hand slid beneath you, fingers finding your clit and circling fast, desperate, as the pressure started building again—faster this time, messier, your entire body already primed to snap.

“That's it,” he hissed. “Fuck yourself on my cock. Watch yourself fall apart.”

And you did.

You moaned his name, loud and broken, as another orgasm ripped through you, your body clenching around him so hard it made him curse. You trembled violently, gasping, eyes locked on your reflection—completely gone, completely his.

He fucked you through it with savage thrusts until he was right there again—grunting, swearing, then jerking inside you as he came again, spilling deep, hips grinding against your ass as if trying to get even deeper.

Then, you felt him relax, his breaths slowing, and the tension in his body eased. He pressed gentle, lingering kisses to your shoulders, as if grounding himself in the moment, in the connection between you two.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice tender, a contrast to the roughness that had just passed between you. His hand, warm and steady, moved to guide you closer, helping you adjust as he slowly slid himself out of you.

You could barely form words as you leaned into his chest, your body still trembling from the intensity. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, both of you finding comfort in the warmth of each other. The soft rhythm of his breath in your ear was grounding, making everything feel calmer, safer. He brushed a few strands of hair away from your face as he cupped your cheeks, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

“Was I too rough on you?” he asked, concern clearly etched across his face. His brows furrowed slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his tenderness, the way he cared for you so deeply, so intently. With a soft smile, you shook your head slightly, your fingers lightly resting on his hand where it cupped your cheek.

“No, I’m alright, my love,” you murmured, your voice soft and reassuring, the words a quiet promise.

He exhaled deeply, his lips pressing softly against your forehead in a kiss full of affection. You could feel the relief in his touch, the weight of his concern lifting as he held you even closer, just letting the silence settle around you both.

"I love you..." he mumbled, his voice warm and tender as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, holding you close against him. His arms wrapped around you like a protective shield, his heartbeat steady and comforting.

"Let’s just stay like this for a while, okay?" His words were soft, filled with a quiet yearning for peace, as if he didn’t want to let go of this moment.

"I love you too," you whispered back, your voice barely above a breath as you snuggled closer, your body melting into his. The words felt like an affirmation, a bond that only grew stronger with every passing second. You felt safe, cared for, and utterly at peace in his arms.

dividers by: @uzzmachiato @anitalenia

#dr zayne #lnds zayne #love and deepspace zayne #zayne x reader #lads zayne #li shen #love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #l&ds zayne #lads smut #zayne smut #smut #p in v sex #mirror sex #brat tamer zayne #makirolls

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corvusclownart · 2 months ago

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sometimes i think about steven's arc esp in future and i scream so loud bc of how fucking good it was

what if the little adventures you went on as a child in an attempt to grow up fast and become the person your well meaning but flawed family expected you to become actually fucked you up badly and it turns out not even you, caretaker of everyone else around you, are immune to needing help?

commission info!

[ID: digital painting of steven from the original show, and steven from steven universe future, floating next to eachother against a purple background. white butterflies surround and flow around them into the distance behind them. draped around future steven's shoulder is a little version of steven's corrupted monster form. child steven is looking at the monster with an expression of bewilderment as older steven smiles gently.

end ID]

#steven universe #art #steven universe future #suf #su #my art

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flux1563 · 2 months ago

Text

Truth Or Dare ft Eunbi and Minju pt 1

Tags : squirting, creampie

Words : 7k

Minju stumbled upon a forgotten corner of the city park, her heart racing from the excitement of the day. Her latest play had just wrapped up, and the applause still echoed in her ears. The air was crisp with the scent of blooming flowers, a stark contrast to the stuffy theatre she had left behind. She needed a moment to breathe, to absorb the success that had just become a reality.

Her thoughts drifted to Mr. Y/N, her ever-supportive manager. He had worked tirelessly behind the scenes, ensuring every detail was perfect. His guidance had been the backbone of the play, and she knew she couldn't have done it without him. A small smile played on her lips as she thought of his stoic face, which she had caught breaking into a proud grin when she took her final bow.

Eunbi, her best friend, was another person who came to mind. They had shared countless dreams and tears together, and now, Minju's dreams were coming true. She knew Eunbi would be over the moon about the play's success. But there was something else, a tiny secret Minju held close to her heart—Eunbi's hidden feelings for Mr. Y/N. It was an unspoken tension that had woven its way into their friendship, a thread of jealousy Minju tried not to acknowledge.

As she sat on the bench, her phone buzzed with a message from Mr. Y/N. He suggested a small celebration, just the two of them. A quiet drink to toast to the play's success. It was a perfect idea, but Minju's mind wandered to Eunbi, who was probably at home, waiting to hear all about it. A pang of guilt hit her. How could she leave her best friend out of this moment?

Minju's fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing out a reply. "How about we invite Eunbi?" she wrote. "It's only fair she joins us. She's been there through everything." She hit send and took a deep breath, watching as the message vanished into the digital abyss. The thought of the three of them together made her stomach flutter, but she knew it was the right thing to do.

Mr. Y/N's response was swift. "Great idea," he texted back. "Let's make it a party of three."

Minju felt a rush of relief. It was decided. They would celebrate together. She quickly called Eunbi, who squealed with excitement upon hearing the news. "I'll be right there!" she said, her voice bubbly over the line.

When they arrived at Mr. Y/N's apartment, it was as elegant and well-kept as he was. The lights were dim, casting a warm glow that danced across the sleek, modern furniture. Soft jazz music played in the background, setting a relaxed and intimate atmosphere. A bottle of champagne chilled in an ice bucket on the counter, and three flutes were already arranged, ready to be filled.

Mr. Y/N popped the cork with a flourish, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment like a miniature firework. The golden liquid bubbled and foamed, filling the air with the sweet scent of victory and celebration. They clinked their glasses together, the sound ringing out like a toast to their shared success. The first sip was cold and bubbly on Minju's tongue, the taste of triumph in every fizz.

The music grew louder, and Minju couldn't resist the rhythm anymore. She set her glass down and began to dance, her body moving freely to the smooth melody. Eunbi joined her, her laughter infectious as they spun around the room. Mr. Y/N watched them for a moment, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, before he set the bottle aside and took the dance floor too. They moved together, their bodies in sync with the music and their spirits soaring.

As the night went on, the drinks flowed freely, and the conversation grew louder. The tension between Minju and Eunbi dissipated with every laugh and shared glance. They were three friends, celebrating a shared victory, the air thick with joy and camaraderie. The champagne loosened their inhibitions, and the dance floor grew crowded with their laughter and spilled drinks. The music wove through them, binding them together in a moment that felt suspended in time.

Mr. Y/N's living room was a whirlwind of movement and sound. They danced to songs that spanned decades, each tune bringing back a flood of memories and emotions. Eunbi's eyes sparkled as she spun around, her hair flying in every direction. Minju felt a warmth spread through her chest, watching her friend so happy and carefree.

The night grew late, and their laughter grew softer. The music played on, a gentle backdrop to their conversation as they sat down, their glasses refilled and their cheeks flushed. They talked about the play, about the future, and about their friendship. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated happiness, a celebration of not just the play's success, but of the bond they had built over the years.

And as they sipped their champagne, the unspoken tension between Eunbi and Mr. Y/N grew stronger, like a bassline that had been playing under the surface all along. Minju could feel it, but she chose to ignore it, focusing instead on the joy of the moment. After all, it was a night to remember, a night where dreams had come true and friendships had been tested and proven strong.

The three of them sat there, the music a gentle hum in the background, the bubbles of champagne tickling their noses, and the weight of their secrets floating just out of reach. For now, they were just friends, basking in the glow of success. But Minju couldn't shake the feeling that the next act of their lives was just about to begin, and it would be one filled with twists and turns she could never have predicted.

On a whim, she spoke up, "What about we play truth or dare together?"

Mr. Y/N's eyebrows shot up, a glint of surprise in his eyes. "Truth or dare?" he echoed.

"Why not?" Minju said with a mischievous smile. "It's a great way to end the night!"

Mr. Y/N shrugged, his expression a mix of amusement and wariness. "Alright, I'll start," Eunbi said, her eyes shining with excitement. She pointed at Minju. "Truth or dare?"

Minju took a deep breath and decided to go with truth. She had always been the more cautious one, preferring to keep her feelings close to her chest. "Truth," she said firmly.

Eunbi leaned in, her eyes glinting with mischief. "When was the last time you had sex?"

Minju's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and she stuttered out, "One week ago," feeling the heat of the question even as she said it. She took a gulp of her champagne, hoping to dull the mortification that washed over her.

Mr. Y/N's gaze remained unwaveringly on Eunbi, his eyes questioning. "Truth or dare?" he asked, his tone even.

Eunbi's cheeks flushed a delicate pink, but she held his gaze without faltering. "Truth," she said, her voice steady.

Mr. Y/N leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "Who's the person you fantasize about having sex with the most?"

The room grew quieter, the music fading into the background. Eunbi's cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink, and she took a moment before looking directly at Mr. Y/N. "You, Mr. Y/N," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air like a confession, a secret laid bare.

Mr. Y/N's smile froze on his face, his eyes widening slightly before he composed himself. He took a sip of his champagne, his gaze never leaving Eunbi's. "Well," he said after a pause, his voice a little rougher than usual, "now that's quite the truth to share."

The air grew thick with unspoken feelings, and Minju felt a knot form in her stomach. She had hoped to ease the tension with a harmless game, but now it felt like she had thrown a grenade into the room. Eunbi's confession hung in the air, unexploded, but the fuse was burning fast.

Mr. Y/N cleared his throat, the silence stretching taut. "Truth," he said finally, his eyes meeting Minju's.

Eunbi felt a jolt of surprise at his choice. "Who was the last person you had sex with?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Minju's eyes widened, and she felt her heart drop. She had never thought the game would go this far, but here they were, their deepest secrets laid bare.

"Minju," Mr. Y/N said, his voice softer than she had ever heard it. She felt his gaze on her, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. Instead, she took another sip of her champagne, the bubbles feeling sharp and bitter as they went down her throat.

Eunbi's laugh was forced, a nervous giggle that didn't quite mask the tension in the room. "So, beside her manager, you were her...?" she trailed off, her voice cracking.

Minju's cheeks flamed, and she downed her champagne in one go. The alcohol hit her harder than she expected, making her words tumble out in a rush. "It was amazing!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying a little too loudly. "He was so...so good, I couldn't believe it!"

Eunbi's eyes grew wide, and she took a big gulp of her drink, trying to keep up with the sudden shift in the atmosphere. "You guys are serious?" she managed to ask, her voice a mix of shock and excitement.

Mr. Y/N cleared his throat, his cheeks coloring slightly. "It was a one-time thing, a mistake," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "We both agreed to keep it professional."

The room was silent for a moment, the music seemingly too loud for the quiet that had settled over them. Then, Minju leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But oh my god, he made me squirt for so long!" she said, her eyes wide with wonder. "It was like nothing I've ever felt before!"

Eunbi's eyes darted between them, her own glass of champagne trembling in her hand. She had never heard Minju talk about sex so openly, especially about someone she was supposed to just be friends with. The room spun slightly, the alcohol making her feel both light-headed and strangely invigorated.

"Alright, Eunbi," Minju said with a playful grin, "you chose dare. Time to get wild!"

Eunbi took a deep breath, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. She had always been the more shy and reserved one of the two, but she didn't want to be outdone. "Okay," she whispered, "I'm ready."

Minju leaned in closer, her voice a seductive purr. "I dare you to strip down until you have nothing left to hide," she said, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Eunbi's heart skipped a beat. She had never done anything like this before, but she knew she had to go through with it.

With shaking hands, Eunbi set her glass aside and began to unbutton her shirt, one button at a time. The fabric slipped away, revealing the lacy bra beneath. She felt Mr. Y/N's eyes on her, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Instead, she focused on Minju, whose smile grew wider with every piece of clothing that hit the floor.

Finally, she was down to her underwear, her body exposed and vulnerable. She looked up, her cheeks aflame, and met Mr. Y/N's gaze. His expression was unreadable, his eyes dark and intense. She knew he could see her heart racing, could feel the heat radiating from her skin.

"Keep going," Minju urged, her voice thick with excitement. Eunbi took a deep breath and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the floor. Her breasts, larger than Minju's, bounced slightly from the sudden release, the cool air of the apartment making her nipples tighten. She felt Mr. Y/N's eyes on her, his gaze unyielding, and she couldn't tell if he was appalled or aroused.

With trembling hands, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear, pushing it down over her hips. She stepped out of it, leaving herself completely bare before them. She had never felt so exposed, so...wanted. Her eyes searched Mr. Y/N's, looking for any sign of what he was thinking, but all she found was a heated intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

The room was silent except for the soft jazz playing in the background, each note seeming to amplify the tension. The air was charged with something electric, something she hadn't felt before. She looked at Minju, who was watching her with a look that was half excitement, half concern, and realized that she had gone too far.

Minju's words echoed in her head. "How about you feel Mr. Y/N's skill in sex?" The proposal hung in the air like a question that had no right to be asked, but she found herself unable to look away.

Eunbi's legs parted, almost involuntarily, as she stood before them. She felt a rush of heat between her thighs, her body responding to the intensity in Mr. Y/N's gaze. She didn't say a word, didn't need to. Her actions spoke louder than any confession she could have made. The fabric of the room seemed to stretch tight with the unspoken understanding that this was a pivotal moment, a line that could not be uncrossed.

Without breaking eye contact, Mr. Y/N reached out and cupped her left breast, his thumb brushing over the hardened peak. His touch was firm, sure, and it sent a jolt of electricity through Eunbi's body, making her gasp. She could feel the heat of his hand through her skin, the pressure of his thumb as he teased her. It was a sensation that she had dreamed of for so long, but now that it was real, it was so much more than she had ever imagined.

Minju's voice was a soft whisper from somewhere to her left, "His touch is magic, right?" Eunbi's eyes flickered to her friend, who was watching them with a strange mix of excitement and something else, something that looked suspiciously like hunger. She nodded, unable to form coherent words as Mr. Y/N's other hand joined the first, both now playing with her breasts, kneading and pinching until she was panting with need.

Mr. Y/N leaned in, his breath hot against Eunbi's skin as he whispered, "How was her tits, Minju?" The question hung in the air, a silent challenge. Minju's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned back in her chair, her own hand sliding up her dress to cup her breast. "Perfect," she said, her voice a sultry purr. "Just the right size to fit in your mouth."

Without missing a beat, Mr. Y/N lowered his head and took Eunbi's right nipple between his lips, sucking gently. The sensation was unlike anything Eunbi had ever felt, and she gasped, her body arching into the touch. His tongue swirled around the sensitive peak, teasing and flicking, while his other hand continued to play with her left breast. The wetness between her thighs grew, soaking the fabric of her dress. She could feel her body betraying her, responding to his touch in a way that was undeniably carnally.

Minju's voice was a soft encouragement beside her. "Look how wet she's getting," she said, her own hand sliding down her body to mimic Mr. Y/N's actions on Eunbi. "Her pussy is begging for you, Mr. Y/N. She's a better squirter than me, I'm sure of it."

Mr. Y/N's eyes shot to Minju, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face. He released Eunbi's nipple with a pop, leaving it glistening with his saliva. "Is that so?" he murmured, his eyes dark with desire.

Minju nodded eagerly. "Oh yes," she said, her hand sliding between her own legs. "You've got to see it. It's like a fountain."

Mr. Y/N's eyes remained on Eunbi, his hand drifting down to the apex of her thighs. With a gentle touch, he slid his fingers along her slit, feeling the slickness of her arousal. Eunbi's legs quivered as he found her clit, his touch sending a wave of pleasure through her body. She threw her head back, moaning uncontrollably as he began to tease her, his movements slow and deliberate.

Minju watched, her eyes glued to the scene before her. She had never seen Eunbi like this, so open and wanton, and it was a powerful aphrodisiac. She could feel her own arousal growing, her panties dampening as she watched Mr. Y/N's hand work its magic on her friend. The sound of Eunbi's moans filled the room, mingling with the music and their own breathless whispers.

Eunbi's eyes fluttered closed, her breath coming in short gasps as Mr. Y/N's fingers danced over her clit. She could feel the pressure building, the tension in her body growing tighter and tighter. With every stroke, she grew wetter, her body begging for release.

"Please keep going, I need to cum," she said, her voice a desperate whisper. Mr. Y/N's eyes never left hers, his own desire clear in their depths. He increased his pace, his thumb rubbing her clit in firm circles that made her hips buck and her legs shake. The pleasure was intense, almost painful in its intensity, but she didn't want it to stop.

Minju watched, her own hand slipping under her dress to mimic his movements. She was so turned on by the sight of her friend's pleasure that she couldn't help but join in, her own breath coming in pants as she touched herself. "You're so close," she murmured, her voice a mix of envy and excitement. "Let it go, Eunbi."

Mr. Y/N's eyes never left Eunbi's, his fingers moving faster, pressing harder against her swollen clit. She whimpered, her body tightening around him as she approached the edge. "Ahh, ahh, I'm going to—" she gasped, her voice trailing off as the orgasm hit her like a wave, crashing over her with a force that made her legs give out.

Her juices spurted out, a geyser of passion that soaked Mr. Y/N's hand and arm, spraying onto Minju's dress in an explosion of pure ecstasy. Minju's eyes widened in shock, and then a wicked grin spread across her face as she took in the sight. Eunbi's body convulsed, her orgasm so powerful that she couldn't help but squirt, her fluids painting a pattern on the floor as she rode the waves of pleasure.

"I told you, she is a better squirter," Minju said, her voice filled with a mix of pride and satisfaction. Mr. Y/N looked up at her, his hand still buried in Eunbi's pussy, his fingers coated in her cum. He couldn't help but laugh, the sound deep and rumbling, the tension in the room finally breaking.

Minju took the moment to stand, her own dress feeling uncomfortably wet against her skin. She reached behind her, unzipping the fabric with an ease that came from years of performing. The dress pooled around her feet, leaving her in nothing but her damp lingerie. She stepped out of the material, her eyes never leaving Eunbi's face, watching the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through her.

"Looks like Eunbi had a little accident," Mr. Y/N said with a smirk, gesturing to Minju's soaked underwear.

Minju giggled, feeling the warmth of her friend's cum seep through the fabric and onto her skin. "Guess it's only fair," she said, her voice playful as she began to strip. She slid her panties down her legs, stepping out of them with a dramatic flair. She was now as bare as Eunbi, their friendship stripped down to its rawest form.

"Now, Mr. Y/N," Minju said, her voice husky with anticipation, "I dare you to show Eunbi how skilled your mouth truly is."

Mr. Y/N took a moment to set his champagne flute aside, the clink of the glass punctuating the heavy silence. He looked at Eunbi, who was still recovering from her powerful orgasm, her cheeks flushed and eyes half-lidded with pleasure. She nodded, her voice a soft whimper of consent. He stood up, his movements deliberate and predatory as he approached her.

Minju watched with rapt attention, her own breath hitching as she anticipated the moment. She knew what was coming, had seen it in her own encounters with him. She reached down and began to stroke her own clit, eager to feel the echoes of her friend's pleasure.

Mr. Y/N knelt before Eunbi, her trembling legs parted wide to accommodate him. He leaned in, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered, "You're so beautiful, Eunbi."

The words sent a shiver down her spine, and she gasped as he licked along her slit, savoring the taste of her. Her hips bucked upward, seeking more of his mouth. "Ahh, Y/N," she moaned, her voice a desperate plea. "More, please."

Minju's eyes were glued to the sight, her own hand working faster between her legs as she watched. The way his tongue moved, the way he sucked on her clit—it was mesmerizing. She had never seen anyone enjoy themselves so thoroughly, so unabashedly, and it was turning her on more than she had ever been. She felt a strange kinship with Eunbi in that moment, a bond formed by shared desire and the thrill of the forbidden.

Eunbi's moans grew louder, filling the room with the sweet sound of pleasure. Her body was a canvas of sensation, every nerve ending alight with the strokes and licks of Mr. Y/N's mouth. "Ahh, Y/N," she cried out, her voice ragged and desperate. "Don't stop, don't ever stop."

Mr. Y/N's eyes flicked up to Minju, the challenge in them unmistakable. With a wicked smile, he pulled away from Eunbi's pussy, her squirt spraying up and outwards like a geyser of lust. It arced through the air, landing on Minju's thighs, chest, and even her face. The sight was obscene and thrilling, and Minju couldn't help but let out a soft gasp of arousal.

Eunbi's eyes grew wide as she watched Minju's reaction, the reality of the situation setting in. But before she could say anything, Minju's own orgasm washed over her. She threw her head back, her body convulsing as her juices spurted out, mirroring Eunbi's earlier climax. The room was a symphony of wet sounds, a testament to the intensity of their shared desire.

Mr. Y/N took this moment to pull out his phone, the screen lighting up his face as he began to record. The sight of the two women, both trembling and breathless, their bodies slick with desire, was one he knew he'd want to savor later. The act was almost voyeuristic, but the way they were looking at each other—with a mix of friendship, love, and lust—was too compelling to ignore.

"Record us, Y/N," Minju said, her voice still breathless from her own orgasm. She spread her legs wider, her clenched pussy glistening in the dim light of the room. Eunbi followed suit, her own pussy quivering with anticipation.

Mr. Y/N didn't need to be told twice. He aimed his phone at them, the camera capturing every detail of their bodies as they began to pleasure themselves. "Ahh, yes," Minju moaned, her hand moving in slow circles over her clit. Eunbi watched, her eyes wide and hungry, as Minju's fingers dipped inside herself, coating her digits in her own juices.

The sound of their wetness filled the air, a symphony of desire that grew louder as their movements grew more frantic. "Ahh, Eunbi, look at me," Minju gasped, her eyes locking with hers. "I want to watch you cum again."

Eunbi's cheeks flushed, but she didn't look away. Instead, she spread her legs wider, her own hand joining Minju's in the intimate dance. They touched themselves in unison, their moans growing louder as they watched each other. It was a display of raw, unfiltered passion that neither of them had ever shared with anyone before.

Mr. Y/N's own arousal was clear as he recorded, his voice low and gruff. "So fucking sexy," he murmured, his eyes flicking between the two of them. "Keep going, don't stop."

Their hands moved faster, their breath coming in ragged pants as they approached the edge once more. "Ahh, ahh, I'm going to cum," Eunbi whimpered, her eyes never leaving Minju's. "I'm going to squirt again."

Minju nodded, her own orgasm building. "Do it," she urged, her voice strained. "I want to feel it."

And with that, they both let go. Their bodies tensed, their muscles tightening as they reached their peak. Eunbi's cum shot out, a thick stream that hit Mr. Y/N's chest and face. He grunted, the surprise only adding to his excitement as he continued to film.

Minju watched, her eyes wide, as Eunbi's pussy spasmed and her fluids painted Mr. Y/N. She felt her own orgasm crest, her pussy clenching around her fingers. "Ahh, Eunbi, I'm coming," she screamed, her cum joining Eunbi's in the mess on the floor.

The room was a blur of pleasure, the scent of sex heavy in the air. They came together, their bodies shaking with the force of their climaxes. And through it all, Mr. Y/N's camera never stopped rolling, capturing every moment of their shared ecstasy.

As their breathing began to slow, Mr. Y/N lowered the phone, his own arousal clear as he wiped Eunbi's cum from his cheek. "Well, that was... unexpected," he said, his voice a mix of amusement and lust.

Minju and Eunbi looked at each other, the tension in the room now a tangible thing. They had crossed a line, and there was no going back. But as they sat there, naked and spent, something had changed between them. The silent rivalry was gone, replaced by a newfound understanding—a bond that was now as sexual as it was friendship.

They shared a look that spoke volumes, a look that said, "We've shared something incredible, and nothing will ever be the same." And with that, the night took a turn that none of them could have ever predicted, as Mr. Y/N set the phone aside and joined them, his own desire too great to ignore any longer.

"Stand up, Eunbi," he said, his voice gruff with need. He gently took her by the hand, helping her to her unsteady feet. Her legs trembled as she rose, the aftershocks of her orgasm still pulsing through her. She was naked and exposed, but she didn't feel vulnerable—instead, she felt powerful, like she was on the brink of something incredible.

Eunbi stood in front of Minju, her pussy facing Minju's face. Y/n started undressing himself and stood in front of Eunbi. His penis was right at her entrance, ready to enter.

"Just watch her pussy and tell me what do you see," Y/N ordered, his eyes never leaving Minju's.

Minju leaned in, her nose almost touching Eunbi's sensitive flesh. "It's so wet," she murmured, her eyes wide with fascination. "And it's opening up for you, Y/N. It's like it's begging for you."

Eunbi moaned, the sound deep and guttural. She couldn't believe she was doing this—letting Mr. Y/N fuck her in front of her best friend. But the alcohol and the heat of the moment had loosened her inhibitions, and she found herself craving more of his touch.

Mr. Y/N's cock slid into Eunbi, filling her completely. She gasped, her eyes rolling back in her head as the sensation overwhelmed her. "It's tightening around you," Minju said, her voice a breathy whisper. "It's like a velvet vice, isn't it?"

Y/N groaned in agreement, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm. He watched as Minju leaned in closer, her tongue darting out to lick the juices that coated Eunbi's inner thighs.

Eunbi's eyes fluttered open, and she looked down at her friend. There was something in Minju's gaze that was both hungry and reassuring. It was as if she was giving her permission to let go, to fully embrace the moment. And so she did, her moans growing louder as Y/N's thrusts grew deeper.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by Eunbi's cries of pleasure. "Her pussy is getting wetter," Minju said, her voice thick with desire. "It's gripping you so tight, Y/N. You're going to make her squirt again."

Y/N picked up his pace, his movements becoming more urgent as he chased Eunbi's next orgasm. She threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back, her body a picture of absolute surrender to the pleasure he was giving her.

"Look at her, Y/N," Minju said, her voice filled with awe. "Look how much she's enjoying this."

Y/N met Minju's eyes, and for a brief moment, it was as if they were the only two people in the room. The connection between them was palpable, a silent understanding that this was more than just a celebration—it was a declaration of their desires, a revelation of the depth of their bond.

He leaned in, his mouth claiming Eunbi's in a deep, passionate kiss as he continued to fuck her. Her body responded immediately, her pussy tightening around his cock as she moaned into his mouth.

"Squirt for me, Eunbi," Y/N growled, his voice thick with desire. "I want to feel you let go all over Minju's face."

Eunbi's eyes went wide with surprise, but she felt a thrill at his command. She had never felt so alive, so wanted. She nodded, her breath coming in short gasps as she focused on the sensation building inside her.

With a final, powerful thrust, Y/N pulled out, his cock glistening with her cum. Eunbi's body quivered, her pussy clenching as she tried to hold back the flood of pleasure that was about to be unleashed.

"Now," he said, his voice low and authoritative.

Eunbi closed her eyes and let go, her pussy spasming as she squirted, the force of her climax propelling her fluids through the air. Minju leaned back, her eyes wide as she watched the arc of Eunbi's cum, a perfect line aimed straight at her face.

The warm liquid hit her cheeks and nose, the scent of it filling her nostrils as it slid down her chin. She couldn't help but open her mouth, her tongue darting out to catch a droplet. It was salty and sweet, a taste she had never experienced before.

"Ahh, so good," Eunbi murmured when her squirting finally stopped, her legs trembling as she leaned against Y/N for support. She felt alive, more alive than she had ever felt before.

Minju sat there, her face and chest now a canvas of Eunbi's passion. She licked her lips, savoring the taste of her friend's desire. "Wow," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "That was incredible."

Y/N looked down at Eunbi, his eyes searching hers. "What do you want, Eunbi?" he asked, his voice gruff with need. "What do you truly desire?"

Eunbi's breath hitched, the words she was about to say feeling both thrilling and terrifying. But there was no turning back now. "Make me squirt again," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "And put your seed in me."

Y/N's eyes darkened, his desire for her clear. He didn't hesitate, guiding her down to the floor, her body sinking into the plush carpet. She lay there, legs spread wide, her body open and exposed, as he positioned himself between her thighs.

"Put your pussy in her mouth, Minju," he said, his voice a command that sent a shiver down Minju's spine. She looked up at Eunbi, her eyes questioning. But Eunbi's gaze was filled with a hunger that Minju had never seen before. She nodded, and without another word, she leaned down and pressed her pussy against Eunbi's eager mouth.

The moment their lips met, the room seemed to spin. Minju felt a rush of pleasure that was both new and familiar as Eunbi's tongue slid between her folds. She moaned, her hips bucking involuntarily as her friend tasted her for the first time. Eunbi's eyes were closed, her expression one of pure bliss as she licked and sucked, exploring every inch of Minju's pussy.

Meanwhile, Y/N positioned himself behind Eunbi, his cock pressing against her entrance. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and full of lust. "Ready?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

"Yes," she moaned, her eyes never leaving Minju's. "Do it."

With one powerful thrust, he was inside her, filling her up completely. Eunbi's moan was muffled by Minju's pussy, but the vibrations sent waves of pleasure through both women. They were a tangle of limbs and desire, their bodies moving in perfect harmony as they gave and received pleasure.

Minju could feel every stroke of Y/N's cock inside Eunbi, the way her muscles tightened and released around him. It was as if she was experiencing the sensation herself, a strange and erotic echo of their shared intimacy.

"Oh, fuck," she shouted, her voice bouncing off the walls. "It feels like heaven in Eunbi's mouth!"

Eunbi's eyes fluttered closed, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked harder on Minju's clit. She could feel her own orgasm building again, the sensation of Y/N's cock pounding into her from behind only making it more intense.

Y/N watched them, his own climax approaching. He reached down, grabbing Eunbi's hips as he drove into her, his eyes never leaving Minju's. "You like watching me fuck her?" he asked, his voice a dark whisper.

Minju nodded, her own hand sliding down to her clit. "Yes," she gasped. "It's so hot."

Y/N's grip on Eunbi's hips tightened, his strokes growing faster. "And what about when I cum inside her?" he asked, his eyes challenging.

Minju's eyes went wide, but she didn't protest. Instead, she nodded again, her breath coming in shallow pants. "Do it," she said. "Make her scream."

The words were like a trigger, and with one final, powerful thrust, Y/N reached his peak. He roared as he filled Eunbi's pussy with his cum, the sensation sending her over the edge as well. Her body convulsed around him, her mouth releasing Minju's clit with a pop.

Minju's eyes rolled back in her head as she felt the orgasm build within her. "Oh, Eunbi," she moaned, her voice tight with pleasure. "It's going to happen, I'm going to squirt."

Eunbi's mouth remained firmly on her pussy, her tongue working in earnest to bring Minju to the brink. She could feel the tension in her best friend's body, the way her muscles tightened and her hips bucked against her face. It was an intoxicating power, one she had never experienced before.

"It's coming," Minju panted, her hand gripping Eunbi's hair. "It's like...like a dam breaking. So much pressure and then—ahh!"

Her body spasmed, and with a gush of wetness, she squirted into Eunbi's eager mouth. The sensation was indescribable—like a warm, wet explosion of pure ecstasy that flooded through her. She watched as Eunbi's cheeks bulged, her eyes watering from the sheer force of it.

"It's so intense," Minju murmured, her voice strained. "It's like my body is releasing all this pent-up pleasure in one go."

Eunbi swallowed, her own desire spiking at the sight. She had never seen Minju like this, so raw and uninhibited. It was beautiful and erotic in a way she had never imagined.

"Keep going," Y/N urged, his own arousal evident in his voice. "I want to feel you both come together."

Minju leaned down, her mouth finding Eunbi's as they kissed, sharing the taste of each other's pleasure. Their bodies were slick with sweat and cum, their hearts racing in tandem as they approached their next climax.

Y/N's cock was still hard, still demanding release. He positioned himself behind Minju, his hand guiding his shaft to her tight entrance. "I'm going to fill you up," he growled, his eyes on hers.

Minju nodded, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Do it," she whispered. "I want to feel you in me while Eunbi's mouth is full of me."

With one swift motion, he slammed into her, making her cry out against Eunbi's lips. The feeling was overwhelming—his cock stretching her, Eunbi's tongue still teasing her clit, and the warmth of her own cum coating her skin.

Their bodies moved together in a dance of lust, their moans and gasps echoing through the apartment. The air was thick with the scent of sex, a potent reminder of their shared desire.

Y/N began to fuck Eunbi with a fervor that was both fierce and tender. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she moaned uncontrollably, her tongue never leaving Minju's pussy. Minju watched in awe, her voice a breathy stream of consciousness. "Look at you," she whispered, her voice a mix of amazement and arousal. "Your pussy is taking him in so beautifully, Eunbi."

Eunbi's hips rocked back to meet his thrusts, her body moving in perfect sync with his. Her tongue continued to swirl and dart, exploring every inch of Minju's sensitive flesh. "Ahh, oh my god," Minju moaned, her eyes half-closed. "You're so good at this."

Eunbi's moans grew louder as she felt Y/N's cock hit her g-spot with each thrust. The pressure was building again, her orgasm threatening to consume her. "Minju, I'm gonna...I'm gonna..." she managed to gasp out, her eyes pleading.

Minju, still riding the wave of her own pleasure, nodded understandingly. She pulled away from Eunbi's mouth, the connection between them breaking with a wet pop. They watched each other, panting and trembling, their bodies coated in a sheen of sweat and arousal. "Do it," Minju urged, her voice thick with desire. "Cum with me."

And as if on cue, their bodies responded. Eunbi's pussy tightened around Y/N's cock, her muscles contracting in a delicious spasm. Minju's own climax began to build again, her clit pulsing with need. Y/N's eyes never left hers as he quickened his pace, pushing them both to the brink.

With a final, guttural moan, Eunbi let go. Her pussy clenched around him, her juices spurting into the air like a fountain. At the same time, Minju's orgasm crested, her cum spraying out in an arc that mirrored Eunbi's. The room was bathed in their shared ecstasy, the scent of sex and desire heavy in the air.

The sight was too much for Y/N to bear, and with a roar, he reached his own climax. He pulled out, his cock pulsing as he painted their bodies with his cum, adding to the mess they had already created.

For a moment, they just lay there, tangled together on the floor. The only sound was their ragged breathing, the only sensation the sticky warmth that covered their skin. They had crossed a line, but in that moment, nothing had ever felt more right.

But the night was far from over. Before Eunbi could even begin to process the intensity of what had just happened, she felt Mr. Y/N's cock hardening against her backside. She looked up at Minju, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and excitement.

"Again," Y/N murmured, his hand sliding down her body to her still-throbbing pussy. "I want to feel you come apart on me one more time."

Without a word, Eunbi nodded, her body already responding to his touch. He positioned himself behind her, his cock pressing against her entrance as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "You're mine now, Eunbi. Every part of you."

Minju watched, her own desire rekindling as she saw the raw need in her manager's eyes. She reached out, her hand sliding over Eunbi's stomach as Y/N pushed inside her again. The sensation was intense, the feeling of his cock filling her up anew making Eunbi whimper with pleasure.

His strokes were deep and purposeful, his hips driving into her with a force that was almost brutal. She could feel every inch of him, his length sliding along her g-spot with a precision that had her seeing stars. "Ahh, yes," she moaned, her voice high and needy. "Y/N, harder."

Y/N complied, his grip on her hips tightening as he claimed her body once more. His eyes were locked on Minju's, the silent communication between them only adding to the eroticism of the moment. "Look at her," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Look how much she wants it."

Minju's hand slid lower, her fingers finding Eunbi's clit as she began to rub in time with Y/N's thrusts. "Come for us," she whispered, her voice a seductive purr. "Let us feel you squirt again."

The pressure was building, a storm of pleasure that was threatening to consume Eunbi. She threw her head back, her eyes squeezed shut as she gave in to the sensation. "Ahh, fuck, I'm going to..."

With one final, powerful thrust, Y/N spilled his seed into her womb. Eunbi's body tightened around him, her pussy pulsing with her own orgasm as he filled her up. It was a moment of pure, unbridled ecstasy that seemed to go on forever.

As they lay there, their bodies entwined and their hearts racing, Minju leaned in and kissed Eunbi softly. "You were amazing," she murmured, her voice full of affection and desire.

Eunbi's eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting Minju's. "So were you," she whispered back, a small smile playing on her lips.

Their bodies lay spent on the floor, a tangled mess of limbs and discarded clothing. The room was still, the only sound the soft, heavy breaths they shared. Minju's hand was resting on Eunbi's stomach, feeling the gentle rise and fall with each inhale and exhale. The stickiness between her thighs was a reminder of the intense moments that had just passed, a sensation that was both foreign and incredibly erotic.

Suddenly, something stirred within her, a new desire unfurling its petals. She pushed herself up, her muscles protesting slightly from the exertion of the night. Her eyes locked onto Eunbi's pussy, still glistening and swollen from the relentless pleasure it had been given. Without a word, she moved on all fours, her body graceful and feline as she approached her friend's exposed flesh.

"Wow," she murmured, her voice thick with wonder. "Y/N's seed is so much, it's flooding." She leaned closer, her nose touching the sticky mess that coated Eunbi's inner thighs. The scent of their mingled arousal was intoxicating, a heady aroma that seemed to fill every corner of the room.

Y/N chuckled, his chest heaving from his recent exertion. He positioned himself behind Minju, his cock still semi-hard from the intense fucking he had just given Eunbi. "Ready?" he asked, his voice low and gruff.

"Yes," Minju said, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart. She turned to Eunbi, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Let's keep going.”

#kpop smut #girl group smut #gg smut #male reader #eunbi smut #minju smut #izone smut #izone minju smut

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enwoso · 13 days ago

Text

little secrets | alessia russo

-> based on this request🍼

masterlist

the final whistle blew in lisbon, and the red flood of arsenal celebration poured out across the pitch like champagne. alessia had tears in her eyes, a medal around her neck, and katie's voice was already echoing in the background, somewhere between a battle cry and karaoke.

fireworks snapped over the estádio da luz, glittering against the portuguese sky, but to alessia, nothing sparkled more than the faces of her teammates — and you waiting near the bench with that quiet smile you had worn all game.

you didn't manage to get onto the pitch, instead spent the entire ninety with a substitute bib around your kit — ‘precautionary injury,' the official word went.

a small 'knock' in training, nothing serious. but alessia knew you'd been distant this past week. not cold, just... more careful than usual. softer in your touches, hesitant with your words. still, in the chaos of champions league preparations, alessia hadn't pushed.

but now they'd done it. arsenal were european champions, again.

alessia's eyes found yours within the chaos and in that moment you lost the battle with your emotions completely.

tears spilled freely — big, hot ones that had nothing to do with the match and everything to do with hormones and love and pride and the little secret you were been carrying with every cell in your body.

you scrubbed at your face quickly, trying to pass it off with a wide, watery grin as alessia jogged toward you.

"jesus," you laughed when alessia reached you, voice already cracking. "i’m so proud of you. of all of you."

alessia saw the tears and tilted her head, still panting from the pitch. "baby... are you okay?"

"course i am," you said too quickly. "just proud. and a bit of a mess, apparently.”

alessia pulled you into a hug, laughing gently against your hair. "you’ve never cried after a match before."

"well," you sniffed. "first time for everything."

—

later, at the afterparty — music thumping, champagne flowing, arms thrown over shoulders — you had been quieter than usual.

still celebrating, but subdued. alessia was already a few drinks in, cheeks flushed, head spinning from joy and alcohol alike. she spotted you by the bar, turning down yet another drink from lia, politely smiling as you sipped a can of diet coke.

"baby," alessia grinned, weaving through teammates and bottles. "you've been dodging shots like you dodged barcelona's midfield!"

you laughed, touching your girlfriends arm gently. "i'm just... not drinking tonight."

"oh come on, we’ve just won the fucking champions league! even chloe kelly is drinking — and she's doesn't drink!"

"i know, less." your smile faltered, just for a second. then you reached for alessia's hand. "can we talk?"

alessia blinked, blinking a little slower than usual. "we are talking," she said with a grin. "this is me, talking. and you, dodging, shots—"

"babe." you bit your lip, glancing around. everyone was too busy celebrating to notice. "i’m not drinking cause i'm pregnant."

there was a beat. then alessia burst out laughing.

"oh my god, you're—ha! love, you joker," alessia said, nearly doubling over. "wait— is this, like, some prank thing? you, vic, and kyra plotting to mess with me?"

but you didn't laugh. instead, with your eyes shining — maybe from tears, maybe from the strobe lights — you gently tugged up your champions 25 arsenal tee, revealing a soft swell. barely noticeable, but still there.

"i'm serious," you whispered. "less... we're having a baby."

silence hit alessia like a wave. the roar of the party dimmed, sound shrinking to a single heartbeat — hers.

"you're... wait. what? the ivf worked?”

"yeah, i wanted to tell you earlier, but... i only found out a couple weeks ago, and it didn't feel like the right time, then we made the final, and i- i didn't want to distract you, but... yeah. i'm nearly two months. the physios know. renee knows. i just asked them to keep it quiet hence the 'small knock'."

alessia face broke. tears. not the elegant, glistening kind. full-on, post-match, nose-sniffling sobs. alessia wrapped you in her arms, holding you like you was something sacred — which, to alessia, you absolutely were.

"oh my god, babe," alessia whispered. "you.. we, i can't believe — i love you so much, and this little one."

of course, katie chose that exact moment to grab the mic. "oi, can we get some silence in here? russo's sobbing, and not because of the trophy for once!"

laughter rang out around the small function room "she's just found out she's gonna be a mammie!" katie yelled, grinning as heads turned. "y/n's up the duff!"

the room exploded. cheers, gasps, clapping. steph and beth ran over with their mouths open in shock. kim looked like she'd just witnessed a royal wedding. renee blinked twice and muttered, "well, i suppose that's a squad announcement..."

alessia was still holding you, her lips pressing kiss after kiss to your forehead, your cheeks, your belly.

"you're incredible," alessia whispered. "and i'm going to be here every step. i'm not letting you out of my sight."

you laughed, watery-eyed. "you say that now. wait until i'm crying at tesco cause they've run out of pickles."

"i'll buy the whole shelf. i'll fly anywhere in the world for you some more pickles. i'll grow pickles."

and under the lisbon lights, with medals gleaming and music rising, alessia kissed the mother of her future child as if nothing else in the world mattered — because, in that moment, nothing else did.

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lieslab · 2 months ago

Text

When there's monsters on your ceiling, I'll keep you safe

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: og8 x gn reader

Summary: Your first live stream without the guys and management turns into a disaster.

Genre: 9th member AU

Word Count: 2.6k

Trigger warning: Mentions of suicide, dieting culture, skipping meals, and bullying.

Depression and eating disorder resources

A/N: I'm really on a roll with requests. Remember to be nice to idols (unless they're twats) Requestee, you really hit the mark with this one

_ _ _

“You think so?” You laughed at one of the comments someone sent through the Instagram live stream you hosted. “I was thinking the same exact thing, it’d be hilarious.”

You were used to doing live streams when needed. Every so often, your schedule announced you were up to bat. Today, management was lenient with you. Your first official solo stream took place in one of the empty JYP meeting rooms.

You slipped the company phone in the camera holder before pressing the button to start the live. Today, you didn’t have a specific plan. You had beads, a roll of leather lace, and a dream. Once you started, you couldn’t stop.

For the past half hour, you’d been making friendship bracelets for the guys. With the help of fans, you were determining what colors to make each person’s bracelet. Not only did it feel like a chance to relax, but you enjoyed speaking to the fans one-on-one without your manager silently trying to get you to avoid a topic in the background.

“So what do you think of Minho’s bracelet?” You held it up to the camera and placed your palm behind it. Pushing it closer to the camera, you held it steady so fans could see. “What do we think?”

You pulled back after a few seconds, reading a few live stream comments off your phone. You clicked on your own stream and muted the phone to read responses. A smile appeared as you responded to a few comments.

“Okay, so now I have to make Han’s, obviously. What do we think?” You glanced back up at the camera. “I was thinking about maybe orange, or red? What about both? It reminds me of his song, Volcano.”

You went back to the comments. “You should make it red and green for Volcano and Alien.” You pulled back and laughed. “I mean, it’s a good idea, but those two colors together remind me of Christmas. I can do red and orange!”

Seeing that most comments agreed, you reached out for the string to start to measure how much you needed. You were about to cut it when the comment came through. The moment you read it, your heart fell to your chest.

‘Hey, here’s an idea. How about you leave all the guys alone and leave the group? You’re the weakest member and ruin everything.’

You knew you should have sat there and ignored it, but you couldn’t. Anger swelled up and you blinked rapidly, trying to force it down. “Leave the group, huh? Maybe I should. It’s people like you that make idols give up on all their dreams and kill themselves due to all the pressure.”

You shouldn’t have said the words, but they came out like a free-flowing spout. What does it mean to be an idol? Really. What does it mean?

It means giving up bodily autonomy to a company. Skipping meals is expected when the scale’s numbers start to go up. When an interview catches you at an unflattering angle, expect a lecture and a new diet spreadsheet.

Going through dances over and over and over again. Sweating until you’re breathless and assume you’re going to topple over at any moment. Shaking knees and unsteady steps as you try to push yourself up to find the strength to do it all over again.

Spend hours learning formations and completing sound checks, trying not to give in and read the hate online. When you’re an idol, everything is placed beneath a microscope. Your flaws, your short-comings, your inability to act the right way, or say the correct thing. It’s all televised for the masses to see.

And god, are they hungry. The razor-sharp teeth of fan-folk on twitter. The faceless comments and nameless profiles that equip themselves with emojis. They beg for new content, but it’s never enough. Treat their favorites with respect, but if they can get away with bashing another group to bring their favorites up, they’ll do it.

The dark side of the k-pop industry has always been there. They never try to hide it. The collapsing at concerts. The hidden injuries. Companies bowing down to fan requests, even when the idol’s livelihood is at stake and they’ll do it, too. Because in the heart of the idol world, money is the only god being worshipped and there is no bigger god than greed.

Comments shot your way, trying to understand what happened. Not everyone caught the comment you did, but they heard the words. They caught your empty-eyed gaze into the screen. A brief glimpse into the actual reality. Maybe you really weren’t okay.

Maybe you were tired of putting on the mask and playing pretend. Some say to get over it. It’s what you signed up for. You deserve it. Get over it. Toughen up and ignore the haters. Not everyone has a shield of armor protecting them. Not everyone is equipped to handle the hate trains and the protest trucks. The black oceans, the scorns and scoffs, the hashtags praying on your downfall. The flop era.

Maybe you were tired and said the wrong thing or maybe you were tired of living it all. A pretty and perfect illusion that crumbled before the eyes of the fans. Everyone knew it, but nobody had the guts to say it.

The companies surely didn’t. Trying to stay neutral, they’d ignore it all. Ignore the fans surrounding the hotels and screaming the names of the favorites at the top of their lungs, wrecking the idols’ sleep schedules, and souring the taste of regular guest’s hotel stays.

Ignore the purple bags and exhaustion sticking to idols that follow them like ghosts. Give them chicken and rice diets. Drink more water. Cut more calories. Restrict more. Look at yourself and be ashamed.

Ignore the hate trucks. Blame the idols and don’t hold the fans accountable. Sacrifice them to the wolves and know that your company’s reputation will bounce back, but not always the ongoing mental struggle of the idol.

How many times did you cry because you missed your family? The sibling you couldn’t watch grow up. The stretching crow’s feet in the corner of your mother’s eyes. The deepening wrinkles on your father’s face. A kitchen chair sat waiting for you in your childhood home, longing for your warmth, but you rarely showed up anymore.

The industry breaks you and reshapes you. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. You’re dragged through the mud all the time. Dreams are supposed to be hard, but why are some of them so self-destructive? How do you really go about becoming a k-pop idol the right way?

You still remember the shock as you combed your hair one time and found your hair falling out in an alarming amount of strands. Too much stress. Not enough food. Not enough sleep.

Sometimes your members, they weren’t just your members, but souls tortured just the same as yours. You saw it in the way Chan rambled on bubble, so desperately trying to fix internal fan wars that were never his fault. Always blaming himself, trying to do better. The weight of a fandom was never supposed to fall onto the weight of one man.

You saw it when Felix drank water and began to heavily restrict before an upcoming photoshoot because he wanted to look perfect. You were forced to confront it after his stomach growled a third time. Hunger lingered in his eyes when he looked your way while you ate your dinner.

Devastation seeped out of a few members at certain events. They never seemed to get the recognition they deserved. It wasn’t their fault. It was never their fault. It’d never be their fault.

You blinked rapidly as the tears began to fall. “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go.” Fan comments rolled in, but you reached forward and hit the end live-stream button.

Tomorrow, a lecture waited for you with management, but for now, you just wanted to mourn.

~ ~ ~

“Oh…” Felix’s voice trailed off. He sat staring at the blank screen with a frown. Your live was going great until you shut down towards the end. You said nothing, but you also said everything all at once after that last comment.

Beside him, Han, Minho, and Hyunjin sat just as stunned. They were enjoying your live stream, looking forward to the bracelets they’d be getting afterwards. As one of the younger members of the group, you were cherished a lot.

“We need to go find them,” Minho pushed himself from the dance practice floor. “Does anyone know which conference room they’re in?”

Heads shook and Han pushed himself up to follow him. “Let’s go look. Can someone grab the rest of the guys? I think they went out for lunch, but they should be back at any moment. I think we’re really needed right now.”

“I’ve got it. If you find them first, call me and let me know.” Hyunjin reached the door first and disappeared.

Felix rushed after Han and Minho. “This is really bad. I didn’t know they felt this way. Should we be worried?”

“I think we all feel this way sometimes, but we’ve never said it out loud,” Minho mumbled.

“Hey, I found them!”

Across the way, the remaining four members looked just as worried. A unit of eight, Changbin led the charge towards the end of the hall. Hyunjin picked up the end and placed a hand on a staggering Jeongin’s shoulder.

“We should have noticed this sooner,” he uttered softly.

“How were we supposed to know, Innie? They always keep to themselves. They’re very good at trying to ignore the things bothering them.”

“I feel like an awful person for not noticing.”

“It’s okay, we’re going to fix it together.”

~ ~ ~

In the conference room, your head sat in your hands. The colorful beads and leather string sitting around didn’t bring you the joy that it once had. Instead, you silently cried into your hands.

All you wanted was one nice live without a troll. Instead, you gave them exactly what they wanted. They wanted your tears and your anger. It fueled them for whatever reason.

You didn’t look up when the door burst open. You tensed up, waiting for a member of management to yell at you, but it never came. Instead, multiple footsteps headed your way. A gentle hand fell upon your shoulder and Changbin softly called your name.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumbled.

“Well, that’s just too damn bad,” Seungmin said. His arms crossed over his chest. “I left my biscottis behind and we all gathered here.”

Minho shot him a glare, but it didn’t bother him. Chan gave him a follow-up warning look and sighed. “Listen, we just wanna make sure you’re alright. The way you ended that live, it was-”

“Horrible? Unprofessional and irresponsible?”

“I was going to say bold, but incredibly true. You spoke about the things some idols stay far away from.”

“I’m tired!” You pulled your hands away from your face. Tears lined your bloodshot eyes. “It’s always something and I’m trying my fucking best! I’m trying to be a good person and a perfect idol and it’s not happening! I can’t do it! I-I-” You sucked in a shaky breath and a whimper fell out.

You tried so hard to keep it together, but when Felix appeared and squirmed closer to wrap his arms around you, you cracked. Your head buried into his chest as sobs fell from you.

How much of your life had you given up being judged in the name of your dreams? There would always be people who hated your guts for one reason or another. You’d always have people that disliked you, but in the k-pop world? People would do anything to bring down the idols they hated.

Spreading rumors, sending hate trucks, and stirring the pot. Taunting, teasing, and straight up bullying. Stalking, harassment, and belittling. It was always something.

You couldn’t breathe without doing it wrong. Every time you touch a member for too long, you’re being childish and clingy. When you don't say much during a video, you’re dubbed a stuck-up snob. Too close to the opposite gender of another group? You’re probably dating them.

There is never and will never be any winning in the industry until people change. Companies have to stop dragging their feet. It only stops when the industry calls out bullshit as they see fit. Taking the steps for legal action. Knowing an idol is a privilege, not a right.

Han wiggled his way to the other side of you, squeezing between Changbin and Felix, letting a hand fall to your head. Another hand and then another. As you cried, they all grieved. Tears sprouted from all of them because they all knew. When one of them hurts, they all hurt, and your reasoning? It all sat within them during their down time.

The industry had been built off of breaking people and trying to build them back better. People are not that durable. When you break someone’s soul, there is no going back. Idols learn to hate their imperfections. Change them. Shape them.

Slave away in the mirror to develop a perfect routine, so no pores are visible. Some trade away their real personalities, not because they want to, but because companies want to market them a certain way.

Everything is pre-planned to the extreme. Compete against your favorite friends in the charts because they belong to different companies. Slaughter the competition. Sell more albums. Do the embarrassing requests on fan calls. Have no boundaries because the company said so and unless you want to be blacklisted, do it, or fall victim to the endless abyss of wannabe idols that didn’t make the cut.

“Ah, this is embarrassing,” Jeongin mumbled after a while. “I’m not supposed to be crying in front of everyone. All these hyungs and I’m-

“Suck it up,” you mumbled, trying to pull back from Felix’s shirt. “Now you know how I feel.”

“You have pretty cute tears,” Changbin observed.

“Hey! Don’t cheat on me! You can’t call them pret-”

“Shut up, wifey.”

Seungmin’s face scrunched in disgust and Han rolled his eyes. Chan glanced down at you and gently squeezed your shoulder. “Are you feeling a little better?”

You nodded, reached up, and wiped your eyes. “Thank you for letting me cry. I’m sorry that I-”

Minho’s hand went over your mouth. “Do not ever apologize for struggling with real emotions.”

Your nose wrinkled and you pulled away. “Ew. How am I supposed to know where your hand has been? That’s so-”

“Probably around Jisu-”

“AH!” Jeongin’s hands went over his face and he shook his head. “Stop! Stop! I don’t want to hear it! Enough!”

“You’re so cute, Innie. Come here! I wanna pinch your cheeks.” Hyunjin walked around you and hurried to Jeongin. Felix cheered for him as Jeongin began to hurry around the other side of the table.

“Don’t touch me!”

“I wanna touch my wife!” Changbin hurried after Hyunjin.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Felix grinned and rushed afterwards. “Changbinnie, I wanna touch your muscles!”

“That’s my cat.”

“Hey, wait!” Han rushed after Minho.

“That’s my first-born.”

“Yeah and I wanna kick the elder’s ass,” Seungmin grumbled, following Chan. He spun around to glance at you. “Are you coming? Don’t you want to throat punch me like usual or something?”

“How’d you know?”

“You say it’s always a good day to throat punch me.”

“Sometimes it is.”

“It’s every day.”

“Well, stop being a pain in my ass and it won't happen anymore.”

“You cunt.”

“Jackass.”

He huffed and hurried after Chan. You grabbed your phone and hurried up to follow him. In the k-pop world, it was riddled with a lot of issues, but when moments like this naturally happened…

It was hard to stay upset for long, knowing that the industry brought the eight of these idiots right into your heart; you had a feeling they’d stay there for a long, long time.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz @ari-hwanggg

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

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darkmatilda · 1 month ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐕𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: upon waking up next to a certain unexpected person, spencer barricaded himself in the bathroom, trying to piece together the events of the previous night and come to terms with the fact that he had just gotten married in Vegas.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, non-explicit nudity, alcohol consumption, they just went with the vibe and even slept together #imbeciles, everything is spencer’s drunk and dumb idea and even he has no idea what he was trying to achieve with all of it, lots of spencer's inner monologue, and quite a lot of just awing over our gorgeous reader (can you blame him?)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5.9k

𝐚/𝐧: shoutout to vegas anon for the idea. i’ll never stop thanking for it, it’s so dumb and it only works because it’s THEM. requests for the aftermath (and honestly the whole series) are open now <33 masterlist

There was a certain blissful feeling accompanying Spencer from the moment he cracked his eyelids open.

A blissful feeling that overshadowed something else lingering in the background—a weight pressing against his head, like the prelude to a brutal hangover that hadn’t yet caught him in its snare. A weight softened by the conditions in which he had awoken. The mattress of the bed in this upscale hotel seemed to mold perfectly to his body—naked, as it turned out. Comfortably warm, to the point where the blanket only covered a sliver of his hip, and yet he didn’t feel the slightest chill. No morning stiffness in his muscles—only relaxation…still drowsy, he rolled onto his back and realized that wasn’t entirely true. He was, in fact, sore in a few specific places, though he wouldn’t call it a bad feeling. If anything, it felt…welcome. Almost wanted.

Soon, he forgot even about that.

More precisely, when his gaze started to orient itself in space and cooperate with his sluggish mind, it almost immediately stopped on the divine sight right in front of him.

She must have woken up shortly before him. Also with skin fully exposed to the sunlight seeping through the balcony window, she lifted herself into a sitting position, shifting so she could end up face to face with him, hair flowing smoothly to one side of her head as she gently tilted it.

Looking at him, with a truly unreadable expression.

For a brief moment, Spencer’s body seemed unable to move, frozen in place.

He responded to her gaze with hesitation, but—as he had already managed to gather—they had slept together, so he should probably let go of the shyness. Let go of the shyness—he had to repeat that phrase in his mind to realize that, without taking his eyes off her, he had stopped breathing. Slowly, he let the air out, barely noticing that his lips had shaped themselves into a small, gentle smile.

“Good morning,” he finally said, his voice barely louder than a mumble, but soft.

What followed was a wave of confidence—or rather, an irresistible need to confirm that this wasn’t just a drunken dream (although he doubted that an alcohol-clouded mind would be capable of painting such a masterpiece as she was—something he had always sort of known, but only now became fully aware of)—and his hand wandered toward her, not yet knowing where it would land.

He didn’t care about any specific place—he simply wanted to feel again the miraculous smoothness of her skin and what it felt like under his fingers.

But she firmly brushed his hand away, and it felt like a slap straight to the face. Or rather, like a needle popped the blissful bubble that had surrounded him since waking. Even all the symptoms of a hangover began to come crashing down on his head like an avalanche, now that the barrier holding them back was gone.

“Oh, I’ll give you good in a minute,” she said quietly right on the dangerous edge of a hiss. Spencer blinked blankly, completely lost. The woman suddenly drew in a breath, her fingers digging into the skin at the side of her head.“I’m afraid…I have a suspicion we did something absolutely fucking stupid.”

Spencer felt his body tense up in an unpleasant way, and with it, his jaw clenched too. Not out of anger—of course not out of anger—just… ust suddenly it became so clear to him that she must really regret spending the night with him, which, to put it mildly, was a fucking awful feeling. It hit him and trapped him in its grip, a grip that only loosened when he looked into her eyes and, surprisingly, didn’t find regret there.

The first memories from the night before (a night, but not a night) started coming back to him.

And then the hand he hadn’t even realized was still hanging in the air dropped loudly onto the sheets.

“Oh fuck.”

She drilled her gaze into him.

“Oh fuck? Seriously, oh fuck is all you’ve got to say?”

“What else could you possibly say in this situation?!” he asked, his voice an octave higher, almost squeaky, as panic began to fill him, his mind bouncing off the walls of his head in chaos.

Trying to regain some composure, he lowered his head with a sigh and realized he was completely naked.

The earlier blissful, carefree, and contemplative mood was now nothing but a memory.

“I need to...I need to—”

Reid realized he wasn’t lying in bed anymore, but standing beside it, looking around for his clothes on the floor. He gathered them, pulling up the same pants at least three times, feeling so deeply awkward and pathetic that he disappeared into the bathroom, avoiding looking at her face.

It wasn’t until the door was closed, clothes slipping from his suddenly too weak hands, that he realized how hard his heart was pounding. Okay, bolting like that was honestly a pretty pathetic move on his part, but in order to even start thinking about the inevitable consequences of what they’d done the night before, he first had to force himself to open those events—lay them out—and figure out how the hell they’d even gotten there in the first place.

And he couldn’t do that while exposed to the sight of her, especially with absolutely nothing on.

And yes, they could literally have had sex just a few hours earlier, but as the alcohol was leaving his system, virtue came rushing in to take its place.

Spencer pressed his back to the door, already picturing the woman he'd just hidden from rolling her eyes in quiet disbelief and pity over how he'd acted. She was definitely going to make fun of him the second he came back out—that was a given. For now, though, he decided to focus on something else. First, he wiped a hand down his face.

You’re probably wondering how they even ended up in this situation.

Well, it all started with none other than Derek Morgan. Derek Morgan and his grand vision of proposing to his girlfriend—where else but in a massive, high-end hotel in Vegas. So what were he and she doing there? You could call it moral support for this big step in his life. Also, their presence helped throw Savannah off the scent and made the upcoming proposal a little less obvious. Besides, they just wanted to chill out in a nice hotel.

“Okay...so I was planning to do it like this.”

With those words, Morgan dropped to one knee in front of them and reached into the pocket of his black blazer to pull out the ring. It was proposal night, and the three of them were hiding out in Spencer’s room, away from Savannah, so their friend could rehearse everything one last time.

Reid looked at Morgan—down on one knee and clearly stressed out—and honestly, he didn’t have much to say. It was a knee drop. Whatever.

But there was someone who had something to say.

“No, no, no, totally not,” she said, waving both hands in dismissal and shaking her head with the face of a seasoned critic.

Spencer raised an eyebrow at her, but she ignored him completely, continuing as she motioned for Derek to get back up.

“You need to have your hand already inside your jacket as you go down on one knee. Grab the ring box then. That way it’s smoother and there’s no awkward moment of fumbling around trying to find it.”

Their friend sighed but got up and did it again—and then four more times.

They couldn’t stay there rehearsing forever, though. Eventually, the man rose for the final time, lacing his fingers behind his neck in a last wave of worry.

“What if she says no?” he asked aloud.

Reid exchanged a glance with the woman; they both knew that question was coming and that it would fall on them to say whatever it took to boost his confidence.

He even opened his mouth to start, but she beat him to it.

“You’re proposing in a restaurant,” she pointed out. “In front of dozens of people. Poor Savannah. Even if she wanted to say no, she wouldn’t, because of the pressure.”

Spencer stared at her, jaw dropping in disbelief.

“You didn’t have to say that!”

She just shrugged. Morgan stared at her for a beat before letting out a short laugh. Spencer, however, felt compelled to add:

“She’ll say yes. I mean, she loves you, you’ve been together long enough, and even statistically speaking…”

“Thank you, guys,” Derek said, glancing at his watch and sighing—the time was getting close for his date with his (hopefully) soon-to-be fiancée.

They both hugged him, wishing him luck. And there was nothing Spencer hoped for more than for everything to go exactly as planned. Because his best friend, Derek Morgan, absolutely deserved it.

But before Derek left, he looked at them one last time, raising an eyebrow in that signature way of his.

“And you two? What are you gonna do?”

Reid had no idea what to say—he’d been so focused on Derek’s evening that he hadn’t thought about his own.

She looked at him, tilting her head slightly.

“Casino? I mean, we’re in Vegas. It’d practically be a sin not to go. Besides, I heard this guy’s pretty good with cards,” she added, raising her eyebrows at him meaningfully.

A strange wave of excitement passed through Spencer as it dawned on him—she had basically just told him she wanted to spend the evening with him.

But then he quickly grounded that feeling, telling himself it was just because she was a familiar face in a place he didn’t quite know yet. Then suddenly, another realization hit him, and this one made him uneasy. And no, it wasn’t her flattering words.

“Thing is…” he began, sighing. “I’m kind of…banned from every casino in Vegas.”

As he expected, she stared at him for a few seconds, motionless, then turned her gaze to Morgan, silently asking for confirmation. And when she found it, her eyes widened as she shook her head with a disbelieving scoff.

“Like, literally every casino in Vegas?”

He shifted uncomfortably and gave a small nod.

“And Laughlin. And Pahrump.”

She made that scoffing sound again, and there was something accusatory in her gaze.

“And I’m only finding out about this now?”

She stood there for a moment, lost in thought as she came to terms with this new piece of information. Then she looked back at him, locking eyes—and maybe it was just his imagination, but he could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a genuine smile flash across her face.

“Well, now I have to play against you.”

Spencer finally tore himself away from the bathroom door, although he had to admit it had taken him an embarrassingly long time. What he had just opened in his mind had happened the night before, but it felt as if he were summoning a decayed memory from years ago. Still running on its fumes, he pulled on his pants, missing the leg hole on the first try and nearly toppling over on the second. Then he threw a white shirt over his back and, approaching the sink, began fastening the buttons.

When suddenly he froze—along with the breath in his chest.

He stood face to face with the mirror, and no, his hangover wasn’t so destructive that he didn’t recognize himself. On the contrary, he knew perfectly well he was looking at himself, and it made it even harder to connect the face that stared back at him every day from the subway window with the rest of his body. Or rather, with what was covering it.

A corner of his shirt slipped from between his fingers.

The first…let’s call it a signpost, since it marked the beginning of a long but consistent road, was located just below his jawline, partly overlapping it. Red, in the unmistakable shape of lips, nearly a perfect imprint. One might even think the surface had been a sheet of paper, a thin, unmoving plane — not his living, breathing skin. Funny how, instead of taking in his whole reflection at once, he gently traced his finger from one to the next, as if discovering an unexpected message written in Braille. The letters ran down his neck, chest, and stomach, fading downward into a more and more careless shape and a paler color — as if the hand that had written them had been struck by sudden inspiration and couldn’t quite keep up with all the mind wanted it to say.

Translating, of course, into nerd speak.

In reality, each next touch of her lips had simply been more impatient, wilder, and the lipstick had smudged more and more with every one of them.

The last of them were barely more than traces, faint smudges that could easily be mistaken for nothing more than flushed skin. He didn’t find out exactly where their journey had ended—when he spotted the lipstick just below his belly button, a sudden heat rushed up the back of his neck, almost instantly spilling beneath his skin and tinting it the same color as the lipstick that had marked him.

Spencer turned on the tap and nearly plunged his face under the stream of cold water.

"I've never played blackjack with just two people," the woman said.

Spencer focused on shuffling the cards carefully, yet as nonchalantly as possible. Right, he was showing off. Any problem with that?

"I've never played blackjack for drinks," he replied.

"Well, then this will be a first for both of us. You know the rules, right?"

He glanced at her briefly out of the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow.

"Please."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to insult your skills, card king," she scoffed.

He nodded silently, holding back a smirk. He didn’t know what exactly was affecting him, not a drop of alcohol had touched his lips yet, but he felt unusually confident. And above all, in the perfect mood to take on this sarcastic dance.

"Well," he muttered, with feigned seriousness. "At least you feel remorse. Rightfully so."

Her loud chuckle echoed through every corner of the bar in their hotel. They couldn’t visit the casino, so they decided to head there together instead, to play something quietly in a secluded corner, which by no means meant it would be any less fierce. They sat across from each other, and whenever he glanced at her, and her eyes, focused on his hands dealing the cards, met his, he saw a sharp glint in them, a sign of the competition to come.

A competition he fully intended to take on.

After nearly submerging his whole head under the faucet, droplets of water slid down the back of his neck, soaking the fabric of his white shirt. He finally managed to button it all the way up; it was visibly wrinkled — both from the eagerness with which it had been taken off and from spending the entire night lying on his bedroom floor. Spencer felt a fleeting moment of relief, during which he allowed himself exactly one calm breath.

Right after that, more pieces of the previous night pushed their way into his mind, and he had the urge to grab his past self by the shoulders for that competitive streak. His present self too, for ever having been his past self in the first place.

Drinking games have this particular trait — the drunker you get, the more often you lose. And the more often you lose, the more you’re forced to drink, which makes you lose even more — and so the cycle spins.

Spencer never had a particularly strong tolerance, mostly because he usually avoided alcohol altogether. So it didn’t take long before he began to feel the first signs of intoxication. His tongue loosened significantly, and everything he said became more chaotic — sometimes even intimate. Not in a way that he started spilling secrets or handing out his credit card number, but he was far more willing to back up a point with personal experience rather than plain statistics or scientific proof.

He was also far more willing to laugh.

Though…maybe, in that particular case, alcohol wasn’t entirely to blame.

Luckily, his card skills and a bit of luck early in the game meant that he and his companion were at roughly the same level of awareness. That is to say — drunk enough to occasionally lose track of the conversation and forget they were playing anything at all.The initial rivalry had quietly faded into the background when she suddenly glanced at the time on Spencer’s watch—still holding her cards—and fell into thought.

She looked so pretty.

It meant, well, she always looked. But that was just a statement of fact, an observation of reality.And as we've already established, drunk Reid had a much greater tendency to speak from the heart—from his worldview and feelings—not just from dry data and objectiviy.

So, yeah. She looked so pretty.

And he could stare at her!

Because when a person gets drunk, their expressions and reactions become so lethargic that what, on the inside, feels like drinking someone in with your eyes, on the outside just looks like a casual glance.

So, yeah. She looked so pretty, and he got to notice it not once, not twice, not three times, but an infinite number of times — each one sending that same otherworldly wave of awe rushing through his bones.

Bless the alcohol!

He realized she had said something to him, and like an idiot, he hadn’t even registered the movement of her lips. Which—fair enough—he had been consciously avoiding looking at. Reasons. Private.

He shook his head, snapping himself out of it, and asked her to repeat.

“Do you think it’s over already?” she repeated — surprisingly without the kind of venomous tone that would usually ask if he could maybe, just this once, listen to what she was saying.

But if she had asked that, the answer would have been yes. He could. Just not that time.Not when she had one leg crossed over the other, her foot bobbing to a rhythm only she seemed to know (which he, of course, tried to match to hundreds of songs filed in his head—eventually settling on Chopin’s Ballade in G minor, Op. 23—though it was entirely possible he was reading too much into it), not when her skin shimmered in the warm bar light, not when her head tilted gently to the side, a direction her hair seemed to follow, that evening choosing a wilder path he adored.

Seeing he was still lost, she rolled her eyes.

“The engagement,” she clarified. “Do you think it’s happened already? Did Morgan chicken out, or did he actually go through with it?”

Oh, a concrete topic of conversation. A reference to reality and their friend's character. The brain kicked in. The brain stopped being pathetic, the brain started braining. Focus returned. Spencer cleared his throat.

"Hm, it’s Morgan," he noted. Don’t judge the eloquence of this statement too quickly—it really was developing into something sensible! "Y’know, he doesn’t chicken out. I’m sure he did it. He could have totally and utterly embarrassed himself, but in the end, he did it."

"Totally and utterly embarrassed himself?" she repeated his words, looking as though she was holding back a snort of laughter, her eyebrows raised in skeptical amusement. "Don’t be so cruel to your friend. You’d probably trip over your own feet. Face first. Right in front of your fiancée."

Reid froze for a moment, for some absurd reason feeling genuinely offended by the remark. He felt a sudden duty to defend his honor in this alternate universe where he had a fiancée.

"I would not," he denied, folding his hands on the table between them and leaning forward slightly. He had already set his cards down on the table earlier, completely forgetting the game. "I could totally pull it off with real class. Even without all that planning. Just buy a ring on a whim and propose at the first opportunity, and it would still end up being the perfect proposal. Though personally, I’d prefer to have something prepared. But, you know, we’re discussing a specific scenario here."

She didn’t look even the slightest bit convinced, no matter how much drunken conviction and seriousness he was pouring into his words. She just nodded, with a mockingly sympathetic kind of agreement.

“Mhm. Sure you would,” she muttered.

Spencer’s fingers tapped nervously against the surface of the table between them, trying to shake off the wildly silly idea creeping into his thoughts. It wasn’t just silly—it was completely unnecessary and, if anything, didn’t prove a damn thing. Even his own arguments weren’t convincing him.

His hand suddenly stopped mid-tap, coming to rest flat on the wood. “I can prove it to you,” he declared.

“Prove what? That you can bend one knee? Spencer, baby, you’re not quite old enough for that to impress me.”

“That I can do it properly,” he clarified, not even bothering to roll his eyes at her jab. “Do it right the first time—what Morgan spent an hour rehearsing with us in the hotel room. Reach for the ring at the perfect moment…”

“...sounds like someone was taking notes.”

“...and not fall on my face in the process. Do it all smoothly. So,” he shrugged, feeling unexpectedly nonchalant about the whole thing—which only made her watch him more closely, with a flicker of curiosity in her gaze, eyes focused solely on him, like nothing else around them mattered. For a second, it was easy to forget there were other people in the bar at all.

“Show me one of them,” he said, tilting his head toward her hands. She followed his gaze to the rings scattered across her fingers.

A moment of silence passed before she looked back up at him. Her expression suggested she was fully aware of how ridiculous the situation was, and yet…something in her wouldn’t let her end it. Slowly, she bit her lower lip in thought before slipping one ring off her left ring finger and pushing it into his hand—no hesitation, with a challenge.

“Lights, camera, action,” she said.

The ring suddenly seemed to weigh a ton in his grip, burdened now by the full weight of Spencer's own idiocy. He had no idea what he was doing—indulging some stupid, alcohol-fueled whim that was meant to be a joke, and yet it settled over him with a strange kind of pressure. For the three seconds he remained in place, unmoving, a weird sensation twisted in his stomach, and he suddenly understood why Morgan had been so scared earlier. He practically had to yell at himself mentally. None of this was real.

So he got to work playing out their little scene, dropping to one knee after first slipping his hand under his blazer to mimic pulling the ring out from beneath it.

A heavy, awkward silence fell—for him, at least—as he suddenly realized he had no idea what to say.

She had been sitting with one leg crossed over the other, but now adjusted so that her knees touched. Her gaze pinned him down even further into the floor he was already kneeling on, though not in a humiliating way—more of a grounding one. With one corner of her mouth curled up, she leaned in slightly, speaking in a quieter tone.

“And how do you want me to react in our scenario?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “Are we playing our friends now? Do you want me to do it the way I think Savannah would?”

"No," he said quickly. He wasn’t playing anyone else in that moment. As if this were real. He shook his head sharply, side to side. "No. I want you to react like you."

Her brows rose slowly and steadily, the rest of her face remaining almost completely unchanged.

“Like me if you were proposing to me right now?” she asked. Without waiting for confirmation, she let out a laugh. “I’d laugh in your face.”

Spencer didn’t even feel offended. He knew that’s exactly how she would react—she didn’t even need to say it. His sigh carried nothing but impatience, mostly because he hadn’t anticipated having to kneel for this long.

“C’mon. Just use your acting skills. I can pretend I want to spend the rest of my life with you, so you can pretend you’re in love with me.”

Another long stretch of stillness and silence from her. But it lacked any trace of awkwardness or discomfort. He started to wonder if she was doing it on purpose—keeping him in that position just to mess with him. If anyone was watching them—and someone probably was—they’d likely assume she was going through the greatest dilemma of her life, weighing all the pros and cons in her head. Wondering if she loved him. Their thoughts, not his.

“How much in love?” she asked.

Reid closed his eyes in frustration. Yep, she was definitely doing it on purpose. He shook his head, not even knowing what he could possibly say to that.

“You decide,” he said shortly—because really, that was the least important part.

Seriously, whatever.

Apparently not for her. She was still staring at him thoughtfully, not moving, not blinking—until finally, she did.

Spencer was sure this was it—that she would extend her hand, finger outstretched, so he could slip the ring onto it. The same ring he’d been holding out between them all this time. He even lifted his other hand, ready to do it smoothly, just like he promised.

But that wasn’t why she moved.

One second she was in her chair, the next she threw herself into his arms with an exaggerated, emotional sigh.

The suddenness and speed of it nearly knocked him off balance. He wobbled and had to drop to both knees to steady himself. Her arms locked tightly around his neck, her hair brushing his face, her scent flooding his senses.Over her shoulder, he saw his own hands frozen in the air. Hesitating, unsure whether to let them fall against her back. One of them still held the ring.

It simply froze him in shock. And he was the one who in such a cocky way told her to use her acting skills. A wave of self-pity washed over him, questioning what he had even wanted to achieve with all of this. Then she pulled away. Wrists crossed on the back of his neck, a brief meeting of their eyes, calling him an idiot and a reminder, a reminder with a small sigh, that it was him who had proposed this game. And then she kissed him.

Well, the way she did it was too monumental for him to keep his hands in the air. He closed the ring in a secure fist, as if it really were an engagement ring, both hands settling on her lower back to keep them from tipping backward.

“I thought you’d never do it,” she pulled away in the span of a second, speaking before he had time to open his eyes. When he did, he blinked and exhaled. Okay—more like gasped for air. “Ten years, fourteen weeks and three days. That’s how long I’ve waited for that ring. I was beginning to suspect you were just playing with me.”

Her loud voice, the fake outrage, and the completely made-up role. She was—she was brilliant.

And he was Spencer Reid, considered a genius, but in his own way, very, very stupid. Her lips looked at him again, and as he slid the ring onto her finger, he wondered whether anything he did now could still be counted as acting. She stretched out her hand, pretending to admire a massive diamond the ring didn’t even have.

You could feel the script slowly making its way to the end, and soon they'd be forced to get up and argue about whether he’d managed to make a point or not (he hadn’t), so he leaned in to cover her smile with his mouth. But before he could, someone appeared above them.

They both turned their faces toward her, wearing identical expressions—as if someone had stomped into their living room in muddy boots while they were sipping tea from delicate floral cups.

“Congratulations,” said some woman with a somewhat uncertain smile. She scratched the back of her neck. “You really do make a great couple. I mean, good-looking. You fit together. Did you know this hotel has its own chapel?”

In their very strong defense, they only went there after a few more drinks—when neither of them could’ve spelled the word M-A-R-R-I-A-G-E let alone remembered what it meant.

Time kept passing, and Spencer’s fingers were still struggling with the same button on his shirt. Eventually, he let out a heavy sigh and just gave up, no longer caring that half of his chest was exposed. He was acting like they hadn’t just seen each other naked a few hours earlier. Like they hadn’t woken up in that exact state, in the same bed, right next to each other. Still, he found it oddly difficult to leave his hiding spot—meaning the bathroom—not yet ready to face a certain possibility he still hoped wasn’t real.

They couldn’t have actually gotten married.

It had to be a dream. Just one of those hyper-realistic dreams that bleed into reality a little too well. And if it was a dream, then—sure, still questionable, but nowhere near as bad as actually getting married! In Vegas, no less, driven by nothing but alcohol, and not to the love of his life, but to… to…her. His hand was resting on the doorknob, but he couldn’t bring himself to press it down, too overwhelmed to make even the slightest move.

He shook his head, trying—unsuccessfully—to shake it all off, and with his jaw clenched, he stepped out of the bathroom.

Spencer wasn’t even going to pretend his eyes didn’t immediately land on her. He’d expected—was absolutely certain—that by now she would’ve done exactly what he just had. Got dressed, remembered everything, went through the initial shock and, riding its fumes, started wondering what came next. But that didn’t seem to be the case.

She was sitting on the bed in the exact same state he’d found her in when she woke up, only covered by the curtain of loose hair, rubbing at her calf—which was exactly where Reid’s gaze ended up lingering. There was a sizable bruise blooming there.

“No idea where that came from,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. She didn’t even look his way, and his steps were quiet.

A dumb little Oh slipped out of Spencer’s mouth, and only then did he manage to draw her attention.

“I know where that came from,” he said, swallowing hard. “It, um. You hit your leg when you were going over the chapel threshold. I mean, when I was carrying you over the chapel threshold.”

Their eyes met—long, steady, and real—for the first time that morning.

“Fuck.”

Spencer wiped a hand down his face, only now truly confronted with all of it. They had to… they had to… what did you even do in a situation like this? He paced the room in a tight, restless circle.

“This is stupid, we’re so incredibly stupid, who even let us do this, how could we—” he burst out, voice high with panic. He threw his arms stiffly to the sides, overwhelmed as another terrible thought struck him. “And we’re leaving today, I don’t know if we’ll even be able to get it annulled…”

He lost his train of thought watching her stretch out her legs on the bed, as if she were about to get up—but she didn’t. Her entire face was drawn in sharp, quiet fury, the kind of look that could burn straight through the fabric of his shirt, just to punch him in the gut with an invisible fist and set him straight. Not to undress him.

“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” she said slowly, with a firm little nod—like she had already crafted the one and only logical solution. “Sit down.”

Spencer looked at her without even a shred of belief that she might be right. Everything was too illogical for her to come up with a logical solution that quickly. First, they needed to focus.

“Maybe you could put something on?”

“I said sit. Your pacing around like a pissed-off fly isn’t helping me think.”

Frustrated, he raised both hands, ready to snap something back at the fly comparison, even opened his mouth, but suddenly everything felt so senseless he just let them fall loosely at his sides. And yes, he sat.

“Happy now?” he asked bitterly, taking a seat right at the edge of the mattress, so that there was a practically professional distance between them. As if they were representatives of two opposing factions who had just realized they weren’t up against each other, but something fucked up on a completely different, worse level than anyone could’ve assumed. Which didn’t mean they suddenly liked each other. “So I’m listening. Tell me what we’re going to do, because I—mark this moment, I don’t say this often—I don’t know—”

“Shut up. I’ll tell you what we’re doing,” she repeated once more, eyes locked on him and barely blinking. The irritation was radiating off her and only slightly faded when, after a long moment of silence, her chest rose and fell in a deep breath. “First of all, not a word to Morgan. We’re about to see him, we’ll let him go on and on about his engagement, congratulate him, smile, and don’t you dare say a word about this, you hear me?”

Spencer responded to her hard stare with one of his own, though the sharpness in his gaze faltered, and he caught himself giving a small nod.

“Makes sense. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t survive his comments. And the jokes. And those looks, especially those looks…” He almost shuddered just at the thought.

Her reaction was identical.

“Second of all…” she continued, suddenly snorting, “second and actually, last. We’re going home. First thing we do after leaving the airport is…”

“...divorce.”

“...picking up the cat from Penelope. Then divorce. I really hope you don’t have any objections to that.”

His mouth fell open, the scoff catching in his throat.

“What possible objections could I have to that?” he asked, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm.

She gave a casual shrug.

“Good then,” she replied. Her back slowly sank into the mattress with exhaustion, and as her head hit the pillow, she let out a low, groggy sigh. “Since it’s all settled, I’m going back to sleep. It’s too early.”

She turned her back to him, lying on her side. Spencer stared at her spine, genuinely unable to believe that after everything, she could just lie down and fall asleep like it was nothing. It struck him as almost dismissive, and for a moment, a wave of anger surged within him—only to fade just as quickly.

Because really, what else were they supposed to do?

He, personally, didn’t have it in him to follow her lead—his mind was far too loud for that. But after a long moment of stillness, the mattress dipped under his weight as well.

Right on the edge, his hands folded on his stomach, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

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