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I’m going to make a huge, long, probably incoherent rant about two Crash Bandicoot characters that are sorta overlooked in both the fandom, and in canon. Here I go.

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Wonwoo's Tasty Cereal (And Milk)

Pairing: Wonwoo x fem!reader

Synopsis: You've been eating cereal wrong your entire life. Wonwoo and your niece are going to fix that.

Genre: Fluff, crack, pseudo-dilf!Wonwoo (ie. "Uncle Woo"), hints of dilf!Jeonghan

Warnings: Mentions of food, they watch Land Before Time, mentions of Wonwoo dressing up as Naruto as a kid (low-key felt like this was more a Jihoon thing, but I left it for humor - please laugh :') )

WC: ~1.6K

Permanent taglist: @nanamioo @bibinnieposts @woozarts @wonuziex @rockwidthyou @sleeplessdawn @jeonghanniehae95 @sadkidwarexpert

A/N: Based of off this tweet. For shits and giggles only - I don't really care how Wonwoo eats his cereal lol. Nobody's perfect and whatever makes him happy, I guess 🙄😂 jk jk jk.

Title is a play on Jeonghan's 'Warm Glass of Milk' - yes, despite this being about Wonwoo, Jeonghan still found way to seep into it. I would also like to credit @aceofvernons for helping me build up this trope a while ago . . . Initially, we thought Vernon would be the type to do this, but we were both wrong lol.

It's not my best work since I do not dabble in fluff . . . but I tried! Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it - this one's especially for you and your weird (affectionate) man's @wisteria-woo💙

“Do not corrupt that little girl when she comes over, okay?” you warned him, arms folded across your chest. 

Wonwoo paused in his chewing, the Cheerio in between his thumb and his index finger, holding it just inches away from his chapped lip as he peered at you innocently, through the tops of his black-wired spectacles – or at least he tried. Without the corrective lenses, you were all but a beautiful blur to him. 

Your older sister was dropping your niece off in a few hours, while she and her husband, Jeonghan, went for a date night – one that was long overdue. They needed some alone time and you volunteered to babysit. Nina would be spending the night at yours and Wonwoo’s shared apartment as well. 

Pushing the piece between his lips, he crunched down on it mechanically, shrugging nonchalantly. “Corrupt her over what?”

You pointed to the glass of milk in his hand and the dry bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios sitting in front of him. “That.”

The right corner of his lip curled up, spreading his lips into a thin, crooked smile. Doing his best to hide his humor from you, his eyes fell from your gaze as he loudly cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He choked back a laugh, hiding behind the rim of his glass of milk. 

Curse him and his good looks. That stupid shy smile that stretched across his face and puffed up his cheeks, never failed to make your heart flutter despite being annoyed by the way he eats cereal. 

Seriously? Who the hell eats cereal and drinks milk separately?

You’ve heard of people who put milk first (which he also did much to your horror as you found out after the first morning you spent over at his old apartment), but this . . . this was another level of strange. 

“C’mon,” he let out an exasperated breath, trying to calm himself down. He placed his glass of milk down on the table with a loud ‘clunk.’ “It’s not that bad – Honey Nut Cheerios dry taste good!”

“Then eat it dry! Don’t . . . drink milk on the side with it!” you exclaimed. You pressed your lips into a tight line, fighting the grin that was about to spread from ear-to-ear across your face. 

You knew it was a stupid and childish argument – food was food, and he could eat cereal, however he wanted. Nonetheless, it has become an ongoing joke between the two of you for a few years now. You couldn’t let him live it down just yet – he was your boyfriend after all, and what’s a love without a little banter?

Tilting your head towards him, a knowing look on your face, you noted, “Jeonghan will never forgive you if you set Nina up.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, tossing another piece into his mouth. He reached for his milk, purposely took a long sip to make a point. 

“You are insufferable, Mr. Jeon,” you frowned playfully. 

He winked at you teasingly. “When it’s our kids though –”

You blushed profusely, reaching for the nearest towel in the kitchen and tossing at his face to cut him off. 

“It’s cereal before the milk!” you called before running out of the kitchen, trying your best to ignore the way your heart pounded against your rib cage, blood rushing through your ears. 

Jeon Wonwoo was something else. 

The night with Nina went rather well. 

Dressed to the nines, your sister and Jeonghan had dropped her off with specific instructions about her nightly routine. Nina was heading on five, able to tolerate a little longer of an evening now. Dinner at 6PM, bath at 7PM, and bedtime was at 830PM. The rest of the evening was yours and Wonwoo’s to spend together. 

Not having been around kids for a while, it was all just . . . a little overwhelming for Wonwoo. He was not naturally gifted with the power of being good with kids, that was more your thing, but he didn’t mind them. Nina was fun, a little too energetic for his liking, but fun nonetheless. For some reason, Jeonghan let her come over dressed in a neon green dinosaur onesie and a backpack full of dinosaur figurines and a cartoon called Land Before Time. Wonwoo would find her on all fours, crawling around the apartment every now and then. 

He figured, maybe, she was going through a phase – like he did with Naruto when he was nine. He shook off the embarrassing memories of showing up to school in a bright orange jumpsuit and the Leaf Village headband tied around his forehead (upside down too).  

Wonwoo had never grown up watching it, but Land Before Time wasn’t that bad of a show – though, Sara, the yellow triceratops, was kind of annoying. Looking over at Nina, it was the innocent curiosity in her eyes every time she saw something she didn't understand, like Littlefoot's parents knocking their necks together or if she could swallow cherries whole like Perry, that made him melt a little. A smile curled on his face unknowingly while he watched her, his insides feeling warm and at ease. He hadn’t seen that look in a while – it was nostalgic.

"Can you stay for a little bit, Uncle Woo?" Nina had asked him wide-eyed when he put her to bed. You had a small cot set up for her in the corner of your shared office. "Daddy always hums a song about warm milk before I go to sleep."

Wonwoo tucked his hands into his pants, letting out a small huff. "Um . . . I'm afraid I don't know any songs about milk, kid."

"That's okay," she kicked her feet underneath her blue blanket. "Can you just stay? Hold my hand?” she wriggled her chubby fingers at him. “Until I sleep?"

She was certainly her dad’s daughter: big, shiny brown eyes with pretty long lashes. She was still innocent, but Wonwoo could feel it in his spine – she was going to be a menace of a trickster before anyone knew it. She could guilt anyone into doing what she wanted – including Wonwoo. 

At least, for now.

"Sure," Wonwoo replied, settling on the floor beside her. He let out a soft hum, slipping his large hands into her smaller ones. 

“Thank you,” she sang, settling back into her pillow. “Ni-ni, Uncle Woo.”

The corner of his lip twitched into a lopsided smile. He reached over with his free hand, brushing the stray locks away from her cherubic face. His index finger lingered a while on her soft cheek. “Good night, Nina,” he whispered. 

Later that night when you came to check on her, your heart swelled at the sight of Wonwoo still by your niece’s side. He had fallen asleep somewhere along the way, his head resting on the ledge of Nina's cot. His glasses were crooked though, threatening to slip and crack on the floor any minute. You took the liberty of taking them off and placing them on his desk. Throwing back one last glance, you let them be. His back would hurt in the morning, but they looked peaceful.

You could get used to this.

. . . .

Or not.

Your feet stuttered to a stop in the hallway, when you heard Wonwoo’s deep laughter bellowing throughout the apartment from the kitchen, Nina’s cute giggle joining his not shortly after.  

“Yeah,” you assumed he was talking to your niece, “You just take a piece here,” you heard a crunch, “And then – drink milk from your glass.”

“Uncle Woo! That’s so neat!” Nina exclaimed excitedly. 

He nodded and leaned across the table to meet the little girl’s gaze, “It’s nice too because you don’t end up spilling any milk trying to pour it into the bowl.”

“Oohh,” she marveled as if Wonwoo had just said the most genius thing ever, “That’s good! Mommy always scolds me if I splash milk on the counter.”

“Mmhm,” Wonwoo grabbed a handful of cereal. 

“And then I have to clean it up!” Nina complained, she wrinkled her nose at the all too painful memory. 

“That’s terrible,” Wonwoo gasped. 

“Right,” she pouted. 

“Jeon Wonwoo,” you revealed yourself from your hiding spot, hands crossed over your chest already. 

Hair disheveled, a strand sticking up on the side, he grinned widely, scrunching his nose ever so slightly. “Morning.”

“I told you not to corrupt her!” you scolded. 

“I’m not,” he pointed at Nina, “She thinks I’m the coolest person in the entire world.” He nudged Nina gently, “Don’t ya, squirt?”

“Uncle Woo taught me how to eat cereal the right way!” she told you proudly. 

“You know,” he faked a disappointed tone, “Auntie Y/N eats cereal wrong – cereal before the milk.”

“Wonwoo,” you warned. 

“Oh,” Nina crumpled her lips into a pout. Much too similar to Wonwoo already, she grasped the short plastic cup with both hands and sloppily slurped the white liquid inside. When she placed the cup back down, there was a little milk-stache lining her upper lip. You couldn’t hold back your laughter – Wonwoo likewise. He chuckled, reaching for a napkin to wipe her face. 

“Auntie Y/N, you should listen to Uncle Woo more,” Nina berated when he finished, “He’s got some good stuff.”

You were too late – the little girl was whipped. 

“Yeah,” he raised his eyebrows teasingly at you, “Don’t I?”

If you can’t beat them, join them, right?

Rolling your eyes, you made your way over, swiping at the cereal and stealing Wonwoo’s milk as you sat down. You caught Wonwoo’s gaze chomping down on the small, hard grain.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he bumped your shoulder with his own, “You love it.”

“No, but I love you, so –”

He pecked you on the cheek chastely. “Glad we could come to a mutual understanding.”

. . .

Read about Jeonghan feels here!

TITLE: Siphoned Guilt

PAIRING: reader x Minho

WC: 9.4K

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

SYNOPSIS: things always run smoothly during a scene with Minho - always. But an unintentional lack of proper aftercare can make for a terrible sub drop…

TAGS: smut, unprotected sex, use of a sex toy (vibrator), consensual filming, impact play, mirror sex, sub space (reader), sub drop (reader), overstimulation, orgasm torture, squirting, BDSM, humiliation, mean!Minho, degradation (reader is called ‘slut’ and ‘whore’), swearing, crying (reader), slight angst but resolve.

TAGLIST: @heres-your-ramen2000

MASTERLIST

“Open,” says Minho with his hand extended out to your mouth.

You hum with content, taking everything that he gives you eagerly that a bit of it even spills down your chin. Once you’ve swallowed, Minho uses his thumb to swipe across your lips to collect the residue. He then brings it up to his mouth and sucks it clean.

A scowl falls across your face as your eyes narrow at him, “you did that on purpose.”

“You’re right,” he replies shamelessly. “I just wanted to see your reaction.”

“Course you did.”

“Any good?” He asks you, waiting patiently for your review.

“I’ve had better,” you shrug.

Minho sighs and gently smacks his closed fist on the table, “should’ve gone for the crème brûlée.”

“Next time,” you say to him. “And speaking of next time, when are we up for another scene?”

The question sparks thoughts in Minho’s brain. That was what you were hoping this date would initiate - a discussion for another scene, but also because you wanted to spend time with your boyfriend. The last one from over a week ago is still fresh in Minho’s memory. So far, it was probably one of the best scenes he’s ever had.

All of it leads to him thinking inappropriate things in the middle of a busy, overcrowded restaurant. Oh if anyone could read his mind right now.

“Whenever you’re ready baby,” he answers with a soft smile on his face. “Have any ideas so far?”

You dig your spoon into the pear flavoured ice cream, blinking up once and then back down at the dish, “I might.”

Minho leans across the table, for some reason growing even more giddy on the inside, “I’m all ears.”

“I really liked the last scene - a lot,” you start off. “I liked the intensity and was thinking maybe we could do something similar.”

He’s glad to hear those words and replies, “I’m happy that you liked it. What was one of the aspects that you enjoyed the most?”

“The impact play.”

“I thought that might’ve been one.”

“And then at the end…when you were…were like-”

“Fucking you?” Minho helps you with your sentence there, a little bit too loudly at that.

“Yes,” you continue, hoping your face isn’t as red as it feels. “It was just you that made me do that, not a…toy or anything.”

Minho’s heart skips a beat. His face also feels hot when he hears that it was just him that made you cum as crazy as you did. It’s still fresh in his memory - the first time that he made you squirt. So far since the scene, Minho hasn’t stopped thinking about that very moment.

“Oh yeah?” He winks across at you, playing cool.

Underneath the table, you lightly kick him in the shin for his comment. Being out at dinner discussing bedroom matters wasn’t necessarily unusual. It got you both out of the house to spend some quality time together other than only having sex.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat.

“Shall we say in a couple of days then?” He suggests.

“That works.”

The date had then been settled after dinner. You and Minho both figured that in two evenings time would be fitting to slot in a scene. It’s not always manageable when you’re both busy and then having to make room for the amount of energy that will be expended during and after it.

But you were teeming with anticipation to play again.

A few days to prepare was necessary. It gave you both time to discuss everything and to also get into the correct frame of mind heading into the scene. Being in an unwanted mental space prior to one is guaranteed to cause the scene to go haywire.

As the day rolled around, Minho was equally excited. You both discussed the factors you wanted to cover from the previous scene, and also something new that he wanted to introduce with your consent. After hearing him out, you were on board with his idea.

On the bed, Minho laid out a number of items that were going to be used. He then moves on to helping you fully undress, placing your clothes neatly on the other side of the bed and comes back to pick up the black strands of rope.

“Colour?” he asks you.

“Green.”

With that, Minho begins to create a karada box tie that frames your chest. The method of using shibari is a lot more intricate than standard restraints. The finished product is photo worthy, a precursor as to why Minho had his phone set on the bed too. Once he completes your chest area, Minho then binds your arms together behind your back with another set of rope.

“Now, does anything pinch in any way you feel like it shouldn’t?”

You test the restraint by trying to move your arms just to be sure. The binds are tight and sturdy - nothing too exceedingly uncomfortable which is how it’s meant to be. There’s no sharp, unnecessary or immediate pain that should hinder you throughout the scene.

“No, it’s okay,” you answer.

“Good,” Minho replies.

“Not tying up the rest of me?” You ask, trying to look at his work in the mirror.

“You have no trouble keeping your legs open for me without restraints,” he answers. “I think you’ll be fine for now but I’ll be using some more later.”

You gulp down the embarrassing truth before you wonder why Minho steps around you to grab the mirror and bring it closer to you both. Oddly enough, he then takes a seat on the floor, leaning his back against the end of the bed.

“Over my lap and turn your face towards the mirror,” he instructs.

The last time you questioned him during a scene, he easily put you in your place. But today, you had a strong impression that he’s not going to fuck around, so you move right away.

You stand beside him before kneeling down onto one knee, followed by the other. With his support, Minho helps you down carefully and slowly so that your ass is mainly over his lap and the side of your face is on the floor.

The position isn’t comfortable. But when is it not? That’s how it’s meant to be. You were on the floor during the last scene and this was no different.

“Alright then, colour?”

“Green.”

Smack!

The first hit takes you by surprise that it doesn’t leave you with a whole ordeal of stinging pain. Usually you’re not complacent about Minho’s unpredictability, but for a split second you thought he was going to ease into it.

Not tonight however. Minho is under the intention to absolutely ruin you.

His hand pelts down hard again. You bite down on your lip and submerge in the sting. A couple of more then follow and it doesn’t get any easier. In some cases, Minho’s hands hit harder than any belt or paddle you’ve come across. It almost feels personal when it isn’t.

Then, another one slaps down mercilessly to yank you from your thoughts.

“Fuck,” you mumble quietly to yourself.

“Watch your mouth,” Minho warns, cracking his hand down even harder this time to make your entire body jolt.

He hits down a couple of more times for your remark, reminding you that playing up or misbehaving is not an option. To truly reinforce that rule, he switches to the paddle he had set out earlier.

It’s black, smooth, wooden, and thin. Unlike thicker paddles, this one can leave a sharp sting behind but also makes it feel like some sort of blunt force on impact. You experience it firsthand when Minho smacks it down hard onto your ass.

Shaking on the strike, you try to keep your mouth closed. But even that doesn’t stop you from making inaudible sounds. You moan and whine when Minho starts putting more force behind the paddle. It sucks all of your attention and energy to try and subdue the ever emerging pain which is exactly what he wants.

He understands the science behind a person experiencing pain and the link that has to our fight or flight mode. The more pain he administers to you through impact play, the more of those ‘happy’ endorphins are released into your body to try numb it. The more that’s released, the more chances Minho has of getting you into sub space.

Therefore, right down to the molecular level, even there he wants to ruin you.

To further taunt you, he delicately glides the paddle from the top of your back, slowly down your spine and over your marked ass. It was to plant a thought in your head to make you think you were going to take another hit when in reality, he wanted to keep you guessing. Instead, Minho takes the paddle and glides it in between your pussy.

That’s what unhinges your jaw for moans to keep spilling out and to fill the room as the paddle glides lovingly over your wet clit.

“I bet that feels good, huh?” Minho asks.

“Y-Yes,” you exasperate, squirming under the touch.

He brings the paddle back up and shows you in the mirror. It glistens with your juices which sends you hurtling into embarrassment. Impact play isn’t always considered as foreplay, and yet you’re already wet from it and for what’s to be used in between your legs eventually.

Minho sets the paddle down and decides to feel what’s his for himself. He uses his fingers, toying and teasing your clit so much that it makes your wriggle in his lap. You being so wet makes it effortless for him to slide a finger inside you.

“Of course it does, otherwise you wouldn’t be this wet. Would you?” Minho comments, making you flush with shame.

You don’t respond - you don’t know how until Minho strikes his hand down on your ass again, causing you to take in a sharp breath and clench around his fingers.

“Would you?” he demands for an answer.

“Yes!” You yelp while your arms strain themselves in the rope. “I love it.”

“That’s right,” he says, soothing your asscheek with the palm of his hand. “And that’s what makes you such a slut. Even if I don’t fuck you or tease you, you’ll still get wet for me.”

With that, Minho removes his fingers and spanks you hard once more. From there, the amount of hits you take continue to stack up. You’re unsure of how many you’ve actually clocked, but figured it was reaching a lot when you start feeling the hazy horizon of faded awareness.

It’s where your energy begins to lessen that even trying to nod in response to his comment begins to take a lot out of you. It’s the point in which all your attention then shifts to when Minho suddenly grasps one cheek, forcing moan after moan from your mouth. His other hand spanks down a few times on the other cheek, confusing your mind with two different types of pain.

“Mmm! F-Fuck…please Minho!” You cry out as tears begin pricking your eyes.

The man doesn’t listen and switches tactics. This time he squeezes both of your asscheeks with absolutely no remorse, making you kick your feet and bite down so hard on your lip that you feel like it might bleed.

He doesn’t care if you’re shaking or starting to cry until your tears roll onto the floor. It’s what he knows best to help make your brain slip - pain and pleasure, which he wants to deliver once you’ve reached a peak of no return.

He won’t stop until you’re no longer trembling, until you just start taking it. When your body becomes limp, that’s when Minho knows you’re succumbing to the pain and where it starts feeling good.

“I told you to watch your mouth,” he hissed through gritted teeth and finally released his hands. “Know your place.”

When his hands ease up, he can already see deep burgundy shades of red starting to bruise through your skin. To torture you further, Minho gently massages the flesh of your ass. Your legs strain out in reaction as the pain lingering in over your skin begins to spread and intensify just from those soft touches.

You bite down again, limiting your moans to short, muffled whimpers. Trying to have a handle on your reactions is nearly impossible, not when Minho switches back to spanking you. The pain rises to a point where it’s overwhelming and as a result, you start to hold your breath to deal with the intensity.

Minho’s sharp ears pick up on the lack of sounds you’re no longer making. He pays no mind to it at first, but prompts you soon after so that you’re not going to pass out.

“Breathe,” he says coldly.

Even though his tone was pointed, it was still an instruction and you were going to listen. Relaxing a little bit allows your lungs to start working again. Minho gives your ass a rest, for now.

He gently strokes over your hair and slowly down your spine. His hand glides softly over your marked ass, admiring the fresh and blotchy bruises.

With one firm and final spank, Minho calls an end to the impact play portion of the scene and moves into something as equally as exciting.

“I’ll help you sit up on my lap and then I want you in between my legs,” he says.

Whatever that means you have no idea. Your mind is starting to drift off towards that happy space where time and problems don’t exist. Sooner than later, you realise that you’re sitting on the floor, propped in front of Minho before the mirror. It’s a bit tricky when you have your arms bound, but he manages. Once you’re pressed right up against him, Minho reaches for something behind him on the bed; the other sets of rope and two other items.

Why he chose the mirror, you had no idea. Not in your liquid like mind could you articulate a proper thought. But for Minho, it wasn’t as trivial. After the previous scene, he quickly discovered a new kink of his - mirror sex. Or at least, making you cum in front of a mirror.

Not only does he want to see every part of what you look like when you cum, but he wants you to see it too. He wants you to watch how he can unravel you, how he can make you lose your mind.

“Prop your legs up for me,” he orders.

One by one, you plant your feet on the ground so that your knees bend like Minho’s. He scoots up more behind you, grabs some of the black rope, leans around to the left, and begins tying your ankle to his.

He continues the same action with another set of rope, this time, securing you to him by and under your knee. Minho then completes more of the rope restraints in the exact same places for your other leg - ensuring that you’re tied to Minho himself and not able to move your lower half.

In a semi-lucid state, you’re able to gauge why he wants to do this in front of the mirror. Your legs are spread for the pair of you to see. Although it’s rather humiliating to be so exposed, Minho will never get enough of seeing you so vulnerable like this.

“Look at you,” he whispers.

Too embarrassed to see the reflection, you try to shy away from looking. Instead, Minho uses your hand to gently grip under your chin and face you towards the mirror himself.

“This is what’s going to happen,” he adds sternly. “You’re going to cum - as many times as I say you are, and you’re not going to stop unless I say so.”

Overstimulation. It was a topic of discussion in the conversation you both agreed upon leading up to the scene. Similar to impact play, it also happens to be one of your weak points in the sense that it will effortlessly make you lose your mind.

Minho then reaches for something beside him - a vibrator. This one was different to the toy that he used in the previous. Minho bought it for you a couple of months back and was rather fond of using it on you than a usual vibrator. It can be isolated just over your clit, replicating sucking motions that would have your brain melt in seconds.

The first time Minho used it on you, he managed to make you cum easily in under thirty seconds. That’s how you knew it was going to be tough.

“Colour?” He asks.

Almost too busy trying to mentally prepare yourself, you utter your answer, “g-green.”

Minho acknowledges your response and turns the vibrator on. Thinking he would place it straight over your clit was a bad idea, not when he takes it to your nipple instead.

Your head tips back over his shoulder, “oh my god…”

The sucking motions were nothing short of phenomenal. It’s not exactly where you want to feel pleasure at the moment, but you’ll grasp onto anything to feel good.

You suck in a sudden breath when Minho eventually takes the vibrator to your clit. It was then where you realised that the ropes were beginning to serve their purpose of keeping your legs apart. As much as you want to move them, Minho's strength proves you can’t. They’re open for him, and they’ll remain that way until he’s satisfied.

“Already so wet,” Minho mutters quietly. “You’re going to be a good girl and cum for me right?”

“Y-Yes…” you mumble mindlessly, trying to keep up with the vibrator.

“Good,” he adds smoothly. “But I want to see you actually live up to that answer.”

In this instance it was easier done than said. Minho decides to crank the speed up on the toy, getting you to the edge faster than you could blink back at yourself in the mirror. Before you know it, Minho’s name spills out of your mouth repeatedly.

“Fuck…gonna cum, oh my god. Minho…please.”

“That’s it, cum for me,” he urges you.

Your voice lodges in your throat as the first orgasm of the night washes over you. From there, your eyes screw shut as you fall silent to the pleasure that’s releasing. Minho consumes your expression, watching how you struggle to handle such a big orgasm. Those thoughts rush to his already hard dick.

With one final shudder, the euphoria dies down and Minho takes the vibrator away for a few moments to give you a short rest. But it doesn’t allow any time for you to fully catch your breath by the time he decides to go back in with the toy. Your body trembles upon those fast vibrations.

“Keep your eyes open,” Minho whispers in your ear. “I want you to watch yourself when you cum.”

You’re unsure if you can. There was little to no cooldown between your first orgasm and your next, but either way, it’s clear what your body wants to do and you can’t stop it. With the pleasure building at a speed you’re unable to keep up with, your eyes lock onto yourself in the mirror by the time you actually cum. You’re looking at what Minho has done to you - how he’s swiftly unravelling you.

He can’t take his gaze off of you in the reflection. Never in his life does he ever think he’ll get over the way you look when you cum.

“That’s two,” he says to you, still holding the vibrator over your clit. “Look how much you’re dripping onto the floor.”

As you attempt to turn your head away, Minho counters and holds your jaw to make sure that you can actually see.

“Such a slut for me, huh? Always so wet…always wanting to be fucked,” he whispers directly in your ear.

Your upper body shivers under his warm breath, squirming so much that you're pressing even further into Minho from behind. It gives you the lucrative opportunity to feel how hard he is even though he’s fully clothed. Despite your hands being bound, you’re still able to awkwardly rub against him. At first, he passes it off as unintentional. It wasn’t until you really started to try to touch his dick that he caught onto what you wanted to do.

His hand comes up to latch onto a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back but not enough for you to be leaning over his shoulder. The sting in your scalp makes the pleasure building in the pit of your tummy even more intense.

He presses back into your ear and threatens, “keep trying to touch me and the scene ends.”

“I-I…can’t help it,” you murmur.

“Yes you can,” he hisses. “And you will. You’re not going to get anything in return.”

“I’m gonna cum,” you mumble, ignoring his warning. Minho rolls his eyes. He almost forgot that he was still holding the vibrator to your clit.

“Course you are,” he replies, releasing the grip on your hair.

“Yes, yes…yes, please fuck!”

A quiet string of moans fills the room as you’re forced to watch yourself cum once again in the mirror. Minho feels your legs trembling hard against his own. Gradually, he’s put in some more strength to firmly keep your legs open. To him it proves that the orgasms he’s giving you are getting stronger.

“That was a long one, huh?” He asks you, seeing if he can douse you with any more humiliation. But you’ve passed that point now.

When he brings you to your next few orgasms, your mind has entered another realm. It’s floating somewhere that’s not on this planet as your body becomes even more overstimulated than it already is. The pain from the impact play hasn’t necessarily subdued. It’s definitely aching from your lower half since you’ve spent some time on the ground, but it’s faint.

In addition, you’ve gradually given up on fighting those orgasms. Even though they feel good and you want them to approach at a slow pace, you’re officially just taking them as they come. As a result, Minho no longer has to put any effort into it with his own legs to keep yours apart.

“Gonna give me another one, yeah?”

You’re unsure of whether you can or not. Then again, that’s not up for you to decide. Minho has pushed you to your limits during scenes many times. More than four orgasms is the optimum limit before you start losing your mind. But at this point, you’re way beyond that.

You’ll cum regardless if you think you can or not. As long as Minho continues to hold that vibrator against your clit, you will cum.

“P-Please…” you whimper, anticipating the buildup to explode inside of you.

“Please what?” Minho questions impatiently.

“I…I need to…” your attempt at a reply was futile but genuine. Your body feels like it’s going to burst but your brain can’t help you get the sentences out.

“Need to, what?” he asks with a sharp tone, growing obviously impatient. “Use your words properly.”

Before you can even carry out his instruction, you’re already coming. Your eyes screw shut, your mouth parts, and nothing but Minho’s name comes out. You can’t help but tremble and shake as the vibrations rattle your entire body. He watches it all gloriously unfold in the mirror.

“I suppose that’s seven then,” he says in a very condescending tone.

As much as he wants to continue with the vibrator, he decides to switch it off. From there, the room falls quiet - apart from the jagged breaths you take after finally being able to rest for a few moments. Or so you thought once again.

Minho sets the toy to the side then picks up his phone. He swipes his thumb across his screen to set his camera on and switches to video to start recording. You’re unaware of what’s entirely happening, but remember faintly that it was one of his ideas in the conversation leading up to the scene.

“How would you feel about me taking a video?” He suggested to you earlier on.

“Of the whole thing? Do you even have enough storage for that?” You replied.

“Well, not all of the scene. Just one part. But what are your thoughts on me doing that?”

Sure there were a lot of questions around what was going to happen next, but Minho is a good man, he’d never in his life or in his next ever use it against your will. It’s just solely for his own entertainment whenever he needs you and you’re not around. If anything, it’s hot knowing that he can get off to a video of you…

“I’m okay with that,” you said to him clearly.

From that conversation, Minho managed to factor that risqué essence into the scene just by taking a video.

“Dripping on the floor,” he says to the camera, capturing the images through the reflection of the mirror.

The fact that he’s not directly talking to you but to the video instead is some inviting form of being objectified. It makes you feel like a ‘thing’ that he’s referring to. Either way, it’s not like you’re able to respond to his remark. You’re bound to cum, both figuratively and literally.

Only this time, it’ll be with his fingers. At first, he teases your entrance, trying to trick you into thinking that he's about to finger fuck you. At the same time, he manages to focus the camera on his hand where it glistens, making sure he captures it all.

“This is how badly she wants to be fucked,” Minho boists, then brings his hand up to your mouth.

He doesn’t even need to tell you to open up. You’ve become so pliant that everything you do is just purely automatic. His fingers ease and glide over your yielding tongue, tasting yourself as he explores your mouth - all on camera, all for him.

“Such a good slut for me,” he praises.

After a few lingering moments, he pulls his slick fingers away and takes them down to your clit like he’s in a hurry to make you cum. Your body stiffens for a few seconds as he draws light circles over the over sensitive nub, then inserts one digit. It’s a relieving sensation to have something inside you. Although it’s not Minho’s dick, it just seems to take the edge off.

But unfortunately, he doesn’t decide to finger fuck you. He just continues to massage and rub over your sensitive clit for the video he’s still filming. The wet sounds and tiny puffs of air mixed with inaudible moans coming from your mouth are all captured for him - something that he can rewatch whenever he feels like it.

Whimpers and mewls begin to strain from the back of your throat. The strong sensation ploughs mercilessly throughout your body, tremoring in its wake.

“There we go,” he whispers. “You’re getting louder, I almost thought you were getting camera shy on me for a second.”

The transition from a high speed vibrating toy to Minho's fingers is unfathomable. He’s so attentive, teasing, and just good at what he does. It almost makes you wonder how he can do what he’s doing before the two of you met…

…that thought seems to stay longer in your brain. But it’s not currently strong enough to lull you right out of sub space. For now, you ready yourself for another eye rolling orgasm that Minho gives to you all while he films it. Through the lens and the reflection of the mirror, he studies your expression as you cum.

He basks in the tiny moans from your mouth as he brings you to your next orgasm.

“Min…I’m cumming,” you utter quietly just before that wave hits.

“That’s it,” he plants a kiss to the side of your head while continuing to film as your orgasm washes over you completely. “Be a good whore and cum for me.”

The thread that your sanity has been hanging on had snapped a while ago, but now even more so now that Minho is still completely ruining you just with his fingers. It’s more personal and attentive.

Seconds later, your orgasm tilts hard once more, with your eyes fluttering back and barely any sound coming out of your mouth. Just seeing you so unhinged is enough for Minho to abandon his phone and begin untying the rope around your legs that binds you to him.

His hands work quickly to undo all of the knots. The sick frantic feeling inside him boils hotter than ever now that he’s seconds away from being able to fuck you. All he has to do is help carefully lower you onto the floor once again - face down ass up.

Minho grins when he sees the blooming bruises over the flesh of your ass from impact play earlier on. He slaps a cheek once, but you barely feel any pain. As expected from a person deep in the realms of sub space.

“You’re gone aren’t you?” He practically asks the question to himself since there’s no chance of him getting a response.

One second you hear the rustling of his pants and in the next you feel the tip of his cock gliding gently over your slit.

“Yes, fuck-“ he hisses, one of his hands already gripping your ass again. His head tips back as he pushes the tip in slowly then back out. Slowly but eventually, Minho has stuffed you full to the absolute hilt.

“Shit,” his eyes almost roll to the back of his head from the wet heat wrapping around his dick.

Despite how extremely overstimulated you are, there's a relief that spreads throughout your body as a triggered response to be filled out by his cock. On top of the dull pain that’s put you under and the haziness your brain is submerged in, you still feel pleasant. That satisfaction of finally being able to clench around something is enough for more euphoria to start building once more.

Minho then eases himself into a steady pace. If he starts fucking too hard, too fast, he’ll cum before he gets the chance to say so. But Minho’s needs are insatiable at this rate. The minute his cock is inside of you, all of his rationale is out the gate.

So he caves into his own greed. He snaps his hips forward, harder and faster, swearing under his breath in the process. You can almost feel his fingernails dig into the skin of your ass when he begins approaching the edge of his own orgasm.

With a few shallow thrusts, he takes it slow for a short while, “feel…so good,” he mutters to himself.

The pressure rises in the pit of your stomach to an unfathomable intensity. That dense sensation grows so much that you hold zero idea of how hard it’s going to hit. Meanwhile, Minho continues to thrust at a pace that satiates his own needs without cumming too early. But the feeling of your walls clenching unintentionally around him makes it difficult to hold back.

With your inability to count in the present moment, in some far away thought, you knew you were about to cum again. Minho knew it too, he could feel it happening in real-time when began hitting that very spot that can make you spasm without warning - make you cum without warning.

It happens too fast for your mind to catch up, but the burst or euphoria explodes rapidly throughout every cell in your body. The feeling is indescribable, making you tremble and squirt for Minho as you’re about to hit that wave.

“Min…p-please, I’m cumming…” you strangle with the words for them to come out of your mouth.

“I know baby, cum for me…one more time.”

There was no controlling it but Minho couldn’t give a shit. He wants it - needs it. To feel and see just how much he’s making you cum. It’s on the floor, almost making your knees slip as Minho fucks into you harder than he’s ever done tonight.

You can’t see the sick grin on his face when he realises what he’s made you do.

“That’s it,” he sighs from the relief he’s getting while your walls clench around him.

Minho breaks through into pure ecstasy. He feels high on how good the sensations are right now. It’s not too long after a few more decent thrusts before he starts spilling white inside of you, coating your walls and gripping your hips.

He needs to give himself some time to come down from that. The sheer intensity of his own orgasm makes him think how you were even able to handle more than five in one go. Then again, he knew in the back of his mind that you could do it.

He gently slides out of you, pulling up his pants and leaning back on his heels to admire the view he created while he catches his breath. It then dawns on him that he needs to get you out of your restraints.

He unties your arms first before helping you sit up. It feels good to not feel so restricted anymore. But even though the rope is gone, it still feels like it's there. Even when you make it onto the bed on your own - without his help, your entire body feels like it’s bound.

“I’ll be back.”

You hear Minho’s voice in the distance as he walks out of the room. Everything is cold and filled with silence. It’s not something you've experienced after an intense scene. It’s not doable to speak because you lack the energy to speak up.

There’s a low buzz in your brain from the point where Minho had gotten up from the floor. From what you can recall, Minho had made you cum more times than you can almost count on both hands. Having one orgasm takes enough energy out of a person let alone at least nine - one after the other from repetitive overstimulation.

All those ‘feel-good’ chemicals in your brain have suddenly dried up, creating cold moments of self-awareness where the pain Minho had unleashed is starting to catch up to you. The realisation becomes entirely sobering that it feels like there is more pain than what was initially there to begin with. Your ass stings, throbs, and burns. Not in the way you normally welcome.

Even with him in the same room getting ready to clean and sterilise the equipment he used, something just doesn’t feel right. You feel cold and empty but unsure of what it actually is to make a full assumption.

The other half of your attention is drawn back to what just took place. In some aspects, you were caught up with the idea that maybe Minho might’ve felt annoyed or even dissatisfied with your performance. He said you were loud, had to tell you to breathe, to not touch him when he said you weren’t allowed…

When everything began to stack on top of each other and your guard was down, insecurities seeped in. As a result, you just felt like a gross, icky, and used thing. As that thought hits, you feel tears well up in your eyes. To avoid raising suspicion from Minho, you prop yourself up from the bed and start heading for the shower.

“What are you doing?” He asks, watching you.

“Having a shower,” you answer, wobbly on your feet. Your throat was a bit croaky, having not been able to speak properly in over an hour.

“But, you don’t want to lie down a bit more?” He questions. “That scene wasn’t easy-“

“No, it’s okay,” you interrupt him. “I just need one now.”

Minho’s eyes scan your expression. If you’re okay, then he is. The only issue is that he doesn’t truly know that you’re not okay. You understand that it’s something you should tell him immediately, but with the state of mind that you’re in, something tells you that he doesn’t care.

He watches you cautiously once more and takes your word for it, “alright then.”

In the end, the shower didn’t help anything. It made space to recollect the past hour which invited unwanted thoughts. You began to linger on Minho’s words from before that had notes of disappointment and disdain for how you performed.

All these insecurities you would’ve have ever thought you had in bed, just kept popping up in your brain. It made you wonder what Minho actually thought of you - if he really loved you.

That thought would float around in your mind for the next few days post-scene. It threw you off wanting to complete any work whatsoever. In the end, you just narrowed it down to being in a bad slump, right until you hit rock bottom the next time you and Minho decided to have sex days later.

It was an odd feeling.

You were horny and needed him terribly, but that never surpassed the level of the empty and cold feelings in your chest. It was a strange thought, but you wondered maybe if you and Minho did have sex, that emptiness would disappear - both figuratively and literally.

It wasn’t long until there was an answer to your question. After fifteen minutes of foreplay, you had already been made to cum once after Minho was desperate to go down on you. It wasn’t the best of orgasms that you’ve had, but it had nothing to do with his performance.

When he did eventually start fucking you, you then realised that your brain was too preoccupied with stuffing those feelings of emptiness down. You weren’t in the moment, tainted by whatever dark hole you seemed to be slipping down.

You had been so deeply focused on trying to cum once more to make up for the first orgasm that by the time it hit you, it fizzled out before it started. Frustrated, angry, and sad, all of those emotions combined were enough to make you cry. The tears had rolled down the side of your face only to be soaked up by the pillow below.

Minho had mistakenly assumed that you did cum and pulled out once he finished himself off inside of you. From there, you didn’t think the awful feelings could get any worse.

It began to bleed into other parts of your life in the days afterwards, like when a couple of your friends noticed you had gone quiet on them after they invited you out multiple times.

‘If Minho is holding you hostage, lmk and I’ll come get you’, a text from Chan read.

‘Class is boring without you. Who’s notes am I going to copy? :(‘, another text came through from Jisung.

The guilt settled in from not contacting them back. Even seeing them from a distance on campus but not able to show your face made it all the more worse. You just didn’t want to talk to anyone, not even Minho. It helped that he was busy and distracted with his own studies, but the second you stopped responding to his texts too, the thought occurred to him that something wasn’t right.

It occurred to him during one of lectures to talk to you afterwards at home, so decided to make a mental note about it and waited for you to return.

To his disappointment, you weren’t home by the usual time after you finished for the day. He decided to wait another half an hour before texting you to ask where you were. Again, falling short, he never received a reply from you. It wasn’t only until an hour and a half later did you finally return back to the apartment.

Minho emerges from the lounge, meeting you at the front door, “hey baby, did you get my texts?”

You pause for a second, meeting his eyes and noticing that he looks rather shaken yet relieved. While trying to figure out why, you reach for your phone in the back of your pocket and switch it back on.

“Why was your phone off?” He prods with another question.

“I was out,” you respond honestly then look down at your screen to see a few messages from him. “Oh, now I see your texts.”

Minho doesn’t take his gaze off you when you place your phone away again and go to hang your keys on the hook by the door. He’s trying to articulate your body language and why you’re not meeting his eyes. To him it makes it look like you have something to hide.

“Out?” He asks. “Who were you out with?”

“Yeah, just with Chan and Jisung. I haven’t seen them in a while and we decided to catch up,” you answer.

Minho would never suspect you of cheating, yet there was just something about your odd behaviour lately that made him think otherwise. He felt like a terrible boyfriend for even thinking anywhere along those lines. But the second he heard you were with Chan and Jisung, he could breathe a little easier.

“Okay,” he nods, sighing with relief to himself. “Has everything been okay lately?”

That sinking question makes you feel sick. You don’t want to talk about anything simply because you don’t feel like it and also because you don’t know how. It’s been a difficult week trying to climb yourself out of a hole that you didn’t know how you ended up in.

“Yeah, I’ve been really tired lately and I’m not getting proper rest,” you answer, moving past him to get to the kitchen.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” he trails behind you shortly after. “All your texts have been saying the same thing for the past week.”

You sigh, trying further to get him off your case, “because I have been. There’s not that much to it.”

Minho can see the wall you’re putting up. There’s no point trying to climb it because all you’ll do is build it higher to the point where you’ll shut down even further. He needs to figure his way around it.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “How about you take a couple of days off to get some rest?”

“I can’t,” you answer. “I’ve got tests and tutorials and exams coming up that I need to prepare for.”

“Yeah but, you can’t just run yourself to the ground babe,” Minho digs his hands into the pockets of his pants. “You’ll burn out before our semester ends.”

“Isn’t that how University is though? It’s just a few sacrifices, it’s nothing new,” you respond defensively.

The wall keeps going up…

Minho backs down, plays it safe. He doesn’t want to prod too much to the point where you won’t tell him anything. At that moment, he thinks of the future. Even though you’re both on the brink of an argument, he’d do everything in his power to help resolve it. He thinks fighting is pointless, but it’s inevitable at times.

“Alright,” he nods, taking a step closer towards you. He slowly leans down and kisses you gently on the cheek, something he hasn’t done in a while. “I’m sorry baby. I just want you to be healthy and to look after yourself.”

Looking after yourself - it’s not something that you’ve done for the past seven days. It’s a shit feeling too. You’ve felt so down and depleted, running low on energy. Being around people - particularly the one you love, has acted as an agitator for you to avoid him.

You can’t believe your emotional instability within this past week as everything kept descending into a spiral that feels impossible to get out of. The blessing in disguise is that Minho can see all of that written on your puzzled and worried expression.

His initiative kicks in before his hands pull you into his body for a well-needed hug. It’s not for his own selfish reasons of just wanting to feel you close to him, but because he senses something isn’t right.

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling the best, baby. You don’t have to tell me what’s going on right now, but I’ll still be here,” he says softly.

His firm hold around you, his warmth, touch, it’s all enough for the glass to crack beneath your feet. For you to start falling into sadness once more. Even though you don’t let onto it, tears start falling from your eyes. When you breathe in and shudder, that’s when Minho realises you’re crying.

Minho’s eyes widen and his brain comes to a screeching halt. It’s been days since you’ve started feeling like this and there’s only one reason he could conjure as to why.

“How long have you felt this way for?” He questions.

You gently pull away from him, rubbing your eyes with the backs of your sleeves, “since the last scene.”

“The last…that was a week ago?”

“I know,” you answer defeatedly, and with guilt. “Right after the scene I didn’t feel good, and I know - I know, I should’ve told you. But I just thought that…for a second, about something but it just…put me off.”

“Say it, please,” he urges softly. “I’m not going to be mad or offended, whatever it is.”

He’s right. This is a safe space to roll out these issues, Minho has always assured that.

“I just thought for a moment that you didn’t love me or care or something like that,” you answer truthfully.

In Minho’s brain, that accusation would sound ridiculous if he didn’t have any context from you. But given what sub drop can do to a person, he’s not surprised you would think along those lines.

What he is surprised about is the fact that he let this happen. To not take care of you properly after the scene when that’s probably one of the most important tasks.

“Well, you should know that, that’s not true,” he says. “I love you like you wouldn’t believe it, and I actually find it hard trying to articulate how crazy I feel about you sometimes. I’m not just saying that because of what you said, but I need you to understand that I mean every word.”

It was a big statement coming from Minho. You know that he loves you and he will say it when he can, but he’s a man of very few words. Acts of service is typically his love language. But if he needs to reassure you, he will.

But that’s when the devastating realisation crushes him. He didn’t think there was a possibility of this happening but given the behaviour you’ve exhibited, he couldn’t be any more right in his assumption.

“I think you might be in a sub drop,” he adds, feeling even more terrible as he says it aloud.

When Minho calls it as it is, things start making sense. The crying, the sadness, burden of insecurities, avoiding Minho, losing motivation for just about everything, and that impending downward spiral you kept slipping into.

You’ve never experienced sub drop. Minho has educated you on it and did everything in his power to prevent it from happening such as aftercare. He knows that it’s the best sub drop preventative after a scene.

The absence of it is an incentive for sub drop to occur - even after vanilla sex in some cases. That’s how Minho knows that he’s messed things up. He allowed things to fester like this for an entire week.

Then something equally as horrible crosses his mind.

“You said you’ve been feeling like this since the last scene,” he says. “Which means…you would’ve been in a drop when we had sex.”

You stall for a second, remembering that night vividly, “yes - but, I wanted to do it with you so bad because I needed you, but I was also hoping that the bad, empty feeling would go away after.”

“And it didn’t?”

You shake your head, “no.”

“I’m sorry baby, I really, truly am,” Minho sighs, mad with himself. “The moment you feel off during or after a scene, please try to let me know. Tell me what you need me to do and it’ll be done.”

You nod, hoping it’ll never actually happen again in the future. But there’s no guarantee. The best thing you can do is exactly what Minho suggested; talk. Even if and when it does happen, it’ll be a lot smoother than letting things boil over within a week.

“What went wrong for you at the end of that scene? Please don’t feel bad for saying anything, I want you to be honest so that it never happens again.”

If you had to be honest with him, it would’ve been the lack of contact post-scene. Minho took off your restraints and immediately began cleaning and packing things away. There were no usual words of affirmation, no cuddling - there was just nothing soothing about it.

It also didn’t help that you decided to shower, but that was after the fact.

“I just wanted you to be beside me,” you answer. “But I also just ran off into the shower without saying truly why.”

Something as simple as that stumps Minho. He could’ve helped prevent you from dropping had he just bought you back down from sub space properly. But he also doesn’t want you to lose trust in him not just as a dom but also as your boyfriend.

"Thank you for telling me baby," he replies quietly.

“I promise in the future that I’ll let you know if somethings not right. I know it won’t be as easy as it is said, but I can try.”

A small smile spreads on Minho’s face before he pulls you back into his body once more. Hearing the word ‘future’ calms him down. So long as you’re there with him, nothing else in the world matters.

"Just know, I always care about you, and I always love you."

——————

A/N: well, after however many months hiatus, I FINALLY updated. I can’t tell you how many times I rewrote this because I wasn’t happy with it but hey. At least I’m back! Please let me know how this was - also, there’s bound to be mistakes in here even though I’ve proofread it a few times so I’ll come back and smooth those out later!

Thank you for being patient with me and for waiting! I’ll try my best to upload consistently.

- Rose x

to love, despite

notes: i know i said i'd go on hiatus but i think i might have underestimated the genshin brainrot and also the support of my readers so you have this now

word count: 2.7k

premise: when wanderer accompanies the traveler to inazuma, he didn't expect himself to fall in love, much less to get his heart broken and face his fourth betrayal. luckily, you're there to lift him up. maybe he wasn't meant to be alone after all....maybe he was just looking in the wrong places

contains: wanderer x gn!reader, wanderer goes through a breakup with unnamed npc, hurt/comfort, blossoming feelings

warnings: mentions of cheating, scara's insecurities

The sun was slowly setting, tinting the horizon in comforting and warm colors. But today, there was a hint of sadness to the end of this day and right now, to Wanderer at least, the hues of red and orange slowly turning to blues and blacks mirrored the way a time of happiness and joy was washed away with the tides of the ocean. The waves crashed against the bow of the ship as it swayed with the way of the water; staying in control of the captain despite the untamed strength of the sea. It was a comforting sound; as if the shores of his former homeland were speaking to him, telling him: “Don’t grieve what’s lost. This too will pass.”

A music box was playing a slow song behind him. He mused one of the sailors must have put it there because they liked the tune. He glanced at the small apparatus, letting out a bitter laugh when he saw the frail ballerina figurine on top of it. What cruel irony life threw his way over and over again.

He looked out onto the docks as the ship set sail; beginning its journey to Port Ormos. Back to the comfort of his new home, back to Nahida who’d sure have some wise words to try and soothe him. Words that would be ultimately met with silence as they wouldn’t reach his non-existent heart in light of the events that had transpired. He heard the sound of the seagulls above the beach and closed his eyes, listening to the workings of the water; imagining how it’d sway him gently to a place where nothing and no one could hurt him.

He never expected himself to fall in love. And especially not in the span of a couple of months. But the one he loved had been like a hurricane of flowers; filling his hair with beautiful cherry blossoms to distract him from the destructive storm that was on the horizon. His lover had been kind; at first. Kind and joyful. Like they’d wash away his sorrows as they danced among the crowd, dragging him into the masses and encouraging him to dance along. The flowery words and the colorful metaphors had blinded him to how shallow humanity was and always would be. How he’d have to expect disappointment before all else.

They had taken his hands into theirs and promised him they’d stay. That they never met anyone quite like him. He remembered the sound of their laughter as it filled the air of spring; a time that was meant for new beginnings. He really thought this was the start of something good. “You’re adorable”, they had chuckled before kissing his cheek and he had blushed, clutching the flowers they gave him in his hands. They had taken him to their favorite places on Narukami Island and he had followed with a smile on his face; pretending like he hadn’t seen them all before. Still, during those carefree days they had seemed much brighter than before. 

He remembered how he had sat with them under a big tree, watching the birds fly freely and the clouds pass by as if nothing ever mattered but what was there in the current moment. The one he loved had been like a gentle melody soothing the pain that still lingered in his mind and making him appreciate the peace and life around him. They had brought some goods they baked for him and told him they’re almost as sweet as him. They had told him they loved him. But sometimes people were  privy to love only for as long as their lover had an ideal of them in their head that they were unwilling to let go of. A fairytale dream that made the Wanderer recoil; knowing it was never truly him they loved. It was an idea of him that was shaped by their mind to fit the desires of their heart; something he’d probably never truly comprehend.

And then he told them what he was. It shouldn’t matter. “It won’t”, the Traveler and you had reassured him. So he took a fearful step towards the unknown. At first it really didn’t matter. Humans were desperate to hold onto their dreams of perfection, after all. Most would find that without their delusions; life would be hardly the happy place they’d convinced themselves of. His former lover had told him that no matter whether he was a puppet or a human; they’d still love him all the same. For he could love too, after all. But sometimes what one loves in others is not the person themselves but what they can provide for their lives. Enrichment, support, fun. And sometimes it was that and that only.

That was what he had realised when he caught them showing their affections to someone else. In that moment, it seemed as if their whole demeanor had shifted. The aura of innocence and gentleness had long since faded and he had come to realize that they were not a rare treasure that existed outside of all the things that had hurt him; they were entangled in that same net of human faults and selfishness as all the other obstacles he had faced throughout his life. As all of them ever would, he thought; his pessimism clouding his mind once more.

“I’m sorry!”, they had called out to him with tears in their eyes, “I was going to talk with you about this, but I didn’t know how!” What are you crying for?, he had wondered. As they went on and on about how they never wanted to break his heart but they didn’t fully understand what it would be like to date a puppet; what it lacked; he grew colder by the minute. What did he lack? Wasn’t this what Nahida and the Traveler had attempted to convince him of? That there was no reason to not call himself a human? That he could have the same experiences as one regardless; love the same and be loved in return. He had fallen in love; with courage and hope in his veins; but the lightning had struck him nonetheless. He remembered the words they’d told him before he left: “I really care about you. And I still treasure you as a friend. But I need someone who…”

They never finished that sentence but Wanderer knew exactly what they were going to say. Someone who is human. I get it. 

If the world was always going to reject his existence, maybe he should go back to rejecting the world in turn. Let the bitterness in his heart numb the pain. Let the anger wash away the sorrows and let the pride clouding his head blow down all that others had built in his life. You’re bigger than this now…, he reminded himself, knowing no anger or hatred would ever make his sorrow disappear. Only time and purpose and love could. 

“Hey”, you began quietly. He hadn’t even noticed you were there; standing next to him now and observing the waves, same as he did. After what had happened, he didn’t feel like spending another day in Inazuma. The Traveler still had some unfinished business here and Wanderer was ready to leave on his own when you had convinced him to follow him back to Sumeru. You never said it but he could see in your eyes how you believed he needed a shoulder to lean on right now. And if he was really, truly honest with himself….then maybe he did.

“I got you one of those little mocktails they sell next to the captain’s booth”, you handed him the drink that had been poured into an empty ajilenakh nut, “I made sure they didn’t put any dango in it.” He thanked you and drank a bit of it. It wasn’t as bad as he had expected it to, even though it was a little bit sweeter than what he’d normally drink. 

For a while, the two of you remained quiet. The constant sound of the ocean was enough to not make it awkward. “I’m sorry”, you then said quietly, “you didn’t deserve this to happen to you.” “I know”, he replied and closed his eyes, clutching his anemo vision for support over his chest where his heart should be, “but it keeps happening anyway.” 

At least for now he wasn’t completely alone. He had Nahida, the Traveler and you. Even Paimon. You were his friends. For how long will they remain your friends, though?, that bitter voice in his head spoke once more. But over the past year, he had grown more familiar and comfortable with you and he had listened to your stories about the life you led and the people you’ve met throughout it. It had made him realize that while his feelings of estrangement as a puppet were unique ones; ones no one in this world might as well fully be able to comprehend; there were many humans out there who had struggled with loneliness and abandonment and it had left them as scarred as he had been. 

“Such is the way of mankind”, you insisted, holding your hand out into the wind as if you could touch it. Little did he know you had grown to love the wind a little more ever since he received his vision, because it reminded you of him. He didn’t know that you had fallen for him long since, watching him fall in love with another and drift further away from you. And now he was hurting because of it. And in a way, that made you even more sad but just as determined to ease his mind and soothe the pain in his heart; one which may not be inside him but which you were nonetheless sure he had. 

“Some of us seem to find our place in this world as easily as it is to breathe”, you began, looking at him with a gentle expression, “but I’ve found many of those never reach true happiness. They just settle. But for a lot of us that’s never enough. We get swept away by the waves of conflict and abandonment; relentlessly clawing our way up the next cliff and hoping that this time no one will push us off.” He didn’t dare look at you for a while when you placed your hand on top of his but he had to admit he found comfort in the subtle touch. Maybe he was just clinging onto a hint of affection after having been abandoned; desperate to feel cared for; but in this moment that didn’t matter to him.

“Isn’t that a little pathetic?”, he mocked your words with a bitter voice. “It is, truly”, you nodded your head, “we err for as long as we live. But it’s the only way we ever reach our happiness. It’s in our nature to, even in the face of all obstacles, have at least a little bit of hope in us. We all do. Even the ones who claim to have none. And one day that hope may be rewarded. I’ve seen it happen time and time again. It can happen to you. I think that’s worth being a little bit pathetic for.” You chuckled and he thought about your words.

“They looked so happy”, he then said after a while, remembering when he had met his former lover once again with their new partner as they were taking a stroll near the port. He remembered how he’d heard them giggle and tease each other. How they’d referred to jokes he didn’t understand and call each other nicknames that made him cringe. The familiar feeling of shock and disbelief was spreading in his body again and he looked at his shaking fingers. “Do you think they’re happier without me?”, he asked quietly.

“Probably”, you shrugged calmly and he let out a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Hadn’t you come here in a silly attempt to cheer him up?

“But what matters is not the people we have our best times with, but the ones who stay with us through our worst. Because then we know that when we share happiness with them; one day we’ll be able to look back at those memories and feel satisfied. What’s the point of having the most fun of your life, if who you shared it with will be gone in a year or two because they moved on to the next thrill? What will be left of it but emptiness? What’s the point, but to learn what’s truly of value in this life?”, you gave him an encouraging smile and squeezed his hand, “I know you would have given them all that and been there for them when they needed it most. If they weren’t able to see that, that’s their loss.”

The Wanderer noticed how the Inazuman islands had now disappeared completely from view and he felt a breeze of wind blow through his hair as his tears poured down his cheeks and his facade of bitterness cracked as he allowed himself to say the words that had been stuck on his tongue for all this time. “I’m hardly a loss”, he croaked out with a shaky voice before he started sobbing.

You remained silent, instantly pulling him into your embrace and letting him cry into your shoulder. He clutched the fabric on your back with his fists as you put a hand on the back of his head and gently ran it through his soft hair. 

“That’s not true”, you whispered, not wanting to overwhelm him with new information but also wishing he knew just how much he meant to you. That you wanted to stay by his side and love him the way he deserved, come what may. For now, you chose to try and convey that with your loving embrace, holding him for as long as he needed you to. 

“You’re a wonderful person and I’m glad to be your friend”, you whispered, tightening your hold on him, “you have as much the potential as anyone to make someone else happy and to be happy yourself. It may be hard to believe right now, but I promise you, you just have to hold on a little bit longer.” Many had told him that. But there was a sincerity in your voice and in the way you hugged him that he couldn't help but feel like there was more to it than just empty promises. Were you perhaps talking about yourself? 

What a silly thought, he brushed it off but it still gave him that familiar spark of hope. When he had been abandoned once again, he asked himself if anyone would ever truly love him. And maybe, the answer to that question would be you. Right now, he could hardly say you’d be in love with each other one day. But there was something. Like a sprout growing in the harshest desert. And something inside him couldn’t wait to see what it would become if he only had a little courage.

So he hugged you back gently, resting his head on your shoulder and smiling for the first time in days. This didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Are you feeling a little better?”, you wrapped an arm around his shoulder as you watched the sun set and stars appear in the sky. “Yeah”, he admitted, switching sides on the ship and looking in the direction of Sumeru, “and maybe I can afford to be a little pathetic.” “Oh trust me, you already did that”, you teased him and winked at him, “remember that time you called yourself the ‘Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom’? That was pretty embarrassing.” He cringed at your words but it brought out a laugh through the tears. “Don’t remind me.”

You looked peacefully at the horizon, taking his hand in yours again to indicate you’d stay here to support him. “Relentlessness is one of the most defining traits of humanity”, you said with a gentle smile, “to persevere even in the face of adversity. To thrive in even the harshest environments and succeed despite the failures of the past and against the expectations of others. To suffer and lose, and to love, despite.”

notes: i listened to the sad fairy tail ost while writing this sbdbsndjsjdjs. i've had this idea for a while but the motivation to write it just hit me over the head today. hope you liked it. ❤️

── OLYMPICS MASTERLIST

[🤾🏽] 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄: HANDBALL

‟ you're always on seungcheol's mind, even when he scores a gold medal winning goal. and he’d be damned if you weren't the first person he ran to right after

handball player 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐥 + girlfriend reader wordcount: 2.2k

⦗💌 ⦘ fluff fluff FLUFF, definitely not based on mondo duplantis and his girlfriend

𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i highly recommend to listen to "the alchemy" while reading, and here is a tik tok which i based this fic on

two minutes left. 

two minutes left and cheol’s team was losing by two points. 

you weren’t looking at the pitch anymore; you hadn’t for the past five minutes, ever since your boyfriend’s team decided to ditch every rational strategy they could play by and run around like it was their first time playing handball instead. surely the pressure was getting into them, especially with the time slowly running out, but… they couldn’t let this win slip through their fingers so easily. 

the whole arena was buzzing with anticipation; you could feel the energy surging through your veins, though you weren’t sure if you wanted to scream with everyone else for cheol’s team to move their asses or if you wanted the audience to shut the hell up, so you could focus as if that had any influence on the game. 

“oh, come on!” you yelled as one of the opponents pushed cheol to the ground. “that deserves two minutes!” you groaned and threw your hands up when the referee did, in fact, not penalise the guy. 

it looked like seungcheol was just as frustrated as you were. he shook his head, which made his faded blue bangs fall over his eyes, and took his place at the nine-metre mark. you huffed in annoyance - you told him to pin them back or to put on a headband before the match, and he still hadn't listened to you. nothing new. 

“pass it to jaehyun!” you screamed your ass off once again and waved in the direction of the left winger, acting like your boyfriend could hear you perfectly amongst the noise.

you couldn’t help but feel sorry for the lady on your left, who was gripping her child closely to her waist. she probably thought you were mentally ill, and to be honest, you looked like it. you were sporting the “struck by lightning” hairstyle from how often you tugged at your hair. 

by the 59 minute mark, the boys managed to score two points, which meant it was a tie. 

one minute left. 

you were looking through your fingers as the opposite team quickly managed to get through the boys’ defence and score, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, a very impressive goal, leaving seungcheol’s team utterly speechless and, at this point, drained. you could see it on their faces - the realisation that the gold medal was slowly slipping away from them, that if they didn’t do something quickly, they’d lose everything they’d been working on for the past months. 

you could almost feel the anger that was surging through your boyfriend as he turned around to pick up the ball. 

“come on, baby. come on,” you muttered, holding onto your jersey with his name and number on it so hard that your knuckles turned white. 

for a second, you thought that your gaze met his, as if he knew exactly where you’d be sitting. you couldn’t tell for sure, but you saw a flicker of something that you couldn’t quite recognise in your boyfriend’s eye. 

“you can do it, cheol” you whispered.

for the first time, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but the look in his eyes told you that he wasn’t done fighting yet, and for that alone, you were eternally proud of him. before you could blink, cheol was already on the other side of the pitch, throwing the ball to mark, who forced his way through the defence. 

thankfully, the opposite team was starting to panic as well, and mark managed to win a penalty, so the match was back to a tie.

“it’s okay,” you told yourself. “if it’s a tie then there’s still a chance.” 

everyone was standing at this point. people were holding onto their loved ones, some were covering their mouths or had their arms over their heads. most of the bleachers were screaming in unison for their teams, while the rest kept their mouths shut, looking pale and rather… not okay. 

you were probably a mix between the two, but you couldn’t care less. your voice was hoarse and you knew you wouldn’t be able to talk tomorrow, but if you didn’t scream you’d literally combust from all the pent up anxiety. you were shaking like a leaf, your legs were bouncing up and down, and if you didn’t have the jersey to hold onto you were sure you’d scratch the skin off your face. 

“loser!” you yelled, earning a disapproving look from some of the people around you. again - you couldn’t care less. 

twenty seconds. 

you weren’t pro by no means, but you’ve been watching seungcheol play long enough to know that twenty seconds was not enough. not for him, not for mark, not for jae - the only thing that could save them now was a miracle. 

the boys’ coach yelled for time, his face serious and wiped out of any emotions, showing nothing more than pure professionalism. you had no idea how he did it - if it was you, you’d either faint, puke or straight up leave, but that was probably why you never pursued sports. not that you were a big fan of being sporty yourself. last time seungcheol brought you to the gym you pulled at least three muscles you didn’t think could be pulled. 

when both teams left for their respective sidelines, the whole arena exhaled in unison. it was quite funny, though, how the fans were sweating more than the athletes, or how they looked even more tired than them, you included. it was just a joke you liked to tell cheol, that you’d turn grey before thirty, but maybe it wasn’t that far from the truth after all.

you peeked over to the boys’ side to see seungcheol yelling something and waving his arms around from one player to another. 

“that’s my man.” 

whether they’d lose or win, the fact that they wouldn’t go without a fight was all that mattered. 

when the referee blew his whistle, the tension came back as quickly as it disappeared.

you gritted your teeth as the game resumed, with the opposite team throwing the ball between them as if it were merely a warm-up. there was no way that with twenty seconds left on the clock and the game being tied, they’d try to even think about risking and shooting at the goal. they’d do anything to drag these twenty seconds out as much as they could, because overtime was a much better option for them than risking and losing.

but they didn’t know much of a fighter choi seungcheol was.

the centre of the opposite team made a mistake of taking a second too long looking at the right back-court, which told seungcheol everything he needed to know. he lunged forward the second the ball left his opponent's hands and caught it before it could reach the other player. 

for a brief second, the whole pierre mauroy stadium held its breath, enveloping the whole place in complete silence, like in a cheap action movie right before the main lead defeats the villain. no one dared to make a sound, not a single squeak, as everyone’s eyes were glued to your boyfriend in disbelief.

then it sank in. 

he did it. he grabbed the ball, he had the ball. 

what happened next went by so fast that you felt like you blinked and it was over. 

no one suspected that seungcheol would dare to make such a bold move, considering that by doing so he weakened his team's defence, which he couldn’t afford in his situation. and that was the best decision he could’ve made. the opponents remained rooted to the spot as cheol ran towards the goal as fast as he could. now it was just him and the goalie. 

“please, please, please.” 

when seungcheol was a few steps away from the nine-metre line, when he was seconds away from possibly ruining everything he had worked for, when you saw him dribble the ball one last time before he shot - you closed your eyes tightly and covered them with your hands for good measure. 

for a moment you didn't know what was happening. if he scored or not. the entire arena was still silent, as if someone clicked pause, before the stands on your side erupted in a frenzy of screams and tears.

"oh my god."

your hands were shaking as you uncovered your eyes. a part of you was afraid to do it, afraid to look at the score, afraid that those screams of joy were just a figment of your desperate imagination. 

41:40.

tears filled your eyes as the referee blowed his whistle for the last time. 

a quiet gasp left your mouth. “they won,” your mind was screaming over and over again.  

cheol was kneeling in front of the goal, his broad back facing you, breathing heavily as if he was trying to understand what was happening. his team on the other side of the pitch was going crazy - the guys were throwing themselves at each other, lifting each other up, some were sitting with their heads between their knees so the cameras wouldn't catch their tears.

ever so slowly, seungcheol turned around, his eyes immediately finding yours amidst the crowd of celebrating fans. the world around you stopped. the noise faded away. people disappeared. it was only you and him. cheol’s big hazel eyes looked like they were holding every star of the universe in them, every ounce of love and joy that this world had to offer. he let the tears stream freely down his rosy cheeks, not bothered to wipe them away. 

he shook his head in disbelief and you couldn’t help but laugh. “you won, silly,” you wanted to tell him. 

a couple of guys finally ran up to him, and tackled him in a group hug, screaming so loudly that you could hear them clearly from the other side of the pitch. heeseung shook seungcheol’s shoulders as if to wake him from his trance, shouting and laughing around him, but cheol was still staring at you and you only. despite the thousands of people in the arena, your boyfriend made you feel as if only you existed, like no one else, nothing else - not even his golden medal mattered to him. 

finally, cheol grabbed jake’s outstretched hand and got up, making the stadium go even more crazy. he was their hero, their pride and treasure, and still - he was looking only at you. 

"what are you doing, you stupid?" you thought, as he smiled like an idiot at you and murmured something to jake. 

the boy beside him only shook his head, and patted him on the back. 

“what are you-,” you hiccuped, wiping away the tears. 

before you could blink, seungcheol stood before you, tearful but with a beautiful gummy smile that you adored so much spread across his handsome face. he looked like he wanted to say something, like he had a thousand things on his mind but couldn't articulate a single one.

instead, he just started crying even harder.

"oh, seungcheol," you sighed, and threw yourself into his arms.

you stood like that for a moment - intertwined in each other's arms as if you were one.

“we did it,” seungcheol cried into your shoulder. “baby, we did it, we won,” his body shook, as you gripped his shoulders tighter. 

“yes, cheollie,” you heard your own voice shake, trying not to fall apart completely, and kissed the top of his head. “you did it.” 

you could feel the cameras on you, the stares and the whispers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about them. not when the love of your life was holding onto you for dear life, not when he had just won a gold olympic medal. not when he had just made his biggest dream come true. 

“i’m so proud of you,” you choked on a sob. “so proud.” 

seungcheol shook his head, still in disbelief of what had just happened. he pulled himself from your embrace, face red and sweaty, proving just how much he put into the game. he was the miracle they needed - your boyfriend, your choi seungcheol who worked day and night to fulfil his and his team’s dreams, was that little ray of hope that managed to do the impossible. 

“i love you,” he said, tears still rolling down his cheeks. “i fucking love you so much.” 

taking his face in your hands, you pressed your forehead to his, because nothing you’d say would convey what you were feeling. maybe the right words would come eventually, but for now you didn’t know what else to do than cry with him. your heart was beaming. beaming with love, with pride, with so much fondness to the point where it was most likely unhealthy, and still you wanted more more more.   

“you stink,” you laughed through your tears, pushing cheol’s sweaty hair that fell over his eyes. still, he had never looked more beautiful to you.

“oh, i stink?” he smiled wickedly, and shook his head right in front of your face. 

beads of sweat that were clinging onto his forehead and tips of hair fell straight on you. “cheol! cheol, stop!” you squealed, pushing the man away from you. no surprise - he did not budge an inch.  

“now we’re stinky together,” he mumbled, and pressed his pouty lips against yours, disregarding your whines of protests. 

well, it was safe to say that the whole internet went crazy after that.

the heist team | the threesome series ; skz ; minho/reader/changbin

masterlist.

threesome series part 2/4.

pairing: lee minho/reader/seo changbin content info: sexual content. threesome. friends2lovers. very cheesy criminal heist shenanigans (very "we're in" style hacking and some laser grids lol). "fake" kissing, getting sexy as a distraction, giving sex directions, sexual tension that gets resolved. pussy eating, dick sucking, coming inside. purple haired minho bc meow <3

-

The camper van was the best idea you ever had.  It is much easier to enact dastardly schemes while inconspicuously hiding in plain sight. 

On the outside, the van looks like any civilian camper, but the inside is a veritable den of high-tech con-artistry.   It has a place for Minho to hang the get-ups for his grifting gambits, a compartment for Changbin to store his weapons and down-time dumbbells, and it has the sexiest, sleekest, most mouth-watering computer apparatus that has ever existed.  You love it more than anything in this world. 

Every job, you sit in the midst of your beloved computer screens, directing the operation while your boys do the ground work.  Despite knowing of your undying love for this system, your best friends and partners-in-crime are presently trying to separate you from your baby.

“Is she calling the computer her baby again?”  Minho asks from where he is getting dressed behind a curtain. 

“Yes,” Changbin says.  He is sitting in your computer chair with his arms distractingly crossed, his biceps bulging in his tight black shirt.  He is wearing a lot of lycra, having formerly anticipated he would be doing physical work tonight.

That all changed when you realized the nature of tonight’s job. 

You only ever target the obscenely rich, the kind of wealth that is obtained through its own nature of theft and villainy.  Tonight’s targets are a bunch of pompous elites celebrating themselves.  Upstairs is a gala kicking off a week-long set of dinners, auctions, and celebrations.   Downstairs is millions of dollars worth of art and antiquities, set to go up for auction the following day.  

It looked like a typical job, the kind where Minho could sweet-talk some fools while Changbin punched some security guards and you hacked the vault from the van.  The security system around the haul turned out to be far more advanced.  Operating with a form of artificial intelligence, it essentially learns as it goes, meaning hacking it from the outside is incredibly difficult as it will understand and respond to invasion.  It will be easier to outsmart from the inside, where you can reach your hand into its virtual heart and pluck its digital ventricles one by one. 

The boys do not have that kind of computer knowledge.  So now Changbin is in your chair, Minho is doing his make-up, and you are waving around an emergency cocktail dress. 

“Who’s gonna watch my baby if I’m in there!”  

“Yah! Rude woman!  You remember who helped you build this thing?” Changbin pats one of the computer towers to make his point.  “I can do the basic work in here, but I can’t do your complicated nerd things.” 

“I’m not a nerd!”  You definitely are.  You stare at the cocktail dress morosely.  “You’re forgetting something super important.”

“Changbin forgot deodorant again?” Minho asks.  You can hear him snickering while Changbin gets expectedly cross about it.  Boys.

“You are forgetting,” you say loudly over their argument, “that I am a total weirdo and I panic whenever someone looks at me! There’s a reason I don’t do the people side of things!  That’s what you guys are good at!”

“Technically I just hit them,” Changbin says. 

“You are plenty charming when you want to be and you know it,” you say. 

Changbin folds his hands behind his head, flexing all his muscles while grinning. 

“How charming?” he teases, cocky.  “Describe it to me.” 

“Shut up.”  You hit him with the cocktail dress to hide the fact he got you genuinely flustered.  “I can’t go in there.  People will know I don’t belong the second I walk in the room.  We won’t even get close enough to the computer bank for me to disarm it because they’ll get one look at me and throw me out the window.” 

“That won’t happen,” Minho says.   His changing area is behind you and you hear the metallic slide of the curtain opening.  “Because you won’t be going in there alone.”  

You don’t even have to turn around to know Minho looks devastatingly gorgeous; it is written all over Changbin’s shocked face.  His arms lower from behind his head and his cocksure expression shifts, his lips parting as he stares past you.  

Despite having the benefit of bracing yourself, you are still struck dumb when you turn and look at Minho.  It was always in the plan that Minho would serve as a distraction at the gala.  To stand out accordingly, he dyed his hair with temporary dye this morning.  The vibrant purple was more amusing than sexy when his hair was messy, but now it is neatly styled back, slick and off his handsome face.  He is dressed all in white, his asymmetrical suit partially slit at the side to show some skin.  There is an extra sparkle from his jewelry, plus the lightest dab of glitter in the sharper contours of his face.  He is practically glowing. 

He knows he looks good.  His mouth quirks in a little smirk at your expressions.  You and Changbin are both gawping at him, and it goes on long enough that his eyebrows lift and his smirk puckers with a surprised laugh. 

“What? Really?” he asks, still laughing at you. 

Changbin does an unexpected sign of the cross.  You hit him with the cocktail dress again. 

“Fine,” you say, mostly to have an excuse to duck behind the curtain because you think you might explode from lust and embarrassment and anxiety all at once.  “At least no one will be looking at me.” 

You step behind the curtain and snap it closed, leaving the boys to their banter. 

You like dressing up so this part is no problem.  The problem with parties is other people.  You wholeheartedly admit you are better with zeroes and ones than human beings.   

You try to focus on the fun elements of tonight: the dress, the glamour, and beating a high-tech security system at its own game.  It will be so fun to have a real challenge for once.  You know you can beat it but it will definitely push you more than your usual digital adversaries.

Also, you get to look at Minho looking like that.  Your view of the boys is usually through security cameras, nestled in your van surrounded by your operating system, so the proximity will be a treat. 

You open the curtain, scowling.  You do not enjoy socializing so you seldom have occasion to dress up, so you anticipate the boys will lovingly berate you.  But when you step forward, Changbin looks at you with the same dumbfounded expression he had for Minho.  Minho is sitting on the bench, knees apart and arm slung across the backrest.  His expression gets very serious when he looks at you.  He shimmies his hips, his knees parting further. 

“Turn around,” he says.  

The van feels so tense and quiet that you obey, more confused than anything else. 

Changbin’s gaze drops to your ass immediately, his jaw visibly clenching.  Minho tips his head like he is studying something. 

“Thank you,” Minho says. 

You face them again, hot in the face.  You cross your arms angrily. 

“What was the point of that?” you demand.

Minho lifts a single eyebrow.  “I wanted to see your ass,” he says, like it should be obvious.  “It’s a good one.  You should be proud.” 

You throw your sweatpants at his stupid smirk.  He catches it smoothly. 

“Can we just go already?”  You punctuate this with a stomp of your foot then storm out of your precious van. 

It is very strange being on this side of the operation.  You always have Minho and Changbin nattering in your earpiece, but usually you are sitting at your desk wearing proper headphones.  It is strange wandering around with a tiny bud in your ear, listening to Changbin report from your usual seat. 

You already have control of the hotel security cameras as they work on a separate operating system to the storeroom AI.  You replaced the live feed with a looping reel of empty rooms so the security team inside will not see you moving around.  It also gives Changbin a bird’s eye view of the gala and the rest of the hotel.  You feel anxious at not seeing it for yourself, but you are placated when Changbin whistles and teases, “You two are the best looking there.  You would be second best looking if I was there, so you’re lucky I’m not.” 

You and Minho both smile, your expressions fond.  

Minho gets you in the door with little more than a wink at the doorman.  You stay quiet, hiding your nerves as best you can.  Minho is a competent con-man and Changbin is plenty reliable so you try to focus on your own tasks.  First you need to get to the ground floor network base so you can get the AI to chase your red herring.  Once you are in, the AI will start responding, but with your virus acting as a decoy source within the building, you should be able to buy yourselves time to move onto the next phase of breaking down the system. 

“There’s a lot of muscle at this party,” Changbin says seriously, no doubt taking stock of all the burly security guards.  It is only natural Changbin would be as twitchy as you, also out of his element for the night.  “I don’t like not being there with you,” he says.  

“Easy,” Minho says in a calm voice.  You think it is directed at both you and Changbin.  He puts a hand on your lower back and gives you a knowing look.  “You’re doing fine,” he says.

You feel like terror is written all over your face.  It doesn’t help that Minho draws eyes the second you step into the hotel ballroom, men and women looking at him with the usual desire he draws.  They are equally curious to look at you, their eyes on where his hand rests intimately low on your spine. 

“I’m gonna hurl,” you say.

“Not a bad idea,” he says.  He smiles with so much effortless charm that no one would suspect he is whispering criminal tips.  “The best con,” he says, his lips brushing your ear, “is one that is close to the truth.”  You shiver as his fingertips brush up your spine.  He rests his hand on your nape.  “Look sick,” he says.  “We’ll say we’re looking for a restroom if someone asks.” 

You follow his lead, weaving your way through the party.  Looking sick is the easiest instruction to follow because you feel genuinely ill, your anxiety a toxic twist in your gut.  

Only when you are wandering the empty hotel corridor do you feel at ease.  You feel even more at ease when you find the ground floor network hub.  Your first obstacle is a regular alarm code, twelve digits in length.  It is obviously too long to guess so you physically unscrew the alarm box and start some manual fiddling.  There is no way to fully disarm it without also setting it off, but that’s where your own AI gadget comes into play.  You plug in your cypher scrambler and let it do its thing.  It flickers through numbers, seeking the correct pattern, learning from its errors.  You designed it yourself and though it is always accurate, it takes a while to pull the numbers.  You and Minho are forced to hover in the hallway while it gradually reveals each piece of the code. 

You are up to number seven out of twelve when Changbin inhales sharply. 

“There’s a waiter walking in your direction,” he says.  “It looks like he’s taking a shortcut to somewhere else, but you have less than two minutes until he’s on you.”

 “What!”  You start to panic immediately.  “My decipher machine could take longer than that, what do we—”

“Relax, relax!”  Changbin says at the same time Minho steps behind you and grasps your shoulders.  He makes little shushing noises while massaging you, not that it does much to help. 

“We’re good,” Minho says.  “It’s just a waiter, not security.” 

“I’m gonna get us killed,” you say. 

“By a waiter?”  Minho asks.  He gives your shoulders another squeeze.  “Is he going to beat us with a baguette?  Hey, hey, relax.”

You are a vibrating bundle of nerves.  Minho is not usually the type to dive into a hug but he turns you around and pulls you into his arms.  You wrap your arms around his middle and hug him back, hiding your face in his neck. 

“Yeah, that will work,” Changbin says. 

“Huh?” you say, lifting your head. 

Minho is staring into a security camera as if having a mute exchange with Changbin.  He nods in agreement, though you still don’t understand. 

“What will work?” you ask. 

“Distraction,” Minho says.  You just look at him with confusion. 

“Baby,” Changbin says in a soft tone, “listen to my voice.”

The sudden gentleness of his voice makes you shiver.  Your fingers are shaking when Minho takes your hand and rests it over his heart.  You look up into his dark eyes as he smiles at you with familiar fondness.  You open your mouth to speak but he shakes his head, shushing you gently.  His eyes drift to the side in anticipation of an intruder. 

“Baby,” Changbin says, his honeyed tone softening your nerves, “Minho is going to kiss you.  Just do what I say, okay?” 

Your heart skips a beat, your eyes widening.

“You trust us?”  Changbin asks. 

You nod, answering Changbin, gazing at Minho. 

It’s the truth.  You might be scared but you have been scared before and your boys always come through.  Even when the rest of the world left you behind, when you turned to crime to keep yourself alive, Minho and Changbin were there.  They have never let you down.  You trust them with anything and everything. 

Minho slips his hand around your waist, pulling you close to him.  You have been close before, sharing the van, sharing hotel rooms, but this feels different.  He looks at you with intent, his handsome face so close, a strand of dark purple hair curled over his forehead.  Your hand finds that patch of bare skin when you touch his side.  He is familiar and foreign at once, your Minho, and also a character, one who clasps his hand behind your back and ducks down to gently kiss your lips. 

“Take a breath, baby,” Changbin says with a little chuckle.  “You look like you’re going to pass out.” 

“Mmf,” is the noise you make, affirming that observation.   It makes Minho laugh, a breath against your lips. 

“Waiter is thirty seconds away.  You just want to look like a dumb, horny couple that wandered away from the party,” Changbin says.  “Listen to me, I’ll tell you what do.”

You nod, sucking in a breath when Minho kisses you again.  This time his mouth is a little more insistent, his lips coaxing yours open. 

“Close your eyes, baby,” Changbin says.  “Let your shoulders drop.  Minho has you, it’s okay.” 

You didn’t even realize how tense your shoulders were.  You listen to Changbin, letting yourself go lax.  Minho holds you, as promised, his arms sturdy around your waist as he kisses you deeply. 

“Let Minho move you,” Changbin says. “He’s going to lean you against the wall to hide the device, okay?  Put your hands on his shoulders.  Higher, baby, go around his neck.  Just like that.  Let him lead you.” 

Minho walks you backwards, carefully pressing you against the wall, hiding the dangling cypher scrambler with your bodies. 

“We wanna give our intruder a little jump scare, okay?”  Changbin says.  “Minho.”  

That is all the direction he gives Minho, trusting the adept con-man to know exactly what to do.  Minho does, his hands sliding down to your hips to pull them flush against his.  It arches your back.  Your hands are hooked behind his neck and you squeak, your fingers instinctively sinking into his hair. 

“God,” Changbin says.  The sudden dark colour to his voice sends a spark of heat shooting through you.  It clearly surprises Minho too, his lips parting with a caught breath.  “You both look hot.  Fuck.” 

Changbin takes a steadying breath.  You and Minho look at each other.  You get to see his smirk for a split second, then his mouth is on yours and it is no longer gentle and questioning.  It is a demand, hot and wanting, your lips opening with his guidance, your heart skipping beats when he licks in your mouth. 

“Do it back,” Changbin says.  “You want him to fuck you, baby.  Make him believe it.”

You think the him is question is the waiter.  Isn’t it?  You don’t even know where the waiter is anymore, if he’s around the corner or watching.  In the haziness of your kiss, it hardly seems to matter.  You kiss Minho back with the same urgency, pulling him closer, whimpering when he bites your bottom lip. 

“Fuck,” is the gentle whisper that Minho can’t fight.  His brow is crinkled, his eyes closed.  He kisses you again, his hands jumping up to gather yours.  He laces his fingers with yours and presses your hands into the wall on either side of your head. 

“Wrap your leg around his waist,” Changbin says.  “Like that, that’s it, you’re okay.” 

You lift one leg, shaky and unsure.  Minho catches you under the knee and pulls it more certainly around him.  He holds you there, his other hand grasping your throat very gently as he kisses and kisses and kisses you.  Your hands are still splayed open by your head, thoughtlessly awaiting direction.  Your fingers curl into your palm and you moan for real when Minho presses against you. 

Minho is a good actor, but the hard shape in his pants is very real.  When he grinds against you, so open and soft with your leg around his waist, it draws all those guttural sounds right out of you.  Minho makes one back, swivelling his hips in a maddening grind against you.  It is all too easy to imagine him fucking you like this, the effortless back-and-forth of his hips, your sweet sighs as he takes you, imagining Changbin there, his breath also stuttering. 

You do not forget he is watching all this, especially when he lets another low laugh and asks, “She feel good?”

“Yes,” Minho answers without hesitation, breathing the word against your lips. 

“Hold his face, baby,” Changbin says.  “Kiss him like you mean it.  Ask him to fuck you with it.”

You know what he means by that: to kiss Minho with fervency and heat.  You do obey, cupping his face with both hands and kissing him deeply, but the fuzziness of desire mixed with Changbin’s words makes your brain go screwy with want.  Not only does your kiss convey that desire, but words rush past your mouth, crashing into Minho’s lips in a breathless flurry.

“Fuck me, fuck me, please,” you say, your voice pitching up into a little whine as you rock against him.  “Want you to fuck me so bad, baby,” you say, thinking of both of them at the same.   You kiss Minho’s surprised, open mouth, your eyes closed, your voice loud in this hazy space as you say, “I’ve been thinking about it all night.  Need it so bad.  Please.  Want you inside me.  Want my mouth on you.  Come in me.  Come on me.  Take me, please.  I’m so hot and wet, it’ll feel so good, don’t you want to feel how wet I am?  Don’t you want to fuck me too?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Changbin says, followed by a rush of even more inventive curses.

Minho settles on another simple, surprised, “Fuck.” 

Then someone is clearing their throat.  Minho jumps, his hands clamping tighter around you, protective. 

“Oh, right, this clown,” Changbin says.  “I hate that he’s too far away too punch.” 

You giggle in spite of yourself, which is good because you think you might simultaneously die of embarrassment.  You drop your leg and Minho lets you go, pulling himself together faster than you. 

You let him do his thing, sliding a hand through his hair and smirking at the waiter as he saunters over.  He makes his little speech, something-something-something a moment alone with the missus, something-something sorry-sorry-sorry.   He walks the waiter back around the corner, giving you a knowing glance over his shoulder. 

Thank god your cypher scrambler has its act together, even if you are a mess.  It takes you longer to right yourself than it does for the scrambler to finish its job.  Your hands are shaking as you break into the hub, but muscle memory takes over when you have your mini-laptop open. 

Minho joins you a minute later.  Your entire body lights up like a firework when he steps close to you.  Nothing in his expression conveys anything more than professionalism – his queries are about the job and the job alone – but there is an ache between your thighs that won’t subside.  You know he feels the same way as you can see he is still hard despite how much he glares at the wall.  He adjusts his pants several times while standing in that closet of a hub with you.  You keep glancing at each other, your gazes heady, speaking volumes more than your polite conversation.   

When you leave and he puts his hand on your lower back, you shiver.  You think you might double over from the persistent thumping of your easily-distracted pussy. 

Changbin lets out a long sigh and a nervous giggle.  “Good work, team,” he says. 

You have worked enough jobs that you manage to set aside your personal feelings for the time being.  It is easy to lose yourself in your work, especially when you really have to fight the security system.  

You get inside the storeroom.  You know it is filled with more traps and alarms so you sit down beside the door and type away on your laptop.  You nearly break a sweat with the intensity of your work. 

“She’s hot when she’s doing her thing,” Changbin suddenly says. 

You lift your head and catch Minho’s eye.  He smiles at you.  “I agree,” he says. 

Your heart starts skipping beats again.  You look down at your laptop, feeling uncharacteristically shy under his gaze. 

“Don’t distract me,” you say, making both of them laugh a little.  You glare at Minho but there is no real animosity behind it. 

At least they both acquiesce, going silent while you work.  You manage to disarm most of the storeroom.  The best you can do for the remainder of traps is trigger their subsequent lighting rigs so you can see them all.  A labyrinth of blue light brightens the dark entry room, revealing each laser trigger that blocks your path to the locked compartments. 

You look up at Minho whose calculating gaze is already tracing each intricate beam. 

“Got it?”  Changbin asks.

Minho starts unbuttoning his suit.  “Always,” he says, smirking. 

Minho flips the blazer down his arms, revealing just a tight white crop top beneath it.  His jacket, shoes, and jewelry form a pile beside you.   Minho does a few quick stretches before confidently approaching the laser grid. 

Before his criminal life, Minho was a dancer, and a good one.   He draws the same graceful lines with his body now, making each manoeuvre look easy even though you know it is incredibly difficult. 

“He’s hot when he’s doing his thing,” Changbin says.

“Yeah,” you say, biting your lip and watching Minho move.  “Gotta agree.” 

Minho slips over and under each laser, twisting and bending and sliding with ease.  He pops up on the other side with a graceful twirl, throwing you a wink over his shoulder before flipping a switch on the control panel.  It powers down the censors so you can scurry across the room to join him. 

The compartment door unlocks with your final hacked access code, the door swinging open to reveal your loot.  Changbin gives a successful holler into your earpiece, making you and Minho duck with his volume. 

“I’ll bring the car around, baby,” Changbin says while you two roll your eyes but smile. 

You pack your fold out bags with your selections.  One key to success is never being overly greedy.  You walk away with a substantial victory nonetheless.    

You hurry out of the storeroom with your prize haul.  Minho gets dressed again, though he doesn’t button up his jacket.  He takes a second to catch his breath while you restore each alarm so nothing appears out of place.   When you are ready to go, he takes your hand, smiling.  You run hand-in-hand back down the corridor, making a few sharp turns until you find a staff exit.  There is a small drop so Minho jumps down first then holds out his arms for you.  Though you could make the jump easily, you still let yourself fall into his arms.  

He holds you close as he puts you on your feet.  You are riding the high of adrenaline and success, your heart soaring, which might be why you so easily surrender to desire.   You kiss him, sudden and brief but tantalizing.  He blinks back at you with surprise, his face scrunching with that astonished little laugh of his.   

You smile at him.  A line of sweat dots his hairline and you reach up, smoothing some messy strands of purple hair.  The gentle caress changes the whole shape of his face, his eyes heavy-lidded, his breathing harder.  You feel yourself change too, your heart pounding against his chest when he pulls you close. 

You got greedy with that kiss and greediness has consequences.  You are so distracted with each other that you don’t notice the security guards coming at you from the opposite direction. 

“Hey!” one shouts.  “What are you doing out here?” 

You and Minho look over, then at each other.  There is no time for conversation.  You grab each other’s hands and start running, your bags of stolen goods bouncing on your shoulders. 

“Hey!” the security guard shouts again.  You can hear their heavy footsteps thundering after you, fast despite their muscle and bulk. 

You turn the corner onto a backstreet just in time for the camper van to swing into view.  The door slides open and Changbin jumps out.  You pass each other, dropping hands so Changbin can dart between you.  

Panting, you and Minho watch as Changbin effortlessly takes down the guards. 

“He’s hot when he’s doing his thing,” you say, giggling.

Minho laughs, nodding.  “I agree,” he says. 

Minho takes the steering wheel so you can apologize to your baby for abandoning her.  Changbin jumps back in the van and the three of you drive away with another successful haul. 

Later, back at the penthouse, Minho takes the longest shower in an effort to scrub the purple out of his hair.  You are in your bedroom when he finally emerges.  You can hear him and Changbin talking in the living room.  By the sounds of it, the purple is still threaded in his dark brown hair, likely to last a few more days.  You smile to yourself, listening to their playful back-and-forth as Changbin teases him and Minho snarkily retaliates. 

It is tradition after a successful job to have a few drinks and relax.  Contacting your fence and taking care of business can wait until tomorrow. 

You can hear the usual music playing through the speakers, can hear the clink of bottles and glasses, can hear Changbin and Minho laughing and talking. 

You look at your reflection in the mirror.  Though you seldom have occasion to wear pretty luxuries, you have enough money at your disposal to treat yourself.   You have been changing in and out of different lingerie sets since you got home.  You think this one might be just right: a silky black set worn under a lacy black dress that falls to your thighs.  It is suggestive but arguably casual.  You could just be wearing it as pyjamas, right?  Sure.  Sure.  Totally normal pyjamas for a totally normal night.

The best con is one that is close to the truth, Minho had said.  Then he stuck his tongue in your mouth and you begged him to fuck you with Changbin’s help.  Even you, who is terrible at reading and understanding people, know what truth was in that charade. 

You take a deep breath and march to your bedroom door with determination.  You throw it open so hard that it smashes into the wall, startling the boys in the other room.  You ignore the crash and scurry into sight, avoiding eye contact.

“Hello,” you say.

There is a moment of prolonged silence then Changbin says, “Hi.”

You look up.  They are both staring at you, both wide-eyed, both in sweatpants and t-shirts with their hair undone and fluffy.  They look very casual and very surprised.  Minho is clutching a beer bottle and Changbin is holding a bowl of popcorn.  Both of them are frozen.

You smile a very awkward smile.

“Hello,” you say again.  “I am… I am… dressed.  For bed.  My bed.  For being in my bed, like this, as I am dressed right now.  I am going to that bed, now, like this.  You can… join me.  If you want.  If you don’t want, then, okay.  Hello.  And.  Goodbye.  Bye.” 

You run back to your bedroom and slam the door closed. 

Other than the soft music still swirling in the air, the penthouse is quiet.  You cannot hear the boys, not a comment, not a sound, not a breath.

Then you hear the popcorn bowl hit the ground and a bottle smash.  They shove and yell at each other as they stumble on the way to your bedroom.  You are standing awkwardly in the middle of your room, hands folded in front of you, waiting as they crash into your bedroom door and curse at each other. 

Changbin then very casually opens the door and they calmly walk inside. 

“Hello,” you say. 

“Hi,” Changbin replies. 

You wish thoughts could be hacked like a computer.  You cannot think of what to say or do next.  You just stare at them and they stare back, although their gazes are considerably less nervous.  Their stares are thirsty, drinking you in, looking from top to bottom and back again. 

“Turn around,” Minho says, his gaze low. 

You meet Changbin’s eye before obliging, slowly turning.

“Okay,” Minho says after a long moment, giving your heart plenty of time to go crazy in your chest.  “Thank you.” 

You turn back around, just as embarrassed as earlier but not angry at all.  You cross your arms over your chest, flicking your gaze between them. 

Minho reaches out and lightly punches Changbin on the arm.  Changbin looks at him and Minho gives him a look, one you cannot decipher.  You continue to stare at them. 

Changbin nods at Minho then looks at you.  He holds out his hand. 

“Breathe, baby,” he says.  “You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

You laugh but nod, taking his hand.  He wastes no time pulling you close, guiding your hand to his heart as Minho did earlier.  He holds your hand there and waits until you make eye contact so he can wink at you. 

“I know I am the best looking man you have ever seen in your life,” he says, making you laugh again, “but I’m me.  You trust us?”

You look at him then at Minho.  His dark hair is still tinted purple, his bare face open and soft as he meets your eye.  You smile and look back at Changbin, nodding. 

“Always,” you say. 

“Good,” Changbin says. 

He cups your face and you lean towards him, anticipating a kiss, but he gently turns your face aside.  You don’t even have time to be confused before Minho is kissing you.  He swiftly draws all those sweet sounds out of you, pulling you towards him.  Changbin steps behind you, holding your hips and kissing his way up your neck to your ear. 

“Baby,” Changbin says while Minho slows his kiss to something gentle but heated, his tongue swiping at yours.  “Listen to my voice, okay?” 

You nod, light-headed but eager. 

“Good,” Changbin says.  “Come sit in my lap.  Over here.” 

Changbin is strong enough to haul you around.  You barely have to move, letting yourself go soft in his arms.  He sits on the edge of the bed and puts you in his lap, spreading your legs over his thighs.   You stare up at Minho, out of breath, your thighs twitching to close for pressure.  Changbin slides a hand down, stroking your inner thigh and making you jump, his other hand tugging down your dress and immediately going for your breast. 

Minho sweeps a hand through his hair, taking a breath before stepping up to you. 

“Still want your mouth on him, baby?”  Changbin asks, reminding you of all the things you whispered in that heated moment.  

You nod, whimpering when Changbin slides his hands into your panties and touches you directly.  He circles and circles the most sensitive cluster of nerves, grunting and pressing his lips to your neck. 

“She’s so fucking wet,” Changbin says.  He slips his hand out of your panties and abruptly grabs Minho by the hand, tugging him closer.   Minho brings that hand to his mouth, licking your wetness off Changbin’s fingertips.  “Touch him baby,” Changbin says.  “You see how hard he is for you?”

You can see.  You can feel Changbin too, hard under you.  Their sweatpants do little to disguise it. 

You do not hesitate obeying, tugging on the waistband of Minho’s sweats.  Everything feels so dreamy and good, surrounded by touch.  It all seems to happen quickly; suddenly Changbin’s hand is in your panties, Minho’s dick is in your mouth, and Minho’s hands are tugging the straps of your dress down.   This ends with you drooling messily all over the end of his dick, sucking on the head and murmuring nonsense while Changbin makes you come on his fingers.  Then Minho kneels in front of you both, your legs end up over his shoulders, and you find yourself hurtling towards another orgasm on his mouth. 

You dress ends up somewhere, the panties too.  The bra is barely on, the straps hanging down your arms.  Changbin finally kisses you when you are on your back in the middle of the bed.  He lays between your open legs, his fingers filling you up as you continue to gush all over his hand.  You grab him, squeezing his biceps as he effortlessly moves that strong hand between your legs.  Minho climbs up too, his shirt somewhere across the room.  He grabs your hands and pulls them over your head, pinning them into the pillows before ducking down to kiss you.   You come for a third time before either of them even fucks you. 

Then they do.  Minho first, with you under him, listening to every direction Changbin murmurs in your ear.  You lift your legs around his waist when Changbin says, then touch yourself when Changbin asks, and shudder when Minho comes inside you like you earlier begged. 

Then Minho is behind you, holding you, touching you, protective and familiar while Changbin fucks you.  Changbin has a surprisingly filthy mouth, continuing to tell you how good you feel and how good you look.  Minho is quiet but fully entranced by you, his hands constantly wandering.  He slides one hand down and rubs you off while Changbin fucks you.  Then he leans over your shoulder and kisses Changbin on the mouth, making Changbin finish too.  

The music is still playing in the next room.   The three of you lay there in various states of undress, you in the middle, sweaty and messy, the boys panting and gently stroking your arms and thighs. 

“I love you guys,” you say.  It is incredibly cliché to make a love confession after several mind-blowing orgasms, but you don’t care.   You don’t need to play games or tell lies or be good at socializing, not with your boys.   You can just be your nerdy self, confessing your feelings even while drifting into sleep. 

You smile when you feel Minho kissing your cheek, Changbin giggling on your other side. 

“It will have to be big,” Changbin says.  “The biggest.”

“Hmm?” you ask, looking at him strangely. 

“The diamond we steal to put on your finger,” Changbin says, holding up your hand and circling your ring finger.  You laugh and try to pull your hand back but Minho catches it, nodding in accord. 

“I agree,” Minho says.  He kisses your temple.  “I know how criminals work,” he adds.  “You’re not getting stolen away from us.” 

He and Changbin exchange an affectionate glance over you, nodding at each other, then they are each kissing a side of your face as you squirm and laugh.  You swipe at Minho’s purple hair and kiss Changbin’s cheek, then nestle into their arms as they wrap around you, protective as always. 

Hello! It’s the Rengoku anon! No worries, you didn’t disappoint, it happens sometimes! For the different request, could it be Rengoku arriving from a long mission and is greeted by his family? Just something wholesome ☺️. It’s fine if you can’t, your content is wonderful!

➢ Kʏᴏᴊᴜʀᴏ Rᴇɴɢᴏᴋᴜ x F!Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➢ 2,066 Wᴏʀᴅs

➢ Fʟᴜғғ

➢ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

He always has something to look forward to when he goes home after every mission. It sets his fire ablaze with determination to work harder for you, and his wonderful children. To make a safe environment, to keep you all away from danger.

➵ Hᴏᴍᴇ Sᴡᴇᴇᴛ Hᴏᴍᴇ

It has been a very long week for Kyojuro. For the whole week, he's been slaying demons relentlessly, and searched for even more demons when his crow kept informing him that the mission wasn't over yet.

Demons rarely group up, for they tend to fight and eat one another, but it wasn't the case for his mission. Dealing with multiple demons that liked to play around and hide at any given opportunity was such a hassle even for Kyojuro!

He's worn out to the bone, and it shows. Yawning here and there, a slight slouch on his posture, wide eyes half-lidded, smile wavering, and his usual loudness has toned down that it worried his peers. Kyojuro reassured them that he was just tired and that he'll be fine once he got enough rest.

It's rare to see the radiant Flame Hashira lack his exuberant enthusiasm and be so jaded. Fret not, he knows just the solution to refill his energy once more, and it's what he's been craving for the whole week!

"Papa's home!"

A smile immediately emerged on his lips as he stepped on the engawa, watching his little bundles of joy run up to him all at once, tackling him into a big, warm hug. One of them, his daughter and the eldest, wrapped her arms around his neck, giggling as her younger brothers tugged her back. "Hey, don't be greedy!" His middle son huffed, while his daughter playfully stuck out her tongue at him.

Kyojuro let out a big, hearty laugh, scooping all his children in his arms, giving them all messy kisses on their cheeks and making sure they won't fall off. This is just what he needed, to be reunited with his family. While he's only been away from them for a week, a week is too long for Kyojuro when he has to leave behind such a wonderful family! They all burst out laughing, the youngest squealing in glee when Kyojuro managed to sit him up on his shoulders.

"Papa! Zoomies!" Pleaded his youngest son, his bright red eyes sparkling in excitement. Kyojuro grinned, all his tiredness washed away as if it wasn't there in the first place as he took in a deep breath, all of his little kids clinging to him tightly. Before he could take off and sprint around the estate, you cleared your throat, rocking your infant child in your arms as you gave Kyojuro, as well as your children, a strict look.

They all froze, staring at you with their big, ruby eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. Your pointed glare trailed to your youngest, middle, eldest, then to Kyojuro, who just gave you a sheepish grin. "...I'm home!" He beamed at you, your children bursting into quiet cheers to not wake up their baby sister. You just sighed as you watched Kyojuro put them all down, shortly after promising to play with them when they all whined for his attention. You had to suppress yourself from smiling at the heartwarming sight of your dear husband interacting with your children like the good father he is.

As much as you wanted this adorable moment to last for a bit longer, you couldn't ignore the bags under his eyes, his messy, unkempt hair, and the prominent weariness on his features. He walked towards you, his hand finding itself to your cheek, cupping and caressing it gently, his smile growing soft and fond. Kyojuro cooed at the baby sleeping peacefully in your arms, children holding onto his hakama pants. "How is she?" He asked, voice low.

"She's been sleeping, as usual, babies don't do a lot, you know." You quipped, which made Kyojuro huff humorously. He gingerly took the baby in your arms, his grin widening as he felt his heart swell at the newest addition to his family. Chubby cheeks, tufts of hair that are similar to his' and all of her siblings' hair, but the best part, in Kyojuro's opinion, was her eyes! They're just the same color as yours, and he felt glad that it was. He loved that the Rengoku genes were still staying strong after centuries, but he absolutely adored the little features that you passed on to your dearest children.

Your eldest got your face the most, looking eerily the same, minus the hair and eyes. Your middle child got your nose, while the youngest got tufts of your hair color. You often jokingly complain to Kyojuro how your family resembled him the most, cursing his family genes under your breath. It'd always make him laugh, as he could not help but agree, but in his eyes, all he could see in his children was you.

"Now, my firecracker, what got you so upset?" He teased, making your roll your eyes playfully at him. "I just got home!" As if on cue, all your kids pouted at you, giving you accusatory glares. You rolled your eyes again, crossing your arms. There was clear favoritism between parents, but you couldn't complain at all. Kyojuro's your favorite as well, jokes on them!

"You sir," You lightly jabbed a finger on his chest, "Just came back from a week-long mission. I can tell from a mile that you're tired, yet you're here trying to entertain our children." You scolded, shaking your head. "I know they've missed you a lot, they're not used to you being away for so long, but you need to rest."

Your children whined at everything you said, wrapping their arms around his legs and inevitably trapping him. Compared to Kyojuro, you're much more strict than he is. You had to be, or your kids would end up being spoiled! As much as you love Kyojuro, his love for you and your children was overwhelmingly too much. You had to reprimand Kyojuro about it, informing him that if this goes on, their attitudes would turn for the worst as they grow older. He understandingly apologized and vowed to restrain himself from doing so, but even then you had to keep him in line once you found out he sometimes sneaked gifts to them.

They collectively give you a headache, but you love them anyway. You couldn't ask for a different family, with how lively and wonderful they are, despite the fact they sometimes drive you crazy. Your strictness is how you show your love for them, and Kyojuro knows this.

He appreciates you with all his heart. He's lucky to have married you in the first place! Kyojuro expresses his thankfulness to you by being the best he could ever be, spending as much time as he can with his family, and tending to all your needs. He knows he has his flaws, but you accept him wholeheartedly, and, if need be, keep him in line if he ever does something wrong. You're a blessing to his life, as well as the children you decided to have with him. It just makes his flame burn, even more, to fight for you! To fight for his family!

"I know I know, but I really missed them!" Kyojuro took a step closer to you, the weight of his children felt like nothing to him, "Can I please just play with them a bit?" He pleaded to you, his bottom lip protruded into a cute pout. Being with Kyojuro for years, you've grown immune to his puppy eyes. But now, with the addition of three, it has become impossible for you to say no to them.

Your eyebrow twitched when your children looked up to you with their signature big, doe eyes, pouting as they now clutched onto your kimono. You turned your head away, furrowing your brows in annoyance, but your lips quivered, trying your hardest not to smile. Kyojuro moved back into your sight just as you predicted, but what caught you off guard was the big, glossy eyes of your now awake baby daughter, as if she overheard your conversation and now siding with Kyojuro and her siblings.

You slapped a palm on your forehead as you sigh in defeat. "Fine," You relented, allowing a small smile to form on your lips as you watched them all cheer happily, including your baby daughter. They're such a pain in the ass, You internally sighed once again, smile widening. At least they're my pain in the ass.

"Don't worry, my dear, you'll have me all to yourself later!" Kyojuro promised, a grinning ear to ear and winking at you. It seems that you took his gesture the wrong way. Heat crept up your neck as you glared at him, tugging on his ear. He yelped, leaning down your height as you continued to tug, but his smile remained when he saw your embarrassment.

"Don't say it like that!" You scolded, letting his ear go and fuming. Kyojuro laughed out loud, shaking his head in amusement. "Say it like what? It wasn't an innuendo!" He teased, watching your face grow redder at what he said, an irk mark comically appearing on your forehead. He laughed again.

Kyojuro felt happy. He felt right at home, with his children in his arms, and with your presence right by his side. Just being with you cheers him up instantly. Warmth spread throughout his body as you went behind him, combing your fingers through the tangled knots in his hair, sighing in satisfaction. You pulled off his hair tie, fixed his hair, then pulled it back into a tiny ponytail.

"There, looks better." You murmur, kissing each child on the forehead. "Don't play for too long, okay? Papa needs to rest," You told them, the stern expression he grew to adore and fear etching your features again. "Okay mama!" They all replied in unison, which made you nod, pleased. You looked back at your husband, evidently worried for him.

"It's okay, Y/n!" He reassured you, suddenly picking up his youngest son and placing him back on his shoulder, all the while his baby girl sucked on her thumb, clutching comfortably on her father's uniform. "This is just what I need!"

You sighed once more, knowing that you can't do anything about it at this point. "Just tell me if you need anything, okay?" You said, taking his sword from him, as well as his haori. He sent you an appreciative look as he nodded, grabbing his eldest daughter and carrying him in one arm, while his middle son wrapped his body on Kyojuro's leg. You internally snorted at the sight before you.

Kyojuro hummed, an idea popping in his head as he grinned at you. You didn't like the look he gave you one bit, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. "Well, how about a kiss?" He requested, tilting his head to the side cutely. "Pretty please, my firecracker?" You let out a snort, playfully rolling your eyes.

You only chuckled, letting your face soften, and took a step forward. You cupped his cheeks with both of his hands, then leaned in, planting a soft, loving kiss on the lips, sharing warmth that you felt to one another with the intimate act. Kyojuro's heart hammered in his chest, no matter how many times you've kissed, it always felt as wonderful as the first.

Whilst you kissed, your children gagged in disgust, groaning and covering their eyes. You pulled away, lips tingling at the contact, and still wanting more as he was tempted to close the gap once again, but he restrained himself. His children needed attention and he'll do his best to entertain them to make up for his week-long disappearance!

"Ewww!" Your eldest puffed out her cheeks as if she was going to puke, to which you just giggled, pinching her cheeks. Kyojuro's smile couldn't go wider, but his heart felt like it was soaring. He's so happy. Contented. He always loved the sound of your laughter, always adored the way you'd grow soft at them.

He loved you so much, and he knows you felt the same way. Why would you marry him if you didn't? Your dazzling smile, the way the corners of your eye crinkle when you laugh, the slight shake of your shoulders, and the small sparkle in your eyes were the things he cherished the most, it felt like he was falling in love all over again.

He's happy if you're happy.

This is just what he needed. His big, happy family.

✦ SOBBING,,, THANK YOU ANON FOR UNDERSTANDING~!! ILY /P OMG THIS TOOK SO LONG ANON IM SO SORRY 😭😭! finally a solo rengoku request 🥺 I hope you like this one anon! I tried to make it as fluffy as possible 💖 Had to leave the kids unnamed because idk names soooo~ Thanks for your patience and reading! Have a good week~!

OKAY SO AFTER WRITING THIS HALFWAY, I JUST NEED TO APOLOGIZE FOR TAKING SO LONG BC IM HAVING THE TIME OF MY LIFE WITH YOUR REQUEST 😭😭THIS WAS SO FUN AND WHOLESOME SOBS, I HOPE YOU GET TO READ THIS RENGOKU ANON, I HOPE YOU LIKE THE DYNAMIC HE HAS WITH THE READER LMAO

ARCANE | CH.10 | NCT DREAM X READER

Summary: When you decided to apply for a researcher post in an elusive institute, you already had the feeling that you’ll be getting yourself knee-deep into something out of the ordinary. But desperate needs require desperate measures, and so you embraced the invite, despite all the alarm signals urging you to run away. What you found out was nothing you’d ever expected.

Seven boys.

Seven human deviants granted with abilities tied to the legendary Arcana Cards.

Welcome to Project Dream.

Pairing: Various Dream Members x Reader

Trigger Warnings/Themes: violence, torture, trauma, very slight yandere themes, poly dynamics, suggestive themes, language, psychological, mystery, sci-fi. Romance will take a little bit of a backseat on this one since this is more of a suspense-driven plot, but it will still be threaded in the overall story. The concept of the tarot or Arcana cards will be loosely used throughout the series. Note that I am not a trained doctor so there may be some slips here and there about medical things. Again, this is a work of fiction and I am not implying any likeness between the characterization here of the boys to their real life counterparts. I also reserve the rights to all my work—I do not post anywhere else other than tumblr. Minors DNI.

> CH. 1 | CH. 2 | CH.3 | CH.4 | CH.5 | CH.6 | CH.7 | CH.8 | CH.9

Chapter Song:

Dynasty > MIIA

“Hey babe? Do you have a minute?

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