so i’ve posted a chanlix thing on my ao3 and now i’ve fallen into a hole. if i can coerce myself to write again, i’m planning an ot8 cast thing where minho and felix own competing restaurants and everyone else are workers in the two. look out for felix and minho endgame, hyunjin and seungmin enemy to lovers, 3racha babies going out and an ending of jeongin revealing that hes going out with the cute part time delivery boy whos beomgyu. lots of plans! lets see if i actually write it this time
pairings: bestfriend!seonghwa, bestfriend!hongjoong, bestfriend!yunho (separately) x fem!reader
genre: suggestive, college au
synopsis: after taking a stupid bdsm test, you and your group of friends talk about what you’d like to do/have done to you in bed, and shockingly to you, you learn you have a lot of the same desires as one of them.
word count: 714
warnings: kink discussion, the godforsaken bdsm test, mentions of (long list im sorry): breeding, praise, spit play, size kink, mirror kink (is there an official name for it?), recording kink, thigh kink, degradation, dacryphilia, edging, overstimulation, oral fixations, hand kink, pet names, teasing, sir kink, daddy kink, corruption*
*note ; none of the kinks mentioned above are put into play this chapter, only talked about. i am also aware that some of these kinks aren’t on the result page, let me live it’s for the story <3
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you aren’t entirely sure how you managed to get in this situation with your three friends. every night, you all jumped in a call together and did random shit, trying to simultaneously entertain each other and distract yourselves from the workload you’ll have to endure in the morning.
what started as you all taking stupid buzzfeed quizzes quickly turned into you all silently taking a bdsm test, the only thing to break the silence being barely audible mumbles and the clearing of someone’s throat.
“this is a lot more detailed than i remember it being,” seonghwa says, the ring around his icon illuminating as he speaks.
“what the fuck you’ve taken this before?” hongjoong pipes up.
decided on doing a kdrama x skz series,, coming up might be a law school x seungmin / doom at your service x changbin / my roommate is a gumiho x hyunjin ,,,,
on the back of this, i can confirm that the first one will be weightlifting kim bok joo inspired to feed my sappy heart. expect felix to come to your screens soon!
idk, i just find it really funny that everyone has been writing ateez and skz as doms or switches and any prompts that ive been thinking about consist of, hes tired and needy and he just wants a hug :(
what about a possible oneshot of reader!girlfriend and hyunjin backstage after *THat* red lights performance where he’s needy and wants to be choked and the girlfriend pushes him to realise that maybe he’s so turned on because he’s actually pan and has been feeling a certain way towards channie after this song release :// maybe a second part where the reader supports him in exploring his sexuality and asserts that she loves him for him, she just wants him to be happy and comfortable in himself and perhaps ends with them inviting bang chan into their relationship
what about a possible oneshot of reader!girlfriend and hyunjin backstage after *THat* red lights performance where he’s needy and wants to be choked and the girlfriend pushes him to realise that maybe he’s so turned on because he’s actually pan and has been feeling a certain way towards channie after this song release :// maybe a second part where the reader supports him in exploring his sexuality and asserts that she loves him for him, she just wants him to be happy and comfortable in himself and perhaps ends with them inviting bang chan into their relationship
decided on doing a kdrama x skz series,, coming up might be a law school x seungmin / doom at your service x changbin / my roommate is a gumiho x hyunjin ,,,,
idk, i just find it really funny that everyone has been writing ateez and skz as doms or switches and any prompts that ive been thinking about consist of, hes tired and needy and he just wants a hug :(
sometimes he forgets, this need to care for his boys so deeply engrained in him at this point that its not until the last minute that he realises that he's been doing the absolute most. its in his nature to worry, to protect those around him because he cares too deeply sometimes. he doesn't want to let them down or see them suffer because of a misstep that he's made but this care doesn't always turn around. when you insist on that evening being dedicated solely to him, he slowly becomes pliant in your hands. perhaps you eat dinner in silence, and you can see the little men working the machines inside his head. but before he has a chance to make an excuse, move to exit and run back into work mode, you've fixed him with that glare. busying his hands with applying a face mask, tucking fluffy socks up his ankles and pressing his weight down onto the couch. 'you aren't allowed to do anything tonight'. you'll tell him, lighting a candle of his favourite smell in the corner of the room before turning on that show that you'd both promised to watch but never got around to. when you bring that warm face cloth to wipe off the mask, he sits silently, obediently closing his eyes when you ask, lips parting slowly when you run your eyes across his face - making sure that the remnants had gone. he'll let you play with his hands, seemingly watching the television as you buff down the bitten surfaces and layer on a clear shine. treating his hands carefully in the way that you've wanted to treat him all month. your act of caring remains silent, but in this moment, you know that you don't need words. this is how you love. quiet but persistent, a tiny flame thats always there, it might not be heard as loudly, but it will never leave. it's not until later when he finally gives into the exhaustion thats creeped across his body, curling an arm into the space between your back and the surface of the couch. taking his time to coil himself into your personal space like a snake that wants to suffocate its next victim. but its different this time, and you don't need to address it with words. letting him take the comfort that he needed from your body, settling heavily into your side until you can't discern the difference between the two people in the room.
thinking about wooyoung being a little shit but an utter needy simp at the same time :/ thinking thoughts mhm. constantly teasing and talking back in front of everyone but the moment that you have a big project and can’t spend as much time with him, he becomes the biggest baby. always trying to phone you at the worst times, coming over to your house and insisting on lying on your lap when youre trying to do work. he insists on you sitting on his lap as youre working because he’ll do anything for you so that he gets the chance to put his hands on you.
warnings / includes ; nightmares, descriptions of injuries, allusions to a huge fight, mingle is hurt :(, reader being kinda harsh (but soft at the same time ??), mingi is an awkward n embarrassing mess
a/n ; this fic is a part of goldstorm and bug boy! universe but can most definitely be read alone !!
masterlist.
When Song Mingi showed up at your doorstep, still in his superhero gear (though now tattered and halfway burned to a crisp), you slammed the door back in his face. Past you would’ve gasped at the sight of him, banged up and bruised, clutching at his ribs with a pained grimace. Past you would’ve ushered him in, fixing up a warm cup of tea at the snap of a finger. Past you would’ve kissed his injuries better, ask him what happened with a cautious tone.
Past you would’ve lied to keep him safe.
Things are different now. You’re different now.
“Y/N?” His muffled voice resounded from behind the wooden door. The familiar deep-timbered husk seemed to thrust a stake between your ribs. How you missed the sound. It reminded you of the mornings you woke up next to him, the times he’d murmur into the crook of your neck, the times he uttered a mantra of your name with raw adoration.
You bit at your lip, scuffing at the floor with your foot in muted frustration. “What do you want, Mingi?”
It was silent for just a moment, and you wondered if he had left.
Then came the words, so utterly fragile, it was a wonder you had the restraint to not fling the door open with no abandon. “I need help. Please.”
Song Mingi wasn’t a proud man. Asking for help wasn’t an uncommon feat for your ex boyfriend. Being a cop, the superhero used to constantly consult you for advice on how to deal with bad guys. Not that you knew any better than a man who saved the world with the big shots multiple times. But there was just something about the raw desperation in the statement, something you’ve never heard come from him before.
The relief on his bruised features was evident as you slowly cracked the wooden slab open, stepping to the side to reluctantly allow him back into your home.
Nothing had changed.
The observation pleased Mingi far too much for his own good. His heart clenched at the sight of a hanging frame, displaying a selfie with the two of you back when you were dating. You held up a peace sign with one hand and the other pinched at his cheek. Both of you were so happy back then. It felt like eons ago. What happened?
He became a hero, and you became a second thought.
“What do you want?” Your repeated question startled Mingi out of his nostalgic haze, and he turned on his heel to see you crossing your arms over your chest in a protective manner.
“There was a fight.”
To your chagrin, his words piqued your interest just a bit.
“A huge one.”
You slumped against the door, pinching the space between your brows. “Mingi, I don’t know what you一”
“We lost,” he said, carding a hand through his silver locks. You fell silent, studying his scraped side profile. The dimmed amber light of your lamp made the blood on his face look scarily dark. “At least, I’m assuming we did. I got blasted halfway across the city by some floaty guy before it was all over. I recognized that I landed in your neighborhood and… I didn’t know where else to go.”
“You can’t just…” The words died on your tongue and you ran your palm over your tired face. “Mingi, I’m done with all your superhero shit. I was done the moment we broke up. I quit that division. I work in the drug enforcement administration now.”
Your ex looked ready to get on his knees and beg. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t… I know this is selfish and I have no right asking you. But I need to lay low for a while. Please, you’re the only person I have left.”
Before you could say anything you regretted, you asked, “And what of your billionaire buddy? Kim Hongjoong? Better known as the Iron Man? He doesn’t have a mansion laying around for you to loiter in?”
“Sticking around the richest man in the world isn’t exactly what I’d call laying low,” Mingi mumbled, to which your frown deepened and you pushed yourself off the door, striding down the hall with not a word slipping past your lips.
The superhero stood in the living room awkwardly, gaze trained to the floor, before you stuck your head out of the bathroom and called out, “Get your ass in here. Your wounds need looking at.”
The bathroom tiles pressed cool on his skin as he sank onto his haunches, whistling out a pained sound. You didn’t look very sympathetic. No, it was a stoic mask of indifference. It was one of Mingi’s favorite things about you. You took shit from nobody.
Alcohol-doused swabs were pressed against his cuts, bandages smoothed over gashes, warm cloths dabbing the dried blood away. Your small bathroom filled with his groans of uncomfort, grimaces of muted agony.
“Can’t help much with the bruising,” you whispered. This close, Mingi could see all of the minuscule details of your beautiful features that he remembered loving so much. That he still loved. “I can get you some ice once we’re done.”
“Thank you.”
You didn’t reply.
The rest of the cleaning up was done in silence, and you left him to wash up a bit before heading to the kitchen. You needed a drink. Maybe two.
When Mingi meandered out of the bathroom, the sun had long set. Droplets of water trickled from his hair onto his suit. You couldn’t help but let out an amused snort at the sight. Ant Man looked more like a wet dog than an ant. A handsome wet dog.
You shook yourself out of your reverie, aiming a pointed look at the tall man. “How long are you going to stay?”
“I’ll be out of your hair before sundown tomorrow.” In all honesty, Mingi could’ve left first thing in the morning, but he wanted to see you for as long as he possibly could, savor what little he was given. He missed you more and more with every passing day. There was a hole in his heart that you shot through, and he so desperately wanted you back.
You studied him with narrowed eyelids. It made him antsy.
He was never good under pressure, both of you knew that very well. Once while you were dating, Mingi messed up both of your McDonald’s drive thru orders not once, not twice, but three goddamn times. Every attempt, he was far too embarrassed to cancel, and so he pulled the car around the bend to order again. The two of you ended up with enough burgers to start a backyard barbecue that night.
Moral of the story, Song Mingi is practically useless under pressure.
So now, as you were glowering daggers through his skull, Mingi just had to say something to break the glacier of ice standing between the two of you.
“I’m sorry I was the reason we broke up. We were doing so well, weren’t we? I can’t remember ever being happier than when I was with you. I still… I still care about you. So much, Y/N, you have no idea.” Mingi took two steps forward, but you took four back. He stopped in his tracks, teeth sinking into his bottom lip in apprehension.
“I didn’t know you were still in love with me.”
A nervous, panicked chuckle wheezed through his lungs. “I didn’t say that.”
You shrugged. “You didn’t need to.”
Damn you and your freakish ability to read his mind. No wonder all the cops in your division used to call you a walking lie detector. Or maybe Mingi just thought he was being slick when really, he was as obvious as a horse amongst zebras.
The glass of wine you had been clutching onto raised to your lips, and you took a long, drawn-out sip. “Listen,” the sound of the glass clinking against the counter as you set it down rang in his ears, “I… care about you, too.”
Oh, Mingi knew. If you were still angry at him, his ass would be on the curb.
A loose smile tugged at his lips.
“But I still need you to leave tomorrow.”
The smile fell.
“You can sleep on the couch. I left a blanket and a pillow there for you. Feel free to watch the TV if you want.”
Before he could say anything else, you knocked your head back and downed the rest of the wine, placing it in the sink for you to wash tomorrow and striding into your room. The door closed gently behind you, and Mingi felt more alone than ever.
When you startled awake from slumber because of gravelly groans emitting down the hall, your sleep-addled mind immediately assumed it was the dawn of a zombie apocalypse.
We have magical aliens, Norse gods, and sentient forms of artificial intelligence. Why not throw zombies into the mix?
The bat you kept by your bed fell into your grip like second nature, and you crept out of your room with the stealth of a panther. Slowly raising your makeshift weapon, you darted into the shadows and peeked around the corner. Any and all defense you held up came crashing down like a tidal wave, and you rubbed your palm over your weary features.
It was Mingi. Right. Your ex boyfriend was sleeping here for the night. He was curled up on the couch, still asleep yet trembling viciously. Another low groan rumbled from his chest, and you set down the bat, slowly approaching him. A louder, more strained noise slipped past his lips, jumbled words escaping his lungs. Never have you seen someone this afraid while unconscious.
Your heart lurched uneasily at the sight.
“Hey,” you mumbled, surprisingly gentle for your hoarse voice. He was having a nightmare. A bad one, by the looks of it. “Mingle, shhh. It’s okay, you’re safe. You’re in my house. There’s no floaty guys to blast you away here.” With the faintest of touches, your fingertips ghosted across his forehead, warm and dappled with sweat. His trembling seemed to dampen at your hand tracing along his, and the mumbling slowly ceased.
The fluttering of his lids had you pulling your arm back instantly, just in time to see him blink awake, eyes barely slotted open.
“Y/N?” He propped himself up by the elbow to face you, though it was hard to make you out in the dim room. “I had a dream… no, a nightmare.”
“No villains are coming here, Mingi. You’re safe.”
Though he was grateful for your attempt to comfort him, your ex shook his head, sending messy silver tendrils careening into his blown eyes. “It wasn’t about that. It was, at first. Then you came and… I just… I let you go… I couldn’t save you.”
It was one thing waking up thinking you were living the start of The Walking Dead, but it was another trying to comfort your ex from a nightmare he had about you.
So you did what you knew you were best at.
“Look at me,” you commanded, firm yet still mellowed in tone. “I need you to hear me. See me. Feel me, Mingi. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” His eyes watched you, wide and slightly watery judging by the wobbling reflections of light (you weren’t sure if he was staving off crying or just extremely sleepy), as you pulled at his hand, rubbing soothing circles into the back of his palm.
It absolutely shattered you to hear him croak out, “I’m so scared.”
Before you could stop yourself, you lurched forward and tugged him into a tight embrace, cradling his skull into your shoulder. He breathed you in once, twice, then sobbed dryly into you.
“I know,” your words spilled into his hair, which smelled like ash and debris. “I know, baby.”
If Mingi noticed the sweet pet name you used to fondly call him slip out, he didn’t say anything. For that, you were grateful.
The two of you stayed like that until you both grew drowsy, and passed out on the couch, limbs intertwined with one another.
Waking up was a fucking pain in the ass. The sun angled right into his eyes, forcing himself out of a very peaceful slumber. Everything hurt. It felt as if his muscles turned gelatinous, supported only by hollow and brittle bones, bound to snap if he moved a single inch.
Well, he moved. And boy, was it absolute hell. A low hiss stung at his cut lip when he precariously pushed himself into a sitting position. The phantom sensation of your head resting on his arm haunted his skin. So did the feeling of your fingers kissing his forehead, and your hair tinkling his cheek, or the way you smelled, soft and homely. He missed you so much.
Now, however, you were nowhere to be seen. Mingi supposed you were out for work; if he could recall correctly, today was supposed to be a Thursday.
Ant Man, a superhero, a man with the ability to travel into the quantum realm, a man who could grow taller than skyscrapers, found himself wasting the day away by sitting on the couch and twiddling with his thumbs. He was waiting for you to come back to your home like a dog would their owner. Feeling pathetic, he at least had the will to freshen up a bit in your bathroom, flushing at the sight of sleep lines marring his already banged up visage.
Hours trickled by, and when the sun started dipping lower in the sky, Mingi’s ears perked up when he heard the door twist open. This was it. Goodbye, for the second time.
In you stepped, as beautiful as ever. His breath was stolen away every time he saw you again, even if he did see you only a couple hours ago. You were still wearing your work uniform, dark sage cargo pants, a black t-shirt tucked in with your division name imprinted on the back in bold yellow letters. Your hair was pulled away from your face, something Mingi’s always loved when you did. God, you looked good. The surprised expression he was met with made him smile, a small, shy thing.
“I thought you’d be gone by now,” you said with an off-hand tonality, moving past him to place your keys and wallet into a dish on the kitchen counter.
A sad film danced over his irises. “Wanted to say goodbye.”
For a second, he could’ve sworn you mirrored his expression. It was gone before he could really make sure.
“Well?” You spread your arms out. “Let’s hear it.”
Mingi shifted his weight from foot to foot awkwardly. You barked out a laugh at his expense. Crimson flourished over his cheekbones at your teasing chuckles.
“Hey.” The thudding of your feet against the floor made him all too aware that you were striding forward, closer, closer, closer, right in front of him. Oh, you smelled nice. Could he maybe bring your perfume along with him? No, that would be weird. “We might not have ended our relationship well, but if you’re ever hurt again, you can come to me. Doesn’t mean you should, big guy, but you can. I’m always an option.”
He didn’t know that he could fall in love with you all over again. The smile he aimed at you was made of light and sugar, and everything was suddenly warm, light, saturated in endearing comfort.
Perhaps he crossed some sort of unsaid boundary, but Mingi leaned forward to carefully press a kiss to your forehead. There was no knee to his groin just yet, so Mingi stayed there, a silent thank you on his lips.
With the gentlest of voices, he etched a poem infatuation into your skin, “I love you. Never stopped.”
Ant Man walked out of the door with an awkward pairing of finger guns and salutes. His boisterous laugh had your own grin splitting through your stony mask. The door closed, and your smile retired back into hiding with the click of the lock.
Why did this hurt more than the first time he left you?
