𝓦 , angst, vague mention of torture, mentions of blood, open ending, light homophobia (not specifically shown), joseon dynasty
𝒢 , drabble, boy love, forbidden love
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ❛ In this zero world, I know you're my one and only ❜
With each time his lover's blood-curdling scream rings in his ear, his heart cracks and fresh droplets stream down his cheeks, his throat stinging from his desperate pleas.
He, like his lover, was bound, the harsh ropes digging into his wrists—his arms throbbing from the fingernails piercing his wounded, blood-coated skin.
The magistrate sent a signal for the guards to take him away.
“Father, please spare him!” Taehyun cried out, squirming in the grip of the guards as they dragged him away to a cell—his lover being thrown in shortly after—unconscious or dead; he didn't know.
In this zero world, Taehyun knew Beomgyu was his one and only—yet his screams of agony wouldn’t stop haunting him, even as he hovered over his limp body.
⇨ summary: When Y/N and James Potter end up interlinked by a magical curse no one knows how to break—How is it going to go down?
⇨ warnings/notes: use of y/n, curse words, minor inconsistencies ?), accidental magic injury, mild angst, shared emotions, denial, mutual pining, professors whispering about it in the staff room, platonic marauders x reader
The duel is supposed to be routine.
You’re barely awake, ponytail crooked from Sirius dragging you out of breakfast by the wrist and shouting, “You’re late! McGonagall’s going to deduct points and I cannot afford more detention, I refuse—
Now you’re standing in the middle of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, wand clenched, jaw set. Across from you: James Potter. Twirling his wand like a show-off. Hair messy. Grinning like he’s already won.
Infuriating.
“You ready?” he calls, cocky and golden in the morning light.
You glare. “To destroy you? Always.”
You’ve dueled before. Too many times. Enough that Flitwick once cancelled class and muttered, “The sexual tension is disrupting my concentration, children.”
James laughed for two hours.
Professor Carrow drones something about “modified defensive reflexes,” but you’re already focused. You know James’s tells—his fake lunges, his cocky overconfidence, the twitch in his jaw when he’s about to go for something risky.
You’re ready.
But this time, something goes wrong.
He casts a shield spell—too quick, angled wrong. It ricochets off your Protego and sends sparks flying. You counter with a non-verbal from a book you skimmed last week, heart racing.
And then—light.
Blinding, golden, veined light. Like cracked glass splitting the air. It hits you both. Your bones hum. Magic screams.
You hit the floor.
Hard.
For a moment, the world goes silent.
Even Sirius stops chewing his bloody Sugar Quill.
…
“Are you alright?” Lily’s voice cuts through the haze, knelt beside you, hands fluttering near your head like she wants to touch you but doesn’t know where.
You blink up at her. Your ears are ringing.
Your head is pounding. You sit up slowly. Across the room, James is already on his feet—staring at you like you grew a second head.
Professor Carrow’s gone chalk-white. “Miss Y/L/N, what—what spell did you cast?”
You cough, wincing. “Something Latin. Started with ‘concord…’? It was a tether hex, I think—”
Carrow looks like he’s about to pass out. “You cast a Concordia Vinculum?”
Remus pinches the bridge of his nose, “Merlin save us.”
…
That night, in the common room, James won’t stop looking at you.
"You feel anything?" he asks suddenly. His leg bounces beneath the table like he’s trying not to explode.
You don’t look up from your Transfiguration essay. “Just irritated. But that might just be because you’re breathing in my general direction.”
He rolls his eyes. “So nothing new, then.”
Across the room, Sirius leans toward Marlene and whispers, “What are the odds they snog or snap each other’s necks?”
Marlene doesn’t even blink. “Necks. Definitely.”
You push your chair back, grabbing your bag. “I’m going to bed.”
You make it halfway up the stairs before your heart skips—hard—and behind you, you hear a sharp inhale.
You pause. Turn your head.
James is clutching his chest.
So are you.
Neither of you say a word.
You turn away.
Your hand doesn’t leave your ribs for the rest of the night.
…
You burn your tongue on tea—James winces and drops his spoon like it’s hot.
He yawns in Transfiguration—you yawn too, even though you’re wide awake.
Lily catches it first.
You feel her eyes narrowing across the table.
“You two are either cursed or disgusting,” she declares. “Either way, I’m telling McGonagall.”
Sirius gasps. “You’d snitch on true love?”
“It’s not love,” you and James say at the same time—loudly.
Dead silence.
James looks like he’s been slapped. You’re gripping your goblet a little too tight.
Dorcas leans over to Marlene. “Ten Galleons they snog by Friday.”
Marlene smirks. “Twenty says she punches him first.”
…
The bond is intrusive. Personal. Intimate in the most inconvenient way.
You stub your toe—James yelps and spills his toast.
He panics before a quiz—you feel like you’re choking.
You cry watching St. Mungo’s: Heartbreak Unit and James bolts from the room claiming “dust allergy.”
It’s exhausting.
It’s confusing.
It’s dangerous.
Because every time your pulse spikes, every time your heart skips—you don’t know if it’s your feeling…
Or his.
…
“You like her,” Sirius says one night, tossing a Chocolate Frog at James’s head.
James ducks, red in the face. “It’s the spell. Dumb decision. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“You know spells don’t make your voice go soft when you talk to her, right?” Marlene adds, sprawled across the rug.
“I’m begging you both to shut up.” Lily exclaims, looking up from her ginger tea.
“We’re not together!” you and James shout at the same time.
Everyone goes still.
Peter whispers, “That was… synchronized.”
Dorcas leans into Remus. “Two weeks, tops.”
Remus just laughs. “You’re being generous.”
…
You lie awake in bed, heart thudding against the bond.
Across the castle, James does too.
He feels your guilt tonight. He doesn’t know why.
You feel his longing. You pretend not to know what it’s for.
Both of you whisper the same thought into the dark:
This was supposed to be temporary.
Just a dumb decision.
Why does it feel like more?
By evening, your emotions feel slightly… not your own. Not not yours. Just… tangled.
You trip on a stair and your frustration spikes—somewhere behind you, James slams a book shut and groans like someone just insulted his mother.
At dinner, he bites his tongue while eating toast. You flinch and knock over your pumpkin juice.
The Marauders exchange looks like they’re witnessing prophecy.
“Think we should tell someone?” Peter whispers.
“No,” Sirius says, eyes gleaming. “Let’s see how long it takes them to crack.”
⸻
That night, you dream in flashes. Not your own.
Red light. Wind in your hair. A Quidditch goalpost. The sound of laughter—his laughter.
You wake up with James Potter’s voice in your ears and a hollow ache you can’t name.
Across the castle, James lies awake, staring at the ceiling, one hand pressed flat over his chest.
He can’t explain why it hurts.
But he knows exactly whose hurt it is.
Meanwhile… in the Hogwarts staff room
A mug clinks on the table.
“I give it six days,” Professor Sprout says, flipping a page of the Herbological Monthly with a smile.
Flitwick scoffs. “Two. Max. Did you see the way she looked at him when he burned his tongue?”
Slughorn beams, swirling his brandy. “Ah, young magic-bound lovers. Happens once a decade if we’re lucky. Delicious drama.”
“I’m not participating in this,” McGonagall declares crisply, sipping her tea with rigid dignity.
Silence.
Across the room, Dumbledore raises an eyebrow. “Five Galleons on her hexing him before kissing him.”
McGonagall sighs. Loudly. “Ten says she does both.”
The staff room erupts.
And in the corner, a magical chalkboard updates itself with elegant, swirling script:
POTTER/Y/L/N BETTING POOL
✦ Kiss before punch – 15 Galleons
✦ Punch before kiss – 20 Galleons
✦ Both simultaneously – 30 Galleons
✦ Secretly dating already – 50 Galleons
✦ Never confess – hexed out of the pool
Neteyam calls his mate ma, mamas, stuff like that. I really hope yall get what i mean. I saw someone use it in a story for him and I FREAKED.
BUT IMAGINE, your pregnant, around four months and your bump is starting to get in the way of you doing your daily duties. So one day, when your out, hunting with Neteyam, you try and use your bow (like in that one scene of neytiri) and you can't get it on point because this beautiful baby Neteyam put inside of you, is getting in the way. You obviously huff and puff, Neteyam hears you, comes over and he's just like, "mamas, it's okay" Now you wanna be mad at him because, well...you just do, but the way he looks at you whilst saying "ma, mawe, no need to get frustrated, this is why i do the hunting. You can't be upset at our beautiful baby you're carrying, can you mamas" whilst rubbing your bump, giving you his toothy smile.
Just imagine. that. AHHHHH like. i dont even know. just had that thought and thought i should put it out there.
(EDIT) thank you all so much for 100 likes💋💋💋kisses for everyone LOVE YOU ALLL
pairing: minho x reader
genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, slice of life; one ass grab, unedited bc i am a danger to society
word count: 1k
note: i whipped this up pretty spontaneously and i actually kinda loathe it lol but i still wanted to post smth bc it’s my anniversary of joining the fandom 🥺 also a little early bday post for mimo. the bunny in question is leebit but i couldn’t drop any names bc this is not idol specific lol. anywhomst happy jen(o)versary
as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡
navigation / masterlist / ko-fi
Minho comes into your shared apartment, shrugging off his coat and taking off his shoes with minimal noise. It’s not that late — just a quarter past midnight — and you’re not a light sleeper by any means, but still.
He had told you not to wait up for him, that his work dinner might end late and he knew you had a long day. Minho patters on socked feet further into your home, expecting you to be in bed already sleeping, surrounded by your loyal trio of cats, and yet, it’s not the bedroom where he finds you.
Yes, you’re sleeping, but you’re on the couch, in front of the TV with Netflix’s question “Are you still watching?” written over a paused scene of the K-drama you’re both currently obsessed with. There’s a stuffed bunny in your arms, held tightly against your chest like it’s your most prized possession. Looks like you’ve been napping for a while now.
The white bunny is dressed in a navy hoodie, his eyes full of mischief that’s only emphasized by a toothy smile that he sports. It’s the plushie that Minho got for you during your vacation trip to Osaka last year, when you happened to spot the little fur ball in the window of a toy store and said it looked like your boyfriend. It’s become a great companion for you ever since you brought it home, something for you to hold onto whenever you miss your love.
Minho is a little surprised. You don’t usually force yourself to stay up for you, especially when you’re tired.
He doesn’t disturb you right away though. Instead, he heads toward the bathroom to change and freshen up for bed. You would probably kill him if he touched you in his outside clothes anyway.
When he returns some fifteen minutes later, he switches off the TV, tugs the bunny by its ears to free it from your embrace and chucks the thing haphazardly to the carpeted floor. It’s your prized possession, not his. Besides, you don’t need your little replacement Minho anymore now that he’s home.
When he scoops you in his arms, you stir awake, adorably confused as he carries you to the bedroom.
“Where’s my bunny?” Half a question, half a yawn.
“Hello to you too,” he mutters, laying you under the covers with narrowed eyes though he still leans in to press a greeting peck to the corner of your mouth. “I guess I don’t even matter as much as your little toy. Not even a ‘How are you?’”
“Okay, love of my entire life.” You roll your eyes with affection, pulling him down to kiss him properly. You can still taste it, the white wine that he must’ve had all night. “How are you? How was the dinner, big baby?”
“Boring. Unbearable. Should’ve just stayed home with you,” Minho laments, crawling into the space next to you, settling into your arms as you hug him close. This is what you should be doing all the time. With him, not some lame rabbit. “Why did you wait up? I told you you didn’t have to.”
You card your fingers through his soft hair, playing with the strands that curl at the nape of his neck. “Our anniversary’s tomorrow. Or I guess it’s today already. Just wanted to see you before the morning.”
“Would it make a difference?”
“I don’t know. I just wanted to see you.”
Your boyfriend detaches from you for a second to hold himself up on one elbow. He just stares at you for a brief moment, makes you blush under the scrutiny of his gaze. His big eyes, usually keen and sharp, always soften to a dizzying degree when they look at you.
Then Minho is leaning close to slant his mouth over yours again. “You’re cheesy today,” he comments, his tender smile still pressed against your lips. "Happy anniversary."
You only hum in response. One of his hands slides down your body to rest on your ass, giving it a little affectionate squeeze, the moment still entirely innocent despite his sneaky fingers.
You kiss for a while, lazily moving together in tandem, gentle hands holding onto the other person like a lifeline. In a way, you suppose you are. You’re each other’s lifelines, each other’s lighthouses.
When you pull away, it’s to let out a yawn that you can’t hold in anymore. “Happy anniversary”, you finally say back, sleepily. “Can you go get my bunny now? Did you leave him on the floor again?”
Minho rolls his eyes, yet it’s playful and completely endeared. “Your bunny again. That thing is on the floor where it belongs. You replaced me. Didn’t you use to call me your bunny?”
“Don’t do that to him,” you scold softly. “He’s our son. Have you seen the resemblance? You look like you literally birthed him.”
“Oh my god, why would you compare me to that thing like that?” Before you know it, Minho’s rolling over, resting half of his body on top of yours like a weighted blanket to pin you down, to get you complacent before you nag him any further about a toy bunny that he only sometimes gets jealous of. “You’re delirious. Please go to sleep.”
The next morning, you wake up to an empty bed, the warmth that you usually feel beside you gradually waning by the second. Minho’s gone, but greeting you in his place is a white bunny with a mischievous smile and a twinkle in his big eyes — truly a perfect replica of the man. The same bunny that he always makes a show of hating so much.
The sun is out to play, hanging high up in the sky, slithering through the cracks between the curtains to caress your hair. It feels like it’s gonna be a beautiful day; you’ve got your bunny, the sun, and if you focus hard enough, you’ll hear the sounds of pots and pans out there in the kitchen, Minho’s soft voice humming a tune you’re too familiar with, and the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes wafting all around.
Summary: God assigns one of his workers, Lee Minho, to watch over you.
Fluff, angst, mental illness, reader being misanthropic, set in 1950's, Korean war, mutual pinning
This does not represent Lee minho in real life and in any way. This is purely fiction.
Previous ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Next. ღ My SKZ Masterlist
You cast a wistful glance at a happy couple as the man smudged ice cream on the woman's nose. You watched as the woman chuckled and did the same to him, causing the man to laugh and stare at her fondly.
You pouted slightly, craving for a man to stare at you like you placed the shining moon in the night sky. You grabbed a slice of a sandwich you made at home and stuffed it all in your mouth in one go, uncaring about who might notice your unlady-like actions.
You took notes on how the sun shone on the couple as they giggled in content, and you looked above your head. Instead of seeing the sun beam at you and feeling it kiss your skin, you saw a dark shade looming over you.
You sighed heavily as the feeling of solitary ate at your chest, your posture dropping slightly. You stuffed another bite of your sandwich into your mouth with a bothered frown, deep into your thoughts.
Finding love like that has always been your dream since the age of fifteen.You believed the universe was taunting you, telling you that you would never find someone who would love you—that you'd be alone for the rest of your life.
You mindlessly take the last bite of your third sandwich and let your eyes wander back to the couple. You scrunch your face in disgust and cease your chewing as they kiss messily. Have they no shame?
You gagged dramatically and covered your mouth as you could've sworn you saw a string of saliva concept their lips. You weren't that far away from them, only a few trees away.
You tore your eyes from the couple in disgust to something else, only to be mocked by the universe with another kissing couple. The sun also shone on them. You paused your chewing, feeling your insides turn and vile rise up your throat. You quickly grab a tissue from your handbag and cover your mouth with it, allowing yourself to spit out the chewed food on the tissue without anyone suspecting anything.
You frowned, glancing at the dull looking grass. God really does have favourites, and it certainly wasn't you.
You huffed and tidied your things back into your handbag and pulled yourself up from the grass, but your movements came to an abrupt halt as you noticed a dried dandelion. You thought for a moment. Could this be a sign from God himself? Would your wish really come true if you blew on it, or was it a lie for children to believe? Suddenly you felt like a kid again, believing everything that came out of people's lips, but your eyes never strayed away from the flower. It wouldn't hurt to try, though, right? If it didn't work, it didn't work. There wouldn't be anything you could do about it but feel stupid for believing things like this.
Reaching out, you plucked the flower from the soil and brought it up to your face, straightening your back and fully getting up from the ground.
It wasn't like you haven't used dried dandelions to make a wish, because you did. Only, it was when you were twelve. You don't remember what you wished for or if it came true, but you remembered the feeling of giddiness that ran through your veins.
Bringing the dandelion close to your red tainted lips, you closed your eyes and thought of your wish.
I wish… to be loved
You blew on the dandelion seeds and watched as the seeds flew into the air.
God watched you with commiserate as you sauntered out the park with a downcast expression.
God thought for a moment before coming up with an idea.
“Minho!” God called for one of his angels, and the angel immediately appeared a few feet behind him.
“Yes sir?” Minho replied. He was slim but muscular, and tall, his white wings folded against his back so it wouldn't hurt anybody. His black bangs fall in front of his eyes, prompting the angel to shake it away every now and then.
“I need you to do me a favour and look after a young woman.”
“Are you saying–” Minho began, but got interrupted by his master.
“Yes, I am asking you to be her guardian. She needs someone with her at the moment to protect her from the impending dangers. May you do that for me?” God said to his servant, arms behind his back.
“Of course, sir. I'll do It. I'll protect her the best I can.” The angel accepted without hesitation.
It was Boyfriend appreciation day and you had a big surprise for him. One that you definitely know he'll love.
You had first met him two years ago on February 14th, Valentines day, in a small little cafe that you always go to. You had been sitting alone, slightly upset that you didn't have a valentine, and you guessed he noticed because he appeared out of who knows where and gave you a box of free heart chocolates with his charming smile that you immediately fell for. After that interaction, you both very slowly got closer each day.
You just only got together a year ago, and he was a great boyfriend. So caring, shy, comforting, understanding, respectful. He's just so perfect, and boyfriend appreciation day gives you the opportunity to just show him how much you love him.
You had left Seoul a few months ago for business, and today was your day off. Well, you kind of asked your boss for it. And now you were travelling back home. Back to your Channie
You fidget as you stand in front of his dorm door, bags and bags of gifts in your arms. You look at your phone, seeing a text message from Felix, saying that everything was ready
You smile and let out a breath of relief before sliding your phone in your pocket, which was hard from the amount of gifts in your arms
You kick the dorm door lightly and take a step back, excited to see your boyfriend again for the first time in a few months.
Your heart pounds against your chest in excitement as you hear a pair of feet walk to the door.
▹ SYNOPSIS: Chan gets a little upset upon realizing that you weren’t wearing your engagement ring, but you make it up to him by letting him fuck you in his studio after a long day of work…
▹ WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, swearing, kissing, teasing, dry humping and heavy petting, mentions of food, breeding kink + cream pie (chan’s a possessive freak and in love with the idea of getting you preggers lol), dirty talk, light breath play (f. receiving), pet names (good girl, baby), that’s about it
▹ WORD COUNT: 1.8k — DAY 2
BEING THE AMAZING partner you are, you decided to stop by the studio where your fiancé was working and bring him some dinner, and by dinner, I mean a box full of his favorite takeout foods:
Grilled beef, steamed rice, broccoli teriyaki, and a chicken egg roll…
He was working a few hours overtime that day, and aside from the fact that you wanted him to have something good to eat after expending such efforts, you really just missed his presence…
You missed looking at his gorgeous face and hearing his adorable voice while he did absolutely nothing but vibe with you… you missed having his hands on you and your hands on him as you both got lost in the lusts of your own hearts—
“Chris,” your voice came out gently as you stood behind him, caressing over his tense shoulders while he remained seated in his desk chair, “just rest your little head, baby… you worry too much…”
“I do… you’re right…” he sighs deeply while leaning his head back against the headrest to look at you, the smell of takeout distant in the room.
His eyes are clearly tired as you know he’s been overworked lately, but you hold yourself from bringing it up to him, placing a gentle kiss to the center of his forehead instead.
“Thanks for stopping by, though, princess,” he went on, and you already feel like he’s trying to push you away, despite how you literally just got here, “I have to get back to work now, though—”
“You’re always getting back to work, Channie…” you chuckle slightly, and his eyes flutter shut as your thumbs come across a particularly tight muscle in his left shoulder…
Digging in, you massage the knot gently, but the pressure you apply doesn’t feel so soothing at first—
“Ouch, that hurts!” Chan exclaims with a wince, and you simply smooth over his skin with your touch, massaging a different area instead as you decided to give that spot time to heal on its own.
“Look… your body’s aching as if you’ve been working in a field all day… that’s why I’m here to make you feel better,” you return, and his body is clearly starting to relax the more and more your fingers smooth along the base of his neck and back down his shoulders again, soft hums coming from his throat at the sensation.
“But you don’t have to, love…” he says, voice a little weak as the warmth of your touch reeled him into relaxation, “just having you around is making me feel better already…”
“Aww,” you pout facetiously, even though he can’t see it from where he’s sitting, “You missed me, Channie?… Your very own nagging fiancé?…”
“Nooo,” he corrects, turning in his chair now to get a proper look at you, “I missed my beautiful wife to be, and my adoring partner in crime…”
Reaching out a hand, the veins in his arm appear highlighted under the dim studio lighting as he guides your face into his before giving you a kiss that you both smile into… weakly though, considering how it’s literally 4 in the morning...
Breaking from the contact, you tug at his wrist slightly, not letting go until he finally gets up from the chair, letting you lead him to sit on the couch.
The look on his face now very clearly lets you know what’s on his mind, but you simply decide to sit on his lap in a straddle position, wanting him to make the first move from here…
And he did.
“Can I?” He asks while lifting his hands from the couch cushion, hovering them over your hips and being careful not to touch until you allowed him to.
“Of course, silly,” you chuckle, making him blush slightly at your brief fit of laughter.
“It’s not like anyone’s here to tease us for it,” you went on, thinking back to the countless times that your fiancé’s friends (specifically Minho and Han) would outwardly gag whenever you two publicly display affection—
“You’re right, baby… no one’s around to bother us,” Chris breathes in agreement, finally letting his eager hands rest at your hips before adding a bit of pressure as he caressed up your waist and along your thighs, “The two of us could practically get away with doing anything we want for the next few hours in here…”
You didn't even have to ask to know what he was specifically implying, but you decide to play dumb anyway, just because you absolutely loved hearing his strong Aussie accent come out whenever he was sexually worked up with you…
“Takeout’s still waiting to be opened, Chris,” you whisper, letting your nails gently drag against his scalp as he melts into your touch, his silky curls looping around your fingers, “we shouldn’t keep it out for too long or else it might spoil…”
“Well I’m not in the mood to eat anymore,” he whispers back in a raspy voice, and you let your weight sink further into his lap, your bottom resting right above the spot his true hunger was pulling him most.
“Use your words, baby… tell me what you want,” You press, leaving a kiss along his clenched jawline… and another one on his pretty thick lips… and a third one against his Adam’s Apple that makes him groan out loud…
Or maybe his groan had more to do with the way you were also rocking your hips against his clothed hard on, making his hands slightly grip at the fabric of your jeans for any sort of leverage.
“Why… of all the bottoms that you own, did you close to wear tight, denim jeans at a time like this?” He asks with frustration, making you giggle a bit at the way his chest rises and falls every time you circle in his lap, the rough material tantalizing him…
“Don’t you think they make my ass look good, though?” You tease with a pout, watching as he smirks at your question, only to hiss at your movements again.
“They make your ass look great, babe… but they also make it impossible for me to touch you properly…”
He was doing it again, you thought to yourself… That thing where he gets you to do what he wants without specifically asking.
Yes, Chris was a typically a pretty confident guy, but sometimes, you had a way of bringing out his shy, reluctant side when it came to sexual things, but you still found it cute nonetheless.
“Fine, then… since you’re too shy to ask for it properly, I’ll just do it myself,” you say in a bratty tone while getting up from his lap, and he visibly scoffs at the way you stood before him now, fingers meddling with the buckle of your jeans until he stopped you.
“C’mere,” he huffs, pulling you close to him by the belt loop of your jeans until you fall into the couch beside him with a gentle plop.
His smirks again once he finally unzips the rough fabric just enough to see a leak of what’s beneath, and the expression is so wide that his dimples come through…
At first, you’re not sure why he’s a grinning mess, but you understand once his fingers run over the lace of your black panties, the same pair that he brought you a while back on one of his tours cross-country.
“I’ll take a wild guess and say you wore these for me, huh?” He asks with a husk to his tone now that you’re bumping your knee against his clothed hard-on, and his hips subconsciously chase the friction.
“Mhm,” you hum softly, lifting up on your elbows now to look at him better, “I just didn’t expect you to take so long to get ‘em off me…”
“How cute,” he returns, and your eyes follow the veins trailing his forearm, his flexed fingers hooking at either side of your hips before tugging your jeans the rest of the way down and past your ankles with your panties, tucking them under the couch cushion for his private use later…
“Cute?” You repeat with a raised brow, spreading your legs before him as you both watched each others cores intently, practically itching within yourself for him to finally untie his sweatpants.
“Yup. Love it when you get in your little attitudes,” he says plainly, but his smile is half-hearted now as he leans over you, bracing himself with his hands before kissing your forehead.
You try to follow where his eyes are looking, but his bangs are in the way, and you can’t help but ask him what the matter is…
However, he doesn’t answer immediately, simply taking your hands in his and placing a kiss to l the closed knuckles of your left hand, right before pinning your wrist at either side of your head on the couch.
And that’s when it hits you… the reason behind his sudden change in aura:
You forgot to put your engagement ring on…
You had only taken it off for a second before coming to meet him in the studio because some oil from the takeout bag had spilled on your hands… while washing up in the bathroom, you had put the ring in your purse and simply forgot to put it back on…
Though, you knew at this point it’d be worthless trying to get that story through Chan’s thick skull, as he had already made up in his mind that you were playing games with him…
“Where’s your ring, baby?” Your fiancé asks while shimmying down his boxers and trousers with one hand, and you near choke on air at the sight of his glossy and girthy tip springing out before you, red and angry with need.
“I-it’s in my purse,” you stammer, almost feeling guilty now that you had even forgot to put it back on in the first place, “I can go and get it—”
“No need,” he interrupts you, lining himself up with your entrance as the depth of his voice equally catches you off guard, “just make sure you put it back on after this, yea?”
You winced at the sudden stretch of his cock filling you up just right, and your hips are already trembling at the delicious fullness.
“Channie… it slipped my mind, baby… please,” you say, and you’re not quite sure what it is that you’re begging for, but you always had a habit of going dumb around his cock, even if it’s just resting inside you.
“I gave you a simple order, love… now, do you understand me, yes or no?” He asks more sternly this time, thrusting into you with a sharp hit of his hips, and you internally cringe at yourself for hiccuping at the force.
“Y-yes, I understand,” is all you manage to say as he continues slamming his hips into you at a painfully slow pace, looking you dead in the eye as you crumble beneath his intense gaze.
“Say it again,” he orders, and you listen, gripping at his biceps and biting your lip as an attempt to keep your moans in, but the little whimpers and whines end up spilling out anyway.
You can feel Chan's cock twitch inside you every time you say yes for him, especially with the way your walls are throbbing around his length as he groans the words “good girl” in the midst of it all.
“So so good for me,” he continues, grinding his hips in a way that makes his pelvis graze your clit rythmically, and you’re sure you’re seeing stars once his hand finds your neck, just resting it there to get your attention.
“Good enough to let me cum in you, huh?” He questions, but it’s more so of a suggestion than anything, and you oblige to it, nodding your head in desperation as your hips start to follow the movements of his.
“Yes, baby… w-want you to fill me up so bad,” you whimper, and he lets a groan out right after you… one that makes your stomach flutter with emotions given how beautiful it sounded.
“Gonna put a baby in your pretty little stomach,” he huffs in between fucking you open with all his strength, “and at that point, who cares if you don’t have your ring on? Everyone will know who you belong to once your tummy’s all swollen because of me… tell me who this pussy belongs to…”
“Y-you, Channie,” you blabber out pathetically, your own mouth filling with saliva at how amazing he’s making you feel right now.
“Louder…”
“It’s all- fuckkk… yours, b-baby,” you cry out, and it’s a weak cry at that given the way his hand is tightening around your throat, but you don’t mind… not one bit when it feels THIS. Fucking. Good…
He finally lets his lips find yours in a needy kiss, and a string of spit keeps y’all together as he break away to let out a moan of his own, but you’re pulling him back into you, wanting him to be as close as possible to you in this moment.
The couch starts to creak to the rhythm of his movements, and you couldn’t be more thankful for the large cushions it was made with, otherwise you’re certain the both of you would’ve been on the floor at this point.
“Feels so fucking good inside you, baby… sooo fucking good,” he grunts, and you know he’s almost close just from the way his eyebrows are screwing into adorable little crinkles, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier by the second.
“F-fuck~” you mewl against his lips, feeling the knot in your own stomach tighten as his cock hit mesmerizing places inside you.
He keeps his hand snug around your neck while looking into your eyes, and his hips can’t bare to piston into your cunt any longer once your walls clench around him, making him feel dizzy in the head.
“Cum in me,” you plead with a soft voice while, lips puffy from how hard you’d been biting them, and Chan finally lets himself go, barely getting any extra thrusts in before painting your walls with his hot release, groaning shamelessly like a porn star.
“Oh my God,” he grunts with a strained voice, using his last bit of strength to prevent himself from collapsing on top of you given how spent he is now.
“Wait, Channie,” you say, thighs still trembling a bit as he pulled out of you, a bit too early though for you to remind him that his cum would only spill out—
“Shit,” he swears under his breath upon realizing, rushing to catch the fluid spilling from your cunt now with his fingers, trying not to get it on the couch, but to no avail.
He instead lets his fingers push the cum back into you, holding his wrist there until he’s able to reach for a napkin off of his desk to help clean you up.
“Stop that, baby,” he says with a mischievous smile, but only because your walls were sucking his digits in, preventing him from taking them out to clean them off, “give me some time to recharge and then we can go again, okay?…”
All you can bring yourself to do is hum at his words, and he in turn offers you another gentle smile.
Applying light pressure to your lower stomach, he finally gets your walls to release his fingers from the confines of your sloppy hole, wiping the residue off with the napkin.
“Didn’t expect you to cum this much,” you say in a sleepy tone while reaching for your jeans to slide them back on.
“Me neither,” he chuckles, readjusting his pants before getting up to toss the soiled napkin in the bin nearby, “but uh... just know that if in three weeks, we find out that our first future child was conceived on this couch, never tell this story to anyone…”
⋆♱✮ Huge thanks to everyone who made it to the end of this fic, concluding DAY 2 of my Kinktober Event !! This was also my first time publishing any written work for Stray Kids (my ult group XD) so feel free to tell me how I did in the comments !! Finally, if you're interested in reading more works like this, check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist here by clicking one of these links !!
Summary: he has to live with you until his house gets fixed, and you try to make him feel welcome, though it was hard since he's such a grump
Warnings: kissing, fluff, grumpy Jisung, kitchen burning down, childhood enemies to lovers (kind of), mutual masturabting, reader fingering herself, sexual tension, stubborn reader, reader thinking Jisung is hot, older Jisung, four year age gap, swearing, arguments, mention of Jeekies, banter, mention of house burning
Happy Birthday Jisung!
You had been relaxing all day, and it was great, until you've gotten a phone call from your parents. Apparently, your grumpy enemy, Jisung, is going to stay with you for a few weeks because his house had gotten burnt down. You didn't see why he had to stay with you and not your parents. They loved him anyway, despite how grumpy he was. You were slightly nervous to see him again. It has been a long time since the last time you saw him. You were thirteen and he was seventeen, and now you were turning nineteen in a few weeks. What if his judging got worse.. You shook your head. You'll just have to judge him back.
Now you were cleaning up your messy house. You didn't care what he thought of your house, but messy house means being judged by him, and you did not want that today.
You could hear him right now
"Why are there shoes in the living room?" He would say.
"Your TV is small"
"Your cooking tastes like crap"
Ugh, you roll your eyes with a small scowl. He was just so infuriating.
You shake your hair out of your eyes and look at your watch. He was almost here. You look at your the living room before walking out of it closing the door behind you. You wanted to see what it looks like properly, from a guests, Jisungs, point of view.
You open the door and immediately smile at the sight of your tidy living room. You felt proud of yourself and you stepped in the living room once more, steps light
"You're a messy person" You mock Jisung "Ha!" You laugh sarcastically. "Do you-" You were going to continue mocking him, but your doorbell rang, cutting you off.
You sigh and look at your living room one last time with a satisfied smile. You walk to the door and reach for the lock, unlocking it and pulling it open, only to be met with a handsome man. You frown. This was not Jisung, although the stranger was really hot
"Um.. Who the hell are you?"
The man just looked at you weirdly and stepped in unwelcomed, looking around closely
"Hey! You're not welcome here" You exclaim, but it fell on deaf ears.
He looked at you up and down before looking at your eyes once more "Didn't your dad tell you I was coming?"
You were still scowling "No, actually, he di-" You pause, finally realizing. You look up at him closely. This was Jisung?!
"Staring is quite rude." Jisung stated, looking at the shoes that was nearly piled on the side before finally looking at you
"So, where will I be sleeping?"
You look at him for a moment, sighing. This was going to be a long, and infuriating few weeks
There's a tiktok going around about Lee Know having a mark on his neck. Someone came to the conclusion that Han gave Lee Know a hickey, and then someone asked Han if they're sleeping together.
First of all, no. Just no. Whatever they do in private IS NOT anyone's business. They're human, and you can't ask things like that. Keep this shit up and they're going to end up distancing themselves like Felix and Hyunjin did.
Second, if you're the "Stay" that asked that or have ever asked them personal questions like this, shame on you. Shame on you for jumping to conclusions, and shame on you for prying into their personal lives.
Third, THEY'RE STRANGERS TO US. You wouldn't ask the cashier at your local grocery store if they're sleeping with anyone, would you? No? Then why ask an idol?
I love Minsung just as much as anyone else does, but it is UNCALLED FOR to push them and pry like this. They're entitled to their privacy. It doesn't matter what they do behind closed doors. It's not our business. In my opinion, you aren't true Stay if you can't be a decent human and respect their boundries.
If you're the "fan" that assumed it's a hickey left by Han, shame on you.
If you're the "fan" that asked Han if they're sleeping together, SHAME ON YOU.
Ahem. I apologise for not updating my books (even though you probably forgot about me) writers block has been hitting me hard these past few months, and I've been a little busy..
I'm currently trying to write my Minho story. I will also be rewriting it to fit my new ideas.
Summary: You and Jeongin fall in love all over again, but this time without the memories
Warnings: Ancient times, time travel, mentions of death, slightly strangers to lovers, fluff, death, mention of death, suicide, overdose, side effects of overdose, (vomiting, diarrhea, etc)
Pairings: Ancient demon Jeongin x 21st century fem reader
You stand in the middle of his room, dry tears staining your cheeks, wearing all black . You didn’t want to ruin anything or the way it was, so you stood instead of laying on his bed.
It has been marked as one week since your best friend had left you alone in this toxic world—a week since he sacrificed himself for you.
A few days have passed since Jeongin turned to dust in front of you, and your heart tightens painfully at the memory that it made you inhale shakily to get more air in your lungs. You begged the universe every night to let you feel his arms envelop you as he calmed you with his soothing words, but it never happened.
You stare at the playful picture with you and your best friend with teary eyes and tear-stained cheeks, desperately hoping that he will magically appear behind you and surprise attack you with his big, comforting hug, but Jeongin never rushed to you like he used to, engulfing you in his arms or placing his palm on the back of your head as he soothed you with only his captivating voice. You were not fond of skinships, but you never cared if it was with him.
He never hugged you tight—in this very room you were standing in—to make sure you never left his arms, to make you feel secure, and to let you know just how much he loved you, but he wasn’t here anymore. Jeongin was gone.
And that realisation hits you hard like a punch in the heart and stomach. He really was gone… Jeongin, your best friend was never coming back, ever, no matter how much you wanted him to. This was real.
Fresh tears sting your eyes as they freely cascade down your cheeks, displaying your grief. You slowly place the picture against your chest, sniffing as fresh tears stream down your cheeks. You gently place the photo of you and him on his empty, tidy bed before walking out of his room without a second glance, adamant to be with him once again.
You walk to the bathroom and lock it behind you. You open your handbag and dig your cold hands in, rummaging for some pills. You fish out tablets from your handbag and pop a few tablets from the packet into your hand. Six tablets in your hand at most.
You slide your handbag off your shoulder and place it on the bathroom sink, and you lazily sit next to the toilet bowl, legs stretched out in front of you, slightly leaning your head against the white, cold tiled bathroom wall.
You look at the six tablets in your hand before raising it to your lips and throwing them all in your mouth with a slight tilt of your head, your heart pounding against your chest at the thought of you seeing your best friend again
You felt the side effects of the overdose after a while. Dehydration, restlessness, vomiting, diarrhea, weakness, you name it. You were in slight pain and discomfort, but you were still content with the choice you made.
What you didn’t notice was the solar eclipse outside.
