#&audition k smut

[tttt06]

I Got You

GangMemberMa-ki x Blackreader

Request are open! I reply quickly. Masterlist here

Synopsis~ You and Ma-ki met in your first year of college. Now you're in your third year and counting. He was your first relationship, so you're pretty passionate about him. But sometimes, he hides messages and calls that make you feel unwanted. The truth is, Ma-ki is hiding something from you. It's not good.

Warning~ Smut, gang, mentions of guns, drugs, gore, blood, established relationship, threats... The villian in the story is black (AHT!) that's not me profiling my own damn race ya'll. His race is pertinent to the story because Y/N is also black.

Word Count~ 6.1k

Ma-ki was coming over to your dorm. You've never shared a class with Ma-ki until this year.

You had almost every class together. You loved it because you got to see Ma-ki more.

It bothered you to see him often, but you two have been together long enough to know each other's boundaries.

You hummed as you made your bed. You placed the lap desk on the bed half-heartedly. Your roommate Dollie had gone out to party.

Dollie was the unexpected one. She had big blonde curls, doe eyes, pink lips, and a sharp button nose. Her eyelashes were long and luscious, but that was lash extensions. 

Without them, she had light blonde lashes you could barely see.

When you'd stand next to each other, you were polar opposites. 

Her pale complexion contrasted with your brown one. You had fuller lips. Your eyes were big, but your eyelids covered them. You and Dollie were the same height. You had dainty tattoos and butterfly locs in a bun. 

While you went for smaller tattoos, she had a sleeve done. That was another opposite of your personalities. You used your cuter side to get what you wanted, and Dollie used her sexiness.

She had an aura. It made you think she was tough as nails. Then there was you, the easy pushover who'd get quiet when she was upset.

That's what you did when Ma-ki would interrupt your dates with his constant phone calls.

Ma-ki opened the door and saw you standing beside your bed. His tall stature practically leaped on the mattress. He bounced as he groaned, "My everything hurts." You asked, "You came back from the gym?"

Ma-ki looked at you, "Yeah. I worked on my legs. Don't expect any standing from me."

You rolled your eyes and plopped on the bed next to him. Ma-ki's eyes widened, "Y/N, did you just roll your eyes at me?" 

You laughed, "I did." He crawled over and kissed you.

Kissing Ma-ki is a mistake. It always leads to distractions and missing assignments.

You moved away, "No. We have schoolwork. The project is due next week."

Ma-ki sighed and pulled out your laptop. "Okay, let's get it going then."

You worked for about an hour. It wasn't until Ma-ki got one of 'those' phone calls. The phone call took all his attention. He'd never answer it around you.

How were you not gonna be curious? You'd bring it up, and he'd say it was family stuff. But was it really?

Ma-ki's phone rang, and the ID came up. 'Pops'. He doesn't call his Dad that. You've met his Dad. He calls him Dad. 

Ma-ki walked out. He was gone for only a couple minutes before he came back. His demeanor was different. He said, "I gotta go."

You furrowed your eyebrows. Your voice was soft, "You're gonna leave me here to do the project alone?"

Ma-ki only took a deep breath, "I don't have time for that right now."

He was walking out of the room. Your eye twitched in anger. You were so pissed off. How could he leave like that? With an attitude at that.

You blinked back angry tears as you called your emergency contact. "What you need, girlie?" You whimpered, "Dollie, can you come home?"

You heard the loud music in the background growing quieter. "I'm on my way." You caught a male's voice, "What? I thought I was getting laid tonight?" 

The phone hung up. You couldn't help the pathetic laugh that left your chest.

What was Ma-ki doing this late at night? Why doesn't he tell me?

You didn't want to believe it, but Dollie was the one who told you. 

"Girlie, he's cheating on you." Your body froze, "Are you completely sure?"

You were crying at this point. Dollie's face looked as pained as yours. "I have to be honest. Leaving at night, no communication? That's weird."

You countered, "But he's so lovey-dovey with me." 

Dollie sighed, "Trust me, men are good multitaskers when they wanna be. Even so, you shouldn't be with someone treating you like a waste of time."

You thought to yourself. It adds up. 

Once, you even caught Ma-ki with a completely different phone.

He has to be cheating. "I'll ask him about it." Dollie furrowed her eyebrows, "No, you're gonna tell him about it."

You bit your lip. You didn't want to cause a confrontation.

The next day, you got a text from Ma-ki.

.

.

.

Honest bitch💗

Goodmorning baby.

Honest bitch💗

I'm so sorry about yesterday. I won't be at school today.

Honest bitch💗

I never meant to walk out like that

You

We need to talk

Honest bitch💗

Right now?

You

I'll come to your dorm.

Honest bitch💗

You sure?

You

You've been hiding stuff from me. I hate that. I've given you my all. All my firsts, and you can't even be communicative

You

I'm really upset with you

Honest bitch💗

I'm sorry baby. I hope we can work this out in the end

You

Me too

.

.

.

The truth is, you don't think you could. It wasn't in the cards for you both.

After loads of classes, You exhaustedly walked to Ma-ki's dorm. 

He looked... good.

His eyes were low, jaw clenched, muscular. He looked like the reason you swooned for him in the first place. He's so attractive that there's no way he's not cheating.

He walked toward you, and his hands slid across your waist, "Hi, babe."

You were going to push him away, but you melted. These were the arms you cried in after your mom passed away. The arms you seek comfort in. The arms that held you after your first time. 

"I don't wanna fight Y/N." You sighed, "Then be honest with me. Are you cheating?"

Ma-ki jerked, "What the hell? Girl, the fuck I look like cheating on a baddie like you? Whose in this college that could even amount to you?"

You giggled, and the tears started streaming, "Are you sure?"

He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears away. "Baby, I love you."

You pouted, "Aw, okay. I love you too."

He kissed your lips softly. He never wants to hurt you. If he does, he never means it. But you didn't ask him to be honest. You should've.

Ma-ki POV

Y/N and I were back to normal. After our fight, it took a week to strengthen our relationship. I avoided calls from Pops. He always gave me odd delivery jobs. 

He said I shouldn't ask, and I'll get my payment. I wasn't supposed to be doing this.

I was looking for a job to get Y/N a new laptop because it'd shut down during assignments. 

I still remember her cute cries. She was upset that her laptop deleted her entire essay. It was due the next day.

I convinced her teacher to give her an extension, and we recovered the essay. She got an A.

I decided to get a job in secret to get her a new laptop. 

I found this guy who paid 1000 dollars for delivery services. It was a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy. I slowly started to realize I joined a gang.

Now, Pops was inviting me to parties. I was witnessing guns and drug usage. I can't snitch because I'd be an accomplice.

There's no way to get out. I've asked.

The only solution is to find someone who can do the job better. I can't do that to somebody.

It was when Y/N and I were cuddled up and watching a movie. That phone call happened, and I ignored it. Then, it buzzed again. Y/N had her knees to her chest as she bit her bottom lip.

That habit was so addicting to watch. The way her plump, soft lips got caught in her teeth.

Her eyes were round as she looked at me, "Answer it."

I sighed and picked up the phone. I lifted the covers, but Y/N grabbed my shirt. She sternly said, "I wanna hear."

Her eyes were pleading. I loved those eyes. "I-I can't."

She furrowed those cute eyebrows, "Why?" 

Her grip got tighter, her eyes filled with disappointment, "Answer me."

I gently pulled her hand off my shirt, "I said no, baby." I walked out of the room and whispered.

"What do you want, dude?" Pop's said, "You keep fucking playing with me. I need you to deliver these goods."

With agitation, I rubbed my eyebrows, "I can't keep doing this. My girlfriend is onto me."

Pop's said, "Womp fucking womp. If you don't do this, I'll fucking kill her."

My body stiffened, "Don't say shit like that."

Pop's said, "I sent you my location. Deliver the goods."

I hung up and turned around. Y/N stood at the doorway. She quizzically asked, "Your girlfriend is onto you?"

My heart quickened, "How much did you hear?" She repeated, "Your girlfriend is onto you?"

I sighed, "I really have to go."

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, "What are you doing? Are you with someone else?"

I let out a groan in agony, "I can't right now, baby. I really have to go. It's urgent."

Your POV

He can't be fucking serious. Now I'm angry. 

I wanted to give him this last chance. I told him this was it, but he ruined it. He doesn't respect my words and wishes.

You clicked off the TV and slammed his door closed. You walked to your dorm room and stomped to your bed. Dollie wasn't home.

.

.

.

You

What time?

Dollie Locks🌼

Probably 3 AM

Dollie Locks🌼

Tf he do this time?

You

He left with no explanation.

You

I caught him on the phone saying 'my girlfriend is onto me... don't say stupid shit like that'

Dollie Locks🌼

Babe you shouldn't have even given him another chance.

You

I know

You

I just really love him. He was my first you know? I can't let go of him.

Dollie Locks🌼

Oh poor baby

Dollie Locks🌼

I know, but you can't hold onto to someone who doesn't treat you right

You

You're right

.

.

.

This time, you weren't going to wait for him. You were going to tell him off. You curled into your pillow as you forced yourself to sleep.

You heard stomping and a groan in your room. You looked up, and Ma-ki was all bloodied up.

"Ma-ki?! Baby! What happened to you?!" He hugged you, "I need help."

Your hands were shaking as you made your way to the bathroom. The first aid kit was there for emergencies.

You ran back to the room, and he was lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling.

You lifted his head and put it on your lap.

"What happened?"

Ma-ki confessed, "I got beat up." He shook his head.

You gently put a Q-tip on his cheek. "Why?"

You were holding back tears, "It was a power play." You growled, "Stop beating around the bush! Are you getting into illegal fights or something?"

Ma-ki sighed, "No."

He grabbed your face and pulled you down for a gentle kiss.

"Stop." You mouthed over his. "You can't keep hiding this shit from me. I can't trust you anymore."

Ma-ki whinced, "I can't tell you. It's too dangerous."

You furrowed your eyebrows, "How do I know you're being honest about that?"

Ma-ki stayed silent. He had nothing to say. You sighed, "We need a break."

Ma-ki lifted himself, "What? No."

You shuddered at his beat-up face, "You're not my Ma-ki anymore. You're hiding shit, coming home late at night beat up, and you're lashing out at me."

"You're not gonna get with anyone else, right?" You snapped, "I should be asking you that! You've lied too many times. Shit, I didn't even ask about the burner phone. I mean, what the fuck, Ma-ki! What am I supposed to do!?"

Ma-ki had nothing to say. His shoulders dropped with his head. "Fine. I guess I'll see you at class."

He left. He chose to leave you instead of telling you the fucking truth.

That was a sickening feeling.

You didn't go to class the next day. The thought of seeing Ma-ki made your head spin.

Dollie was trying her hardest to cheer you up, but Ma-ki was someone you couldn't just get over.

You stayed in your room crying. You only wanted Ma-ki to be honest. 

Ma-Ki's POV

"What's the move? You did it?"

Pops looked at me with that greedy anticipation. Nothing but death and evil in his eyes. "No. You can beat me as much as you fucking want. I'm not hurting my girlfriend."

Pop's laughed, "Ex-girlfriend. She 'needed a break,' remember?"

My eye twitched. I watched as Pop's cracked his knuckles. He said, "Ah. Looks like I'm taking this into my own hands."

Your POV

You went back to class two weeks later. Dollie had told you a cute boy had joined the college. She has a thing for bad boys.

When you looked at him, he was black. Your eyes widened as you took it in. It's not the craziest thing in the world, but for Japan, it was insane.

You shyly sat in your regular seat and watched him.

His name was next in the roll call. The professor said, "Darell?" He put up his two fingers and went back to his computer.

You tilted your head as you thought to yourself.

I wonder if he's from the States? Maybe Canada or something. He's a little darker. He could be from Ghana or something. Nah, his hair is too long for that. His Mom would make him cut that for sure.

You continued to profile him silently. Your professor didn't feel like teaching, so he let the class work on essays.

You decided to let your curiosity go and start your essay.

It wasn't until your professor yelled at you to leave his class. You felt a presence as you packed your bag. You looked up to see Darell.

"Where you from?" His voice was so deep. His dark eyes and playful smirk were intense.

Your heart quickened, "I-" You froze as you stared at him further. You took in his tattoos and bright silver earrings. 

"You what?"

You cleared your throat, "New York." His eyes relaxed as he nodded slowly. A satisfying breath left his chest as he said, "Ah. The suburbs?"

Your eye twitched, "What makes you think that? We lived in the Bronx with close to no money."

Darell smiled, "You're feisty."

You looked around the classroom. The entire class had left. You stood up abruptly and said, "I have another class. See you around."

Darell yelled, "Let me get your number. I don't know what's going on in the class."

You shook your head, "Ask someone else. I have a really jealous boyfriend."

That's the biggest lie you've ever told. Ma-ki knew he was the shit and didn't care about who you had on your phone.

He knew you loved him unconditionally. That fact was starting to change. 

Maybe if he realized you were considering leaving, he'd tighten up. What's breaking a pretty boy's heart? It might sting a little more because we're the same race.

You turned around, "...Matter of fact, give me your number."

He practically skipped over to give it to you.

Ma-ki POV

I rolled my eyes as I watched Pops giggle at his phone for the eighth time. "The hell you laughing at?"

Pops smiled, "Not much. Met a fun person recently." I walked over to take a peek, but he snatched it away.

He looked at his phone and then back at me. "Matter of a fact, come see."

I looked at the screen and read the messages.

.

.

.

Darell

Yeah I saw you in class immediately and thought you were a cutie

Y/N

Thx

Y/N

Thought it was cool to be friend with a fellow black friend

Darell

You wanna hang out??

Y/N

Not really at all actually

Darell

lmfao you're pretty direct

Y/N

Really? My bf doesn't think so... it's the only reason I'm talking to you right now anyway. Trying to get him to lock in and talk to me.

Darell

Word? We could meet at college or something to make him jealous

Y/N

Were you a petty ass woman in your past life??

Y/N

My bf doesn't get jealous and he'd know what I was playing at.

Y/N

I'm also not messy enough to do that

Y/N

I just want him to see that I don't need him as much as he thinks.

.

.

.

The first feeling that came was anger. What does Y/N mean by 'she doesn't need me'?

In my bones, the worry settled, "Stay away from my girlfriend."

My jaw was tight, and my voice was firm as I looked him dead in his eyes.

"I have a job to do. Get rid of that girl. Her daddy has been in the game for a long time, and I'm trying to send a threat to him. I want that throne."

I bawled my fist, "I don't care. Y/N's Dad is like a second father to me. I won't let you take her other parent."

Pops quirked an eyebrow, "Yeah? Watch me." I had enough. I reached for his arm as he walked away from me. "I'm serious. She has nothing to do with any of this shit. You made me do all this bullshit for nothing. She doesn't know shit."

Pos laughed. He looked at my hand and grabbed it faster, "Get your fucking hands off me."

He pushed me back and punched me square in the jaw. I launched myself at him, throwing a jaw-cracking hit. Pops's nose started to bleed as he came at me. He choked me out.

The adrenaline made me stronger. I body-slammed Pops against the wall and kicked him in the face. "Stay the fuck away from my girlfriend."

He spat blood from his throat. "You're gonna fucking regret that."

I rolled my eyes and made my way out of the studio. "I'm telling Mr. L/N about your shit."

Y/N's POV

You were at the gym, stretching. Dollie drank water while on the treadmill.

You were debating whether you wanted to talk to Ma-ki.  Spring break was today. It felt weird to not bring him home with you. All his family is in Germany, and he can't go far. You usually brought him over with you.

After your Mom passed, you've been inviting Dollie over. She had to meet with her boyfriend's parents this year.

You knew your Dad would ask, and you didn't want Ma-ki in trouble.

You texted him.

.

.

.

You

You wanna come with me to see my dad

Honest bitch💗

Aren't we on a break?

Honest bitch💗

What would 'Darell' think??

You

LMAO yeah okay

You

So you cominggg orrr??

Honest bitch💗

No Y/N

You

Where are you going to go then?

Honest bitch💗

I'll stay here.

Honest bitch💗

I can't talk rn anyway

You

You sure you don't want to come???? My dad is gonna ask questions

Honest bitch💗

No i just need to be alone rn

You

Ok

.

.

.

Your breathing was different. It felt more rushed, more ragged. 

Ma-ki doesn't love me anymore.

You disappeared. Dollie finished her work, and you were gone. You were driving to your Dad's place. 

You needed to get away. Dollie was texting, and you shut your phone off. You couldn't handle it.

"Sweetie!" You hugged your Dad. He swayed you two and gave you a kiss on the head. "Where's Ma-ki?"

You shook your head as he took your luggage. "We got into a fight. He's been hiding things."

Your Dad frowned. His beard furrowed with his bottom lip. "Hiding things like what? Is he cheating?" You laughed, "He's not dumb enough to do that."

Your Dad nodded along. "Okay, so what's been going on then?"

You walked into the house, "I don't really know. He won't tell me."

Your Dad followed you through the house as you walked to your childhood home. 

"Yeah? Need me to talk to him?"

You left the door open for him to roll in the luggage. "No, Dad. I got it. I put him on punishment."

Your Dad furrowed his eyebrows and stared at you. "Well, alright. Get settled. Grandma and Grandpa are coming over."

Your smile beamed, "Okay." Your Dad walked down the stairs quietly, and you sat on your bed. 

.

.

.

Darell

YURRRR how is New York?

You

I'm not there

Darell

Your at the dorms???

You

No I'm still in Japan. My family lives here.

Darell

That's whatsup

Darell

Your boyfriend walking around campus beat up

You

Ik we argued today ig

Darell

No i mean black eye

You

WHAT?

.

.

.

You were calling Ma-ki in a second. He hung up. You called about four times, and he finally answered. "What the hell do you want?"

You said with a tinge of anger, "Let me see your fucking face."

Ma-ki frowned, and his face was in the camera. A black eye, cut on the forehead, and bruises around the neck. 

You took a deep breath in an attempt to control your mouth. 

You opened your eyes and said, "Bring your ass to my Dad's house now. You can hide shit from me, but you're gonna talk to him."

Ma-ki sighed, "I'm not doing that." You yelled, "You need to talk to someone! You're not talking to me! Come to this house in the next three hours, or you'll have more cuts and bruises to worry about."

Ma-ki sighed, "Alright."

He was about to hang up. Your face softened, and he looked at you with worry. He said, "I'm okay." You felt tears starting to well up, "How am I supposed to know that? I'm scared."

Ma-ki was usually stoic, but his voice was soothing, "Hey? I love you, and I'll see you soon."

You wept, "I love you too."

Your grandparents left, and you waited for Ma-ki. You were panicked while your Dad tried to understand what was happening. You didn't know how to explain it, even if you could.

Ma-ki came in, and you ran toward him with the kind of urgency you expect from someone who's dying.

Ma-ki hugged you tightly, "See? I'm okay." He kissed your head with the comfort you haven't felt from him in weeks. 

Your Dad walked up, "Let's go, son."

Ma-ki glanced at you and walked with your Dad. 

You don't know why Ma-ki thinks you wouldn't listen. You were at that door, ear hustling.

Your Dad said, "What the hell, man? What are you doing?"

Ma-ki took a shakey breath, "I've wanted to come clean for a long time to you, sir. I'm... in a gang."

There was silence. Your Dad sighed. You heard him shift in his chair as the air went heavy. 

Your Dad said, "I would beat your ass, but someone already did."

Your body shook as you covered your mouth. 

Ma-ki's in a gang?

Ma-ki came clean, "Well, Y/N needed a new Laptop. I started taking odd jobs to afford it. Suddenly, Pops said he knew you and could donate."

Your Dad sighed, "You know about the family business then?"

You didn't hear a response. Ma-ki said, "You're a gang leader." There was more silence.

Ma-ki warned, "Pop's isn't who you think he is. He's been trying to get me to hurt Y/N, but I can't. It's my fault for hiding it from her. I don't want to hurt her. I didn't want her to discover your business either."

You burst open the door, "Too fucking late."

You were crying as you stared at the two protectors you loved dearly. "What? Ya'll think I can't handle myself?"

Your Dad's eyes were wide, "No... This is entirely different. People are trying to kill you."

You didn't give a fuck. Two people you thought would protect you were putting you in more danger, "Send Pop's to jail."

Your Dad shook his head, "No. That'll get us caught."

You shouted, "Should've thought of that before being a fucking gang leader!"

Ma-ki froze. 

You shook your head, "How the fuck are we gonna fix this?"

Your Dad took a deep sigh, "I'll handle it. You two should sit back. Don't contact Pops."

He dismissed you like it was nothing.

When you exited his office, Ma-ki tried to grab you. You moved away, "Don't fucking touch me."

Ma-ki's eyes went soft. "I'm sorry."

You wept, "Be as sorry as you want. I won't forgive you."

Ma-ki didn't know what to say. His eyes were pleading to you. You let out a shaky breath. "Did you even pack a bag?"

Ma-ki only shook his head. He wasn't making eye contact with you. His eyes outline you, but he couldn't look you in your angry eyes. "Let's go then."

Ma-ki's eyebrows knitted together as he said, "Absolutely not. It's dangerous! You need to stay here."

You argued, "If you get punched in the face again, you'll go cold. I'm coming with you."

Ma-ki looked at your Dad's office door, then back at you. "Fine, but only because I know you're crazy."

You followed him to your driveway. You didn't let him drive. He probably had a concussion and some more shit.

You sped to the campus and walked to his dorm with him.

There was no talk between you two. You didn't speak because you were on the brink of screaming, and Ma-ki didn't talk because he feared you.

You don't get angry often, but when you do, you break down. Ma-ki didn't want to put you through that.

Ma-ki folded his shirt and put it in his luggage. You reached for the book you must've forgotten at his dorm and read it on his bed. It was still just as silent.

The only sound was the quiet folds of fabric and paper.

Ma-ki bent over to grab a pair of pants.

BOW*

You looked up frantically to see him holding his head. "You okay?"

You held in a laugh. Ma-ki looked at you, annoyed, "I'm fine." You furrowed your eyebrows. Your tone changed to somewhat of an old-school mother.

"Fix your damn tone when you talk to me. You're the one in the wrong."

Ma-ki was about to start talking, but you saw the blood drip down his head. "Fuck. How hard did you hit your head?"

You ran for the first aid kit. Ma-ki said, "I'm okay. You don't need to do all of that."

"You're bleeding, baby."

Ma-ki relaxed to the sound of that nickname. It meant he was back in your good graces. 

He sat on the bed as you aided his wounds. He was looking at your focused face as he thought to himself.

His hands slid to your hips. His grip alone was enough to rock you back and forth.

"I'm sorry."

Your face softened. Your eyes traced Ma-ki's jaw, dimple, and then his eyes.

His eyes looked so vulnerable. 

"It's okay, Ma-ki."

He shook his head, "I've made you cry. You thought I was cheating on you. This is all unhealthy shit. Our relationship is horrible because of me."

You put the bandaid on his temple and kissed it. "We can work through it. We always do."

Ma-ki pulled you close. His head fell on your shoulder as he groaned.

"I love you to pieces."

You smiled, "I love you."

You were crawling in his lap as you kissed him with desperation.

Your hands tangled in his hair as he tangled in your locs.

You felt yourself falling down on his mattress. Ma-ki's hands slid down to your ass as he squeezed and slapped.

You whined in his mouth as he slipped his tongue back in.

Your bodies were on fire. You haven't had sex in a long time.

Ma-ki grabbed you closer and flipped you over. Now, he was towering over you. His hands slid up your shirt as he played with your boobs.

You watched the outline of his hands through your white shirt.

You squeezed your thighs together as you whimpered, "...m-more."

Ma-ki pulled your shirt off. He was kissing your neck, sucking on the sensitive spots he's come to know.

You couldn't help but moan when he sucked on that spot.

Ma-ki was smiling against your neck as his kisses trailed to your breast. He knew how sensitive your boobs were. 

His mouth played with your nipple as you felt his thumb rub circles on the other. You whined, "Please!"

Ma-ki whispered, "You like that?"

You nodded hastily. Your back arched, getting you closer to his mouth. Ma-ki wrapped both his arms around you to keep your body close.

Your rib cage was visible through your skin from how arched you were.

Ma-ki trailed down your stomach as he pulled off your panties.

"You're gonna taste so good."

He kissed your clit and looked up at you. Your eyes were hazed as you stared at him.

Ma-ki kissed your clit again, and you whined, "...don't play with me."

Ma-ki laughed and wrapped his pretty, pink, plump lips on your bud. He sucked hard, earning a loud moan from you.

His fingers dipped into your hole, and you could feel yourself leaking from him already.

Ma-ki said against your clit, "I'm so sorry, baby. I won't ever hide anything from you again."

Your body relaxed as his pace quickened. Taking his thick, pale fingers.

You heard Ma-ki slurp, and you felt your juices start to slide down your ass. The knot in your stomach grew.

You whimpered, "I'm gonna cum Ma-ki."

His pace quickened, "Cum for me. Cum all over my fingers, baby."

You whimpered as you felt your pussy clench around his fingers. You started to cum, and your body shook.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you bit your lip to attempt to muffle the moans.

Ma-ki pulled out, and you felt your juices spill out after. "Such a good girl."

He kissed you again. You tasted yourself on his tongue as he slipped it back into your mouth.

He started unbuttoning his pants, not breaking from the kiss. Your legs wrapped around his waist as his pants dropped. You felt him sliding his dick over your folds.

You whined in his mouth from the teasing. He smiled, "I know. You feel so good already."

You shuddered as he kissed your neck again. You reached for his dick and started pumping. Your tiny hand couldn't wrap around the entire thing.

Ma-ki grunted from your pumping. "Yeah? You want it?"

You nodded.

Ma-ki pulled away to find your hole. As he sunk inside of you, you both let out a sigh. It felt so good.

He stretched you well every time. It felt better since it's been so long.

Ma-ki was leaning back in as he kissed your nose. "You okay?"

You're breathing was heavy. "Y-yeah."

He moved slowly. His hips ground against yours in a steady practice.

The kind of grind you've seen him do as a dance move. Slow and intimate.

Your eyes stayed on each other as you two moaned. Ma-ki said, "I love you." You smiled sweetly, "I love you more."

Ma-ki's thrust got a little rougher. Your hands gripped his shoulder as you tried to take all of him. He didn't slide all the way in.

You wanted him deeper, harder, faster.

You groaned, "Ma-ki baby. Deeper. Please."

Ma-ki grunted, "Fuck, take me deep baby."

You felt him push himself into you. You shuddered at the feeling of him hitting your G-spot. 

Ma-ki buried his head in your neck as he fucked you faster.

"You like when I fuck you with this dick? Mm?" Your response was a high-pitched yes.

The kind you only heard in Porno's.

"Yes! Ma-ki, yes! You feel so good."

Ma-ki's thrust got sharp as the skin slapped between you. His voice was low as he said, "You're so fucking tight."

You clenched around him. He groaned, "Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

Your nails dug into his back as you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist. His hips slammed deeper, and you screamed.

You felt him move the flesh further back. "Faster!" You panted. Ma-ki picked up the speed as the knot in your stomach tightened. It wasn't long before you were both cumming.

Ma-ki was groaning loudly in your ear. "Ah, fuck~"

Your muscles relax. You pulled away, and Ma-ki kept you close.

"You're not going anywhere."

His dick was pulsing in you. You hit his shoulder to swat him away, but he kept you there. He rolled over and spooned you. He plugged himself back in you.

You whimpered as you felt your body grow heavy.

Ma-ki whispered, "I love you cutie."

You said back, "I love you too."

Your Dad wondered where you two went. You two took an hour-long nap and were making it back to your Dad's house. You were gone for over three hours.

When you got there, your Dad was on an important call. You could tell it was serious by the way his eyebrows knit together.

Ma-ki followed you to your room, slapping your ass again.

You giggled, climbing on him. He held you at his waist as he kissed you again and again.

The sex helped you two better than expected.

You jumped off Ma-ki and asked, "You want something to eat? We have some leftovers."

He nodded, "Yeah. What'd you make?"

"Jerk chicken and coconut rice."

Ma-ki was running down the stairs. You laughed as you watched Ma-ki's phone light up.

.

.

.

Pops

I'm texting your girlfriend

Pops

Where tf are you at?

.

.

.

What does he mean by 'he's texting me?' I didn't get a text from him.

When you checked, the only message you got was from Darell.

Then, the realization clicked. "Oh my God."

You chased Ma-ki to the dining room to see him already eating. He saw your phone and his in your hand. He quirked an eyebrow, "Did you forget my password? It's your birthday."

You shook your head, "Darell is Pops."

Ma-ki tensed, "Oh yeah. I forgot to tell you that."

You were about to yell, but the sex was too good to get mad at him again.

"Okay, well. Text Darell for me. I don't want to fuck something up."

Ma-ki shook his head, "No. Your Dad said he'd handle it."

You pouted, "But if I don't respond, he'll suspect something is up."

Ma-ki sighed and reached for your phone.

He put in the password and looked at the message. He scoffed. "Really? This is how he talks to you?"

You peeked and said, "Yeah, and I'd always reject it." Ma-ki rolled his eyes as you nudged him.

You nagged, "Cut me some slack. Darell is the only black guy at the school that I know."

He sighed and answered.

.

.

.

Darell

Hey cutie you doing okay?

Darell

That bf of yours causing you trouble??

Darell

I hope you not taking his two incher right now

Darell

Mine is bigger btw🫣

You

Darell wha da hail you talking about?

Darell

LMAO i'm just kidding around baby

Darell

We're on spring break, wnana hang?

You

Nah, I'm chilling with my bf

Darell

yeah? Tell him I said Pops says hi

You

You two know each other?

Darell

How you think he got those bruises baby?

Darell

He didn't like that I was texting you

You

Ma-ki isn't jealous just protective

You

You must be bad news then?

Darell

Real bad

Darell

This dick almost split a girl in half once

Darell

She had to get surgery

You

Why are you talking about your dick sm

Darell

Cause I want you to think about

You

I don't want to think about your dick

You

This convo is getting weird

You

I'm boutta eat and sleep

You

WITH my BOYFRIEND

Darell

Alr i see how it is.

.

.

.

You said, "God, he talks like men from Wizz."

Ma-ki laughed, "You get traumatized this often by men?"

You nodded, "You should see my DM's."

He smiled, "I'm good."

Spring break ended, and you needed to go back to school.

What was scary was that Darell or Pops vanished without a trace.

There were rumors that he got arrested for selling drugs on campus.  You were worried your Dad did something to him. But your Dad told you he got him arrested for sexual harassment on campus.

You don't know how or why, but you chose not to ask.

You and Ma-ki's relationship was impenetrable, and there were no more secrets.

Enha OT7 Head cannon May 23rd

[byunejoo]

no picture header because it got flagged. oops.

── nine thirty nine

contents. smut minors dni, fem reader, hybrids, dog hybrid!kei, k spelled as kei, leg humping (for just a brief moment), petnames/name calling (pup, dumb puppy), unprotected sex, accidental knotting, breeding, oral (f rec), cum eating, multiple orgasms, fingering, he’s honestly so sub coded here

word count. 1188

wishing the happiest of happy birthdays to my best friend @starryjens. this one’s for you! love you so much, hope you enjoy! (although your birthday was two days ago. i’m the worst i know LMFAO.)

“Please, I promise I’ll be good.”

You hummed, looking up at the man in front of you. He was on his knees, looking at you with round, pleading eyes. His ears twitched, undecided whether they wanted to pin against his head or curiously stand tall. His curled, fluffy tail slowly swept across the floor, anxiously awaiting your answer. “What are you begging for, pup?” Kei wanted to whine at the pet name. “You know I need you to use your words. What do you want?” You gently patted the top of his head before removing your touch completely, looking at him expectantly. He did whine at the loss of contact. You know he likes when you pat his head!

Instead, he shuffles closer and all but wraps himself around your leg. His hips press against your shin, and you can feel it. You can feel how hard he is, but you want him to use his words. He needs to tell you that that’s what he’s wanting you to take care of. But for some reason, he can’t find the words. All he could do to vocalize his needs was whine.

It feels like his hips have a mind of their own when they start to rut against your leg. Slowly, at first, with feather-light pressure. Such little movement that the only thing giving it away was the soft sighs he let out. He lays his head over in your lap, sighing more when you start running your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching your nails on his scalp. For a moment, you let him continue.

Then you tugged on his hair, pulling his head back.

“Now don’t just hump my leg like a dumb puppy. You know better than that. Speak, boy.”

He whined louder, if it was possible, at the way you were treating him. Then he musters up the courage to finally speak. “I want to fuck you… Please.” And when you took more than a second to respond, to tell him yes, he talks again. “I’ll be good. I promise I won’t knot you. I promise I won’t cum inside. I won’t breed you, I promise. Please, just please, let me fuck you. Hurts.”

You moved your leg forward, feeling the bulge in his pants again. He was so hard that you could almost feel the blood pumping through his veins. It was almost laughable how desperate he was, but you’d be lying if it wasn’t turning you on as well. So you decided you wouldn’t tease him much longer.

All he needed was for you to spread your legs, leaning back a little. He automatically reaches forward, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down your legs, now bare from the waist down. He sees the wetness pooling between your legs, especially when he uses his fingers to spread you open for a better look.

If he wasn’t so desperate, he would take his time to touch you. But he feels the throbbing in his own underwear and he knows he can’t wait.

He clumsily pushes his underwear down his thighs, sitting up on his knees to line himself up with your entrance. In one motion, he pushes his entire cock inside, and with just a moment to catch your breath, he starts at a steady pace. With how desperate he was acting before, it was affecting you as well, so he was met without resistance. Instead, you spread your legs further to let him in deeper.

In just a short time, he could feel his release nearing. It was only a matter of time, after having been teased while his cock was already throbbing. “Fuck,” he breathed out. “I’m gonna cum soon.”

Kei fully intended to keep his promise—to pull out and finish himself off in his hand. But with the way you were now moaning, gripping his shoulders, and the way your pussy squeezed him just right, he could feel himself slipping. He fucks into you faster, hands gripping at your thighs, making you throw your head back.

“Pull out.” You managed to gasp out. “Kei, pull out.” It didn’t take much to realize that it was getting harder for him to thrust; the knot swelling up at the base of his cock making it difficult. “Pull out. Now, Kei.”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t hear you. All he could hear was the sound of the blood pumping through his veins, his own heartbeat, and the wet noises between your legs. It was too late when he came to his senses. His knot had already swollen up to the point of no return, and he could already feel himself about to cum at any given moment. “I’m sorry.” He whimpered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

Kei’s mind was on autopilot. Words spilled out of his mouth in pathetic whines as he shallowly rutted into you, filling you with his cum. The feeling of him cumming inside you, along with his heavy knot deliciously stretching you out, had you digging your nails into the skin of his shoulder as you could feel yourself coming undone as well.

His body went limp, gently leaning forward to lay on top of you. He buried his head in your neck, kissing, licking, nipping at the skin. The both of you could feel the knot going down after a few moments, and soon he was able to pull out. Finally.

Then he dropped back to his knees, sitting on the heels of his feet. He leans forward, flattening his tongue out against your pussy. The feeling of him dragging his tongue through your folds sends a jolt of electricity through your body, hands flying forward and gripping the hair between his fluffy ears. “What are you doing, pup?”

“Cleaning you up…I made a mess.” He dived back in, focusing now on lapping up the thick cum dripping from your hole. The feeling of his tongue on you, coupled with the lewd sounds of him slurping at the mixture of your own wetness and his cum had your mind reeling. You were already sensitive from your previous orgasm, and you could feel arousal pooling at your entrance again.

Kei pulled his mouth off of you, and you thought he was done. But he lined up two of his fingers and pushed them in instead.

“Shit! What—”

Cutting you off, he hushed you. “I told you I was going to make it up to you. Besides, how else am I supposed to get all of my cum out?”

He curled his two fingers, lightly dragging them against your walls. Attaching his mouth to your clit, he alternates between flicking his tongue and closing his lips around it, softly suckling. You’re already so close to a second orgasm, but adding the feeling of being stimulated in both areas only pushes you further and further toward it.

And that’s his goal. He wants to make you cum as many times as you can handle as an apology. If he needs to, he can stay between your legs all night.

[heesvnqie]

non idol au + celebrity au with jay x fem!reader who are co-stars in an action+romcom kdrama?

so maybe they shoot some action scenes and he’s worried for her bc she doesn’t like having a stunt double and does all the stunts herself

and maybe they also shoot the romance scenes which lead to like a LATER irl romance scene between them yk?

feel free to ignore this if it’s not something you’d write haha

Author : Dear Anon, I would love to write this out! Thank you so muchhh for giving me such a fantastic prompt. Lots of hugs and kisses.

Behind The Scene- A Park Jongseong FF

Pairing: Park Jongseong!Jay x female reader

Word count: 4.6k

Genre: fluff, smut

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪: Your first ever series and with the BEST actor of the K-drama industry puts you under pressure and nervousness. You're not just the female lead but also the action herione. Filming alongside Jay, you and Jay develop a undeniable chemistry.

The sun hovered lazily in the sky, casting a warm glow over the bustling streets of the city. With eyes shielded by oversized sunglasses, you weaved through the crowded sidewalks, heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. Today was the day you had been waiting for, the start of filming for the highly anticipated action-romcom series that would either make or break your career.

You were a rookie in the industry, and this was your first series but you had something that set you apart from the rest: you were not only the female lead but also the action heroine.

As you approached the set, the sound of voices grew louder, a blend of Korean and English echoing through the streets. You recognized the towering figure of Jay, your co-star, in the distance, surrounded by a whirlwind of crew members.

He was a seasoned actor, known for his impeccable fighting skills and chiseled jawline that had won the hearts of fans worldwide. You took a deep breath and straightened your posture, reminding yourself of the fierce character you were about to portray.

Your first series was going to be with the BEST actor of the whole k-drama industry. It gave you a feeling of pride as well as of fear on the thought that what if your acting wasn't at his level?

The director, Mr. Kim, called for your attention as you and Jay arrived on set. He spoke with a fervor that could only come from a man who had poured his soul into a script. "Today, we begin with the rooftop chase scene," he announced, holding up a storyboard. "Remember, safety first, but we need that raw, adrenaline-filled performance. Are we ready?"

"Are we ready Miss Y/N? You are the main-woman in this scene.." Mr.Kim asked noticing the worry and fear in your eyes.

"Yes." You managed to say with a slight tremble in your voice.

Jay cast a concerned glance in your direction, noticing better than anyone the slight tremble in your voice and the way how your hand shook with nervousness.

He knew you didn't like stunt doubles, you had mentioned that during the audition. You insisted on doing your own stunts to give an authentic performance. The thought of you in harm's way made his stomach tighten, but he knew better than to challenge your determination.

He offered a reassuring smile instead. "You've got this," he murmured in your ear as his hot breath streamed down the back of your neck. Shivers passed down your spine as you managed to show him a thumbs-up.

The cameras rolled, and the scene unfolded. You sprinted across the rooftop with an agility that belied your inexperience, leaping between buildings with a grace that seemed almost superhuman. Jay followed close behind, his movements precise and calculated. Despite the scripted chaos, he couldn't help but admire your courage and dedication to the craft. You and Jay exchanged a few lines in between breathless pants, the tension between you both palpable, not just from the scene, but from a growing, unspoken attraction.

The climax of the sequence involved a daring jump over a narrow alley, which you had practiced relentlessly. Jay watched from the opposite rooftop where you had to land, his eyes never leaving you. You took a moment to gather your nerves, your heart pounding in your chest.

Then, with a fierce cry and quick run, you launched yourself into the air, the wind whipping through your hair. Time seemed to slow as you soared over the gap, and for a brief, terrifying second, you thought you might not make it.

But you did, landing with a thud on the opposite rooftop, your knees buckling slightly.

"CUT!" The director yelled. The crew erupted into applause, and Jay rushed to your side, his relief palpable.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his hand on your shoulder, his eyes searching yours for any sign of pain and distress.

You grinned up at him, your cheeks flushed with exhilaration. "Never better," you replied, pushing yourself to your feet. The adrenaline coursed through your veins, leaving you feeling invincible.

You both shared a brief moment of understanding, the kind that forms between two people who have just survived something intense together.

As the day went on, you and Jay shot scenes that were a stark contrast to the earlier action—now it was time for the romantic moments that would melt the hearts of their viewers.

Jay's gaze lingered on you as he and you delivered your lines with an ease that surprised even you. The chemistry between both of you was undeniable, and it was clear that both of you weren't just playing characters anymore.

Each touch, each smile, every fleeting glance was charged with a current that had the crew whispering and squeakling like highschool girls.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange hue over the city as the crew approached the final scene of the day. It was a classic rooftop confession, where your characters would finally admit their feelings for each other.

As the director called for action, Jay stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours. He could feel the electricity between them, and it was all too real.

Both of you delivered your lines with a passion that seemed to resonate through the air, your eyes locked in a silent conversation that spoke volumes. The moment grew heavier, the silence between your words thick with unspoken desire.

When the script called for him to lean in and kiss you, Jay paused, his heart thumping. He searched your eyes for permission, and finding it as you nodded, pressed his lips gently to yours.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, as if both of you were afraid to break the delicate illusion. But as your characters' love story unfolded before you, the line between fiction and reality began to blur. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as Jay pushed you against the wall until it was no longer just for the camera.

The crew, captivated by the authenticity of the moment, held their collective breath, the whispers dying down to nothing.

Mr. Kim called "Cut!" with a knowing smile, and the spell was broken.

Jay pulled back, his gaze lingering on your lips for a heartbeat longer than necessary. The atmosphere on the rooftop had shifted, and everyone knew it. He offered her a hand, helping her to walk away from the wall, their fingers intertwining naturally. They stumbled over their next lines, the heat of their kiss still echoing between them.

The days turned into weeks, and the chemistry between you both grew more potent with each scene you two shot. You found yourselves laughing at inside jokes during takes and lingering in each other's embrace longer than the director required.

It was as if your on-screen romance had spilled over into real life, and neither of you were complaining. You and Jay began to share more than just the screen, finding yourselves at dinners and coffee shops, sharing stories about their pasts and dreams for the future.

But the whispers grew louder, the paparazzi more persistent. The rumors of a secret romance between the lead actors began to spread like wildfire through the entertainment industry.

Jay knew that this kind of publicity could either skyrocket their show's success or lead to a disastrous scandal. He had been down that road before, and the memory of his past relationships ruined by the media still stung.

The two leads decided to keep your feelings under wraps, focusing solely on both of your professional commitment to the show. Yet, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the sparks that flew every time you were together. The tension grew with each passing day, a silent dance of desire and restraint.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of filming, you both found yourselves in a quiet corner of the set, the lights dimming as the crew packed up around you.

The air was thick with unspoken words, and the energy between them was almost tangible. Jay leaned in, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. "We can't keep doing this," he murmured, his voice low and filled with longing.

You looked at him in confusion.

"Pretending," he clarified, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. "We're fooling ourselves and everyone else."

Your eyes searched his, looking for any hint of doubt or regret, but all you found was the intensity of his gaze, a mirror to your own tumultuous emotions.

"What do you suggest we do?" You whispered, your voice barely audible above the soft hum of the city below. "The series is a hit. Everybody loves our chemistry. The fans truly want us to date."

He nodded solemnly. "I know. But we're not just characters in a drama, we're people with real feelings. We can't let this control us anymore."

With a deep sigh, you stepped back, creating space between him and you. "You're right," you conceded, your voice trembling slightly. "We need to be professional. Our careers are on the line."

The conversation weighed heavily on both of you, and the following days on set were filled with awkward glances and forced smiles. You both threw yourselves into work, trying to ignore the undeniable pull that tugged at your hearts.

The stunt scenes became more intense, and Jay found himself more protective than ever, hovering nearby whenever you were in the air, ready to catch you if you stumbled.

You noticed, and a part of you felt grateful, while another part resented the reminder of the barrier you both had built between each other.

During a break from filming, you sat in your trailer, staring at your reflection in the mirror. The makeup artist had painted your cheeks with a blush that didn't quite match the one Jay's kisses left behind.

You felt torn between your career and your burgeoning feelings for him. The knock on the door startled you out of your thoughts.

Jay peered in, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "Can we talk?"

Nodding, you stepped aside to let him in, your heart racing. The trailer was cramped, but it felt even smaller with the weight of your unspoken words pressing down on both of you. He sat beside you on the small couch, his leg brushing against yours.

"Look," Jay began, his voice a little shaky. "I know we agreed to keep things professional, but I can't ignore this anymore. When we're together, it feels so real. So right." He paused, watching you intently. "What if we just…see where this takes us?"

You felt a warmth spread through your chest. You knew the risks, the potential scandals and the impact on your careers, but you also knew that you couldn't deny your feelings for much longer. You took a deep breath and placed your hand on his, feeling the heat from his skin. "Okay," You murmured. "But we have to be careful."

Jay nodded solemnly. "We'll be discreet."

Your secret grew as the days passed, a shared look here, a stolen touch there. You became experts at hiding in plain sight, your on-screen chemistry becoming a delicious secret that only added to the show's allure.

Off-screen, you found moments to be together, sneaking away during breaks, your conversations filled with whispers and smiles that didn't reach your eyes when the cameras weren't rolling.

One night, after a particularly demanding day of filming, Jay suggested that you both grab a quick dinner together. You both ended up in a small, tucked-away restaurant, the kind that didn't bother with autographs or photos, where the aroma of sizzling meat and spicy kimchi filled the air.

The intimate setting made your hearts race, and your conversation flowed as freely as the soju that accompanied your meal.

Under the flickering candlelight, he reached across the table, his hand covering yours. "I know we said we'd keep it professional, but I can't help how I feel about you," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. Your eyes searched his, finding the vulnerability you hadn't expected. "I know," You replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I feel it too."

Your relationship grew in the shadows of the film set. Stolen glances, secret smiles, and whispers that only both of you could hear. It was a delicate dance of passion and discretion, a dance that had you both feeling like teenagers again. Each day brought new challenges, new moments of tension and excitement, and each night brought you two closer together.

As the show's popularity soared, the whispers grew louder. The media was hungry for any scrap of gossip, any hint of a romance between the two. Yet, you and Jay remained steadfast in your decision to keep your feelings hidden from the public eye.

You knew that the moment you admitted your love, the storm of attention would be overwhelming, possibly even destructive.

One evening, as you and Jay sat together on the edge of the same rooftop where your on-screen romance had begun, Jay looked into your eyes and spoke the words that had been haunting him. "We can't hide forever," he said softly. "We're going to have to decide when we want to tell the world."

You felt a knot form in your stomach. The thought of your secret being out in the open was both thrilling and terrifying. You knew that once you stepped out of the shadows, there would be no turning back.

"But what if it ruins everything?" You asked, your voice filled with concern. "What if we can't handle the pressure?"

Jay squeezed your hand reassuringly. "We're stronger than we think," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "We've come this far, and we're not just any couple. We're the couple everyone wants to see together. If we do it right, we can control the narrative."

You both talked into the night, weighing the pros and cons, your hearts and minds in a constant tug-of-war. Finally, both of you reached an agreement.

You would wait until the show's finale to reveal your relationship, timing it to coincide with the dramatic climax of your characters' love story. It would be a perfect, poetic ending for both the show and your secret romance.

The days leading up to the finale were a whirlwind of intense filming and heightened emotions. The anticipation of your characters' confession mirrored your own, and the lines between scripted passion and real-life feelings grew increasingly blurred.

You both held onto the secret tighter than ever, the excitement of the impending revelation a constant undercurrent in your interactions.

As the final scenes approached, so did the paparazzi. They lurked in the shadows, cameras at the ready, waiting for a single slip-up that would shatter the illusion of your professional façade. Jay and you had become experts at dodging questions, at keeping your hands to yourselves, at smiling for the cameras while your hearts ached for more.

The night of the finale was upon them. The script called for your characters to confess their love on the rooftop under a blanket of stars. The air was thick with tension, not just from the scene but from the knowledge that soon, your own secret would be shared with the world. Jay took a deep breath as the director called for action, his eyes locking with yours, conveying all the love and fear he couldn't speak aloud.

Both of you delivered your lines with a passion that seemed to set the very air around you alight. The kiss was explosive, a culmination of weeks of pent-up emotion, and the crew watched with bated breath. As the scene ended and the director called cut, Jay pulled away, his heart racing.

The moment of truth had arrived.

You had agreed to wait until the show's finale to reveal your relationship, but the intensity of your on-screen confession had made it impossible to resist the pull any longer. Jay took your hand, his grip firm and reassuring, and led you to the edge of the rooftop, the city of Seoul stretching out below you like a twinkling sea of stars. The cool breeze whispered around you, carrying the scent of the city's vibrant life.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Let's do it now," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and trepidation. "Let's tell the world before the cameras do."

Your heart skipped a beat, the gravity of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. But as you looked into his eyes, you knew he was right. It was time to claim their happiness.

"Okay," You whispered, your grip on his hand tightening. "Let's make it our moment, not theirs."

Both of you descended the stairs from the rooftop, your steps echoing in the quiet alley. The paparazzi waited like vultures, but tonight, they had a surprise in store. Jay took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his decision settle in his chest. As you reached the street, a cacophony of flashes and questions erupted around you, but he didn't flinch. Instead, he turned to you, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Let's go," he whispered, leading you through the frenzy.

The paparazzi surrounded you both, their cameras flashing like a storm of lightning, but Jay and you ran through the street, hearts beating in sync and as you both laughed. You both ducked into a nearby alley, the walls closing in around you as you sought refuge from the prying eyes. The moment the door to the quiet restaurant swung shut, the tension between you snapped.

With trembling hands, both of you took a seat in a cozy booth, the warmth of the place wrapping around like a comforting blanket. "Ready for this?" Jay asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

"More than ready," You replied, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. You both had rehearsed your story a hundred times, a carefully crafted tale of friendship blossoming into love. It was almost as if both of you had been preparing for this moment since the day you and Jay met.

The hours ticked by, filled with laughter and whispers of your own little world. The food grew cold as you lost yourselves in your conversation, the outside world a distant murmur that didn't dare to intrude. But as the clock neared midnight, reality began to creep back in. The show's finale was airing, and your secret would soon be out of your hands.

Jay checked his phone, the screen lighting up his anxious expression. "We should do it now," he urged. "Before the rumors get out of control."

You took a deep breath, your heart racing. You nodded, feeling a strange mix of excitement and dread. "Okay."

You both waited until the perfect moment, the climax of the show's final episode where your characters' love story reached its crescendo. As your on-screen counterparts shared a passionate embrace, you two posted a candid photo of yourselves on your social media accounts. The image was simple: two tired but happy faces, her head resting on his shoulder, their eyes filled with a secret that was no longer just for them. The caption read, "Life imitates art. <3 #OurLoveStory #K-DramaCoupleGoals."

The internet exploded. Within minutes of posting the picture, notifications flooded their phones like confetti in a celebration that had been bottled up for too long. The hashtags he and you had used trended immediately, and the reactions were a mix of shock, elation, and fervent support from your devoted fans

You and Jay watched in awe as the news spread across the entertainment world, the real-life romance becoming the talk of the town, overshadowing even the drama's cliffhanger finale.

The day of the Filmfare OTT Awards arrived, and the excitement was palpable. Jay and your show had been nominated in multiple categories, but the real prize was the undeniable chemistry that had brought you to this moment.

You walked the red carpet together, your hands entwined, each step a declaration of you and Jay's love. The flash of cameras and the screams of fans only served to amplify the thrill that was already coursing through your veins.

As you took your seats in the grand auditorium, your eyes never left each other's. The air was charged with anticipation, a heady mix of nerves and excitement. When the show's name was called out for Best Series, the room erupted in applause. Jay turned to you, a proud smile playing on his lips, and you felt your heart swell with joy. Both of you had done it; You two had conquered the industry together.

The after-party was a whirlwind of congratulations and celebrations. The producer, director, and cast mingled with the entertainment world, all eager to congratulate the couple who had brought their show to life. Jay's hand remained firmly in yours as you both navigated through the throngs of people, the warmth of his touch grounding you amidst the chaos.

The series creator, a charismatic woman with a sharp wit, pulled Jay and you, her eyes shimmering with pride. "You two," she said, raising her glass, "are the reason we're here tonight. Your chemistry is what made this show unforgettable." She leaned closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper.

"A toast to our new couple and the win of our series!" She shouted.

The glasses clinked, the sound echoing through the buzzing room.

As the party raged on, you and Jay found yourselves in a quiet corner, the music a distant throb in your ears.

Jay leaned in, his eyes dark with desire. "I can't wait to celebrate properly," he murmured.

Jay held you by your hand dragging you into a suite of the hotel where the party was organised. You two slipped away, hand in hand, leaving the festivities behind.

As you entered the bedroom, he kissed you the lips. The kiss was a declaration, a promise of the passion he had been holding back for so long.

Jay pulled you closer, his hands sliding around your waist, and you could feel the heat of his skin through her dress. He had waited for this moment, and now that it was here, it was like the dam had broken.

Your kisses grew more urgent, each one a declaration of love that had been held back for too long. He slipped the dress off your shoulders, revealing the softness of her skin beneath. You unbuttoned his shirt, your fingertips tracing the contours of his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your palm.

The suite was a luxurious retreat from the cacophony of the party. The lights were low, casting shadows that danced on the walls, setting a stage for your private celebration.

Jay's hands were gentle but firm as he guided you to the bed, your eyes never breaking contact. You felt a rush of desire as he kissed your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Your fingers threaded through his hair as he trailed kisses down your collarbone, each one setting your body alight.

He paused, his gaze locking onto yours. "Are you sure about this?" Her response was a fiery kiss that left no room for doubt. "Yes. More than anything," you murmured against his lips.

His touch was electric, setting every inch of you on fire. Your hands explored his body, tracing the lines of muscle that had been honed by years of martial arts training, feeling the power and strength that had made him a star.

Your kisses grew deeper, more demanding, as sought to claim each other fully. He kissed you with a hunger that you had never felt before. His hands roamed over your curves, memorizing every inch of your body, as if he was afraid that if he didn't, you would vanish.

He took his time, exploring your body with a reverence that made you feel worshipped. His fingers danced along your thighs, his lips leaving a trail of fire wherever they went. You squirmed beneath him, desperate for more, and he chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Patience," he whispered, his voice a promise.

With a final, lingering kiss, he slid down your body, his eyes never leaving yours. He parted your legs gently, his gaze filled with a hunger that made your core clench with anticipation. His tongue darted out, tracing a wet line along your folds, and you gasped.

His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he feasted on you, his every movement calculated to drive you wild.

Your nails dug into the bedspread as he found your clit, circling it with agonizing precision. He watched your reactions, studying you like a map, learning the landscape of your pleasure. Your breath grew ragged, your hips moving in time with his ministrations.

The pressure built inside you, a crescendo that threatened to shatter you into a million pieces. And when he finally slid a finger inside you, you did just that, coming apart in his arms with a cry that was equal parts relief and ecstasy.

He un-buckled his belt as slid down his pants.He kissed his way back up your body, their eyes locking as he positioned himself above you.

You could feel the tip of him against you, the heat of him making you wetter, your body begging for more. He took a moment, savoring the connection, before he pushed inside you with a groan that seemed to come from his very soul. You were tight, so tight, and the sensation was overwhelming.

Your walls clamped around him as he filled you, the feeling so intense it was almost painful. But it was a good pain, a pain that made him feel alive in a way he never had before. He began to move, his hips rocking into yours in a rhythm that seemed as natural as breathing. You met each of his thrusts with a moan, your nails digging into his back as you held on for dear life.

He watched your face as he moved inside you, the way your eyes fluttered closed and your mouth parted in pleasure. He knew he was your first, and the thought made him even more determined to make this moment unforgettable.

He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, his voice a mix of passion and reverence. You responded with soft gasps and whimpers, your body moving in sync with his.

Your rhythm grew faster, more intense, as the room filled with the sound of your muffled cries and the slick wetness of your passion. He felt you tighten around him, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. He knew you were close, and he was determined to take you there. His strokes grew more deliberate, his focus solely on your pleasure.

With a final, desperate moan, you came, your body convulsing around him. He groaned, the feeling of your climax sending him over the edge. He buried himself inside you, his release hot and deep, as he claimed you fully. Both of you clung to each other, breaths mingling in the stillness that followed, your hearts hammering in a frantic symphony of love.

Your bodies remained connected, neither willing to break the intimate bond that had just formed. The room was filled with the scent of your love, a potent mix of sweat and desire. Jay kissed your forehead, his chest heaving with each breath. "I love you," he murmured, the words a solemn vow.

His eyes searched your, the intensity of your union reflected in your depths. "I love you too," you whispered back, your voice a soft caress against his skin. Both of you lay there, basking in the afterglow.

Taglist:-

@slutofpsh , @laurenalpha123 , @dreamiestay , @amortenha , @peonywon , @mitmit01 , @heeevangelizesme , @gvni-eve ,@yourmomni , @leov3rse , @punchbug9-blog

[chleem]

Flashing Lights #3

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping, (read at own caution

⋆.˚ please dont copy /translate my work

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ chapter2 | index | chapter4

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Early March 2024

Okay. Maybe Drew was a little attractive. 

Or was he always attractive? Or was it because you haven’t seen him in weeks, and you just forgot about how he looked like? Either way, the man sitting next to you in the car was not the same guy that you met with weeks ago. 

He cleaned himself up good, dressed in a nice white button up and jeans, styled his short hair a bit, and sunglasses that he was sponsored for. The watch adds a richer vibe to it, and several rings on his hand. 

Nah. It’s his outfit that makes him look so attractive right now. Definitely not how he looks. 

Worse of all, you were matching with him. Wearing a classy white dress with white heels, and accessories that you sponsored. You visibly cringe at your outfit choice, hating how well it went with his. 

But what bothered you more was your first public appearance with him, as a couple. A few weeks ago, the pictures of you two together on set was leaked out, and the company immediately confirmed that you two were currently dating. The comments online were mostly negative, with some wondering about the woman he ‘impregnated’ and wondering how you ended up with this guy. 

Now, you had to prove to the whole world that you like this guy, that you are in a committed relationship. This is harder than trying to act for dark films. But you had faith that you could wing it, just like how you always wing auditions and films. 

You reach for your purse, opening it and grabbing a pack of cigarettes. You get ready to smoke one, but he takes it out of your hands. “The fuck?” You curse, glaring at him. His sunglasses make it hard to read his expression, but he was chewing gum, with no smile apparent. “Give it back.”

“No; you’ll smell,” he says. 

You roll your eyes. Well, you needed something to calm your nerves down, so you just grab another one. But Drew grabs both the cigarette and the pack out of your hands, and out of your reach. “Hey!” You yell, reaching for it. “Give it back! Seriously.”

“And I’m being serious too,” he replies, before throwing it to the back trunk. 

You gasp at the audacity, anger running through your veins right now. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I needed that!”

He reaches into his pocket, before grabbing a pack of gum out. “Eat this instead. It’s better and doesn’t smell.”

“You think I’m a fucking idiot? I’m not eating that.”

“It’s all I got,” Drew shrugs. “You want or not?”

You glance behind him at the window, and see the thousands of fans outside, all here to watch the Bahrain Grand Prix. Multiple paparazzi are also pulling up. 

Fuck it. You take the pack from his hands, and eat three at a time. The gum is lemon flavored, and minty too. Somehow, it does relax you. You chew on it, focusing on the minty scent of it instead of how much people were outside. 

“Thanks would be nice,” he murmurs, but you heard him. 

“Hey, you threw my shit back there. You owe me,” you say, slapping the bag of gum against his chest. 

Then, the car comes to a stop, and the driver turns around. “We’ve arrived.” You look outside at the entrance of the F1 paddock, a few paparazzi already standing there.  

The bodyguard at the entrance hurries out, and opens the door at Drew’s side. 

He steps out, and stands in front of you. His hand reaches out for you, and you take it reluctantly, knowing that many people are staring. Flashes go off, and you adjust your dress with Drew’s body big enough to cover. 

“Good?” He asks, and you nod. He lets go of your hand after, walking ahead of you. 

Do tall people genuinely walk faster? Plus, why isn’t he holding your hand or walking beside you? The both of you have an image to sell, and thirty seconds in, he’s not selling anything. 

You slightly run to catch up, and when you do, you lock your hands with his. 

He stops and looks back at you, and you just give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hand is warm, big, and also, very stiff. Has he never held hands with anyone before? “Hey, you’re my boyfriend. Did you forget that?” You tug him down to whisper in his ear. 

His red ear doesn’t go unnoticed, and his grip on you tightens. “Right.”

You pat his shoulder away, and walk towards the gate. Paparazzi aren’t allowed in the paddock, so once the staff gives you your passes, you hurry in. But even in the paddock, you attract attention. Cameras turn over to the both of you, and fans glance over. 

You ignore them, just chewing on your gum. You feel very tempted when you pass by the smoking area, but get reminded by your pack of cigarettes disregarded in the back truck. 

Eventually, some photographer comes up to the both of you. You obviously want to keep walking, but Drew stops to listen to what he has to say. “Y/n, a photo for Vogue magazine?”

You open your mouth to say no, but Drew answers instead. “Sure.”

You mentally roll your eyes, smiling for the camera. But the photographer frowns at the man beside you. “Sorry, just Y/n.”

Drew nods, wanting to let go of your hand but you pull him closer. “No; my man stays in the picture,” you confidently say, to which the photographer just nods. You smile for the camera, and the flash goes off. The photographer thanks the both of you, and walks off. 

“What was that for?” Drew asks you as you two continue walking down the paddock. You can feel his eyes on the side of your face as the two of you walk hand in hand. 

But you turn to face him, wanting to see his blue eyes but his sunglasses cover them. “Don’t do that shit ever again. I hate it,” you say instead. 

“Do what?”

“Responding to randoms. I don’t like that, okay?”

“Why not?” 

Can’t he respond properly? What’s with the questions. “None of your fucking business. Just, just don’t answer anyone, or even acknowledge them.”

“Well that’s just rude.”

“And you’re the nicest person alive?” You snicker, once you reach the VIP building, that leads to the observatory and bar upstairs. “Trust me. Your rookie ass has no idea.”

“‘Rookie ass’?” Drew mocks, once you’re in the building. He presses the elevator button, and takes off his sunglasses, hanging them by his button up. “I debuted ten years ago.”

“Not the fucking point,” you say, and see that no reporters or paparazzi were around. You immediately drop his hand and cross your arms, looking away. “And I only did that to sell this stunt.”

The elevator door opens, and you step in quickly, Drew following in. He presses the third floor, the door closing. 

You don’t say a word in the elevator, part of you angry and annoyed. The door opens, and you hurry in. The staff asks for your names, and you give it to her. You ignore the spark in her eyes as she sees the two of you walking together, and leads you to your seats. 

There was a bar area with seats around them, dining tables, and an outdoor balcony area that gave a perfect view of the racetrack and garages. She leads you to the dining area, but Drew buts in. “Could we sit outside?”

You raise an eyebrow at Drew wondering what he's thinking of, and he just ignores your look. “of course,” the staff smiles, taking you to the balcony. 

The two of you sit across each other once you get to your table, and the staff leaves to give you some time to look through the menu. You don’t; instead, you pull your phone out and start scrolling on it. 

Drew, however, looks through the menu and keeps looking around down at the racetrack. Drivers getting ready, and staff rolling the gear out. You’ve been at these races for countless of times, so you’ve gotten used to what goes on here. But Drew? This is definitely his first time here. You chuckle at his widened eyes, as if widening his eyes could get him a better view of downstairs. 

“What?” He turns to you, his expression mean. 

“So obvious that you’ve never been here,” you chuckle.

“And it’s funny?”

“Yes. I’m sober as shit right now, so anything might as well trigger me,” you give him a fake smile, signaling the staff over. She hurries over, and asks for what you would like. “Um, give me five cups of your strongest alcohol drink.”

She nods, and looks over at Drew. “Uh, two lobster and bison ribeyes, and one red wine.”

“Will be right up,” the staff chirps, walking off.

“Two? What, you got a family of four living in there?”

“No; one’s for you,” Drew says. “It would be weird if you didn’t eat and just drank.”

“No one cares,” you say, crossing your arms. 

“I do; can’t have people saying I’m dating an alcoholic.”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you argue, feeling offended. Yeah you drink, but only because it calms your nerves down. And who is he to judge? He ordered a drink too.

“Really? So people normally wake up and drink what, four five bottles of whiskey? People show up to places smelling like they lived in a basement all their lives? You’re a fucking alcoholic, Y/n,” Drew confronts you. 

You scoff, brushing your hair off your shoulder. “Hey, you’ve only met me for three times. Those three times you just happen to bump into a drunk me. So, don’t accuse people of what they aren’t.”

“The first time we met and you called me a cunt.”

“Because that’s who you are,” you say. “you’re a cunt, and I’m not an alcoholic.”

Drew pokes his tongue against his cheek; your argument sucks. 

“Why are you denying your drinking problem, Y/n? And it’s not just you, but the whole industry. You sure they don’t know a single thing? The people you worked with?”

You look away. Why was he lecturing you right now? Its annoying and it’s getting on your nerves. The last thing you needed was a stranger telling you how to live your life. And while he goes to say something else, you snap at him. “Hey! I didn’t sign up for therapy here. Shut the fuck up. No one knows, okay? Plus, the whole industry knows I’ve been through worse.”

You don’t elaborate; but you’re ninety percent sure he knows. The hell, everyone in this whole world knows. 

The drinks arrive, five pink drinks that you’re sure is yours, and Drew’s red wine. 

You spit the gum into a tissue, then immediately gulping down the first one. You’ve gotten used to the burning feeling that alcohol has, so it was like drinking water. Drew just watches you with his blue eyes, slowly sipping his drink. 

You look over at the paddock. The race is starting, five red lights showing. “Its starting,” you comment to Drew, and he puts his drink down, walking over and leaning against the railing. You look at him with amusement, how he’s watching the race with anticipation. 

You gulp down your second drink, and relax, letting the alcohol slowly take over you. After a few minutes, you feel a bit tipsy, but you get up, standing next to him. “Who do you think will win?” You ask, the alcohol getting you friendly. 

“Max,” Drew replies, looking at the big screen across. “You?”

“Sainz,” you say, since he is your favorite driver and driving the car of the brand you ambassador for. 

“Do you even watch the sport?” He teases, his eyes on the racetrack.

You cross your arms, looking at his side profile, “Ferrari never disappoints.”

“So does Max.”

“Its a new season; anyone can win.”

“Not if you’re in Ferrari.”

“Then let’s bet on it.”

He stays silent, still staring at the racetrack.

“Didn’t take you as a gambler as well,” he says after a few seconds. 

“Well, are you scared to lose?” You tease, shrugging your shoulders. 

Drew turns and looks at you amused, his blue eyes staring deeply into yours. Gosh, why does he have to have the most gorgeous shade of blue to be his eye color? He shrugs too, smirking. “No; just scared that you’ll turn into a vicious bitch when you lose.”

You roll your eyes, before looking around for something to bet on. But your eyes land on his phone on the table. Then, you thought of an idea. “Loser, has to post a picture on their instagram of the winner. Caption and photo of the winner’s choice.”

Drew’s eyes widen, but he nods, holding his hand out. You take it, and you shake on it. You walk over and drown the third drink down your throat. The alcohol was definitely working, because you feel friendlier next to Drew. See? Alcohol does help one’s mental, and in your case, it makes you an entirely different person. One that’s nice and less moody. Of course, Drew notices it. But he doesn’t comment on it, knowing sober you would bash at him like crazy. 

You spot his phone, and you hand it over to him. “Since you’re going to lose, why don’t you take some pictures of me?”

Drew raises an eyebrow at you in amusement, taking the phone. You just smile at him, leaning against the railing, getting some poses ready. Drew reluctantly walks across from you, and does the craziest pose in order to get a photo of you. It actually causes you to laugh, and you cover it with your mouth. 

And that gets Drew smiling too. Feeling tipsy, you definitely thought you were seeing things. You calm yourself down, continuing to serve face for the photos he’s taking right now. 

Aw. The image of a perfect couple? Completely sold.

——

The internet goes crazy once again.

First was Drew’s visit to your set. Second was the confirmation of the relationship. Third? The hard launch that you posted. 

A picture of Drew, who’s hugging you from the back, his arms wrapped around your neck. His face is pressed besides yours, and he’s making the most lovestruck face to the camera. And so are you. Well, with the help of alcohol, you’re smiling as if Drew’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. 

With the caption, “Mine.”

Drew smiles proudly while staring at the instagram post, your first post in five years. He glances over at you in the car, only to see that you’ve fallen asleep, your head resting against the window. He reaches over and carefully moves your head to lay on his shoulder, thinking it would be more comfortable. 

You’re deep in sleep that you don’t even care, and Drew just stiffens his posture, to make sure even his smallest movements won’t wake you up. 

While you sleep, Drew just continues to stare at the photos he took of you today, an unexpected smile on his face. Which was just weird, so fucking weird. 

-------------------------------

word count: 2.5k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: does the ending look familiar? 😚 hoped you enjoyed the first date with Drew! i saw new photos of him at loewe he looked tooooo good. edited till late last night bc i was so excited for you guys to read this one!

elevator | other | index | ch2 | ch4

[kittenan2]

This Could Be Us

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader Tone: Chaotic comedy, emotional undercurrent, smut-heavy, revenge-flavored Genre: Smut, Humor, fluff, drama, rom-com, Arranged Marriage AU, Enemies-to-Lovers, Pining Idiot Taehyung Rating: Explicit (18+), Minors DNI Word Count: ~5k

The living room smells like jasmine tea and misplaced optimism. Your parents have gone all out—freshly pressed hanboks, a tray of dainty rice cakes, and a nervous energy that could power a small city. Across from you, Taehyung’s parents sit, all smiles and practiced elegance, chatting about family traditions and “what a lovely match” this could be. They’re old friends with your parents, their bond forged over decades of shared vacations, business deals, and late-night soju sessions. This marriage proposal isn’t just a whim—it’s their dream of uniting their families, a plan they’ve whispered about since you and Taehyung were kids chasing each other around their summer villa. You’re in a soft pink hanbok, hair pinned neatly, legs crossed so tightly your knees might fuse together. You’re the picture of demure perfection, or so your mother insists.

Then he walks in.

Kim Taehyung. Late, naturally, because why would he respect anyone’s time? He’s wearing a tailored blazer, dark jeans, and sunglasses—sunglasses, indoors, like he’s auditioning for a K-drama villain. He’s holding an iced Americano, the condensation dripping onto your mother’s pristine rug. He doesn’t sit. He just stands there, leans against the wall, and gives you a once-over that lasts all of five seconds.

“Sorry,” he says, voice flat as a pancake. “She’s not my type.”

The room freezes. His mother gasps like she’s been personally attacked. Your father coughs into his tea. Your mother’s smile cracks like cheap porcelain. You? You’re staring at him, jaw slack, because what the actual hell, Kim Taehyung?

His father stammers, “Taehyung-ah, you can’t just—”

“I said what I said,” Taehyung cuts in, shrugging. He takes a loud sip of his Americano, turns, and struts out like he didn’t just detonate a social bomb.

Your cheeks burn. Humiliation claws at your chest. Not his type? You’re not vain, but you know you’re cute—big eyes, soft lips, a smile that’s gotten you free coffee more than once. And this art-boy wannabe with his pretentious coffee and designer sunglasses just dismissed you like you’re a clearance-rack sweater?

Oh, he’s going to regret this.

You’re Y/N, but to the world, you’re VixenVows, the bestselling author of steamy erotic novels that make readers blush and clutch their Kindles. Your latest, Thighs and Lies, sold out faster than a boyband reunion tour. Taehyung’s rejection stings, but you channel it into something deliciously chaotic. Revenge is a dish best served with words.

It takes ten minutes to find his Instagram. Aesthetic posts of strawberry fields, shirtless gym selfies, captions like “Chasing strawberry skies 🍓.” Poetic gym bro energy. Then you spot it: his alt account, @TaeberryVibes, and oh ho ho, jackpot, liking every single one of your book announcements. You cross-reference the accounts. Same vibe, same strawberries. It’s him. He’s been reading your books for years, obsessed with VixenVows, but he has no idea you’re the same Y/N he just rejected. This man is obsessed with steamy novels. Specifically, your steamy novels. He’s left reviews like, “Page 147 had me questioning my life choices. 10/10, need a cold shower.” He’s even got a highlight reel of your book quotes, the filthiest ones.

You lean back, smirking. Kim Taehyung, you basic bitch, you thought I was too innocent? You, who jerks off to my words every night? Game on.

Your grin is feral. You open your laptop and write a 1,000-word smut POV fic, starring you and Taehyung, dripping with filth and defiance. You write:

His hands pinned my wrists above my head, the kitchen counter cold against my back. He tasted like strawberries and ego, lips grazing my throat as he growled, “Beg for it.” So I did, voice dripping with honey and defiance, “Make me.” His fingers slid down my thigh, teasing the edge of my lace panties, and I arched into him, whispering, “You’re not ready for me, Taehyung.”

You paste it into his DMs, signing it VixenVows (aka Y/N), with the caption: “This could be us, but you don’t want to marry me. Poor you. 😘”

Send.

Taehyung’s at a café, sipping a strawberry shake, exuding his usual dominant aura—legs spread, phone propped casually, like he owns the place. His phone pings, and he opens Instagram, expecting a meme from Jimin. Instead, it’s you. The first line of your message hits like a sucker punch. He chokes, strawberry shake spraying across the table. His eyes widen as he scrolls through paragraphs of pure, unfiltered sin. Then he sees it: VixenVows (aka Y/N).

His brain short-circuits. You’re her. The innocent girl in the pastel hanbok, the one he dismissed as too soft, is the author whose books he’s devoured in secret, jerking off to her words under the covers. You’re not soft—you’re a fucking wildfire. And you just called him out.

He re-reads the fic, adjusting his pants, cheeks burning. The barista glares as he coughs again. He’s supposed to be dominant, in control, but your words have him unraveling. He types, deletes, types again. Finally:

“…Chapter 2?”

He hits send, heart pounding, knowing he’s in way over his head.

Your book signing is a circus, the bookstore packed with fans screaming for VixenVows. You’re in your element—red lipstick, leather skirt, all sharp wit and confidence. Then you see him. Taehyung, in a black turtleneck and glasses, clutching a copy of Thighs and Lies like it’s his lifeline. He’s trying to play it cool, exuding that dominant energy he thinks defines him. He’s failing miserably. You rarely organize book signing events, only for most selling novels, and it's his first time at this event.

You lock eyes, and his facade cracks. You beckon him forward, the crowd parting. He shuffles up, book extended, muttering, “Big fan.”

“Oh, I know, Mr. Not My Type” you purr, signing his copy with a flourish. You lean closer, voice low. “He pushed me against the counter, tasting like strawberries and ego. Recognize that?”

His glasses fog up. He stammers, “I—I didn’t know it was you. You looked so… innocent.”

You laugh, sharp and wicked. “You thought I wasn’t your type? Baby, I’m everybody’s type.”

An hour later, you’re in the bookstore’s back office, door locked, air thick with tension. He’s pacing, running a hand through his hair, trying to reclaim his dominant edge. “You’re VixenVows,” he says. “You’re too… big for someone like me.”

You step closer, smirking. “You’re an idiot.”

He grabs your waist, pulling you against him, his voice low and rough. “A pining idiot,” he corrects, lips crashing into yours. It’s messy, desperate, all teeth and strawberry chapstick. You straddle him on a chair, skirt riding up, his hands gripping your hips like you’re his anchor.

“Still think I’m too innocent?” you tease, grinding against him.

He groans, head tipping back. “Shut up and ride my face, author-nim.”

You don’t. Not yet. Instead, you slide off, grab a pen, and edit a printed copy of your fic on the desk. “Your grammar’s shit in my DMs,” you say, smirking. He laughs, then yanks you back, kissing you until you’re breathless.

That night, your phone pings. It’s him: Okay, you win. That was… wow. Can we talk?

You grin, typing back: Talk? Baby, I’m just getting started.

He’s hooked. He starts flirting. You play along. “Love your reviews,” you write. “Especially the one about page 147. Sounded personal.” He sends a string of flustered emojis.

His parents, oblivious to the chaos, arrange an “apology dinner” to smooth things over. You show up in a black dress that hugs every curve, neckline plunging just enough to make a statement. Taehyung’s in a white shirt, sleeves rolled up, looking like he stepped out of a cologne ad. He takes one look at you and chokes on his water.

You sit across from him, smirking. “Something wrong, Taehyung-ssi?”

He coughs, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “You, uh… look different.”

“Oh?” You lean forward, letting a strap slip off your shoulder. “Not too innocent for you now?”

His eyes lock on your bare shoulder, then snap to your face. He’s sweating. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

You sip your wine, slow and deliberate. “Baby, you haven’t seen what I can do on purpose yet.”

Dinner is a disaster. He can’t stop staring at your legs. You quote a line in his ears from Thighs and Lies: “His fingers traced her thigh, teasing the edge of her lace, promising ruin.” Taehyung spills his water again. His mother thinks he’s having a stroke.

Days later, he is back at your bookstore. The bookstore office is a cramped, overheated cocoon, the air thick with the scent of old paper, your jasmine perfume, and the faint sweetness of strawberries. The desk is a mess—scattered manuscripts, a half-eaten strawberry rolling precariously near the edge, and your book merch scarf, black silk with VixenVows in gold lettering, now tied tightly around your eyes as a blindfold. The silk is cool against your flushed skin, amplifying every sound, every touch, every breath. Your skirt is bunched around your waist, panties long gone, and you’re perched on the desk’s edge, thighs spread, heart pounding as Taehyung’s presence looms before you.

He’s on his knees, his rough hands gripping your hips, fingers digging into your flesh with a possessiveness that makes you shiver. His breath is hot against your inner thigh, teasingly close to where you’re already aching. “You wrote about this,” he growls, voice low and gravelly, his dominant facade cracking with raw need. “This exact fucking moment. You put me on my knees, Y/N, and now I’m gonna make you regret it.”

He drags a halved strawberry across your thigh, the juice dripping in a slow, sticky trail that feels like a brand against your skin. You gasp, the sensation sharp and cool, your body arching instinctively. His tongue follows, licking the juice with agonizing precision, each stroke deliberate, his lips brushing so close to your core you can feel the heat of his breath. “‘He tasted like strawberries and ego,’” he quotes, voice muffled against your skin, “‘unraveling me with every flick of his tongue.’ Fuck, you’re a genius, but I’m about to outdo your words.”

His oral fixation is a goddamn revelation. He doesn’t just lick—he devours, lips closing around the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. The strawberry’s juice mixes with his saliva, slick and sweet, and you’re trembling, fingers clutching the desk so tightly your knuckles ache. He teases higher, tongue tracing the crease where your thigh meets your core, and you whimper, hips bucking despite yourself.

“Taehyung,” you breathe, voice shaky, “stop fucking teasing.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin, low and wicked. “Teasing’s my favorite part, author-nim. You wrote me like this—cocky, in control. Let’s see how long you last.” His fingers slide up, rough calluses grazing your hips as he hooks your legs over his shoulders, spreading you wider. You’re exposed, vulnerable, the blindfold making every touch a thousand times more intense. He blows a cool breath against your clit, and you jolt, a desperate sound escaping your throat.

“Beg for it,” he demands, echoing your fic, his voice a mix of command and desperation. He thinks he’s in charge, but you hear the tremor, the way he’s unraveling just as much as you are.

You laugh, defiant even as your body betrays you. “Make me.”

He growls, primal and feral, and then his mouth is on you, no more games. His tongue flattens against your core, licking a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, and you cry out, the sound echoing in the tiny office. He’s relentless, alternating between soft, teasing flicks and deep, hungry strokes, his lips wrapping around your clit with a suction that makes your toes curl. His oral fixation is obscene—every lick, every suck, every nip calculated to drive you insane. He’s quoting your fic again, murmuring against your skin, “‘He unraveled me, tongue painting stories I’d never write.’ You’re gonna write this, Y/N. You’re gonna write how I fucking wrecked you.”

Your hands find his hair, tugging hard, and he moans, the vibration sending a fresh wave of pleasure through you. “Fuck, you taste better than I imagined,” he groans, pulling back just enough to squeeze another strawberry, letting the juice drip onto your folds. The cool liquid makes you gasp, but then his tongue is there, licking it up, mixing sweetness with your own heat. He’s messy, unhinged, lips and chin slick as he buries his face deeper, like he’s starving for you.

“You’re so wet,” he says, voice dripping with smug pride. “Didn’t even need the strawberry to make you drip like this.” His fingers join in, two sliding inside you with ease, curling against that spot that makes your vision white out behind the blindfold. “Tight as fuck,” he mutters, pumping slowly, stretching you as his tongue flicks your clit in perfect rhythm. “You wrote about me fucking you on a counter. This desk is gonna have to do.”

You’re a writhing mess, thighs trembling, blindfold amplifying every sensation—his rough fingers pumping, his lips sucking, the sticky strawberry juice he keeps dripping onto you just to lick it off. You’re begging now, despite your earlier defiance, words spilling out in a desperate chant. “Tae, please—fuck, I need more, need you—”

He stands abruptly, and you whimper at the loss, but then his lips crash into yours, the kiss filthy and urgent, all tongue and teeth. You taste yourself, the strawberries, his ego, and it’s intoxicating. His hands yank your shirt up, shoving your bra down to expose your breasts. His mouth latches onto a nipple, sucking hard, teeth grazing just enough to make you hiss. “You’re gonna come on my tongue first,” he says, voice rough, “then I’m fucking you until you can’t walk.”

He drops back to his knees, and you’re done for. His tongue is a weapon, circling your clit with precision, his fingers curling faster, harder, hitting that spot with every thrust. He adds a third finger, the stretch making you gasp, and when he sucks your clit hard, you shatter. Your orgasm crashes through you, thighs clamping around his head, hands clawing at his hair as you scream his name, loud enough to rattle the office walls. The bookstore’s music is no match for you, and you’re vaguely aware that the staff probably heard everything.

He doesn’t stop, licking you through the aftershocks until you’re oversensitive, pushing at his shoulders. “Tae, fuck, enough—”

“Not enough,” he growls, standing, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His glasses are fogged, hair a mess, and he’s already unzipping his pants, rolling on a condom with practiced ease. You’re still catching your breath when he grabs your hips, pulling you off the desk and spinning you around. “Hands on the desk,” he orders, and you obey, still blindfolded, ass up, legs shaking.

He doesn’t make you wait. He slides into you in one smooth thrust, thick and deep, filling you so perfectly you both groan. “Fuck, Y/N,” he gasps, hands gripping your hips so hard you’ll bruise. “You feel—fuck, so good.” You push back against him, meeting his thrusts, and he curses, his dominant facade crumbling as he loses himself in you.

You grab his phone, still open to your fic, where he was adding his own imagination. You start editing, smirking even as he fucks you senseless. “Comma here,” you say, voice breathy, rolling your hips to take him deeper.

“Fuck your commas,” he snaps, but he’s grinning, thrusting harder, the desk creaking under you. You whisper lines from your fic, voice dripping with filth: “‘He fucked me like he was rewriting my story, every thrust a new chapter.’” He groans, one hand sliding up to pinch your nipple, the other gripping your ass as he pounds into you.

“Say it,” he demands, voice hoarse. “Say you’re mine.”

You laugh, defiant even now. “Make me.”

He does. He reaches around, fingers circling your clit with the same precision as his tongue, and you’re gone again, your second orgasm hitting harder than the first, your walls clenching around him. He follows, thrusting deep, groaning your name like a prayer as he comes, his hands shaking on your hips.

You’re sprawled on the table, dress ruined, lips swollen. Taehyung’s beside you, hair a mess, shirt half-unbuttoned. “Marry me,” he says, breathless.

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t act shy now.” He grins, lazy and sated. “You broke me. You win. I want to wake up next to my favorite writer every morning.”

You cackle, shoving him. “We’ll see if you survive Chapter 24 first.”

He pulls you close, kissing your forehead. “Deal.”

“No more fiction,” he says, stepping closer, voice low enough that only you can hear. “I want the real thing. Marry me. Then destroy me, slowly, every night for the rest of my life.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Only if you say ‘I do’ in bed first.”

He grins, that cocky, dominant edge creeping back. “Deal.”

The next few weeks are a whirlwind of awkward small talk, your mom and Mrs. Kim debating color schemes (pastel pink or ivory?) while Mr. Kim grills Taehyung about his art career and “when he’s going to settle down properly.” You and Taehyung keep stealing glances, your foot brushing his under the table, his hand grazing your thigh when no one’s looking. The tension is electric, your body still buzzing from the bookstore office, his touch a promise of more. When your parents start discussing guest lists, Taehyung leans over, whispering, “I’m gonna fuck you in that pink hanbok later,” and you nearly choke on your tea.

The door barely closes behind the both of your parents—going market for wedding preparation—before Taehyung’s on you, backing you against the wall. His lips crash into yours, hungry and desperate, tasting of the mint gum he was chewing to stay calm. “You’re trouble,” he murmurs, hands sliding under your sweatpants, fingers teasing the edge of your underwear. “Fucking lethal.”

You laugh, tugging his hair. “You love it.”

He lifts you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you to the couch. The hanbok fantasy doesn’t happen—yet—but he’s already pulling your sweatpants off, kissing down your neck, muttering, “I’ve been hard since you opened the door looking like a hot mess.” You’re both laughing, then moaning, as he makes good on his promise, fucking you slow and deep, whispering filthy praise about how you’re his favorite author, his favorite everything. The living room smells like jasmine tea and sex by the time you’re done.

The wedding planning is chaos—strawberry-themed cocktails, your mom insisting on a five-tier cake with edible flowers, Taehyung’s parents pushing for a traditional hanbok ceremony to honor their friendship with your family. Your fans catch wind of the engagement when you post a cryptic Instagram story: a strawberry with the caption “He said yes 🍓.” Twitter explodes, theories flying that Taehyung’s your muse. You neither confirm nor deny, but when Strawberry Mistakes drops, a novel dripping with scenes inspired by your own story, it breaks sales records. Taehyung reads it to you in bed, his voice husky, pausing to reenact your favorite parts until you’re both a sweaty, satisfied mess.

Years later, you’re married, sprawled on a plush velvet couch in Taehyung’s apartment—now yours too. The walls are a chaotic gallery of your worlds: your books, spines worn from his constant rereading, sit beside his vibrant paintings, abstract strawberries and soft pinks blending into raw, emotional strokes. You’re editing your next novel, laptop balanced on your thighs, red pen tucked behind your ear, while Taehyung kneels between your legs, painting strawberries on your skin with a fine-tipped brush. The edible paint is sweet, sticky, and he takes his time, dragging the brush in slow, teasing strokes across your inner thigh, then up to your navel, drawing a heart that makes you roll your eyes.

“Still think I’m too innocent?” you tease, tapping your pen against the laptop, smirking as you catch him staring at the curve of your hips.

He laughs, low and warm, licking a stripe of paint off your thigh, his tongue deliberate and teasing. “Innocent? You’re a fucking menace, Mrs. Kim.” He pauses, dipping the brush in more paint, tracing a spiral around your hipbone. “And I’m obsessed. Always have been. Your books, your mouth, this—” He presses a kiss to the painted heart, then bites gently, making you gasp. “I’m fucked for anyone else.”

You set the laptop aside, pulling him up for a kiss. It’s slow, deep, tasting of strawberries and forever. His hands slide under your shirt, rough and warm, tugging it off so he can paint more, his brush dancing across your collarbone, spelling out Vixen in delicate strokes. “You’re my everything,” he murmurs, kissing the word, his lips soft but his eyes dark with that dominant edge you love. “Every painting, every fucking thought—it’s you.”

The world outside doesn’t exist—just you, him, and the life you’ve built. Your novels keep breaking records, your fans screaming at every signing, especially when Taehyung shows up, looking at you like you hung the moon. He’s your partner, your critic, your favorite reader—especially when he’s reading your smut aloud, his voice husky, pausing to add his own filthy commentary. “This part,” he’ll say, flipping to a scene where the hero fucks the heroine against a window, “we’re doing this tonight. Non-negotiable.”

Later, you’re tangled in bed, sheets sticky with paint and sweat. He’s got Strawberry Mistakes in one hand, reading a particularly filthy passage—“He fucked her like she was his last breath, desperate and reverent, her moans a symphony he’d never tire of.”—while his other hand traces lazy circles on your back. “You wrote this about us,” he says, voice rough, tossing the book aside to pull you on top of him. “Let’s give your readers something new to scream about.”

You grin, straddling him, teasing him with a slow grind. “Only if you say ‘I love you’ first.”

He flips you onto your back, pinning your wrists, his lips brushing yours as he whispers, “I love you, you chaotic, brilliant, lethal woman.” The world fades to strawberry skies, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Taehyung’s now your biggest stan, posting your books with captions like, “My wife’s words will ruin you. Read at your own risk.”

His mom texts you: “I always knew you two were perfect together.”

You reply: “He took some convincing.”

Taehyung, reading over your shoulder, smirks. “Lies. You seduced me with literature.” You roll your eyes, but your heart’s full. Plot twist, baby—he’s all yours.

A/n: Thanks to my insta, which keeps dropping this weird POVs in my feed, forcing me turn them into whole dame oneshots. 😈

P.S.: I know so many reqquests are pending, I will work on them soon. Love y'all. 💜

Taglist: @the-djarin-clan . @jeonjamiekim . @moonjinniecafe  . @minpdrecs . @bontensbabygirl . @this-most-assuredly-counts . @taolucha . @mytaegiheart . @dear-mono . @lilyficrec . @janeluvwonuuuu . @k-fan-fics . @iztrouble . @pikajooni . @namluvili . @alonahh . @paradise172 . @stay-tiny-things . @micdropitlikeitshot . @softhaes . @littlebluhellfire . @niqueesthings . @nocturnalsingularity . @syudoeslove . @namjoonbaby17-blog . @mar-lo-pap . @naesarang07 . @diame93 . @themwordsblog . @crizoosblog

[staybabblingbaby]

Project: Stack The Deck CH. 1 (a3d1)

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Concept: Reader is a long-time trainee at JYP Entertainment, on the verge of being dropped completely due to her age. In her first stroke of luck in ages, she's presented with an opportunity: JYPE is producing a brand new type of audition show - 9 lucky trainees will be 'interning' with 6 of JYPE's active groups for a year in hopes of forming the first ever mixed gender AND mixed subgender group in k-pop. The catch? The trainees are only interning with their exact opposite groups, in an effort to appease ongoing protests.

Or - Babble gives in and writes Omegaverse. But this time, there's ~lore~

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Word Count: 1,893

Notes: I started this instead of working on SG I'm so sorry ^^;; My brain just doesn't wanna take anything serious rn I've been having a Time lmao I have, perhaps, thought about an inordinate amount of lore for this ^^;; It's ok I just tried to apply logic to Omegaverse nbd. I never liked the 'inner wolf' rhetoric so this is my attempt to fix that while keeping the instinct drivel i adore lol. While also keeping a more human level of 'intinct'. Also this isn't very edited, so keep that in mind. Also also this is super slow-burn and focused on pack-bonds first, so while we may get to romance and maybe smut eventually, it won't be for a really very long time Heavily inspired by To The 9th Degree by azaluvx7 on Ao3.

Warnings: Mention of house-fire, discussion of medical misinformation that leads to protests (also mentioned)

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Masterlist | Next Part

Sitting across from the director is always a nerve wracking experience, no matter how many times I’ve experienced it.

Kim Jae-Hwa was a severe omegan woman with dark hair and a fair complexion. As the director of Training and Development at JYPE she held the future of all of JYPE’s unrealized talent in her hands.

That did, of course, include my own.

Having been picked up and dropped from several line-ups over the years, none of those groups having come to fruition at all, she was someone I’d seen probably more than I’d have liked to. Seeing her face always filled me with a potent mixture of hope and dread, something she was uniquely positioned to tip the scales of.

Today we were, oddly enough, sat in the company’s cafeteria instead of the director’s office or the conference room she favored. Seeing as how the last time I'd been in one of those rooms it’d been to have a very honest and pragmatic conversation with several of the older trainees about our future within the company and our options outside of it, I couldn’t be mad at the change of scenery.

Several of my classes had become one-on-one tutoring sessions after that conversation.

So yeah, sitting in front of her was always more than enough to make you break out into a cold sweat and send my scent spiking along with my thundering heartbeat beneath carefully-applied scent blockers, no matter how nice she was.

And she was nice, pushing a steaming coffee across the table to me, warm smile gentling her features. She cared about the trainees here, truly. It’s why she organized meeting like the one that chased away a majority of your remaining friends in the first place. Always looking out for us, whether we liked it or not.

“I heard you’ve been skipping a few classes lately, that’s not like you.” She says after a moment, allowing me to sip the warm comfort of the familiar beverage before her interrogation.

“Ah,” I flinch a bit, curling into myself, “I had to get another job. My apartment burned down recently, so it’s just been a bit hard to make everything work out.”

She knows this already, of course. All of my trainers were aware, as well as the manager who oversaw the older trainees. Well, older trainee, now, really. Reports about the trainees crossed her desk regularly, and since I was the only one in my class right now there weren’t many for my details to get lost between.

As expected, she just nods along, tilting her head at me, not surprised in the least.

“Where are you staying now, may I ask?”

I shrink further into myself at her query, embarrassment flooding me. “Just a hotel right now, director.” I admit, head low, “The building wasn’t really salvageable, and I haven’t been able to find anything I can afford near enough to the company yet.”

Jae-Hwa just nods her elegant head, not rendering judgment. In fact, as I glance up at the older woman, there’s something almost calculating in her eyes.

“Why didn’t you apply for the trainee dorms? It sounds like you qualify for them.”

Squirming uncomfortably in my seat, I cast around for a reasonable answer. It wasn’t like I could tell her that I was intimidated by a bunch of teenagers. I mean, in turn they were also intimidated by my seniority and sway with the more sympathetic trainers, but, well. A few bad apples could spoil a bunch, and I’d always been an easy target for bullies.

Even if they couldn’t hurt me physically or professionally, words often had a way of getting under skin. Especially from people I’d rather be able to mentor and pamper.

“The kids get a bit uncomfortable with me already,” I settle on, letting my shoulders shrug sheepishly, body pulled along by the half-truth, “I don’t want to make it worse by intruding on their space.”

Jae-Hwa simply hums, considering me. She probably knew this too, honestly. The truth of it, even. There wasn’t much that went on in the practice rooms that she didn’t know about.

There also wasn’t much she could do if I didn’t stand up for myself, so I just offer her a strained smile, silently begging for this conversation to move forward.

Stars above, if this was a new way of gently encouraging me to pursue other career paths it might have been the most effective one yet. Fleeing the building sounded great right about now.

“Alright, I won’t push it, you know very well what resources we offer by now. Better than some of my staff even, I’d bet.” She says it in a lighthearted tone, clearly only meant to tease, but hot shame rips through me again anyways.

Seven years was a long time to train, and while it did come with some perks (like knowing the training program than some of the managers), it still meant that I hadn’t been good enough to debut. That despite the extra experience and training, I still wasn’t good enough.

“I actually had something of a proposal for you,” the director continues, unbothered by my bowed head, “You may not have heard since you’ve been out lately, but the board has proposed a project in hopes of appeasing those protests that have been happening.”

I grimace at the mention of the ongoing protests, the loud chanting of the crowd in front of the building ringing in my ears at just the mention of them.

“The ones about co-ed groups?” I clarify, as if there are any others.

She shares a tight-lipped commiserating smile with me and nods, “Yes, those protests,” she sighs.

Honestly, the whole movement was stupid, in your opinion. On the surface it was progressive, inclusive even. After all, encouraging more co-ed groups could lead to a great many positive changes for idols. Less scrutiny on interactions between male and female idols, or alphas and omegas. More leeway with the very intense media attention, a chance to be more care-free when hanging out with their friends.

Hell, it could even be good for society at large, showing progressive ideals in a very visible way. That is, if the goal of the movement had been so pure or noble.

No, the current rhetoric was an archaic bunch of bologna ripped from an out of context statistic from a very old and very biased study about Pack dynamics and their impact on one’s health.

To brush past the bullshit and flowery words of concern, they believed that a pack needed at least one person of every sub-gender present to keep a balance of hormones and instincts and remain healthy.

Never mind that the same study claimed that omegas needed to be locked up in their dens and nests like birds in a cage or that betas were only really good for filling in negative space despite their very intensively studied and very important roles in a pack.

Unfortunately, despite making about as much sense as a flat-earther, one viral post had made it into k-pop circles and triggered a cascade of hysterically ‘worried’ fans, who really just wanted a chance to join the packs of their favorite celebrities.

It was common knowledge that many idol groups ended up as pack, especially those that enjoyed success. JYPE as a company very specifically encouraged this, boasting an incredible matchmaking record with 10 out of 11 of groups they’d tried this with becoming pack, a further 3 of those packs even being romantic.

The issue was that, in direct contrast with this nonsensical ideal, most idol groups comprised themselves of only one primary and two sub genders, due to the marketability and fanservice of it all. An alpha group would only have alphas and betas, and vice versa for omega groups.

Hence the very loud protests outside the building, mostly comprised of delusional fans baying for a chance to meet their idols for said idol’s ‘health’.

Normally the company wouldn’t cave to something like this, simply issuing statements of good health or waiting for it to blow over, but even I had heard of the large-scale boycotts and blackouts among various fandoms. Loss of profit or image was something the company could not, unfortunately, ignore.

Still, I frown at the director.

“Is it really a good idea to give into them?” I ask, worried, “Won’t they just get bolder, then?”

The director grimaces in agreement, but shrugs her shoulders, “Your guess is as good as mine, kid. In the end, it’s up to the investors.”

I give my own grimace at this. Despite actively wanting and trying to participate in the industry, I was old enough for the rose-tinted glasses to have come off. I could be disgusted by how the industry operated while still wanting to be a part of it. I’m talented that way.

“Just hear me out about it before we start picking it apart,” Jae-Hwa gently pleads, “This could be a good opportunity for you.” something heavy and sorrowful clouds her eyes, her voice lowering as she admits, “This could be the last opportunity I can get for you.”

My heart lodges in my throat at her words, nausea swirling in my gut.

Jae-Hwa really did care for her trainees. A bit too much, even. Enough to be blunt with us about our chances to debut. It had been a few years since she’d looked at me with bright eyes and a cheerful, “This could be it! You’ve got the talent, kid, we’ve just gotta show it to the world!”

She might take the older trainees aside to gently break their hearts, but she never forced them out. I was just the last one stupid enough to stay.

“You’re 23 this year, y/n.” She says gently, grimly, softly taking my hands into hers across the table, “I can’t protect you forever. There’s no telling when we’ll get to put together another girl group. You’ve got the talent, kid, but this might be your last chance to show it.”

She’s right, of course. 23 is old for a trainee. Hell, younger idols should be hitting the peak of their careers at 23. Even if I left JYPE, there’s only a very infinitesimal chance I’d be picked up by another agency. There’s an even smaller chance that theoretical company could debut me.

I swallow uneasily and tighten my grip on the director’s hands. I give her a tiny nod to continue, fighting off the urge to cry.

“They’re putting together a reality show,” Jae-Hwa begins to explain, holding my gaze, “Where they’re going to have our top trainees ‘intern’” she releases one hand to air-quote the word, her eyes rolling despite herself. It makes me giggle, and by her small smile, that was her goal, “with one of our active groups for the duration of a comeback.”

I tilt my head questioningly at her, “What does that have to do with the protests?” I ask. So far it seemed like just an innovative audition show to me.

the director’s eyes reveal her unease, even as her face stays resolute. “The trainees will be put in a pool for the groups to choose from.” She continues to explain, seemingly ignoring my question, “But,” She hesitates, “They’re only going to allow the groups to choose completely opposite- gender trainees.

[anundyingfidelity]

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part VIII)

Series summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 5.1k.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Warnings on this chapter: irresponsable parent, one suicide thought, nudity, implied bisexual reader, misoginist thoughts, Homelander (!!!!), SMUT, hate/rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, dirty talking, some degrading, slight choking, bitchy reader.

Notes: i might wrote more than intended here lmao but the smut is here finally you sinners, give this reader a trophy for the strongest bitch ever to resist soldier boy, well deserved!! hope you like it lol, and thanks for reading as always!!

this fic tags: @k-slla @syrma-sensei @mostlymarvelgirl @cheynovak @drasticemotions @soldirboy @deans-spinster-witch @girlsforpjm @artemys-ackles

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

get yourself in the taglist!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part VIII: Tamed

2009

"Baby, how was your audition today?" your mother asked once you entered the kitchen.

Your suit was long gone along with the great smile you put on before leaving early that day. But she was different. She was all honey and candy, putting on the happiest face ever. And you knew it wasn't because of you.

"I'm not doing that shit," you spit harshly. This was your way of delivering the news now.

Her eyes widened as she closed the distance between both. You looked down to your feet, not wanting to see her disgusting face. You felt her hands on your shoulders and your body tensed under her touch.

"Why?! This is your dream, honey! You have to do it!"

You quickly pulled away from her.

"No! Mom, you did this to me!" your voice came out loud and shouting. "I just wanted to be normal! But you always influenced me to do this and go after Vought, I don't fucking want that! Those supes are fucking assholes and everything around them is a damn lie!"

She was startled, you could tell that from the way her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as she placed her hand on top of her heart, pretending to be hurted. It was the first time you talked back to her like that.

Since you were a child, you did everything she asked you to. You never complained, never stood up for yourself. You didn't have a choice, nor an opinion that mattered. Your mother picked everything for you. Your clothes, your behavior, your food, your studies, your dreams... Today, you decided it was over. She was over controlling your life.

Your mother scoffed, a sly smile on her lips as she tried to touch your arm softly. Giving a step back, you shook your head saying 'no'. She sighed.

"Honey, this isn't you. And Vought, this is your dream. The Seven are your dream. Now, why don't you go back and-"

"I said no."

You cut off her stupid words with a straight voice. Her smile dropped in a second and you saw her eyes darkening.

"Y/N, this is not what your father wanted for you. We didn't raise you like this," she hissed through her teeth. 

"Don't talk about dad. You don't care about him, you never did. Fuck, you don't care about me!" you raised your voice, fighting the tears in your eyes and the knot on your throat.

You were so sick of being weak. She raised you to be like it. Soft, fragile, compassionate, cute, playing the dumb rich girl with no brain and forcing you to not show your intelligence to others... It was all a façade. It was easier for her to manipulate you if you pretended to be stupid. Since her pregnancy, all you were for her was a cashback. Your father already had an heir, and what could be better if that heir was also part of The Seven, the most powerful supes of the planet. Of course, Vought shares would be higher than ever and your mother would be even more disgustingly rich. And you would be giving everything away for free. It wasn't fair for your selfish mother to suck your life away like this. But in the end, she didn't care.

"I'm not staying here. I'm leaving," you continued, crossing your arms on your chest. "I want my part of dad's inheritance, and I'm gonna be a fucking doctor and show off my brain after decades of hiding it, I've had enough of you stopping me."

"No, no, baby, you can't do this to me–"

"If you don't, I'll sue you and expose you, Vought and Homelander on a fucking trial."

She scoffed. You could see the tears forming on her eyes, but you weren't sure if they were because of you leaving or because you were threatening her money.

"You won't do that. They'll kill you."

"I don't care, I already tried to kill myself. They'd be doing me a favor."

At your confession, her jaw clenched and she tightened her fists.

"Fucking brat. Someday, when you regret running away from me, don't come back. You're just a disappointment for me, ever since you were a stupid child. Everything you are is useless and worthless, and I regret ever putting you in my womb."

Your brows furrowed when she spilled those harsh words, and you fought the urge of hitting her until she passed out.

"Don't think I ever told you, but yeah, you weren't a natural conceive. Yeah, we used his sperm and everything. The point is- I didn't want fucking kids, but your dad, ugh god, he did. And I gave you to him. All I get to say is, I was better without you. Probably if I should've waited just a little, my child wouldn't be a fucking ungrateful piece of shit standing right here," she gave you a grin. A sick one, as her fingers ran through your hair like she used to when you were a little girl.

You wanted to knock her off and run. But you just stood there, biting the inside of your cheek and tasting your own blood as she finally revealed herself to you, her daughter. It was clear you meant nothing to her. And you just wished your dad would be alive. He wouldn't force you into that stupid audition anyway.

"I pity you," she mocked. "But if that's what you wanna do, then leave. And don't you dare to come back."

A loud knock on his door woke him up from a deep slumber. Ben rubbed his eyes, groaning at the stupid sound of your voice calling him from the other side over and over. This was becoming a fucking routine he was starting to hate.

"Fucking shit," he mumbled, removing the blankets off his bare body when the door finally opened and you walked inside, stopping by his side of the bed.

"C'mon, Soldier Boy, get your ass up. You didn't wash the dishes last night."

Ben rolled on the bed and looked at the clock in the nightstand. He grunted. "It's fucking 6 A.M."

"Yes, and I have shit to do before I leave grocery shopping," you said, looking around his room. There were clothes everywhere you knew needed a good wash, an open bag with weed on top of the desk, joints and cigarettes, and a bunch of toilet paper littered on the floor you didn't want to know about. "One of them is watching you to make sure you clean the cave you live in."

Ben groaned, cursing under his breath, but stood up from the mattress with a wide grin. He noticed you always did your best to keep your eyes upon his face. Even if it wasn't the first time you had to see him like this, he enjoyed the way your body and face reacted to his naked form. So he got used to sleeping with no clothes on, knowing you'd always come to get him for breakfast. He could get used to it. Except for the part where he had to clean shit. That's why you were there. It was your fucking task to clean everything. Women's duties. But he had to endure the fucking times.

He got to complain to you every single day, every morning, and it was becoming already part of his routine too. But you somehow forced him to clean shit up and then he had to wait for his food, for his weed, lube and more clothes and shit you brought every time you were out. At some point, he thought he could be used to you feeding him up, but he still had a mission and it didn't matter how many times he had been sneaking into every room in your place, checking inside your office, how many times he had been searching through your bedroom on the drawers and smelling your lingerie, he still found nothing. He was pretty sure there was something else he wasn't really seeing yet. And Homelander on the TV along with those fuckers Victoria and Dakota Bob wasn't making his personal mission any easier, nor having no clue of where this kid Ryan was.

"Put some pants on," you said, interrupting his daydream.

"Whatever," Ben rolled his eyes and walked past you, taking a pair of pants from the carpeted floor.

"God, you're so fucking stoned," you mumbled watching as he dressed himself. "Get this mess cleaned after the dishes, I don't want to greet this shithole every morning."

"And what's in it for me, doll?" he asked, passing by your side and getting inside the bathroom.

He never bothered to shut the door closed while taking a piss, and this was, also, something you got used to seeing and hearing. When he finished, he came back with a smirk, stopping his tracks right in front of you.

"Nothing. There's nothing for you, stop acting like a dog begging for a bone."

"Yeah, well I'd like your pretty bones better.”

He gave you a wink and walked out the bedroom. God, he was so damn annoying. You followed him quickly and climbed down the stairs just to make sure he would start washing the dirty dishes from the last dinner you had.

“Make sure to scrub them correctly,” you said as you looked at how he turned on the sink.

Ben grunted in frustration, looking at you from the corner of his eye. It was always the fucking same with you, giving him directions he already knew the whole time.

“Fuck, woman, you’re so fucking annoying. I’m no damn pussy, I can do this without your ass here.”

The way he answered made you grin, getting closer to him until your arm was pressed against his own. “Yeah, I know you’re not stupid. I’m just making sure I’m taming you well.”

Ben’s eyes widened a little, clearly surprised by your boldness but not too much. Because the one who should be taming who, was him towards you. His macho self wouldn’t let a woman treat him like that. It didn’t matter he was hitting on you since the moment he met you in the facility, like doctor and patient. Ben was pretty sure that, besides his own personal payback, you would fall for him eventually. And once you do, because he was pretty sure it’d happen sooner or later, he would give you the best fuck ever. He turned his gaze to you as you looked at him with innocent eyes.

“I’d shut my mouth if I were you, sweetheart,” Ben warned in a low voice, taking in your figure standing so close to him that your warmth could be felt all along his body. “I don’t wanna screw you yet.”

“I take that as a challenge.”

The sun was almost setting down as you drove back home. It took you more than expected to complete the second shopping trip of the week and you were getting tired and spent. Sleep was becoming a privilege at this point. The past nights you had confined yourself to the lab down the bunker, and just now, you felt the cure was ready. Almost ready. The most important component was missing and you were still considering things you might regret later.

The low sound of the radio accompanied your thoughts as you traveled on the road, and the ways you’d like to tell Soldier Boy about all the mess you were getting into under Grace’s supervision, who had just called two fucking times in days. But part of you was afraid Ben wouldn’t understand the importance of a cure. He was a supe, and without his powers, he was fucking nothing. Just like Homelander. Even if he had made it clear that he hated his own son, you doubted to trust him and you felt the same hateful feeling towards you coming from him. At this point, you knew you were just putting up a stupid act.

And you started wondering if it should’ve been easier if you just let him between your legs and take what he wanted. He was a simple man; he saw a fuckable female, he wanted her. Surely you also knew when a man, woman, or anyone was attractive, but you just didn’t want that. You didn’t want him to feel like he won this battle. It was too fucking much, and you stopped sleeping around with strangers a couple of years back. The problem was, Ben wasn’t a stranger anymore, not to you.

Suddenly, a figure landed a few feet away from you on the highway. You hit the brake of your car as fast as your reflexes allowed you to, seeing red, blue and white. Once your car stopped completely, you met with the last person you’d ever wanted to see. Homelander smiled widely as you locked eyes with him through the windshield. He surrounded the car until he came by your side, standing outside your door. You turned on the flashing lights of the car and turned the engine off, it wasn't like you could escape anyway.

“Nice to see you around, doc,” he greeted.

“Why are you following me?”

“I told you before; I have eyes on you.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing tightly the wheel between your hands. “I don't know what you want me to do.”

“Don’t be stupid. That cure won’t see the light, I’m making sure of that,” Homelander leaned on your open window and your head moved away slightly as he studied the insides of your car.  “You’re welcome by the way.”

“For what? For trying to kill me? For taking my father’s money for your stupid circus? For touching me?” you hissed.

He chuckled, straightening himself again. “For taking you out, silly.”

A long sigh escaped your lips. “So this is your plan in the end.”

“It always has been. I know every move you make, the stores you go each week, I even know where you’re living right now and how you work your ass off that stupid experiment of yours,” his words made you visibly tense and he noticed, like every little reaction coming from you. “How’s the old man doing by the way?” he asked, as if it was just another chat between friends.

“You make me sick.”

“Oh, no. I want you healthy,” Homelander placed a hand on your wrist. “Please eat well and rest enough. Don’t burn yourself out, honey, it's useless.”

You started shaking your head, confusion fogging your mind at the way he talked like he had something prepared for you. “You’re fucked, Homelander,” you whispered.

You were trying to convince yourself more than him, scared of what he would do to you, forcing you into this twisted mouse and cat game. He just smiled widely at your words, laughing under his breath.

“Once I have you under my mercy,” you continued, holding his gaze. “You’re gonna be fucking nothing. I promise you that.”

His hand wrapped around your neck and for a moment you thought he would kill you right there. “I can’t wait to see you try and fail miserably, I’ll enjoy that show. Might become my favorite.”

Homelander let go of his grip roughly, allowing you to breathe again.

“Fuck you,” you spat back.

He chuckled, straightening himself and walking away from your car, giving you a last glance. “Not yet, doctor. Not yet.”

Once back in the spot where he landed, he flew away and you were left alone on the road. No cars, nor people walking could be seen, but it was better that way. Forcing your hands to stop shaking, you turned the engine on again and started to drive back home. Taking your phone out, you made a call, waiting for the other line to answer. You had to act fast and track that motherfucker down, not caring if you were already regretting what you’d do next.

“So, what’s your story?”

His question surprised you more than you could tell. After dinner nights like this were becoming a really weird habit of him talking shit about this stupid century, how things were better back then and how people got dumber with time. But you never thought Soldier Boy would insist on your past, not since the first night you ate together at the same table. You finished your glass of whisky, not sure if answering his question or not.

You shrugged. “I’m not that interesting.”

Ben drank his own liquor down before asking again. “Let me rephrase that: why do you hate Vought so much?”

“Who says I hate them?”

He studied your face for a moment. The look in your eyes told nothing, but your heart rate and your breathing was always enough for him to know you were fucking lying about it. Ben had started to think of many other things you were hiding from him. But even with all that stupid mask covering you, he wanted to have you. Countless times he tried, he wasn’t going anywhere now. Nobody could resist him, you were just another game to play and he was kind of enjoying it.

“All of you. You scream inside that you want to fuck them up,” he answered. “Believe me, I want nothing more than that.”

“Didn’t you have your own payback some months ago?”

“Yes, but you already know that from my file. I’m asking about you now.”

His intense green eyes and the grit on his words caused you to think exactly what to say. You couldn’t hide it anymore, not everything at least.

“My mom. Vought experimented on her when she was pregnant, that’s why I have powers,” you said, dry and straight to the point.

“How?”

You breathed out, closing your eyes for a moment, not believing he would force you to remember the memories you had been fighting to erase.

“She was paid a huge amount of money. And she hoped her daughter would join Vought someday; she was so wrong about that,” you gave a bittersweet chuckle. “On my eighth birthday, I finally discovered my powers. There was this huge party and a lot of my parent’s rich friends and their kids, whom I didn’t know because I had no friends, were there. And then, I just remember I got overwhelmed by all these people and the attention. I always hated that. And then, my mother couldn’t find me when it was cake time. I was in my room but she couldn’t see me there. Turned out I was invisible… It was the first and the only time I could make my clothes and my shoes disappear with me.”

Ben listened attentively, much to your surprise, as he spoke once again, locking his eyes with yours. “So your powers come from your inner wish of disappearing from your mother’s sight.”

You hummed and nodded your head. “I think that’s a great way of putting it, but yes.”

“Well, I'll take it back. They fucked your life too, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, and they’re still after you anyway.”

He scoffed. “Those fucking cocksuckers. Also, where the fuck is Grace anyway? All the CIA bullshit?” he asked, quickly changing the topic abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he demanded an answer.

“No news from her apparently, nor any agents.”

“Bullshit, your last call with her was a couple of days ago and you said nothing.”

“Why are you so invested in her? You like her?” you mocked, noticing how his resemblance switched from calm to visibly annoyed. There was no fucking way you’d tell him where she was right now.

“Y’know what I’d like? A fucking reasonable answer from you, that’d be perfect,” he snarled, and you knew he was back being stubborn and childish asking the same fucking shit all the time.

“I don’t know, but when I do I’ll tell you,” you responded after remaining silent under his angry stare.

“You’ve been saying the same shit over and over—”

“Okay, so tell me what you want. You want Homelander. Good, and then what?”

He held your stare, you noticed he was trying to keep himself down. “The kid.”

“Ryan?”

“Yes, the fucking brat.”

His hard eyes were not lying and you argued back on it.

“You can’t do that, there has to be another way.”

“Fucking tell me where it is. ‘Cause I see nothing!” he shouted, his voice booming all over the room. “That fucking pussy and his fucking team, they all had him right there. And in a second, Butcher just backed up! I could’ve done it already and we wouldn’t be here, playing dollhouse.”

Spilling the truth was no option right now. He was stupidly pissed right now. But you knew it was cruel to hunt a kid down just because his father had put him into the spotlight thanks to his powers. Ben, on the other hand, was blinded by his hatred towards Homelander, and you knew he was a man of his word. He was more than able to kill Homelander and the boy for a deal, one that was broken because of a weak moment coming from Butcher. Even for your morally gray head, killing Ryan was not an option. At least not now. You hated Homelander, but you probably understood Butcher more than you’d like to admit. Soon, you would think about a plan; where to put the kid after injecting the anti V.

“Let me give you a lead when I can,” you said.

“Tell me why should I trust you.”

“It’s your choice, honestly. Probably you shouldn’t, but I may give you something sooner or later.”

Without waiting for his response, you took the empty dishes to the sink, and Ben followed you with his eyes, taking in the softness of your exposed skin through the short summer dress. He liked the way the fabric hugged your curves and how it fell over your legs, inviting him to have a taste. Ben noticed you putting on shorts and dresses more often the last few days, and he was thankful for the hot weather to be able to see you like this. The past nights, he had jerked off with you in mind, wondering when he’d be the man to put you in place. Perhaps he just needed to try again.

He got on his feet as you talked, but none of the things coming out of your mouth were important as he put his weight behind your body, his hands roaming over your arms before you got to start washing the dirty plates.

“Do you not get tired of trying?” you breathed out.

You felt his rough hands caressing your arms, before moving down your waist, pressing your ass against the bulge growing on his pants. He smiled to himself once he heard the loud gasp coming from your mouth.

“Just tell me you haven’t thought about it,” he whispered, placing his lips down your neck, nipping softly at your sensitive skin, as he massaged your flesh, going to the curve of your ass.

“And when you get this, what?” you asked, turning around to meet his dark eyes. He was practically devouring you with his stare. You’d be lying if you didn’t find him hot, looking at you like that, as if you were the last and only meal that could end his greedy hunger.

He smiled, and whispered cockily against your lips. “You can always ask me for a second round.”

Fuck it.

You captured his lips in an impatient kiss, nibbling at his bottom lip with urgency as you tasted the whisky from his mouth, your breaths mixing and panting as he lifted you up without further effort. Ben walked towards the countertop in the middle of your kitchen, placing you on the surface as he spread your legs. You welcomed him closer, feeling his hands traveling freely under the thin fabric of your dress, feeling the softness of your legs, your inner thighs, until he rubbed over your panties. You let out a moan against his mouth when his fingers found your folds and you held tightly against the corner of the countertop.

“You’re dripping, sweetheart,” he growled, breaking the kiss.

“It’s been a while, ohfuck!”

A shiver ran down your spine as he stretched your pussy with one thick finger, his lips trailed down your neck to your collarbone, sucking and nipping on your skin. Your walls fluttered as he pumped in and out, and your hips set a move on its own. He hissed against your skin as he worked you open and ready for his hard cock, growing excitedly in his pants. A second finger slipped in and you clenched.

Ben smirked and you felt the burning feeling of his beard as he kissed your shoulder. You wondered how he’d feel between your legs, bruising your inner thighs with his big hands and the burning of his facial hair. The frantic fucking from his fingers pushed you to the edge, moaning and panting for air as his thumb played with your clit. You gripped on his forearms, looking for something to hold on tight as you reached that sweet high.

“Fuck, you did so well,” he praised, pulling his fingers out of your pussy, leaving you empty. He brought his wet fingers to your lips and you complied, opening your mouth. You licked his fingers, locking your eyes with his. “Wonder what twirls your pretty mouth has for me,” Ben pushed his fingers further, making you gag for a bit. “I’ve been thinking of hundreds of ways of finally holding your tongue with my cock.”

His other hand wrapped your neck, as he forced you to suck his fingers harder, hitting your gag reflex over and over. He discovered he loved hearing your breathy sounds and the dirty look in your eyes while you sucked his digits. When he pulled out his fingers from your mouth, you took in a deep breath, but the grip on your neck grew tighter as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“You’ll have to go down on me first if you want my mouth,” you whispered against his lips.

Ben could hear your heart racing, and he was sure you got all dizzy and bothered just by his hand. “Oh, is that so?” he rasped.

You rolled your eyes, growing impatient. “Why don’t you shut up and fuck me hard?”

And there it was. They’d always beg for him in the end. He smiled down at you, loosening the grip around your throat. “With pleasure.”

His hands wasted no time in getting rid of your dress, discarding your panties and your bra ripping them in half. You moaned when his palms groped on your tits, playing with your nipples and squeezing them harshly. God, you were getting wet again just by the feeling of his mouth biting on your soft buds. Quickly, you reached for his pants, touching his hard cock over the fabric. Ben growled, feeling the softness of your palm stroking him gently. Good choice not wearing anything underneath. Your other hand tugged at his shirt until it was discarded over the floor, his pants following after.

He got you off the countertop so your feet were on the ground, and turned you swiftly, laying you down on your chest on the cold surface. He massaged the sides of your hips, running down his palms over your ass with a hiss.

“Now this is quite a view.”

You moaned as his fingers played with your entrance. “Fuck, Ben, just do it already.”

“Shit, doll, I love when you beg.”

He stroked his cock with your juices before aligning with your pussy, slowly sliding in your wet heat. He stretched you out inch by inch, and you became a whimpering mess. After a moment of staying still balls deep in your wet core, he snapped his hips against your ass, setting a brutal pace. Loud moans and screams escaped your throat. You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You knew your fingers stopped being enough each time you needed sweet release, and probably you would regret him fucking you later, but right now you didn’t care. His fingers inside your cunt, the way he would handle your body like a feather just for his disposition and to get off with, and now his cock filling you up was becoming too much. But you loved it.

Soldier Boy felt too good inside you, fucking your brains over and over. His hands bruising your hips, groping the flesh of your ass and breasts, as he pounded into you, everything was like heaven and you were sure you’d be spent once it was over. His dark, lusty eyes memorized every inch of your body and the way your pussy engulfed his dick with each thrust. The kitchen was filled with your whimpers and his animalistic growls, mixed with the sound of his skin hitting against your own. He hit on that sweet spot repeatedly, making your walls clench around his cock.

“Jesus, you’re coming pretty quickly today,” Ben teased under his breath, his fingers tangling in your hair pulling your back against his muscular chest. “Wait for me, doll,” he whispered in your ear, satisfied on how fucked out and desperate you were underneath.

“Do it fast, you asshole! Fuck!”

Your pussy fluttered and clenched on his cock as he hit your spot again. With a loud moan, you finally reached the climax you longed for so long, and took his deep, rough thrusts as he fucked you through bliss. His name escaped your throat countless times, coming down from your high. Ben growled, your orgasm and the spasms of your cunt triggered his own, and he finally released himself inside your tight pussy.

And how good it felt to finally have you there, begging and crying for his cock. It was so much better than his own imagination, and he took in great pleasure on fucking the brat out of you. He continued bucking his hips until his white seed started leaking down your thighs, and finally stopped. The only sound in the room being your tired breaths.

“Oh, shit,” you gasped, feeling his grip on your scalp softening.

He sucked on your neck one last time with a cocky grin on his lips. “I told you I’d be a great fuck, sweetheart.”

“I wish you could shut up for once,” you answered back, looking at him from your side, and feeling his cock softening inside you. “I might have my methods.”

He bucked his hips one more time. A whimper escaped past your lips as he pulled you back against his chest in a swift motion, his fingers traced your neckline. “So do I, doll.”

Next Part >>>

[brilium]

❥ K I N K T O B E R 2 0 2 3

Masterlist

➽──────────❥

❥ DAY 10. Deep Throat! with Toji Fushiguro

Summary. Megumi got in a fight for the third time in the month, and his father had to attend with Megumi's teacher to talk about his behavior. Toji finds her hot and annoying. Maybe there's one way to fix his annoyance by hearing her yell.

Content Warning. Fem! reader, no use of Y/N, all characters are adults, smut, dub-con, dirty talk, degradation, oral (m. receiving).

Word count. 1,849

Author's note. Idk how it got too short, wtf

MINORS OR AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT !!

Toji was pretending to listen to your words, but his mind was running on how to get rid of that frown on your lips and turn it into anything else as you rambled about Megumi, who got in trouble, again. One of his classmates at the kindergarten tried to steal his lunch and ended up beaten up by his small hands.

While you both were arguing, Megumi was at the infirmary with the nurse cleaning his small fists stained with dirt and blood.

“God! Why would you teach a kid to shut someone who’s bothering him with a punch!?” The tone of your voice has raised, and Toji makes an annoying gesture with his finger on his lips to tell you to be quiet.

You huff, hitting his chest softly with your hand but following his indication.

“I’m not sure if Megumi is receiving a good assurance with the harassment.” You cross your arms on your chest and Toji’s eyes quickly glance down to your breasts lifting under the apron. “Eyes up there, Sir.”

Toji snorts at your comment, stepping closer to you so you have to look up at his face closely above yours.

“My bad, I was thinking about a better way to deal with annoying stuff. It may be that you didn’t like it, teacher?” His hand raises to the level of your waist, caressing it softly above your shirt and you blush softly before hitting his hand away.

“Sir, you should behave.” You say stern, trying to not let your voice tone shake too much. “We are at a school, one for little kids like yours who could pass by and see something that they shouldn’t.”

“So you’ll be more cooperative if we were anywhere else?” He smirks, stepping closer and making you walk backwards until your back hits the chalkboard behind you. Toji puts his forearm above your head, caging you with his big body.

You open your mouth to answer —to stop him— but his mouth flies to your neck, licking it softly to send shivers through all your body, Your hands grab his shoulders, pushing him softly with your weak trembling arms.

“S–Stop, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

Toji groans on your neck, biting it softly to force you to let out a soft whimper that you quickly cover with your hand. Your legs start to feel like jelly as he grumbles against your skin.

“C’mon, teacher. Those brats are annoying, ain’t they?”

“N—” Toji bites your earlobe as his body slams against yours in the chalkboard, resonating in the small classroom. You moan sharply and sink it on his shoulder. “A… A bit.”

“See? We’re talking now” He smiles, kissing your neck as his hands travel to your breasts to cup them between his big hands and squeeze them above the apron, you squirm and bite your lip trying to not let out any sound. He feels them being a little bit more squishy and soft than they should be and smiles wide. “Oh, no bra, teacher? I like it.”

“S–Shut up,” You whisper, taking a quick glance at the closed door, hoping that no one enters right now. “It’s annoying to use it.”

Toji nods, kissing you jaw and playing with your breasts until you finally let your moans be more auditive, your sweet sounds seem to have a deep effect on him from his hard crotch subbing on your stomach.

You try to get away from him, knowing how wrong this is, but his fingers start to draw small circles around your clothed hard nipples and make you throw your head back with soft moans. Toji smiles, leaning back from your neck to look at you with dilated pupils and his chest going up and down heavily.

You feel like a prey about to be ripped in half by her predator, but your eyes can’t help but glance at his shimmering lips. Against all the alerts popping in your mind, you get on your tips to get closer to his lips but he stops you with a deep laugh that vibrates from your head directly down to your wet core.

“You were just scolding me for teaching my son to not let others bother him, you change your mind pretty quickly, aren't you?” He grabs your chin to lift your face so he can look at your —annoyed— blushed face. “Should I teach my little boy to give up that easily?”

Toji moves his hand smoothly to slide two of his fingers between your lips. You try to resist by shouting hard your lips but his fingers push strong enough to part them and slide them through your tongue.

You feel ashamed and weak, but still your body plays against you by reacting to his fingers pushing in and out in your mouth. It’s hard to keep your eyes opened under his smirk of pride as your lips suck on his fingers.

When you decide to close your eyes is when your rationality abandons you, your tongue starts to swirl around his fingers, sucking them inside and licking them when they pull back. The lewd action starts to grow a pool between your legs as Toji keeps you standing with his knee between them.

You start to moan against his fingers, trembling and whining on his fingers, enjoying it, but he interrupts your joy by pulling his wet fingers out from your mouth. You open your eyes immediately to whine but the sight of him sucking on those wet fingers between his lips, tasting your mouth indirectly makes you forget your complaint.

Toji grabs your shoulders softly and starts to push you down without any hesitation from you. Anyways, your legs were already weak for any action from him.

When you are on your knees right in front of him and he starts to untie his belt quickly, you know what's coming, but your mouth is already watering when you see the bulge with a wet spot on his boxers.

Toji startles slightly when your hands don’t wait for him to pull down his boxer and let his aching cock let out from the clothes. Your eyes widen at the view of his fat and big length, swallowing some saliva in fear of how is going to fit in yoru mouth or your cun—

No, you may be giving this man a handjob. But not fucking with him.

He’s one of your student’s parents!

He doesn’t waits for your decision or actions, grabbing his base to slap your cheek with it. You should be annoyed, but you smile and close your eyes at the way his tip soaks your face.

Toji smiles back, loving how given up you’re already.

He moves his cock to put the tip on your lips, just like his fingers. But this time, you don’t fight back, you let him slide the tip slowly between your lips and he groans heavenly, you swirl your tongue on it, tasting the drip of precum on it an sucking softly on it, you bring your hands up to grab his base and jerk him for some help to blow him but he slaps yoru hand away from it.

“No, teacher. Use only that pretty mouth of yours” Toji laughs, and you feel the vibrations on his cock slowly entering your mouth, you growl on him, hitting his thigh softly to warn him.”No, no, precious. We’re learning better ways to keep silent, aren't we?”

You roll your eyes, about to pull back and leave, but his hand quickly grabs the back of your head to keep it still as his hips thrust on your mouth roughly.

“Mhmph!” You whine against him, feeling a small tear running through your cheek while his hand tangles around your hair to grab it firmly as his hips start thrusting between your lips like his life is on it.

“Fuuuuuck!—” Toji swears loudly and you blame him in your mind as the tears start running through your cheeks ruining your makeup. Please, don’t be too loud. “Who would’ve said that such a pretty slut would be the teacher my son's teacher”

Shit, your cunt clenched around nothing by hearing his husky voice degrading you.

Toji’s thrusts start to slam on the back of your throat, making you gag around him and feeling the drool dropping on the sides of your mouth. You look up at him while your cheeks hollow around his cock, trying to make him cum sooner so you can stop moaning against him.

“Yes, yes! Fuck, that mouth is so good, teacher” His hands keeps you on there, bobbing on him as you feel him tense on your mouth. “Come on, I’m close, suck it good and I’ll finally shut the fuck up so you can scream at me all day if you want.”

You moan, trying to use your tongue through the gags as one of your hands squeezes your breast above the clothes as he pushes your head to almost the base of his cock until you feel the spread of cum spilling on your throat.

Toji growls loudly, tasting the clench of your throat as he pulls back slowly, a string of cum falling from the sides of your mouth and his cock to the floor. He smiles at you, your pupils dilated with tears running down along with your mascara and your half opened mouth shimmering with drool and cum.

You swallow the cum, feeling suddenly embarrassed as you get up with struggle, sitting up on the chair near to the desk, trying to calm the ache between your legs calling for him.

“I… Won’t let you step on here anymore.” You say breathless, fixing your clothes while he does the same, laughing on the low.

“Yeah?” He snorts, tying his belt again. He walks towards you and bends closer to you and you feel your breath choking on your throat again, but this time there’s nothing. “I still have to come for Megumi’s scores, festivals, next fights…”

“He shouldn’t be fighting anymore.” You say, trying to not let your voice shake.

He waves his hand in dismissal. A knock on the door interrupts you, a small person with messy black hair and sharp eyes looks at you both with some band aids on his cheek and hands.

“Let’s go, Megumi” Toji turns, facing his back to you and leaving you there, half aroused and with his cum still stuck on your throat.

Theyboth walk together through the door, Megumi refuses to hold his hand as Toji groans and walks outside along with his son. You bite your lip, blaming yourself before running towards the door and yelling at them.

“Next parents reunion is on Friday at 6PM in this classroom. Just to let you know!”

You run inside quickly, looking for your car keys so you can leave immediately and use your vibrator.

On their side, Megumi shrugs, looking up at his father with doubt.

“But wasn't the parents reunion last week?”

At that moment, Toji smiles widely, thanking for having such a brilliant son.

[sammhisphere]

Through Every Season - 김 승민

Chapter 1: The First Season

wc: 4.1k

You and Seungmin have always had rules.

Rule #1: Late-night hangouts are for decompressing, not for feelings. Rule #2: No sleepovers if either of you is drunk. Rule #3: Never, under any circumstance, cross the line.

But lines blur—especially at 2:13 a.m., when he's sitting too close on your couch, hoodie sleeves pushed up, eyes glinting with something that feels dangerously new. The silence stretches, thick with everything unspoken.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, voice low.

You don’t.

And just like that, every rule you swore you’d never break starts to fall apart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

📌 Warnings / Disclaimers: 🔞 18+ only | MDNI (Minors Do Not Interact)

⚠️ Contains: sexual content (smut), profanity, alcohol use, emotional vulnerability, best-friends-to-lovers tension, mutual pining, slow burn

💭 Genre: smut, angst, fluff, friends-to-lovers

💘 Pairing: Seungmin x Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five Years Ago

You weren’t supposed to be nervous.

After all, you had made it. Somehow, through the audition tapes filmed in a cramped bedroom, the endless nights practicing until your legs trembled, and the skeptical looks from your parents when you first said, “I want to be a dancer,”—you’d earned a spot here. A real dance workshop at JYP in Seoul. A week of technique, choreography, and industry connections. This was it. Your chance.

But your fingers still trembled as they tightened around the strap of your dance bag. Your shoes thudded quietly against the polished floor of the studio as you stepped in, the mirrored walls stretching endlessly before you. Warm-up music pulsed through the air—an instrumental remix of a K-pop song you vaguely recognized—rhythmic and sharp, setting the pace.

Already, the room buzzed with life. Dancers had begun to stretch along the walls, some chatting in excited clusters, others laser-focused in silence. Everyone looked confident. Everyone looked like they belonged.

You tried to blend in—slipping off your jacket and scanning for a place to warm up—when your eyes caught on someone across the room.

He wasn’t dancing. Not yet. He stood with his arms loosely crossed, back against the far wall, eyes trained on the floor in front of him. Not scoping out the competition. Not preening like some of the others. Just… watching. Focused.

He had soft brown hair tucked beneath a grey hoodie, sleeves shoved up to his elbows, revealing lean forearms. His features were delicate but unreadable—resting expression serious in a way that made him seem older than he probably was.

You didn’t know why you noticed him.

Maybe it was the contrast—how he radiated calm in the sea of nerves and hyperenergy. Or maybe it was because, for one strange moment, he looked up—and your eyes met.

It was brief. No smile. No acknowledgment. But your stomach did a small, ridiculous flip.

You looked away first.

~

The instructors arrived ten minutes later: an all-black-clad trio with commanding voices and clipboards full of names. The head trainer introduced himself as Mr. Park, an ex-idol turned choreographer with a sharp jawline and sharper words.

“Welcome to the Movement Workshop,” he said. “This week isn’t about perfection. It’s about pressure. If you want to make it in this industry, you better learn how to move under it.”

A ripple of nervous laughter traveled through the room. You didn’t laugh.

Mr. Park began warm-ups without ceremony. Within minutes, the mirrors fogged slightly with condensation, bodies bending and snapping to tempo, instructors weaving through the rows correcting posture.

You kept your head down, focused on the beat, the flex of your knees, the position of your spine.

“Watch your left heel,” came a voice beside you.

You jolted. Not one of the instructors.

It was him—the quiet boy from earlier. Closer now. His voice wasn’t harsh, just matter-of-fact.

“You’re lifting it when you pivot. Could throw you off-balance.”

You blinked, caught off-guard by the unsolicited critique.

“Uh. Right. Thanks.”

He didn’t reply, just nodded once, then moved two steps to the side—still within arm’s reach, still close enough that you could feel the heat of his body between sets. But he didn’t speak again.

You tried not to look, but every now and then, you stole glances. He moved differently than the others. Cleaner. Controlled. No wasted energy. Not the most dramatic, but precise in a way that made your skin prickle.

You couldn’t explain it, but something told you: He’s trained. Professionally. For a long time.

~

Later, during the first water break, names were called out for partnered activities.

“Kim Seungmin. Y/N.”

Your stomach dropped.

You barely had time to process it before he was walking toward you, towel slung around his neck, bottle in hand.

“Looks like we’re up,” he said, voice still flat but not unfriendly.

You gave a half-smile. “Guess so.”

The instructor clapped his hands. “We’ll be working on paired choreography. Don’t overthink it. Trust your partner. Let the rhythm guide your transitions.”

Easier said than done.

You and Seungmin faced the mirror, standing side by side.

The music cued—a sensual, beat-heavy track that emphasized connection. Proximity. Breath. Trust.

The first few movements were simple enough: mirror steps, mirrored turns, a slow pivot that brought you chest-to-chest before separating again. But it was the eye contact that threw you off. You weren’t used to this kind of closeness. Or maybe just not used to this kind of closeness with him.

“You’re stiff,” he said quietly, after your second attempt.

You bristled. “I’m trying.”

He sighed. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. Just… try to relax.”

“I am relaxed,” you lied.

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “You blink ten times a second when you’re nervous.”

You gave him a look. “Do not.”

“You do,” he said, lips twitching slightly.

Was that… a smile? Barely-there, but still.

You rolled your eyes, but tension ebbed from your shoulders anyway.

~

You tried again. This time, you focused on the beat, the weight of your limbs, the curve of your fingers brushing his sleeve during the partner turns.

It went smoother. Still not perfect. But better.

When the music stopped, Seungmin stepped back.

“That was decent,” he said.

“High praise.”

He smirked. “Don’t get cocky.”

You laughed—short, surprised. “What about you? You’ve clearly done this before.”

He shrugged, looking away. “I train at JYP.”

That explained everything.

You blinked. “As in… like, JYP Entertainment?”

“Yeah.”

Your jaw almost dropped, but you caught yourself. “So you’re—what, a trainee?”

“Something like that.”

You couldn’t help the awe in your voice. “That’s… really cool.”

He looked at you then—really looked. “It’s just work.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. Something about the way he said it—flat, practiced, like he’d been told not to get excited.

You decided not to push.

~

The session ended with a group cooldown, bodies sprawled across the floor, muscles aching, breath slowing.

As the lights dimmed slightly and instructors stepped out to plan the next segment, you found yourself sitting beside him again—this time not by accident.

He glanced at you. “You survived.”

“Barely,” you said, stretching your legs.

A beat of silence passed. Then, unexpectedly, he said, “You’re good.”

You turned. “What?”

“You pick up movement fast. You don’t overdo it.”

You blinked at him. “That’s… thank you.”

He nodded, then looked down at his water bottle.

Another pause.

“You always this quiet?” you asked.

He tilted his head. “Only when I’m not being paid to talk.”

You let out a small laugh. “Guess I’ll have to start charging people to hear me complain.”

Seungmin looked over again. His lips curled, just slightly.

And just like that, a line connected.

Thin. Fragile. But real.

The first thread of something that would come to matter more than you ever expected.

~

By the second day, the adrenaline had worn off and left a dull ache in its place—your legs sore, your back protesting, and your ego barely intact after a particularly ruthless round of corrections from Mr. Park. You’d stumbled over a transition. Twice. He hadn’t let it go.

“You need to feel the music, not wrestle it to the floor,” he’d snapped.

You’d wanted to disappear.

So when paired choreography resumed, you weren’t thrilled to see Seungmin already standing in your corner of the studio, arms crossed like he’d been waiting.

“You look like you just lost a street fight,” he observed.

You gave him a look. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry,” he added, unfazed. “Your dignity isn’t the only casualty today. Someone from the other group nearly faceplanted during a turn.”

“That someone was me,” you said flatly.

Seungmin blinked. “Oh. Well. You bounced back with… grace?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re the worst.”

He smiled. Not brightly—never brightly—but with the kind of smugness that made you want to kick him in the shin and maybe sit next to him forever.

“I'm very supportive,” he said. “In my own way.”

You snorted, but the tension in your chest loosened.

The music started.

~

The day’s choreography was more complex—tight footwork paired with sharp, precise arm movements that transitioned into smooth body rolls and coordinated turns. It was the kind of sequence that lived or died on rhythm and synchronicity.

You and Seungmin faced the mirror again. He raised an eyebrow.

“You ready?”

“Are you ready?”

He gave a slow, dramatic nod. “Born ready.”

You made a show of cracking your neck. “Okay, Mr. JYP.”

He made a face. “Please. If you ever call me that again, I’m throwing my shoe.”

You grinned. “Only one?”

“We’ll start with one. Build suspense.”

The track cued.

Count 1-2-3-4.

You moved together—this time with more trust. Your bodies mirrored each other instinctively now, muscle memory kicking in from yesterday’s practice.

At the halfway point, there was a moment: a pause, a breath, where your hands brushed during a synchronized spin. It was nothing dramatic. Barely a second. But enough for the air to shift.

Seungmin didn’t flinch. His hand steadied your shoulder just slightly on the exit turn. He didn’t need to. But he did.

“You’re less stiff today,” he noted when the music faded.

You gave him a dry look. “I’ll try not to burst into tears from that overwhelming compliment.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m generous.”

“You’re a menace.”

“Mocking menace,” he corrected. “Let’s not undersell it.”

~

You didn’t expect the break room to be empty when you wandered in for water later.

You especially didn’t expect to find Seungmin there, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his hoodie halfway over his head like a gremlin.

He didn’t look up.

“Don’t say anything,” he muttered, voice muffled.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You were. I can feel the judgment.”

You laughed and dropped your bag beside his.

“Alright,” you said, plopping down across from him, “what’s your deal, Kim Seungmin?”

His head tilted, one brow lifting above the edge of his hoodie.

“My deal?”

“You train at one of the biggest entertainment companies in Korea, you dance like you’ve got a metronome in your bloodstream, and yet you act like someone dared you to show up here just to cause problems.”

He looked amused. “Not bad. Anything else in your FBI file?”

“Yeah. You act aloof but you care way more than you pretend to.”

Seungmin blinked.

“…You’re annoying,” he finally said.

“Uh-huh.”

“I regret being your partner.”

“No you don’t.”

He scoffed. “How would you know?”

“Because you don’t let people in easily,” you said, smiling. “But you’re letting me in.”

That stopped him. Not completely, but just long enough for the smallest crack in his expression to show. Something thoughtful. Quiet.

“I’m still considering revoking your access,” he said finally.

“Too late. I’ve already found the password.”

“What password?”

“‘Mocking menace.’”

He stared at you. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.

Not a smirk. Not a quiet exhale. A real laugh—soft and rare and genuine.

You wanted to hear it again.

~

Back in the studio, paired groups rotated through solo critiques. When your names were called, you and Seungmin stepped into the middle of the room, shoulders squared. The instructor tapped his clipboard.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

The music played.

You danced like your future depended on it.

Because in a way, it did.

Seungmin matched your energy perfectly—movements clean and sharp, turns timed to yours like you’d rehearsed it for weeks instead of days. At one point, your hands met during a turn—grasping, grounding—and you heard someone in the back whisper, “Woah.”

You didn’t dare look at Seungmin. Not until the song ended.

Then, just for a second, your eyes met.

Neither of you said anything.

But the heat between your ribs told you all you needed to know.

~

The studio was supposed to be locked after 10 p.m.

But the trick, you’d learned, was the side door near the fire exit. Someone had left the latch loose—probably on purpose. You weren’t the first to discover it, judging by the scuffed floor tiles and the faint scent of instant ramen lingering in the hallway.

Still, when you slipped inside with your bag slung over your shoulder and your hoodie pulled tight, the studio was blessedly empty.

Almost empty.

He was already there.

You paused in the doorway, half-expecting a ghost. But no. It was very much Seungmin—curled up in a corner with his back to the mirror, one leg stretched out, head tilted back like he’d been there a while.

“...Seriously?”

His head turned lazily. “Took you long enough.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?”

“Haunting the room like a lonely cryptid?”

He scoffed. “Practicing.”

“In the dark?”

“I was resting.”

You stepped in, shutting the door softly behind you. “Well, I guess we’re both rulebreakers.”

“Tragic.” He patted the spot next to him. “Come wallow.”

You dropped your bag and sank down beside him, legs crossing. For a few seconds, silence settled between you both—comfortable this time. The kind that only happens when someone feels familiar enough to sit beside without needing to fill the air.

Then:

“You weren’t bad today,” he said.

You turned your head. “Coming from you, that almost sounds like a love confession.”

He snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Rude.”

“Honest.”

You shook your head, laughing quietly.

“You were good too,” you said after a pause.

He looked over, one brow arched. “Only too good?”

“Don’t push it, Kim.”

~

After a few minutes, you stood and walked toward the mirror, stretching your arms above your head, testing the soreness in your shoulders. Behind you, Seungmin watched from the floor.

“Running the routine again?”

You glanced back. “If I don’t, my legs will forget what dancing is by morning.”

“You want a partner?”

You turned.

It surprised you, the offer. Not that he was willing—Seungmin had proven himself a reliable dance partner since day one—but the tone in his voice was different tonight. Casual, but not indifferent.

“Sure,” you said.

He got up, fluid and quiet, like he’d been waiting for you to say yes.

~

This time, there was no pressure. No instructors watching, no clipboard critiques or timing drills. Just the two of you under dim studio lights, dancing because you wanted to get better. Because you wanted to be there.

And maybe, because being there together made it easier.

Seungmin’s movements were a little looser tonight—more natural, less calculated. He moved closer when the routine allowed it, hands lingering longer on turns, his smirk barely visible in the mirror when he caught your eye.

“You’re still blinking too much,” he said mid-pivot.

“Shut up,” you groaned.

He laughed. “Can’t help it. You make it too easy.”

“Why are you like this?”

“I was engineered for chaos.”

The teasing was sharper tonight, but it wasn’t cutting. If anything, it felt… warm.

Grounding.

~

When the music stopped, you both ended facing each other, hands still loosely linked from the final spin. You didn’t move. Neither did he.

For one second, the silence between you stretched.

Then Seungmin’s voice, low:

“You don’t really think you don’t belong here, right?”

You blinked. The question caught you off-guard.

“I—I don’t know. I mean, I’m not like—” You gestured vaguely. “You. I didn’t grow up training for this.”

“So?”

“So I mess up. I get told I’m too stiff. That I’m trying too hard.”

He tilted his head. “You are trying hard. That’s not a flaw.”

You looked down at your feet.

Seungmin hesitated—just a second—then added, “You’re the only one here who keeps up without ego. That matters more.”

You glanced up. “That sounds dangerously like a compliment.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said dryly. “I’ve got a reputation to protect.”

You laughed—softly, quietly—but it filled the space between you. Your shoulders relaxed.

You felt seen. Not just watched. Seen.

~

You practiced for another hour. When you finally collapsed against the mirrored wall again, sweat cooling against your skin, Seungmin tossed you his towel without looking.

You caught it.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

“Don’t die,” he replied.

“Trying not to.”

You turned your head. He was sitting beside you again, hair slightly damp, hoodie sleeves pushed back. His profile was sharp in the low light. Focused. Kind of beautiful, in that quiet, unnerving way.

He caught you staring.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He smirked. “Blink slower. I might think you’re swooning.”

You rolled your eyes, heart skipping all the same.

“Mocking menace,” you muttered.

“Dancer of chaos,” he replied.

You both smiled—mirrored, unspoken.

The line between strangers and something more had officially been crossed.

And neither of you could quite pretend otherwise anymore.

~

By Wednesday, the adrenaline was gone, the soreness had tripled, and your body moved like it had forgotten how to cooperate.

Worse, your head wasn’t in it.

One misstep turned into three. You tripped over the same transition twice. And when Mr. Park stopped the music for the third time and sighed with a pointed look, your stomach dropped.

“Again,” he said flatly. “From the top. This time, try not to sleepwalk through it.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Hard.

The room blurred a little. From fatigue. Frustration. Embarrassment. Maybe all three.

The music started again.

And somehow—despite everything—you got through it. Barely.

But the second it ended, you turned toward the back of the room, head down, pretending to dig through your bag until the sting behind your eyes could be blinked away.

You didn’t cry. Not really.

But your breath shook just enough to give you away.

“Hey.”

You froze.

Of course it was him.

Seungmin stood a few feet away, hands on his hips, that familiar unreadable expression on his face—half concern, half exasperation.

“You good?” he asked. Not gently, but not coldly either.

You nodded. Too quickly.

“Yep. All good. Totally thriving.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So the thing where you almost cried into your hoodie—that’s part of your thriving process?”

You glared at him, but your voice cracked. “I just need a minute, okay?”

He didn’t move. He didn’t leave, either.

“Okay,” he said.

But he sat down next to your bag.

Silently.

Just… stayed there.

You didn’t look at him, but the presence was enough. A quiet weight anchoring you, keeping you from spinning off entirely.

“Mr. Park’s a nightmare,” he muttered after a beat. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s a genius, but his soul was probably forged in the seventh circle of hell.”

You let out a weak laugh. “He hates me.”

“No. He sees potential,” Seungmin said. “That’s his love language. Passive-aggressive humiliation.”

You laughed again, a little steadier this time.

Then: “I just—I hate messing up. Especially in front of everyone.”

He didn’t say anything for a second.

Then, quieter: “Everyone messes up.”

You looked at him. “Not you.”

His mouth quirked, just slightly. “I nearly ate it during the turn yesterday. You didn’t see?”

“No?”

“I did. I just styled it like I meant it.”

You blinked.

“That's your advice? Style the failure?”

“Exactly.” He tapped his temple. “Confidence. Sell it. Pretend you meant to trip and fall dramatically.”

You snorted. “You’re actually insane.”

He shrugged. “And yet, here you are. Sitting with me. Again.”

A beat.

You exhaled, long and tired.

“Why are you being nice to me?” you asked quietly.

That stopped him.

For a second, he seemed unsure how to answer. He rubbed the back of his neck, looked away, then finally said:

“I’m not nice. I’m just… less mean to people I like.”

You turned sharply toward him.

His eyes widened. “I mean—people I tolerate.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So now you like me?”

“Ugh.” He groaned, flopping back dramatically against the floor. “Regret.”

You laughed, and it echoed off the studio walls—surprisingly bright.

Something softened inside your chest. The ache didn’t vanish, but it dulled.

You turned your head and found Seungmin already watching you, head tilted, something unreadable in his eyes.

“Thanks,” you said.

He didn’t smile. But he nudged your leg with his.

“Don’t make it a thing,” he muttered. “I’m still mean.”

“Mocking menace,” you teased.

He smirked. “Dancer of chaos.”

And for the first time that week, it felt like maybe—just maybe—you were going to be okay.

~

It was past midnight when the rooftop door clicked open.

You weren’t sure how Seungmin had gotten the key—or if it even was a key—but he’d just given you a look after practice and said, “Trust me,” in that same exasperated tone he used when you argued about stretching routines.

Now here you were.

The night air was sharp on your skin, but fresh. The kind of fresh that made you forget how tired you were. Above, the city lights shimmered against the hazy outline of stars. The rooftop wasn’t much—just some cracked concrete, a few rusted vents, and a water tank that looked questionably stable—but in that moment, it felt like a world apart.

“I thought this was off-limits,” you said, stepping out behind him.

Seungmin glanced over his shoulder, a mischievous tilt to his mouth. “So is staying after hours. You’ve already joined the rebellion.”

You followed him toward the edge, where a low barrier overlooked the studio courtyard. The lights below flickered on and off, as if unsure whether to stay awake.

“Nice view,” you said, half-joking.

He leaned against the barrier. “Better company.”

You gave him a look.

“Too much?” he said.

“Gross.”

“Correct.”

You both smiled.

Then silence.

Not awkward. Just… heavy with something unspoken.

You slid down to sit cross-legged on the cold ground, hoodie pulled tight, your fingers playing with the edge of your sleeve. Seungmin stayed standing for a beat longer before dropping down beside you with a soft thud, arms resting on his knees.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

It was the kind of quiet that only existed late at night—unrushed, unfiltered.

“I used to hate dancing,” you said suddenly.

Seungmin turned slightly toward you, but didn’t interrupt.

“When I started, I was terrible. Like—actually terrible. No rhythm. No grace. I’d cry in the bathroom after class because I couldn’t even do basic turns without falling.”

He blinked. “Hard to imagine.”

“It wasn’t pretty.” You chuckled softly. “But I kept going. I don’t even know why. Maybe I just didn’t want to quit something I sucked at.”

“You don’t suck now.”

You looked at him.

“I mean,” he added, “you occasionally forget where your arms are, but it’s charming.”

You laughed, surprised. “Thanks?”

He grinned, then looked back out toward the skyline.

“I get that though,” he said after a pause. “The pushing through. People always assume I just… got good at this overnight. Like it was natural.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I was average. I worked my ass off. I still do.”

There was something bitter in his voice—not resentful, exactly, but tired.

“I’ve seen you train,” you said. “You never let up.”

“Because if I do, I fall behind.”

He didn’t elaborate, but the weight of it was clear. The expectations. The pressure. The silent, constant competition.

You wanted to say something—anything that might help—but instead, you just leaned your shoulder slightly against his.

He didn’t pull away.

“Why’d you start dancing?” you asked, voice low.

He hesitated.

Then: “I wanted to prove I could do something that scared me.”

You looked at him.

“Everyone thinks I’m the sarcastic one. The unfazed one. But the truth is…” He trailed off, then laughed under his breath. “The truth is I’m scared of a lot of things. Being forgettable. Failing. Not being enough.”

You stared at him, heart thudding for reasons you couldn’t name.

“That’s not you,” you said.

He glanced at you. “How would you know?”

“Because I’ve seen you.” You said it before you could stop yourself. “The way you fight through stuff. The way you show up. How you help even when you pretend not to care.”

A beat.

“That doesn’t seem forgettable to me.”

His eyes locked with yours. For a moment, the city disappeared. There was only you. Him. The cold rooftop. And the sound of hearts beating somewhere beneath layers of fabric and fear.

You both looked away at the same time.

Cowards, both of you.

Seungmin cleared his throat. “You’re annoying, you know.”

You smirked. “You’re worse.”

“Still better company than you.”

“Debatable.”

He nudged your knee with his.

You let the contact linger.

The stars overhead blinked faintly—like they knew some secret you hadn’t figured out yet.

And maybe you didn’t need to. Not tonight.

Because sitting here, shoulder-to-shoulder in silence, with truth tangled between insults and teasing…

You felt seen.

You felt safe.

And somewhere in the space between that safety and the chill of the night air, something else bloomed quietly.

Something that would take a long time to name.

Previous

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Masterlist

[svn-bangtan]

Seven (Clean version?)

»pairing: Idol!Jungkook x reader

»genre: BTS | 13+ | Fluff

»wc/date: 3.1k | July 2023

» warnings: Based on Seven music video? Mentions of smut? Jungkook being Jungkook.

»Summary: After ending her 7 year relationship Y/n shares that her breakup with Jungkook was partially due to his unrealistic desire for sex seven days a week. If that wasn’t enough, Y/n seemingly keeps seeing Jungkook everywhere. Just know a lot has happened in the seven days they have been apart

» notes: I was thinking about making an explicit version of this, but haven’t decided if I should, so you all should let me know.

»  m.list | Taglist | Thoughts? Comments? Concerns

Seoul's bustling city lights painted a vivid canvas as Y/n and Jimin sat in a secret and quiet area of their favorite restaurant, savoring the delectable flavors of their homeland. The aroma of sizzling Korean delicacies filled the air, adding to the festive atmosphere of the lively eatery.

Jimin couldn't resist his playful nature, and as he took a sip of his tea, he asked with a mischievous grin, "Okay, so let me get this straight, you broke up last week with Jungkook because he wants to fuck you right seven days a week?" His laughter was infectious, causing Y/n to sigh in defeat.

"Seriously, Jimin? Is that all you think about?" Y/n rolled her eyes playfully, unable to hold back a smile. "Yes, that's one of the reasons, but it's not the only one. Our physical relationship became overwhelming, and I didn't expect that to be such a challenge in our relationship."

Jimin couldn't stop laughing, imagining poor Jungkook keeping track of his seven-day schedule. "I can't even imagine! How does he have that much energy? Is he secretly training for the Olympics?"

Y/n chuckled, playing along with Jimin's comedic flair. "You should know, you used to live with him! Maybe he's been doing some intense stamina training behind my back."

Jimin laughed heartily, "Oh, Y/n, you always have the most interesting stories. Who would've thought that 'too much love' could be an issue?"

"Do you think I'm being silly?" Y/n asked, her tone more serious.

Jimin reached out and patted his friend's hand reassuringly. "Not at all! Relationships are complicated, and each one is unique. What matters is how you feel and what you need. Relationships should have a healthy balance of emotional and physical connection. Maybe he didn't fully understand how exhausting it was for you."

"Do you think so?" Y/n asked, hoping for some insight from his ever-entertaining friend.

Jimin nodded thoughtfully. "Well, you know how guys can sometimes get carried away by their 'manly urges.' Perhaps he thought he was auditioning for a K-drama series titled 'Seven Nights of Passion.'"

Y/n couldn't help but giggle at the mental image. "Okay, that's enough pun-ishment for me."

Jimin grinned. "Deal! But in all seriousness, communication is key. Have an open and honest conversation with him about how you feel. If he truly cares about you, he'll understand and find a way to meet you halfway."

Y/n nodded, feeling grateful for his friend's support. "You're right, Jimin. It's time for a serious heart-to-heart. No puns, no innuendos, just a genuine conversation about our needs and expectations."

Jimin raised an eyebrow playfully. "Wait, no puns? Are you sure you're not pun-ishing me too harshly?"

Y/n laughed, rolling her eyes in mock annoyance. "Okay, just one pun. But only if you promise to be serious when I need it."

With a grin, Jimin encouraged Y/n to continue, "Anyways, tell me more, spill the spicy details!"

"Well," Y/n began, "ever since we decided to take a break, I swear I've been seeing Jungkook everywhere. It's like he's haunting me or something."

Jimin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Everywhere? Like how?"

Y/n nodded, looking a bit flustered. "Well..."

-

Y/n sat on the train, her earphones on, listening to her favorite K-pop playlist. The rhythmic beats tried to drown out her thoughts, but memories of Jungkook kept resurfacing. She leaned her head against the window, feeling a mix of emotions from nostalgia to frustration.

As the train pulled to a stop at a station, Y/n glanced up from her reverie and caught a glimpse of something that made her heart skip a beat. There, just outside the window, hanging onto the train was Jungkook, his signature smile plastered on his face. He waved enthusiastically, trying to get her attention.

Y/n blinked, thinking she must be imagining things again. "No way," she mumbled to herself, her eyes widening as she looked again. "This can't be real."

But there he was, unmistakably Jungkook, waving like a happy kid. A shiver ran down Y/n's spine, and she decided to pull out her earphones to make sure she wasn't hearing things too.

The music stopped, and the train's ambient noises filled the void. Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she stared at Jungkook outside the train. "What on earth is going on?" she whispered, her mind racing with disbelief.

She leaned back in her seat, trying to gather her thoughts, hoping that this was all a bizarre coincidence. "Okay, breathe, Y/n. It's probably just someone who looks like him," she said, attempting to reassure herself.

Summoning the courage to face the possibility, Y/n looked up once more, and her jaw dropped. Jungkook was still there, hanging on the outside of the train, waving even more enthusiastically now.

"Y/n, are you alright?" a concerned voice asked from the seat next to her.

She turned to find an elderly woman looking at her with worry in her eyes. "I, uh, I think I just saw someone I know outside the train," Y/n stammered, trying to make sense of it all.

The woman chuckled kindly. "Oh, dear. Must be your mind playing tricks on you. Don't worry too much about it."

Nodding, Y/n closed her eyes, trying to compose herself. "You're right. Maybe I need some sleep or something."

When she opened her eyes again and looked outside, Jungkook was gone. The train had already left the station, and there was no sign of him anywhere.

"Y/n, are you sure you're okay?" the woman asked again, genuine concern in her voice.

Y/n managed a weak smile. "I think I will be. Thank you for checking on me."

-

Jimin chuckled, "That's your mind playing tricks on you, Y/n. It's common after a breakup to see the person you were with in random places."

"It sounds ridiculous, I know!" Y/n chuckled, "But wait, there's more. Another time, when I was walking home in the afternoon, I swear I saw him lying lifeless in the middle of the street. But when the paramedics came, he suddenly got up and chased after me with flowers!"

Jimin couldn't contain his laughter, "This is better than a K-drama! You should write a romantic comedy based on your experiences! Or, you know, since Jungkook is part of the biggest group in the world, not to brag, this could make a very good music video."

Y/n chuckled, "You got jokes Jimin, I know it sounds crazy! But wait, there's more. One stormy night, I was walking home, and he was once again following me, and as the wind picked up, he flew away!"

Jimin's eyes widened with amusement, "Y/n, you've got quite the imagination! Flying ex-boyfriends are a new one for me!"

"And it doesn't end there, I also dreamt of going to his funeral," Y/n continued, "and he wasn't even dead! He used it as an opportunity to finally talk to me. Can you believe it?"

Jimin burst into laughter again, "You are one crazy dreamer, my friend!"

Y/n couldn't help but laugh along with Jimin. "I know, it's ridiculous! I must be losing my mind."

Jimin placed a comforting hand on Y/n's shoulder. "You're not losing your mind, Y/n. Breakups can mess with your emotions and make you see things differently. But you know what? Maybe all these wild experiences are just a way for your subconscious to process the breakup and your feelings for Jungkook."

"Do you think so?" Y/n asked, feeling a bit more reassured.

"Absolutely!" Jimin exclaimed. "But remember, you need to talk to Jungkook honestly about how you feel. Maybe he's been trying to reach out to you and make things right."

Y/n nodded, "You're right, Jimin. I can't keep avoiding him forever. We need to have a sit-down conversation."

Jimin smiled, "That's the spirit! You've got this, Y/n. And no more flying ex-boyfriends, okay?"

Y/n laughed, "Deal! No more wild imaginings. Just a simple, honest conversation."

-

Its Wednesday, and like always the laundromat was bustling with customers, and Y/n found herself in the midst of the chaos, trying to navigate her way through the maze of washing machines. Clutching her laundry basket, she sighed, wondering if she would ever get her laundry done in peace.

Little did she know that lurking behind her, sitting nonchalantly on top of some washing machines, was none other than Jungkook, with his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. He watched her intently, ready to seize any opportunity to talk to her.

As Y/n moved to the next row of washing machines, Jungkook stealthily followed, trying to get her attention. "Y/n, please, just talk to me! You love when I jump right in, I'm offering all of me and I can show you what devotion is, " he implored with puppy dog eyes.

Ignoring him, Y/n pretended not to notice and continued sorting her laundry. She hoped that he would get the message and leave her alone, but Jungkook seemed persistent.

"You wrap around me and you give me life" he insisted, stepping closer to her, "And that's why night after night, I'll be fucking' you right!"

Y/n's patience was wearing thin, and the laundromat's chaos was only adding to her stress. She tried to maintain her cool, but Jungkook's continuous pestering was getting under her skin.

As they stood across from each other, the unthinkable happened – the laundromat started to flood! At first, Y/n didn't pay much attention to it, thinking it was just a minor issue with the machines. But as the water reached ankle-deep, she realized something was seriously wrong.

"Oh great, just what I needed," Y/n muttered, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of the situation.

But Jungkook continued to love-bomb her, completely oblivious to the fact that they were now standing in knee-deep water. "We can have the most amazing time together!"

The situation was becoming absurd, and Y/n couldn't believe Jungkook's persistence. As they continued to stand across from each other, the water in the laundromat started to rise steadily.

"I can leave you with an afterglow if you just let me." Jungkook pleaded, seemingly oblivious to the rising water.

"Do you not see what's happening?" Y/n exclaimed, gesturing to the water around them. "The place is flooding, and all you can think about is getting back together?"

Jungkook smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "I guess I got carried away with my feelings."

"Do you always have to make everything about you?" Y/n snapped, frustration boiling over. "I need space to think, and you're not making it easy."

As the water reached their knees, Jungkook's determination didn't waver. "I'll do anything to make you happy, Y/n. Just tell me what you want, and I'll do it."

"Do you really think you can fix everything with just words?" Y/n said, shaking her head. "Actions speak louder, you know."

The water continued to rise, reaching their chests now. Y/n couldn't believe the absurdity of the situation. "This is insane. I can't believe I'm standing here, having this conversation with you while we're both drenched!"

Jungkook seemed undeterred by the flood, still trying to get closer to Y/n. "I love you, Y/n, and I'll do anything to prove it."

"Do you even hear yourself?" she exclaimed, exasperated. "This is not romantic; it's just ridiculous."

As the water continued to rise, Y/n decided she'd had enough. Without any warning, she took a deep breath and dived underwater, trying to escape Jungkook's relentless pursuit. To her surprise, Jungkook followed suit, diving after her like a determined swimmer.

Y/n emerged from underneath the water of the flooded laundromat, gasping for breath as she coughed up water. She looked around, expecting to see Jungkook still pursuing her with that playful grin on his face, but to her surprise, there was no trace of him anywhere.

"Did he finally give up?" she wondered aloud, scanning the area. The water had risen considerably, and the laundromat was now a watery mess. Customers were evacuating, and staff members were rushing to address the flooding.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Y/n decided it was time to leave. She waded through the water, heading towards the exit. As she stepped out onto the street, she glanced back at the laundromat one last time, half-expecting Jungkook to pop out from behind a machine or splash around in the water.

But there was still no sign of him.

"What is going on?" She asks herself. Shrugging off her doubts, Y/n decided to focus on more pressing matters – like finding a dry place to change out of her soaking-wet clothes

-

As the rain poured down on the darkened streets, Y/n walked with a heavy heart, her clothes drenched from the unexpected downpour. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and she couldn't help but feel a mix of frustration and amusement at the reason behind her breakup with Jungkook. Who would've thought that their love would be tested by something as absurd as seven-day-a-week intimacy?

As she trudged along, she heard faint footsteps behind her, and when she turned around, she half-expected to see Jungkook standing there, his smile cheeky as ever. But the street was empty, and she sighed, "Great, now I'm even imagining Jungkook in the rain. I'm officially losing it."

But the footsteps persisted, and to her utter surprise, when she turned back around, there he was – Jungkook, looking as soaked and bedraggled as she felt. He was panting slightly from running to catch up with her.

"Y/n!" Jungkook exclaimed between breaths, "I knew I'd find you. I can't let you walk home alone in this rain."

She blinked in disbelief, unsure if she was hallucinating or not. "You followed me in the rain to apologize for the whole seven-days-a-week thing?"

Jungkook nodded earnestly, water dripping from his hair. "Yes, I need to talk to you. I realized how ridiculous and unfair it was of me to expect that from you. I'm sorry, Y/n."

"Do you have any idea how silly that whole thing was?" she asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Jungkook's eyes widened, and he chuckled, "Yeah, I know. It sounds absurd now that I think about it."

"Do you have any idea how tired I would be if we actually attempted that?" Y/n continued, unable to suppress her laughter any longer.

Jungkook grinned sheepishly, "Yeah, it would've been impossible, huh?"

"Absolutely!" she replied, her laughter ringing in the rain-soaked air. "I mean, did you think we were training for an Olympic event or something?"

"I guess I got carried away with my 'manly urges,'" Jungkook admitted with a playful shrug.

Y/n shook her head in amusement, "Well, lesson learned, I hope. Next time, let's not turn our relationship into a K-drama plot."

"I promise," Jungkook said, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. "I won't let something so silly come between us again."

"Do you really expect me to take you back after all this?" she teased, enjoying the moment of lightheartedness.

Jungkook stepped closer, raindrops creating a misty barrier between them. "Yes, I do. Because I realized that I love you, Y/n. And not just for seven days a week, but every single day, no matter the weather."

Her heart fluttered at his words, and she couldn't help but be charmed by his determination and genuine remorse. "You're lucky I have a soft spot for silly boys like you," she said, her lips curling into a playful smile.

"Then does that mean you'll take me back?" Jungkook asked, hope evident in his eyes.

Y/n pretended to ponder for a moment, then stuck out her hand. "Well, since you're already soaked and looking like a lost puppy, I suppose you can walk me home."

Jungkook's face broke into a wide grin as he took her hand, interlocking their fingers. "Deal! And I promise no more crazy demands, just a whole lot of love and laughter."

As they walked side by side in the rain, laughter and joyous banter filling the air, Jungkook couldn't help himself but playfully sing, "I'll be loving you right, seven days a week. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday."

"That would be a catchy song," Jungkook remarked, looking pleased with himself.

Y/n's eyes sparkled mischievously as she recalled her conversation with Jimin earlier. "You know," she said, "if you ever decide to make a music video for that song, I have a fun plot idea."

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh, really? Do tell."

"Well," Y/n began, "imagine this – a guy who's obsessed with the idea of love seven days a week. He tries to make his partner happy with grand gestures, but it's all a bit much for her. She's tired and overwhelmed, just like I was. And the guy, played by you, keeps popping up everywhere she goes, just like you did in my crazy imaginings."

Jungkook laughed, "So, basically a music video version of our ridiculous situation?"

"Exactly!" Y/n grinned. "It would be comedic and lighthearted, showing that love can be wonderful and fun but also overwhelming if taken to the extreme."

"I love it," Jungkook said, nodding appreciatively. "And you know what? We could even do an explicit version of the song, where I say 'fucking' instead of 'loving,' just to make it a clear representation of what we just went through."

Y/n burst into laughter, covering her mouth in amusement. "Oh, Jungkook! Only you would come up with such an idea. It's genius and utterly ridiculous at the same time."

He winked at her, "That's what I do best."

Y/n looked at him, an amused glint in her eyes, and asked, "Were you there on Wednesday at the laundromat when it flooded?"

Jungkook looked confused, "What? No, I wasn't."

With a grin, Y/n confessed, "After we separated, I started seeing you in the most weird situations, like at the laundromat, and I thought I was losing my mind."

Jungkook burst into laughter, "Really? I would love to hear about all the places you found me!"

As they continued their walk in the rain, they couldn't help but be grateful for the silliness and laughter that had brought them back together. The idea of a music video, even if it was just in jest, gave them a sense of comfort and closure.

"I'm glad we can laugh about it now," Y/n said, looking at Jungkook fondly. "It shows how much we've grown together and how we can handle anything that comes our way."

Jungkook smiled warmly, pulling her closer as they walked back home.

[strawberryfairi]

Synopsis✨: The story of how you catch heavy feelings for the hot photography student, Shuji Hanma…even though you already have the perfect (fake) boyfriend.

Pairings: Photography Student! Shuji Hanma X Dance Major! Black Fem 🤎 Reader (ANYONE CAN READ🧚🏾‍♀️) Content: Drama, lots of denial, angst, sneaky link, lots of cheating, mutual pining, unserious Shuji, controlling parents, forced relationships, romance, fighting, porn with a good plot vibes, intense sexual tension, etc (just find out the rest lol)

w.c: 5.1k💠 Released: March 20, 2024

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NOTE: I hope you guys enjoy this next chapter! I really want to focus on making this story a nice balance between smut and also having a genuine plot which honestly makes this one a bit hard. But I'm glad to see y'all are liking it anyways❤︎

C.W: None

6; Fatigue 疲劳

You wake up the next morning completely sore, everything was aching, reminding you of the intense events of last night. Hanma is fast asleep, laying with an arm lazily slung around your waist, the majority of your body on top of his.

The both of you looked tangled together, from the way your legs intertwined to the way the sheets wrapped around different limbs oddly. Y'all had knocked each other the hell out.

You let out a small, tired moan, attempting to move out of his grasp so you could check the time. Where did you even leave your phone? Thanks to the literal entanglement you were in, you couldn't move at all without potentially waking him up. You pursed your lips, feeling a little bad that you'd have to bother him, he looks so peaceful, cute even, while sleeping. His hair hanging lazily over his forehead, expression completely calm, and his chest slowly rises and falls in a steady rhythm. You catch yourself staring, blinking a few times as you snap yourself out of it.

Let's not forget you do still have a boyfriend...

"Hanma..." You mutter, much too soft for him to hear. You try again, this time nudging his shoulder a bit. He stirs but doesn't really wake up fully, tightening his hold around you as he turns on his side. "Oh, no!" You whisper, trying not to laugh. Now he has you smushed to his chest, his legs weighing over top of yours.

"Hanma! Uh uh, you gotta wake up. My legs!" You finally crack, giggling a little as you shake his shoulder. He groans opening one eye a bit, looking down at you.

"Mmm, what?" He mumbles tiredly, his voice all raspy.

"I gotta see what time it is; and you're crushing me." You tap his shoulder lightly, trying to move.

"Mm mm." He grunts, not moving even an inch..

"What'chu mean 'mm mm'? I have classes today!"

He ignores you, closing his eye again.

"Come on! I can't miss my classes." You urge him, shaking him again.

He let's out an annoyed groan, flipping over onto his back and letting go of you. You smile innocently at him then drag yourself out of bed. "Oh! Oh my gosh!" You grunt out in pain, falling backwards onto the bed. Your body was not having it. Everywhere ached, especially the lower half of you, not allowing you to move fluidly at all.

"This is not good." You mutter, attempting to get up much more cautiously this time.

Friday's were unfortunately a busy day in your week. Starting the morning off with a nine a.m. body conditioning pilates class, then an hour break for breakfast before you have to head to your Classical Ballet III course. After that, two hours later is straight to Black Aesthetic in American Modern Dance, then you'd have to get to practice for the upcoming The Gypsy ballet audition.

In other words, you couldn't afford to miss today. You get yourself up and start searching for your phone, massaging your arms and legs as the cold air hits you. You find your phone sitting by your duffel bag on twenty three percent. Hitting the lock button you check the time.

11:09am

3 Missed Calls Big K💖

Imessage Big K💖

"Shhhhhit." You whisper, facepalming. Not only did you already completely miss your first class, you haven't responded to not a single call or text from Ken. You only had a short slot of time to first get to your dorm then shower, eat, get dressed, and head over to your Ballet technique class, all while trying to calm Ken down from being inevitably pissed with you. There's no way you're gonna be able to do all that within the hour.

"What's up with you? Why're you up so early?" Hanma furrows his brows.

"'Cause I have classes! Do you not have classes on Friday's?" You look at him like he's crazy, brows furrowed deeply.

"I do. Just not as soon as the damn sun rises." He replies, running a hand through his hair.

"It's eleven in the morning; almost the afternoon." You narrow your eyes at him.

"Oh shit." His expression falls in realization as he sits up in bed.

Gosh what a mess. Your hair is probably looking wild, your body's completely exhausted, and you have lots to do today...all involving high intensity body movement. You hadn't spoken to Ken all day yesterday, so you already knew he'd be wanting to hear from you at some point today too. The worst part about Ken is that not even now is any sliver of guilt making its way into your heart. Maybe it's because the anger is still hot from what went down in your dorm the other day. Yeah, that's it, the guilt just hasn't kicked in yet.

"I don't know how I'm gonna get through today." You groan exasperatedly. To be honest you could lay in that bed and not wake up until tomorrow. That sounds perfect...

"I mean, you could always skip." He shrugs, still not even bothering to move out of bed.

"I already missed one class, I can't miss Ballet; and my teacher's pretty strict with showing up and showing up on time. I already know I'm gonna be late; and Ken's probably already pissed with me too..." You ramble anxiously.

💎

Classical Ballet III

It was so embarrassing coming into class late. Everyone was already locked in with warmups, spots chosen at the bars and doing the movements the professor called out. The way the other students were staring at you like you were some halfwitted creature for 'disrupting' the class didn't help at all. Why is ballet such a toxic world? You quickly scurry inside the studio room, placing your bag down and jumping out of your sweats and oversized hoodie, making your way to the bar in the front by the floor-to-ceiling mirror.

It hit you a few minutes before coming inside that you'd be showing off the piece by Bach that your professor assigned each of you to practice, Violin Concerto No. 1 in A Minor. Lord have mercy you weren't even close to being able to do it well. What a dumb idea last night was, you'd practically be torturing yourself for the rest of the day, and weekend if you get the call back for The Gypsy. Maybe that's what you get for cheating on your boyfriend? Is this the guilt finally kicking in?

"God help me..." You mumble, getting into the releve he'd just called out.

10 Mins Later

"No no, stop! You all were late on that jeté!" The professor stops the music, shaking his head annoyedly.

Before the professor turns the music back on he turns to you, the disappointment already made clear before he could even say a word. "You're missing your usual poise today. You alright?" He questions, tilting his head to the side.

"No yeah, I'm good! Just feeling a little sore." You reply awkwardly, getting yourself back into the starting position. Some of the students a few feet away from you start whispering and snickering to themselves. You knew they'd definitely came to the right kind of conclusion as to why you were feeling sore.

"Don't push yourself. Our bodies are powerful, but we can only withstand so much pressure." Mr. E states matter of factly, a look of concern making it's way onto his face. You nod with a slight frown. If you could miss a day of classes you would. But things just move way too quickly. You miss one class then all of a sudden a mountain of assignments and things just come at you out of nowhere. Yeah no, not for you. You fight passed the whines of discomfort your body throws your way, trying not to make any uncomfortable expressions as you go through the dance. This was only the assignment from last week, you hadn't even gotten to the Bach piece yet.

"Much better that time on that jeté! Alright, let's see who practiced the concerto!" He calls out.

Your heart sinks, this piece was not easy. He'd wanted to challenge you all last week since some of the students were slacking off with their overall technique. He's one of those professors where if one slacks off you all basically slacked off. The first five people go, none really impressing him all that much.

"Disappointing Riku; I expected better. Next." He shakes his head then gestures over to you with a hand. He already isn't happy with the class's overall performance of the piece, so you'd really have to get a grip.

You take a deep breath, getting into the starting position.

"Really pay attention to your balance during the sissone." Your professor instructs in a much softer tone. You nod then get back into character as the music starts. Immediately your thighs burn, and you prayed they wouldn't give out on you since your arms were already feeling like jelly. The piece was thankfully only three minutes and fifty one seconds, and you were able to get through it without any major disasters.

"Ok...good. Not great; but good. You're clearly fatigued. You barely made it through that sissone and arabesque." He completely read you, his tone matter of fact.

"I-..." You weren't really sure how to respond.

"Why don't you sit out, or head to the dancer's wellness center? I won't have a student breaking themselves under my watch."

You were truly grateful. Mr. E was a stern teacher, but he really does care for his students. You give him a soft "Ok, I guess I'll just go to the wellness area."

"Lemme give you a note." He says, holding a hand up. You gather your things at the back of the room then take the note. It was a little awkward with no music and all the other students just watching this go down. You practically limp your way out of the room, your body feeling even worse than before with forcing yourself to do all those intense movements. You make your way down the hall and to the stairs that lead down to the third floor to the wellness area, the dance studios are on the fourth. Right as you reach the staircase, a familiar voice calls out to you, making your heart stop.

"Ken?! What're you doing here?!" Your eyes go wide.

"I came to find you! You haven't answered a single text or call! The hell is wrong with you?!" He says angrily, stepping up close to you.

"Are you serious?! What makes you think I'd wanna be in the mood to talk to you after how you acted the other night?!" You scoff, continuing on down the stairs. Yeah that's good, just cover the rising guilt with anger. Of course he followed after you.

"Jesus babe, I don't even remember that." He rolls his eyes.

"I really can't with you right now Ken, like I'm not even in the mood." You shake your head, waving him off as you continue down the stairs.

"Can you just...stop for a damn second?!" He grumbles, reaching for your arm and stopping you halfway down the staircase.

You clench your jaw in annoyance, snatching your arm away while you wait for whatever the hell he was about to say.

"Look, I'm sorry alri-

"No, no you're not just gonna hit me with another sorry ass apology and brush it off. You were acting wild Ken! I should never have to call a friend to come get you after I ask you to leave my dorm!" You rant, eyes on fire with anger. "Aright alright. I apologize; I mean it." He says in a softer tone, looking you right in the eyes. You let out a dry laugh. "Changing it from I'm sorry to I apologize doesn't make it better, Ken. You're supposed to actually mean it through your actions, which you obviously don't. If you were really sorry you'd just stop getting crossed or high or whatever the hell it is you're doing. You know what'll happen if our parents catch you like that; if they catch our relationship looking shaky." You warn, your tone stern.

At this point you were seething. You couldn't risk getting kicked out of the school because Ken wants to go be an idiot and put a bad look on himself, and ultimately the two of you. "I-..I know, babe. I'll do better, I promise." He assures, leaning in to give you a kiss. You pull away instantly, like you were avoiding a punch to the face. "Don't promise, just do it, Ken." You grit, turning away from him and continuing on to the wellness center.

"There you go again, being the "boss girl", telling me what to do."

You stop in your tracks for a moment, Ken's intoxicated words suddenly coming to the forefront of your mind.

Now that he went and spilled his secret thoughts, you couldn't help but start to overthink a bit. You're not really the problem, right?

"You know what? He's getting crossed more because he's starting to lose his shit. That's why he feels like you think you're better than him. You don't fold under pressure like a bitch, getting drunk or high to ignore it all the time. You know what you want and you're always going after it no matter what, but Ryuguji? He's a fuckin' mess and he knows it. Let's be real, he's only playing football because his dad wants him to; he's the damn coach!"

But when did he start to lose his shit though? Why would it have anything to do with you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4 Days Later Tuesday Night 7:36pm

The past two days had been fairly breezy for no apparent reason, but honestly, after how the weekend went with Ken, you're not complaining. It was close to a train wreck, this past weekend. The two of you going back and forth arguing in the middle of a fairly upscale restaurant; his dad's money of course.

Allegedly, Emma saw you get into the car with Hanma that Thursday and told Ken, which of course made your heart sink to the floor. Not only that, but you couldn't help being a bit pissed at her for just assuming you were cheating all because you got into someone else's car that isn't Ken's.

Even though you were cheating....

Flashback

"Like I said the last time I asked about you getting into some other guys car, anything you wanna tell me about that?" Ken asks, his tone threatening and slightly dark. Your jaw clenches, more annoyed at the fact that you still get nervous about sneaking around with Shuji than anything else.

"If you must know, it was for a photoshoot that he asked-

"Wait, don't tell me it's that same photography student from before. Who is it?!" He cuts in, eyes narrowed. You could see the cogs turning in his mind as he leaned forward at the table. You huff, trying to keep your composure as you go to explain again.

"Yes, and it doesn't matter who it is Ken. I already know you're just gonna find him and try to-

"It does matter!" He outbursts, drawing immediate attention to the two of you. You scoff, brows raising as you lean back in your chair. People's eyes trailed across the room to both of you, discreetly murmuring and watching whatever scene was unfolding.

"Ok, first of all, stop cuttin' me off." You grit out, your own voice holding a low, threatening tone. "Second, I am not obligated to tell you every single thing I do and with who, just like you're not. Let's keep in mind the fact that I haven't pressed you about who you're getting these drugs you love so much from Ken; neither have I bothered to tell either of our parents about it. So let's keep things how we agreed to way back in the beginning. I mind my business and you mind yours." You criticize, keeping your eyes locked on his the entire time.

"Don't try to flip this shit around on me, I'm used to your bullshit mind games by now! The other day you were goin' on and on about me makin' us look bad in front of our parents, but baby if you're cheating on me, it'll be you that ruins our lives first, not me!" He fumes, pointing an accusatory finger your way. You roll your eyes, sighing as you shake your head.

"Mind games?! You're over here basing shit off a flimsy ass 'if' when I know for a fact you're using drugs! Have you thought about what happens when you need to do your next drug test?! Oh yeah, I guess not since you're too busy livin' large during your trips." You fumed.

Then Ken goes silent, sitting there with his jaw locked, looking off to the side.

"This isn't about who ruins either of our lives first Ken, this needs to be about us both keeping this fake ass relationship running as smoothly as possible, and lately you haven't been doing nothin' to help with that! I don't know what's been goin' on with you since you damn sure don't talk to me about your problems anymore, but what I do know for sure is that you need to get a goddamn grip! I do not have time for you to be fallin' a part at the seams and ruinin' your career because all of a sudden you're sooo unhappy to be in a fake relationship with me like this is a brand new occurence! I'm not happy about it either Ken, but I still get shit done! So tighten the fuck up, and shake whatever is going on with you off; right now!" You argue, your gaze blazing hot as you peer into his eyes.

Ken shakes his head, a genuinely hurt look on his face.

"You just don't get it..." He grumbles lowly, crossing his arms over his chest.

End Flashback

Tonight you have practice with the girls for an upcoming basketball game, teaching them a new dance along with just standard practice to the songs they already know. In small groups and individually the girls start to file into the large studio room, taking off their sweats and getting semi prepared to dance.

You're currently in the women's locker room, getting your mind out of ballet from your class about forty five minutes ago and into your contemporary dance mindset, changing into your workout clothes. You were wearing a cute hot pink pair of workout shorts, and a white sports bra. Your water bottle also cutely matched your outfit as it's also pink with your name written around it in a lavender shade of purple. Very girly.

You make your way out of the locker room and over to the water fountain just a few feet away from the door. Taking a random deep breath, you sit the water bottle onto the fountain, letting the automatic fountain do it's thing and fill it up.

"H-hey, hello there-

"OH MY GOD-you scared the shit out of me; what the fuck..." Your voice goes from practically screaming to a whisper as you look to the right of you at whoever just spoke. Your water bottle falling over to the side from the way you bumped into the fountain when you jumped.

"Oh, I'm-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He stammers, grabbing your water bottle just before it could fall to the ground, some water splashing around and onto the floor unceremoniously. "Uhh, it's all good...?" You trail off a bit awkwardly, your eyes unintentionally looking him over up and down. You've never seen this dude before in your life, you're positive.

He's wearing pretty basic clothes, a red plaid button up top with dark wash jeans and converse shoes on, also wearing black square glasses. His dark hair is sort of medium length, maybe reaching a few inches past his ears just hanging down lazily. A very nerdy look for sure. The guy just stares at you as if dazed, not saying a word...and freaking you out instantly.

"Did you wanna talk to me or...?" You trail off again, trying with every fiber of your being not to sound rude and/or look at him like he was a weirdo even though that's kinda what he's giving. "I-oh I'm so sorry! I just-...I-I've always seen you around here and...well I was hoping you'd let me take you out on a date sometime? Get to know each other?" He says sheepishly, his dark brown eyes shifting all over the place before looking back at you. Your jaw nearly hits the floor, but you quickly catch it, trying to keep your composure together as your mind replays his words over and over.

"Uuuuum-

"Oh wait wait! I forgot to introduce myself! My name's Fumihiro Miyagawa; hi." He says, giving you his hand to shake. Not even a split second later he retracts his hand, then changes his mind again and extends it. You purse your lips, just standing there watching as he goes back and forth.

"Hi. It's nice to meet you Miyagawa." You smile politely, finally shaking his hand.

"S-so, would you wanna...?" He trails off, still holding your hand. You bite your tongue, feeling uncomfortable that he wasn't letting go yet. Even though it's been just a few minutes speaking to him, something felt off.

"Well I'm really flattered you're asking me out, but I actually have a boyfriend." You tell him, your tone apologetic. Miyagawa's expression falls instantly, almost dark looking as your response sinks in. There's a heavy silence that comes and hovers over the two of you as you try to let go of the handshake and retract your hand. For a second his grip tightens, making your heart abruptly leap in your chest, but it calms as he finally lets your hand go.

"Oh", He says dryly, "That's too bad, I guess." His tone softens up now, along with his expression.

"I'm sorry." That was all you could even think to say as your mind was thinking of one thing and one thing only, getting very far away from this guy.

You hear the water from the fountain start to overflow from your bottle, ripping you out of the severely awkward conversation. "I actually gotta go now. I have dance practice." You say, already heading off down the hall to the studio room as you screw the cap onto the water bottle.

"Whaaaaaaat the hell was that?" You whisper to yourself.

Once you get into the studio room, you leave that random, borderline creepy conversation behind, getting into serious mode.

"Heeey! How's the day been?" Emma beams, coming up to your from the front center of the room. You swallow your emotions towards her and keep it professional, keep it chill. "Hey girl! It's been pretty good. What's goin' on with you?" You ask softly, giving her a small smile.

"Honestly, this has been some of the best couple of days I've ever had." She sighs blissfully.

These past couple days? The same couple of days that consisted of some of the worst arguments you've ever had with Ken in the entire time of knowing him? An argument that was ultimately caused because Emma went and ran her mouth to him? Something about her words had just hit you in all the wrong ways, making you feel a little skeptical.

"Oh, well that's good. Wish I could say the same." You chuckle, trying to make it sound as lighthearted as possible.

"You always get your stress out through dance practice though! That's your thing!" She pats your shoulder, before heading off ahead of you to the front of the studio. Your eyes couldn't help but narrow at her as she saunters off like a dandelion in the damn wind.

Somethin' ain't sitting right....

33 Minutes Later

"I need just a bit more carefreeness from you, Himari! Your technique though is looking great, but I think you're thinking too hard about it. It's great, so now just focus on balancing the technique with-

You pause, losing your train of thought as you follow the girls in the far left side of the rooms wandering eyes through the floor-to-ceiling mirror. As soon as you turn towards the studio doors, someone walks in, and it's Hanma. All of a sudden, he just...appears.

"What-..." You trail off, trying not to react in a way that made the girls skeptical of you.

The girls immediately start murmuring and gasping about how 'gorgeous' and 'hot' he is as he struts inside like he owns the place, an infuriatingly smug grin plastered across his lips.

"Uhhh, can I help you with something?" You call out from your side of the room, trying with everything in you to sound like you've never met him before, pausing the music and placing your hands on your hips as he makes his way to you.

"Do-..do you know him?!" Emma whispers over to you.

"Hell no." You answer shortly, keeping your eyes fixed on Hanma.

"Yes she does." He chuckles deviously.

"No I-..you do realize we're in the middle of a rehearsal, right?" You sass.

"And do you realize you've been avoiding me for-

"GAAAAAH! Outside, right now!" You outburst abruptly, hollering over him so the girls wouldn't hear what he was about to say. You purse your lips together in embarrassment, practically speed walking to the studio doors as he slowly followed behind you.

"Y'all, just give me one second, ok? I'm so sorry." You apologize, facepalming before shutting the door.

"Shuji Hanma, what in the hell is wrong with you?!" You whisper yell.

He chuckles, backing up until his back is against the white painted wall. "You haven't been answering my texts for days, so I was worried. Wanted to make sure you didn't go and die on me or somethin'." He says coolly.

"So you bust in my rehearsal?! How'd you even figure out where-..you know what, doesn't matter, what do you want?" You facepalm.

"First, I wanna know why you're avoiding me again." He says nonchalantly, raising a finger.

"Uhh, because I have a boyfriend, and that said boyfriend has been up my ass all weekend starting arguments about you!" You point a finger to his chest. "I wanna be up your ass..." He mumbles playfully. You huff in immediate annoyance, ignoring his idiotic statement. "I'm trying to save my ass and yours by not being around you or texting you. None of it."

"Saving my ass, huh?" He smirks.

"Yeah! You should be grateful, to be honest, since Ken was just about ready to-

"So you care about me, doll?" He raises a brow, looking down at you with a completely unserious expression. "W-What?! What is going on?!" You shake your head, heart skipping a beat for a second as your mind makes sure you heard him right.

He goes to open his mouth again but you cut him off, already knowing he was just gonna say something dumb. "Be serious! I care about not having my relationship fall apart and all my "sins" bein' laid out for the whole freakin' school to see!" You rant, throwing your hands up in the air exasperatedly.

"All of a sudden you care about your relationship?" He questions, raising a brow. "It's not all of a sudden, I've cared the whole time." You scrunch your face up. "Now you know that's bullshit, doll. You couldn't even look me in the eyes when you said that." He pressed. He wasn't wrong, you really didn't care, but you had to care all at the same time.

"What're you here for, Hanma? For real." You grumble, looking back up at him with as stern of an expression and voice you could muster.

"That leads me to the second thing I want. You, in my bed with me, tonight. Right after your cute little dance rehearsal." He purrs sensually, taking your chin with his fingers.

"No." You deadpan, swatting his hand away.

"Your bed?" He shrugs plainly.

"No! Absolutely not! Did you tune out everything I just said like five seconds ago?! This whole thing, with you and me, is done now alright? We hooked up once, we're not doing it again; that was a one time thing!" You say with finality, gesturing between the two of you. He raises a brow, completely unfazed and slightly amused by your rant.

"A one time thing; I'm serious." You add for good measure.

"Are you? 'Cause I'm pretty sure you said something veeerry similar the last time." He says lowly, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you closer.

"I'm actually deadass serious, that's how serious I am." You narrow your eyes halfheartedly, placing your hands on his chest to keep yourself from being pulled any closer. You were already starting to feel yourself cracking under his gaze. "Sooo, you're tellin' me you really don't think about how good I had you feelin'? You don't ever think about doing it again?" He questions softly, leaning down so his lips were just a few inches from yours. You huff, trying to maintain your resolve, clenching your jaw as your eyes flicker downwards towards his tempting pink lips for a second. Of course you think about it. The flashbacks have been absolutely torturous.

But for the sake of the "relationship" you've got going on with Ken, you'd have to let Hanma go now. "I'm telling you...that that was the first and last time we-

Hanma cuts you off, closing the slight gap and pressing his lips against yours. That was the last straw. The small, shaky piece of resolve you had left just crumbled into nothing. Instantly it's like you're transported back to last Thursday at his place, up against that wall while he sets your whole body ablaze with his dangerous kisses. You melt, sliding your hands up to place one on his neck and the other on his shoulder. Gosh, he must think you're so easy, just a few words in that sexy low tone topped off with a kiss and you're putty in his hands. He has you completely wrapped around his finger. You pull away slowly, your mind finally made up.

"I'll be done at ten, take me to your place." You murmur sensually against his lips before leaning in for another quick kiss. "Oh, and since you came and interrupted my 'cute little dance rehearsal', I'm gonna use your shower first...while you make me a nice dinner." You add with a semi smug grin, running your thumb along his bottom lip.

"You askin' or tellin' me, angel?" He raises a brow, tone dripping with lust. "Requiring actually." You clarify flirtatiously, turning away and heading back towards the studio doors. "Damn. Well somehow I happen to be very turned on by that." He chuckles lightly in surprise.

"Glad you're discovering new things about yourself", You chuckle lightly, "Bye Shuji."

Your eyes go wide, heart skipping a beat in your chest. Shuji. You just called him Shuji...

[byunejoo]

i need your help picking which fic to write again!

below are two options for my next fic and some information about both of them. TRIGGER WARNING both include some dark content that may make some people uncomfortable! i will have some drabbles and fics that do not include this content.

this includes: dubious consent (dubcon), manipulation, slight age gaps, hybrids, predator/prey, fear, etc. please read at your own discretion.

[angelbear-gaku]

little intro here but I'm not new to writing smut or &team, but I haven't really ever posted it, my pronouns are she/her, my ult is fuma + k, I write for the &audition boys also (k through jo) and especially gaku

[dhr-ao3]

Just an Act

Just an Act https://ift.tt/Ab8iqGP by Kaira31 Hermione has escaped the Wizarding World’s affairs into the Muggle World’s affairs. It wasn’t long until she was roped into the Acting industry for her fair looks and body. Draco has recently left his Manor in favor of a life where none will criticise him of his past, and decides to audition for a movie to keep him busy. What will happen when both are coincidentally casted for the same movie that his anticipated by thousands? Words: 269, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M Characters: Ron Weasley, Teddy Lupin Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott/George Weasley, Padma Patil/Blaise Zabini, Luna Lovegood/Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Actors, Fluff, Angst, Ron Bashing lmao, Draco needs a hug, Hermione obliges, Top Draco Malfoy, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Top Hermione Granger, Bottom Hermione Granger, Praise Kink, Eventual Smut, slytherin gang, Tattoos, Hermione is famous, olive theory, Mentions of Stalking, Its not Draco, Enemies to Lovers, PTSD, Vomiting, Panic Attacks via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/brqDywT December 24, 2023 at 03:03PM

[ao3feed-piltovers-finest]

Troublemaker

by mu_chenn007 (caitvienjoyer69)

Caitlyn and Vi wanted to be a K-Pop idol since they were children, they were both already musicians with a not so big-nor small fan base. Caitlyn wanted to to be a K-Pop idol and Vi just wanted to join because she had nothing else to do, but they both had the same goal. Become a K-Pop idol. But ever since the day they both joined the Survival Audition K-Pop star and noticed each other competitive spirit basically radiating out of each other a unintended rivarly sparked between them cause Vi joined YG Entertainment and Caitlyn joined SM Entertainment. Well, it was mostly Caitlyn who wanted to beat Vi and Vi just couldn't take Caitlyn seriously. Will they reconcile or make peace with each other? Or maybe other things that will lead up to unexpected events.

Words: 356, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, Other

Characters: Caitlyn (League of Legends), Vi (League of Legends), Vander (League of Legends), Jinx (League of Legends), Mylo (Arcane: League of Legends), Claggor (Arcane: League of Legends), Ekko (League of Legends), Jayce (League of Legends), Cassandra Kiramman, Mel Medarda, Viktor (League of Legends)

Relationships: Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends), Caitlyn & Vi (League of Legends)

Additional Tags: Angst, Eventual Smut, Switch Caitlyn (League of Legends), Switch Vi (League of Legends), Rivals With Benefits, Secret Relationship, Paparazzi, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Caitlyn is a Gay Mess (League of Legends), Singer Vi (League of Legends), Singer Caitlyn (League of Legends), Fake/Pretend Relationship, Vi is a Little Shit (League of Legends), How Do I Tag, POV Caitlyn (League of Legends)

Read onA03. from AO3 works tagged ‘Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)’

[ao3feed-ateez]

Call Me Django

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/gMPBOsu by vampirevixen “It doesn’t bite.” Wooyoung said tilting his head in confusion at San’s hesitation. “No, but you usually do.” San quipped and Wooyoung’s cheeks actually heat at the insinuation. “I’m just trying to be nice Choi. An offering of the olive branch. A waving of the white flag - come on, even you’re not dumb enough to miss a peace-offering this obvious.” “So that’s what all this is? Looking for a truce?” San plucked the coffee from Wooyoung’s hand. Bringing the straw to his mouth, he took a sip of the iced beverage. “That, plus a mouth like yours looks like it was made to look good sucking on things.” Wooyoung didn’t have a chance to properly enjoy the shocked look that overtook San’s face because the instructor for today’s class called for everyone’s attention at the front of the room. Or the one where Wooyoung and San are spicy male dancers both auditioning for the same sexy lead cowboy role of ‘Django’ in a strip show. Only one will get the part, although they are rivals, will the sexiness of the ass-less leather chaps and a low-brim cowboy hat be too tempting to resist? Words: 3992, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: ATEEZ (Band) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Jung Wooyoung (ATEEZ), Choi San (ATEEZ), Choi Jongho (ATEEZ), Jeong Yunho (ATEEZ), Park Seonghwa, Kim Hongjoong, Song Mingi (ATEEZ), Kang Yeosang Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung (ATEEZ) Additional Tags: Strippers & Strip Clubs, Enemies to Lovers, Feelings Realization, Eventual Smut, Smut, Light Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Mirror Sex, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Misunderstandings, Bottom Jung Wooyoung (ATEEZ), Top Choi San (ATEEZ), Not Beta Read, no beta we die like men, Rivals With Benefits read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/gMPBOsu