#I just let this flow over the (now) last hour or two

[machinerot]

[aquaticmercy]

Almost Kisses

Summary : Bucky's kisses have become a daily part of your life together, but it wasn’t always that way.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader (she/her) 

Warnings : very slight mention of food and mild cursing

Requested by : @buckys-wintersoldier

Word count : 1.8k

Note : This one was very fun! I was listening to Work Song By Hozier while writing this, so it's safe to say the song served as a bit of inspiration, too. I did say it would be >1k word blurb but I have once again got over the limit.

Requests are open!

Kissing you had become second nature to Bucky. Every morning when he woke up, every night before bed. It was part of his routine, it felt as natural as breathing. He kissed you when he passed you in the kitchen, when you laughed at something ridiculous, when you weren’t paying attention. He kissed you just because he could.

It was hard for him to remember a time before that, but once, kissing you had seemed impossible.

The first time the thought even crossed his mind, you were standing outside his apartment door, trying to get his attention. Sam had called you, worried about him after days of radio silence, days of ignoring texts and phone calls from both him and his therapist. 

Sam could get through to Bucky on most days, but on the really hard ones, when the weight of his past pulled him under the covers and refused to let him go, there was only one person who could reach him. You. 

Somehow, Bucky had imprinted on you in a way he never had with anyone else. Sam wasn’t stupid— he knew that Bucky was down hard for you. Hell, everyone who ever saw the two of you interact knew that Bucky was in love with you. Everyone except you.

Because love had to keep you blind like that, at least for a while.

"Bucky?" Your voice was soft that day, muffled by the door separating you from him. You knocked again, gentler this time. "I brought you pizza. Just cheese, no toppings—your favorite." You paused, like you were waiting for signs of life, anything, but the silence was deafening. You lowered your voice, a whisper now. "I cut off the burnt bits, the way you like it."

The door creaked open, just a sliver of light pouring in from the apartment. Bucky's figure stood in the shadow, his frame filling the doorway, but his voice was small and frail. "Extra cheese?"

"Of course, Buck." Your lips curved up knowing you’ve essentially made it in. You slipped inside the moment he stepped back. 

That night, you didn’t leave his side. You pulled him out of the dark waters he had drowned himself in. He told you about his nightmares, the memories that wouldn’t let him breathe. You listened, laughed when he cracked the odd dark joke, and cried while exchanging stories. Minutes blurred into hours, and eventually, you fell asleep beside him on the couch, your head resting on his shoulder. 

That was the night he realized what you did to him. You didn’t just pull him out of his pit of despair— you made him feel alive. Electric.

The next morning, you took a shower, borrowing one of his shirts since yours were dirty. Seeing you in his oversized clothes twisted something inside him, drove him insane with wild thoughts— he almost said something, but bit his tongue to stop the flow of words that would have been unstoppable. When you hugged him goodbye, he held on just a second too long, his arms tightened around you, hesitating to let go and wishing he could stay in the safety of your embrace forever. And for just a heartbeat, he stared at your lips. He almost gave in, almost kissed you right then and there, but he shoved the thought away at the last second. Why would you ever want to kiss someone like him?

The second time he almost kissed you was at the ice rink in Central Park. It was the holiday season, and this year Bucky realised that he didn’t need to spend it alone anymore. He invited you out, convincing himself it wasn’t a date— just two friends hanging out, doing friend things.  

You were hesitant, admitting you couldn’t skate and that the ice never seemed to agree with you, but he insisted.

"You can hold onto me," he teased, though he left out  telling you how much he wanted you to. Just to feel you close. Just for you to embrace him again.

"Buck!" you squealed when he picked up speed, your hands clutching his jacket tight around your fist in a death grip. "You’re going way too fast!"

He laughed, slowing to a stop in the middle of the rink. The moonlight between trees shrouded the two of you. You stumbled into his chest, your fingers curling into his coat. For a second, you didn’t move. You stayed there, taking in his scent. "What would I do without you?" you murmured into his chest, voice barely above a whisper.

In that moment, he realised that you weren’t just his friend out of pity— You made him feel wanted. Needed.

His hands found your cheeks, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. He could almost taste how your lips would feel— soft, warm, perfect. His breath hitched, his body taking control. But then, just as quickly, he put his logical mind back in the pilot seat. He pulled away. Why would you want to kiss someone who’d been broken as many times as him?

The third time he thought about kissing you, he could’ve sworn you wanted it, too. You were on one of your usual runs and morning coffee— your ritual together. It happened once or twice a week when he wasn’t whisked away to some strange land for a mission. 

Bucky always slowed his pace to match yours. He didn’t mind since he could spend those extra moments near you. 

After the runs, you’d get coffee together. He talked about everything—his life in the 40s, his family, Steve, his friends from school. 

You gave him pieces of his humanity back with every conversation. With you, he felt more than a soldier— you made him feel more organic. Human.

He felt that, for once, he was more interesting than the winter soldier.

He then talked about wanting a small pet, maybe a dog, or a white cat. 

"What, am I not companion enough?" you had teased.

His ears burned, and the super soldier found himself stammering. "That’s not what I meant."

You laughed as you brushed coffee foam off his facial hair. The briefest touch and his heart started racing out of control.

He could've sworn you leaned in just slightly, almost instinctively. He wanted to kiss you. He needed to. But again, he pushed it down, convincing himself that the two of you were just friends. 

The day after, he found himself lying on the couch, thoughts spiraling. He couldn’t stop thinking about you— your lips, your laugh, your touch. He didn’t know what to make of it. The feelings ate away at his sanity, and they wouldn’t go away. For the first time, he asked himself the question he was too afraid to ask: was this how it felt to be truly, deeply, and desperately in love?

Then came the knock.

He opened the door, and there you were, looking as tired as he felt. Your hair was a mess, your clothes crumpled, and you looked like you haven’t slept since he saw you yesterday, but you were still so goddamn beautiful. You had this infectious wild energy, like you were on the edge of discovering the secret to world peace.

"I’ve been thinking all night," you said, stepping inside the gap he had open. That was how welcome you felt in his space, how comfortable he was with you. "If I’m wrong, this is going to be so embarrassing, but— three times. You almost kissed me three times."

Bucky blinked, caught off-guard.

"That night with the pizza, when I said goodbye," you continued, pacing around the room in deep thought. "The ice rink. And yesterday at the coffee shop." You held up three fingers at his face, your hands trembling slightly. "Three times is too much to be a coincidence. Three times is too much to just accidentally lean in. Please, tell me you’ve thought about it. Tell me you’ve wanted to kiss me because—" You stopped, looking into his beautiful eyes. "Because I’ve thought about it too."

Your voice was shaky. Bucky had never seen you so vulnerable, so uncertain. So hopeful.

"This is so embarrassing," you muttered, your voice now barely a whisper. But before you could say anything else, Bucky closed the distance between you. He grabbed you by the waist and kissed you, his lips capturing yours in a desperate rush. All the hesitations melted away from the tension in his muscles, and it was better than he’d imagined a thousand times. He didn’t know how it was possible, but you tasted even sweeter than he had dreamed. His hands tangled in your hair as you stood on tiptoes, clutching him as if he might slip away.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you whispered in disbelief, "So I was right."

Bucky smiled, finger running along your skin, in a sensory attempt to remind him the was all real and not just one of his fantasies. "Only took you half a year to notice."

You laughed softly, melting into his touch. "I could say the same for you."

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again. "Shush," he whispered between kisses. He was addicted now. He needed his fix. He needed your touch, your warmth, your lips on his. Again, and again, and again.

And that was more than a year ago. Now, Bucky still couldn’t stop kissing you. If anything, it had only gotten worse, not that you were complaining.

He kissed you every chance he got. When you rolled over in bed, still half asleep, he kissed your forehead. When you stretched in the kitchen, reaching for a mug for your afternoon tea, he kissed the back of your neck. When you came home late from work, tired but smiling, he pulled you into his arms and kissed you breathless, as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Buck," you laughed, stopping his train of thought, playfully trying to squirm away as he pulled you onto his lap. "We’re supposed to be watching a movie."

His lips found the sensitive spot behind your ear. "But I’d rather kiss you."

You were powerless against him, as you always are. Laughing softly, you said, "You know, you kiss me every day. Aren’t you tired of me yet?"

He pulled back just enough to look at you, reminding himself of how lucky he was that he had you here. That if it wasn’t for you storming into his apartment in a frenzy with a theory, you wouldn’t be here in his arms. "Never." His voice was so soft, making your breath hitch.

You were about to say something smart, but Bucky stopped you with another kiss, his lips gentle and loving, yet there was such a fiery passion beneath. You curled into him, his warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, the movie long forgotten.

He stared at you, thumb brushing the side of your face, as if memorizing every detail. "I’m never gonna stop kissing you," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. His voice was a little rough, his throat dry from the taste of you. "I don’t think I could, even if I tried."

And you believed him.

-end

[sleepyjuice]

toxic!rafe will blow your phone up the second you post something on instagram that he’s ‘iffy’ about.

you posted a photo dump which consisted of some random photos of the beach, some of your friends, one of you and rafe of course, but the one that had rafe seeing red was the last slide, which was you in a bikini. he texted you several times at first, and while you were literally typing your response, he called you. your fingers were typing so fast to respond to him that you accidentally declined the call, and he did not like that. you immediately went to call him back, but another text from rafe rolled in, saying ‘fuck you don’t talk to me we’re done’ you sighed loudly, knowing damn well he was talking out of his ass right now, so you sat back and waited for the inevitable next string of texts to roll in. which they did, only seconds later.

rafe <3: do you get off on making me mad or something

rafe <3: like i’m racking my brain trying to understand why you do the things you do and that’s all i can come up with

rafe <3: and i see at least 4 guys have already liked your post like that’s crazy to me?? thought i told you to block all the guys that followed you?? of course you didn’t

rafe <3: also who even took that pic of you??? bc i know damn well it wasn’t me so who the fuck you posing for with your fucking ass and tits out? WHAT THE FUCK

rafe <3: DO NOT PUT YOUR SHIT ON DO NOT DISTURB answer me rn.

rafe <3: nah it’s cool actually i’m gonna go hit up my other gfs so you have a good night.

you rolled your eyes at that last text, deciding to fully turn your phone off. you knew he would likely try to text or call you again very soon but you didn’t want to deal with it right now. this wasn’t your first rodeo, you knew nothing you could say to him right now would calm him down, so letting him freak out on his own was the best method to his madness.

three hours had passed since you turned your phone off. you had caught up on some reading and turned on your current favorite show, but found yourself interrupted by a knock at your front door. you expected it to be rafe, but instead it was a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and a gift bag. you glanced around to see if rafe was lurking around, but saw nothing. when he freaked out over text and was able to reread his actions, he usually waited a bit longer to show his face as opposed to a verbal argument.

you brought the flowers inside and set them on the counter before grabbing the card attached to the side of the bouquet.

sorry we argued. you are so beautiful and i love you so much. got you a little gift and sent you some money for food and i set your appointment with your nail girl for tomorrow at 10. love you forever baby -rafe

you couldn’t help but smile just a little. the flowers were beautiful and the note was pretty sweet, so you chose to ignore the part where he said ‘we argued.’ you didn’t get a word in, but you let it slide. especially after you opened the gift bag to see the new dior bag you had been wanting.

you hurried to turn on your phone, immediately seeing a $500 apple payment from rafe as well as a new text from a few minutes ago.

rafe <3: hope you like the flowers and bag baby. love you! :)

you: i love them. thanks rafe, love you too

rafe <3: good to hear. lmk what you end up getting for dinner and i’ll pick you up tomorrow to take you to your nail apt. can’t wait to see you baby

you would order yourself dinner that was obviously way less than $500, but you would send rafe a picture and thank him again. you’d facetime him before bed and conversation flowed like nothing had even happened just hours before. he’d ask you what color nails you were getting, tell you funny stories about the old men at the country club and excitedly plan what you two were going to do the next day. the cycle seemed like it would never end, but you often forgot about the bad when he was talking so sweetly to you and all you could think about was how excited you were to see him tomorrow.

[slowdivinqs]

Golden

Summary: A Sunday afternoon on your farm with Joel.

WC: 4K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Soft, dorky Joel. We pretend Abby and Joel chatted it out. Joel and JJ moments. Breeding ( ? ) kink. Oral sex f! receiving. PinV. In da farm house we’re in love baby! Joel doing physical labor…yeah. Can imagine Pedro or game Joel. Reader can paint!

A/N: I just wanted to give a HUGE thank you for all the love, kind words and support on Magnetism! You all melt my heart. Thank you! I’m not so happy with the smut in this but whatever :,)

The Sade record crackles before your favorite song on the album begins drifting through the air. The birthday gift Joel gave you last year that made hot tears fall out of your eyes, just like him when you gave him a painting of Sarah and Ellie for his birthday that hangs in his woodworking space. Your birthday last year ended with 8 hours spent in the sheets, passed out by the end of it, Joel with a sore back for a week - yet claims it was worth it.

You look up at him right now, peering outside the large kitchen windows and spotting him pulling out carrots, in a tight shirt and his work jeans, arms flexing at the particularly stubborn ones. Banjo following along and sniffing inside Joel’s wicker basket filled with vegetables, his tail smacking into Joel’s side. Rosie and Posie bleating in the distance, their fuzzy woolen coats glowing in the sun, seeming to also take an interest in watching Joel work, just like you.

You hear Banjo’s excited barks before Joel closes the dog's mouth shut with his hand playfully, shaking Banjo’s head side to side lightly, riling him up. The sun starts to set behind them, past the fence surrounding your ranch, behind the tall Wyoming mountains. Orange, pink, and yellow, exploding in waves. The bees returning to their hives from the flower box in front of the kitchen windows．

You laugh when Banjo manages to knock Joel over lightly, the two tumbling onto the grass. Joel laughs too, holding the border collie back with his forearm as he tries to lick Joel’s face with all his might.

You smile to yourself as you get back to work, just as Sade starts singing about ‘his hands’ and ‘the way the mountains look���. Lost in the haze of measuring out ingredients, 2 and 3 quarter cups flour, a quarter cup of sugar. Feeling the weight of the ingredients slide into the bowl. Just as you see Joel slowly walk towards the chicken coup, Banjo waiting in the grass - knowing he’s not allowed there.

Milk and salt are next, and you drift over to the fridge to grab the milk, your long white skirt, embraced with abstract flowery patterns flows against your bare ankles as your toes feel the comforting wooden floors of your warm farm home that Joel made sure to install after you mindlessly talked about your love for warm wooden accents. Sat a 20-minute walk outside the walls of Jackson, a small distance away from Ellie’s farm, closer to the lush woods atop the hills.

As you settle back by the kitchen counter, lit up by warm - almost honey-colored rays of sunlight, you try to spot Joel amongst the chickens, but he seems to have vanished, Banjo too.

You glance around surprised for a moment, your eyes flitting from the coup to the vegetable patches, to the flower beds he planted for you, the fairy garden that he denies he took part in yet carved all of the little toadstool homes for you, and Ellie to paint, and even to Old Beardy grazing in the distance, yet Joel is nowhere to be found.

You even turn to the back door, yet there’s no sign of your man. How can a big teddy bear like him disappear in less than a minute?

You jump and let out an embarrassing squeak as a sudden flash of salt and pepper pops up right on the other side of the window pane. You clutch a hand over your chest as Joel’s face comes into view, his cheeky smile and scruffy beard. Utterly pleased with himself at his success in startling you.

You glare at him half-heartedly, trying to hide the smile that’s inching up your face.

He reaches into one of the large pockets in his jeans, and your attempt at hiding your smile fails when he pulls out a little yellow chick. He lifts it to your view, the little fluff ball wiggling and chirping, looking tiny in Joel’s large, dirty palms. His smile grows wider and tender as he sees you beam at the sight through the window.

He scratches the chick’s head with one of his fingers before walking back to reunite the yellow baby with its mama.

You laugh to yourself at his antics. At a grown, grizzly man, surprising you with a baby chicken. He’s a dork and doesn’t deny the allegations when they’re thrown his way.

Banjo runs circles around the vegetable garden just as the back door opens, closing softly with a click. Joel’s heavy footfall, accentuated by his boots, sounds behind you, getting softer as he heads to the guest bathroom. The house creaks and groans as the water turns on. You’re back to baking.

“Smells real good.”

He hums, his, now soft, footfall appearing once again as he approaches from behind you, burying his face in your neck and sniffling dramatically, you feel his wet beard and hair drip onto your neck, giving you goosies. He’s splashed his face and washed his hands, probably so he can distract you without your scolding.

“Me or the food, old man?” You ask with a smile, continuing to knead the dough.

“‘Mm, both.” He hums, rubbing his facial hair against your neck like a cat. You suspect he might start purring soon. It’s not unlike him, even though he ignores you when you tell him that he basically purrs while snuggling against your chest as you read whatever novel you two have picked aloud to him in the evenings.

“Cinnamon rolls, bread’s in the often.” You hum, tilting your head to the side so he can keep giving you his beard scratches. He starts nibbling too now. You sway your hips slightly to the music, and the way his hands fall to your hips tells you all you need to know.

“Cinnamon rolls.” He repeats amused, smiling against your skin, nibbling again to make you tut at him, grinning when you do.

“Ellie and Dina are comin’ over later.” You say as you grab the jar of cinnamon on the shelf, leaving Joel to step back and watch.

“They bringin’ JJ?” Joel asks, voice loosing his husky tiredness and instead replaced with a lighter sound.

“Yes baby, they’re bringing JJ.” You say with a soft smile, looking back at him only to find he’s disappeared once more. That man is silent as a mouse usually - a habit you suppose. Although, whenever he walks into the house, he does three stomps of his boots - just to make sure you know it’s him. He may have gone soft, but there are some things time will never strip away entirely. His knack for safety is one of them.

Just as you’re finished adding all the wet ingredients to your dry ones, you hear Joel in the living room lowering a box, a few things spilling out. An obnoxious squeak of a toy - you think it’s banjo’s plastic chicken that Joel hid away after the noise drove Joel so insane he accidentally beheaded a cowboy carving he was working on for a month. You catch Banjo’s head shoot up as if he got a sense that his long-lost soulmate is near. Joel hides the chicken away again quickly.

He’s brought out the small bundle of toys you two own - JJ’s toy box - Joel calls it, even made one of those shape sorters and toy soldiers for the little boy to play with, and asked you to paint them when he was done, as he does most of his carvings.

This is the one thing Joel doesn’t try to hide his excitement about. Whenever he sees JJ, or ‘potato’ as Ellie calls him, they might as well be the only people in the world. You think it’s the sweetest thing, makes you want to beg him to have a potato of your own, your body going into overdrive imagining how he’d look at your child while putting them to sleep, how he’d kiss their forehead softly.

Joel begins to organize the toys, placing the few dinosaurs, soldiers, and stuffed animals in a battle scene. The soldiers are apparently no match for the fluffy bear, as he’s flung them around in defeat.

Never did you think you’d see the day that Joel Miller would organize a battle scene between stuffed animals and wooden soldiers, just to see JJ’s face light up in excitement - like the little boy's face doesn’t already do that when he just sees Joel as the front door opens.

You manage to pull your eyes away and start folding your dough. Smiling to yourself at your sweet sweet man. Your stomach swoops the more you think, kneading the dough mindlessly as you’re painfully reminded how badly you want it. How badly you want him to pump you full, make you swell. You don’t even notice how your eyes have gone hazy, kneading the dough harder and harder until you jump at Joel’s big hands cupping your wrists from behind, pulling them upwards slightly to relax them. His beard tickles the fly always at the back of your neck as he kisses the soft skin there.

“What’s got my lady all worked up, hm?” He murmurs against your neck, kissing down the side and inhaling, almost like he wants to brand himself with you.

“You.” You whisper shakily, squeezing the dough slightly like an anchor. You feel his cheeky, boyish smile against your skin, only for a moment before he replaces that smirk with a nibble.

“Me?” He asked softly, planting his chin over your shoulder to watch as you ‘work’, definitely not to watch the way his calloused hands cup over your tits. The dough between your palms is the only thing keeping you stable right now.

“Yes, you.” It’s a breathy whisper, and although he doesn’t see it - Joel already knows your eyes are drooping when you tip your head back slightly, able to breathe in that perfect scent of him after he’s spent the day working in the sun. The musk that is uniquely Joel, that screams man man man.

“Don’t know what you mean, honey bee.” He hums, his mouth ghosting over your earlobe just as his thumbs circle over where your nipples are unfortunately hidden away from him. He knows exactly what you mean.

“Why don’t you head South and find out then, cowboy?” You tease, expecting a playful slap and pinch of your ass before he wanders off to the shower, but instead, you find his hands, then his whole self sliding down down down until his knees plant themselves on the floor.

“Gonna let me spoil my desert?” He hums, his hands sliding slowly up from your ankles, bringing your skirt with them, until he can see the little cotton-lace panties that are hidden underneath. He bites the soft swell of your right asscheek that the cotton doesn’t cover.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip softly as you arch your back slightly, leaning your weight on the dough, squeezing harder as the soft caress of your thighs leaves you dripping - more so than before.

“You know I’d let you do anything.” You whisper to him, and it’s all he needs before you feel his calloused fingers on your lower back, sinking into your underwear before dragging them down, burying his head under your skirt.

He throws your panties somewhere, with a proper flick of his wrist. You can see them land somewhere in your periphery, the white lace discarded, very Joel-like in the most crude matter possible.

“Joel!-“ you begin to exclaim before his warm tongue parts your slick folds with an obscene sound. Slurping up the wetness he’s found as his calloused hands grip the front of your thighs. Squeezing tightly like it’ll let him get his tongue deeper into your pussy.

You almost want to laugh at what it must look like: his head buried under your long white skirt, like a ghost he probably dressed up as for Halloween. But fortunately for him, you can’t laugh when his mouth has sealed around the hood of your clit, when it’s hot hot hot and wet.

“Oh, Joel-” you moan in a breathless gasp, your head falling back and then forward as his tongue licks the underside of your clit, making you squeeze the poor dough for it’s life.

He groans into your pussy, tongue leaving your clit to lick side to side, sliding down your cunt until it’s breaching your drenched hole. His hands grip your ass-cheeks tightly, eating at you like it’s his last meal.

He pushes two of those thick fingers inside you, instantly curling forward so deliciously you think you might die. You lose your voice, moaning hoarsely as you clench around the intrusion. He starts moving his hand faster, paired with the suckling of his hot mouth on your clit, you’re not going to last much longer.

“Give it t’me baby- let me have it.” He whispers against you, and it’s his words that do it, as well as that final crook of his fingers that hit you right where you need him. You’re cumming with an intensity only he can give you. He slurps up all the wetness he can until you’re whining at him that it's ‘too much, too much’ and he stands. Gripping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger before kissing you deeply. Guiding his tongue into your mouth just as he had done your pussy.

“I love you.” He whispers against your lips, and your chest blooms, blinking up at him as he looks into your eyes with a calm tenderness like you’re exactly what he always dreamed of - like he lay awake at night as a little boy getting giddy at the thought that one day you might be real, and now you are, more importantly: you’re his, and he’s yours.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, kissing him once more before he’s once again lifting your hands from the dough, which now looks positively mixed from your absent-minded squeezing.

“‘M gonna go shower, baby.” He says softly, stepping back from you just as you turn to look at him.

“You’re gonna deny a woman her fun?” You ask with a raise of your eyebrow, looking down as he re-adjusts his jeans. His hands glancing at your ass before smirking at something you don’t see yet.

“You’ll get your fun later, baby.” He says with an amused smile, before he’s turning and heading upstairs. You sigh and look around the kitchen, laughing brightly as you see your panties dangling on the hook by the back door, how he flung them so far, you’ll never know.

There’s a knock at the door at 5pm sharp, and Joel bounds down the stairs before walking to the door, the creak of it sweet before the sounds of ‘hello!’ and ‘how’s it going, old man?’ ring through the house. You move away from the kitchen to great Dina and Ellie as they walk in, JJ already cooing excitedly in Joel’s arms as he hugs Dina, then Ellie from the side. Smiling widely at the little boy.

“Hey Els, Dina.” You say softly as Ellie gives you a tight squeeze, her mullet brushed neatly, most likely done by Dina. The Ellie you know would let her hair stick in every direction like the wild child she is and always will be.

“Smells good.” Ellie says softly, a hand on the small of Dina’s back before she’s walking to the kitchen to inspect what you’ve made. You see Ollie - JJ’s favorite toy elephant that Ellie won in the Jackson Fair at 19 - hanging out of her back pocket. You smile at the similarities between Joel and Ellie, clear that he raised her in subtle ways. The most obvious being her recent taking for boots, jeans and flannels. She goes over to Joel and JJ after that, crouching behind Joel who’s sat on the carpet by his battle scene, giving him a bear hug from behind.

The afternoon is spent chatting away with Dina, Ellie occasionally chiming in, yet all three of you mainly watch Joel and JJ playing on the living room rug. Your home is filled with the delighted laughter of a child. Ellie joins in soon too, taking on the role of the toy dinosaurs which makes JJ shriek with laughter as they attack Joel’s stuffed bear, then Joel himself.

Everything is warm.

You all eat together. Roasted Venison with salad and bread, cinnamon rolls later that JJ tries to devour whole while sitting on Joel’s lap - similarly to Ellie who sneaks an extra two with Joel in the kitchen when they think their respective partners aren’t looking.

They stay in the small cottage outside which Joel made sure was perfect before their arrival. JJ and Dina fast asleep as you, Ellie and Joel find place on the couch watching some cheesy action movie that Ellie picked. Just like old times when she was a young teenager. She still leans against Joel’s shoulder all the same. Both of his girls in his arms as lights flash across the screen. You glance up at his face once, and smile when seeing he looks as happy as can be.

He deserves this, he deserves to be happy. Even if he might not believe it, you do, and you’ll let hell freeze over before you stop trying to make him happy.

Ellie bids you goodnight before going to curl up in bed with Dina and JJ. Similarly to the way Joel follows up the stairs behind you as you make your way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Smirking at the twinkle in his eye you see as you pull out his favorite night dress of yours

You’ve just finished up in the bathroom when you walk back into your shared bedroom. Joel shucking off his shirt, leaving him in his boxers. You admire his broad back in the low light of the bedroom. The shadows dusting along his muscles like rivers.

You float up behind him this time, your nose pressed to the line down his back, hands wrapped around his stomach.

“I want one.” You whisper into the quiet night, and it feels like you’re the only two people in the world. He turns to face you - you rest your chin on his chest and look up at him.

“Want what, darlin’?” He whispers softly, his thumb running over the apple of your cheek as he breaths softly. You can hear his heart beating, in sync with yours.

“A baby.” You whisper, and it’s so silent, so quiet. His eyes glimmer and brighten, his breath bated as he looks down at you.

“You want that with me, sweet girl?” He whispers, his voice suddenly hoarse and thick.

“More than anything.”

He kisses you deeply, his hand burying at the hair on the back of your head. Cupping the bowl of your skull so tenderly you can feel his love for you pulse through your veins. Your arms wrap rest on his broad shoulders.

“Me too, baby. Me too.” He whispers, and emotion wraps around your throat, as you can tell it does his when you see the shine in his sweet eyes.

You fall to the bed together, his boxers discarded as he makes quick work of your night gown. Kissing along your breasts until you’re driven so positively crazy you need him to soothe it with his mouth.

Your hand wraps around his shaft and you gaze into his eyes as they flutter slightly at the sensation of your fingers, his own meet you there, guiding him inside you until you both gasp softly at the sensation. He lets his hips push in all the way moments after. Your walls grip around him, the thick, hot - length of him, pushing its way through you until he fits into the space he’s made for himself within you. The noise of your wetness clenching around his girth as he holds himself over you on his strong forearms is nothing short of one of Joel’s favorite erotic sound.

“I love you, I love you so damn much.” He whispers, his large - paw like hand cupping your skull as he grinds his pelvis against your pulsing clit, listening to the soft shk shk shk as his cock twitches inside you, pushing up against that spot inside you that turns you stupid.

“I love you too.” You whimper, barely able to think past the way your eyes are rolling. He hasn’t even thrusted yet. You don’t catch the way he’s gazing down at you, like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, like you own every part of his heart and soul, like you might as well be living and breathing within his ribcage : as if you’re the sole thing causing that glow he seems to have.

He starts moving, slow, deep slaps of his hips against yours. Holding you against him as you arch your back slightly, making sure he digs against that spot that drives you wild.

Your fingers dig red lines down his broad back. His head falling forward as he groans so deep and roughly you think you might die from being overly aroused. This man does things to you that you can’t even explain with words, your cries of pleasure seem to communicate it well enough though. Everything is hot and wet and sticky as he whispers into your ear.

“You’re gon’ be such a good mama- fuck darlin’ - take it, yeah-“ he groans into your ear, and your whole body shivers. You clench tighter around him, making his gasp slightly as his hand finds your clit. “Got me achin’ f’you all day baby-“ he whines - whines - into your ear, the soft skin of his balls drags against the curve of your ass, just like his tip dragging through your walls, taking you higher and higher until you can’t even hear the noises you’re making.

He rubs your clit harder, round and round on that pulsing nub until you open your eyes and see his disheveled face. Skin flushed, hair a mess, and his gaze fluttering as he moves his hips against you- his big strong body shining with sweat.

You’re done for.

You dig your heel into the soft flesh of his ass, pulling him closer and locking your legs around him, trapping him deep inside of you.

“Please cum inside me-“ you whimper, gazing into his eyes as he fights with all his might to make sure you cum first, his hand doesn’t let up on your clit, and you clench. “Please let me have it-“

His groan breaks into a soft whine as he drops onto his forearms, face right in front of yours, his nose bumping into your own. You can feel his harsh breaths against your swollen lips.

When you feel him start to fill you up on a slamming thrust, you cum with him, clenching tighter every time you feel one of his thick, sticky ropes shoot inside you while his cock twitches wildly inside you - his moans even sweeter than the sensation.

“Oh god, I love you-“ he whimpers, his moan cracking as you push him impossibly closer with your heel, his hands gripping the sheets next to your head for dear life. He kisses you messily, tiredly as you both lie there - sweaty and catching your breaths.

“I love you.” You whisper back to him, your hand running through his messy hair as you litter kisses along his damp forehead. He nuzzles into you like a big bear still inside you as he softens.

“You need somethin’?” He asks once he’s found his thoughts again, sitting up slightly before you pull him back down with an ‘oof ’.

“Just you.” You whisper back sleepily, your eyes closing shut as you bask in the feeling and love he gives you. You feel a soft kiss to your jaw. His hand splaying over your tummy.

“You got me, baby. Always.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading ! ♡ please lmk if you enjoyed it and reblog if you did ◡̈

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook gets his motorcycle license and you don’t believe in fate.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, a dash of angst / word count: 5.5k

content/warnings: protective!bf jungkook 🫡 / jk gives oc h*ckeys / jk is sad and scared bc many couples r breaking up :( then he gets h*rny and i can’t blame him bc oc is hot / oc loves short skirts n jk is stressed / oc gets an anxiety attack !! bc they thought jk got into an accident / bam cameo <3

> in which masterlist!

note: ART REPORTING FOR DUTY 🫡 it’s been a while so i feel quite rusty and my brain is fried pls bear with me </3 i’m excited to post regularly again and get back into the flow hehe. as always feedback and reblogs are appreciated! 🥺

—

it is a rather calm afternoon in your shared apartment. you and jungkook may be together in the living room, but you’re each spending your alone time.

you’re sitting on the couch with bam’s head on your lap, your not-so-little baby sleeping soundly. you indulge yourself in a fashion magazine, occasionally lifting your head when you sense your boyfriend staring at you longingly from the desk. he would quickly avert his eyes to feign obliviousness, switching between the laptop or his phone to busy himself.

“babe, spit it out.” you giggle, lowering down the magazine from your face. “is there something wrong…? what do you want?”

“no, it’s nothing. just ignore me.”

“then you’re going to be upset with me when i actually do it?”

“yah! that’s not true!” he looks at you wide-eyed, chest puffing up in defense. “it’s really nothing, okay? you can go back to reading.”

“mkay, whatever you say… i’m not reading, though.”you mumble the last sentence, burying your nose in the magazine again.

with a glittery golden-inked pen, you draw a star beside a bag from the spring/summer collection that you fell in love with at first sight. you hear the clacking of the keyboard pause and resume, pause and resume, but you ignore your boyfriend’s beseeching glances like he asked you to.

minutes pass by on the clock as you flip the pages with twinkling eyes and silent squeals, but they feel like hours to jungkook.

he blinks at the laptop screen as he sinks his teeth on his bottom lip.

he just needs to do it— get it over with. whatever it is, he’s certain that the two of you could reach some sort of compromise… right?

he puts on a face of determination before wheeling the gaming chair towards where you are. and with no one to blame but himself, he releases a disgruntled noise when he collides with the leather couch. the impact sends him a couple of feet away from his destination, but his hands find purchase on your exposed thighs and he brings himself back to you.

his clinginess never fails to fill your stomach with butterflies.

you smile in secret, silent as he hooks his arms underneath your knees and lies his head beside bam’s. he kisses bam’s forehead, and in a somewhat twisted way, you are grateful for all the times the universe tugged at the string of joy and made you chase after it, because it led you here.

he has folded himself in a position that looks wildly uncomfortable, but jungkook likes to torture his senses for some reason, so you let him be. you pretend that no one has invaded your space, attached theirself to you so close that you’re carrying a quarter of their weight; feeling tickled by their exhales against your skin.

you planned to mix yourself a cocktail halfway through your magazine, but that is pushed to the bottom of things you can do now that your boyfriend is displeased with the lack of attention from his lover.

“this won’t do!”

his impatience forces him out of the chair and onto the couch, where he sneaks his strong arms around your waist. the movements shakes bam awake from his slumber. the doberman sits up, tiredly blinks at his father as if he is so done, and leaps off the couch to strut to his house.

jungkook scratches his head guiltily. “bam! dad is sorry that he disturbed your sleep!”

to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t receive a reply.

“oh, bam, are you mad at me…? you can’t be, right? you must understand… we both really love ____, don’t we?”

but he does receive one from you— a fond gaze that thinks of him bizarre.

“he’s not mad!” he defends himself.

“he should be. we were having a peaceful time together.”

“yah, that’s so mean. i’m part of this family too!” he complains with a scowl. “i want to cuddle.”

“no one’s stopping you, babe.”

this time, he hides his face in the crook of your neck.

he breathes you in, and his mind becomes clouded with the natural scent of you, so uniquely you, sweet and fresh like the clouds on a spring day, mixed with a hint of strawberries. humans smell fragrant flowers and break off their stems. jungkook smells you and he bites, sinks his teeth on your skin, sucks, again and again, and then soothes the ache with a slow and gentle slide of his tongue, but it doesn’t erase the marks that blossom into a hue of a bruise.

he licks his lips, wet with saliva, feeling cocky with the memory of your sharp inhales— cockier when he lifts his head and sees the dilation of your pupils behind a curtain of haze.

however, they’re still trained towards the fashion items printed on paper that you so desperately wish would materialize into thin air.

he groans.

“baaaaby,”

“mhmmm?” you mimic the tone of his whine, resting your head on his shoulder— just to be closer, let him know you’re here and you’re listening.

he clears his throat, prepares for the worst.

“these days, there’s something i’ve been thinking of a lot… i’ve been researching here and there, too…”

“about?”

“motorcycles…”

“okay,”

“okay?”

bewildered by your nonchalant response, he pulls away to squint at you in suspicion.

“…i’m planning to buy one and get a license? like, maybe next week?”

“okay,” you repeat yourself.

hit with a twinge of confusion, you briefly tear your eyes away from the beautiful gowns worn by beautiful models.

“are you telling me or are you asking me?”

“uh- uhm,” he stutters. “i’m telling you.”

“alright then,”

his chest puffs up as he inhales sharply. “that’s it?!”

“what do you want me to say?” you flip a page, a flicker of amusement flashing across your face. “you’re not allowed to…? i mean- sure, i can do that, too.”

“no, no, no, no, no-” he kisses your cheek— nearly, barely, he’s smiling too big to do it properly. “no, really! are you serious?”

“why won’t you believe me?” the magazine lands on your lap as you cross your arms in annoyance. “what do you think of me?”

“i heard couples really fight about this in particular, though?” he chuckles, and it’s your pouted lips’ turn to be granted a kiss. “sorry, i assumed you won’t approve of this one. you’re so strict with me about driving safely.”

“it’s no problem because i know you’re responsible. i just get worried sometimes,” you mumble. “when you’re tired from work.”

“i know,”

“good,” you sigh, leaning into him to steal a kiss yourself. “can i just ask you for one thing then?”

“yes,” he nods eagerly. “anything.”

“if i find out that you didn’t wear a helmet one time…” you tuck your bottom lip in between your teeth, unsure what type of reaction you will elicit. “you’re getting rid of it.”

“three times-”

“oh my god, absolutely not!”

the sheer horror painted on your face further fuels his mischief.

“twice?”

“you said anyth-”

“please?”

“no! then i’m getting rid of it myself!”

you shove his shoulder, and he allows himself to fall flat on the couch before bouncing back with the mission to ease your mind.

“i’m just joking, baby!” his giggles fill the entire apartment.

he cages your face in his hands but you stubbornly resist.

“i’m joking- i’m joking. i’m sorry. come here, give me a kiss.”

he makes a smooching sound with his puckered lips and you send an unimpressed glare in return.

“promise me first,” your fingers wrap around his wrist to deny his affectionate advances. “one time!”

“i promise!”

“and you won’t get angry at me?”

and with that, his heart begins to ache in his chest. the shift in your voice, the nervousness blanketed by softness… fuck.

“how hard can that possibly be?”

he just remembered how upset you were when he got himself infected after visiting a tattoo shop in america. you told him it would probably be best to do more research on the place, but he isn’t jungkook if he isn’t stubborn. it was hell, to say the least. being in pain and fighting with you for days. you would tend to him and the silence would rub salt on the wound.

today, however, he was more than prepared to defend his case in the event that he faces rejection.

he doesn’t.

on the contrary, he is a given a gift.

“i hate you,” you whimper, but your words contradict the way you respond to his kisses— the sharpness of them has been dulled by his tongue. he tastes like the green apple lollipop that you completely forgot you left on the desk four days ago.

he draws back with a playful grin.

thief… your kisses and your candy and your body and your heart. all his.

“huh, you don’t mean that.”

“i do!”

“i love you,” he utters tenderly. “i trust you to set me straight when i need to get my shit together.”

“then you understand that i just don’t want it to become a habit, right…?”

what does he think of you? a person who treats him with utmost gentleness, supports his happiness, and worries about his safety— a person more important to him than himself.

“and even if it’s only one time… we never know what’s going to happen. i wouldn’t be able to bear seeing you outside the celebrity segment of the news. jungkook, i swear.” you pray that he doesn’t hear the crack in your voice, disguising it with a layer of humor. “i will lose my mind.”

“of course i understand! that won’t ever happen, baby! i want to tell you not to worry too much, but… but to be honest… i think i will be more upset if you don’t lecture me about this kind of thing at all.”

“really?”

“yes. because then doesn’t that mean you no longer care about me?”

this whole time, you’ve been saying i don’t want you to get hurt i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you, and he hears you clearly— like how one recognizes their favorite song playing in public even from far away.

you smile sheepishly. “show me the motorcycle you want.”

your outspoken interest makes jungkook’s face light up like a christmas tree.

“there’s actually a few that i’m looking at…” he trails off, running back to the desk to grab his laptop.

“i’ll help you choose!” you clap your hands excitedly. “is there a pink one?”

“pink?!” he exclaims, which is then followed by endeared laughter. “you want it?”

you assume that he is going to ignore the silly idea, that is until he returns to his seat beside you.

“sure, there should be one somewhere.” he whispers, more to himself, typing away on the keyboard to feed your curiosity.

“really? really?” you babble, clinging to his arm to take a peek at the screen.

“hmmm,” he hums. “get a license too and i’ll buy it for you.”

a sound of disapproval bubbles in your throat. “eh, not for me. i want you to use it.”

jungkook dramatically pauses. he stares at you, doe eyes infront of blazing headlights.

he releases a burdened sigh.

“why me?!”

—

“bend over,” jungkook commands sternly, standing arms crossed infront of the bedroom door to deny your exit. “right now.”

“eh?” you gape at him. “but aren’t we goi-”

“i said turn around, baby.”

you’re left with no choice when his patience runs thin and he captures your hand— it comes so naturally when you twirl on your toes as if you’re waltzing to a slow love song. he pushes you forward gently, and you carry your innate grace all the way to the arch of your back.

jungkook swallows down a moan elicited by the tantalizing view, clearing his throat. he masks the sound by unceremoniously spanking your ass, the skin-to-skin contact also causing a sharp sting to spread across his palm.

“shit- i knew it, it’s too short.” he tugs your skirt down, a useless attempt at concealing your white lace underwear. he harshly breathes out in exasperation. “baby, i can see everything! you can’t ride a motorcycle wearing this!“

“what? motorcycle?! i can finally ride it?!”

you only heard one word come out of your boyfriend’s mouth, it seems.

you flip in excitement, facing him again with a smile as bright as the sunny sky outside. “you got your license? why didn’t you tell me?!”

“i was going to surprise you but-”

he still looks stressed out, eyes trained to your skirt- well, your legs. the skirt is barely there.

“going back here from the parking lot to change would be-”

“but it’s miu miu,” you quietly remark, looking down at the article of clothing with a frown. “it’s not that short…”

“look at the mirror,” he points to your left with his eyes, but then he is already carrying you by the curves of your waist so that your back is facing it.

you bend down on your own, and jungkook clicks his tongue when you only giggle heartily upon seeing your own reflection.

“it’s fiiine! you’re there to protect me. i just won’t bend down.”

“but won’t you get cold?”

“nope!” you reply without a second to spare. “for fashion, i never get cold.”

it’s been more than five years since he met you; jungkook knows damn well that is very far from the truth. not a single autumn and winter have passed that he didn’t lend you his jacket, his warmth, and then some more, simply because you refuse to stop wearing skirts until you’re at the verge of freezing to death.

alright, maybe he’s being dramatic, and you’re stubborn as hell.

“and i’m wearing my tall boots,” you raise your leg in a straight line to show off the leather brown boots that stop below your knees. “look, look… don’t i look cute?”

cute? such a word won’t do you justice. you’re acting like he’s not also looking at your panties.

“of course,” a soft smile replaces his hardened features. “you look so beautiful, baby.”

“hm, thought so,” you scrunch your nose, and his heart skips a beat.

damn, but that- there’s definitely no other word to describe it but the word cute.

“but how about, let’s say, wearing a coat over it?”

“jungkook! no!” you grunt, punching his arm- but then a lightbulb illuminates your brain.

“or shorts under it-”

“oh my god, i think you have one that matches. i remember i saw it the other day-”

“no, wait, wait, wait- shorts are safer! ____!”

you sprint back to the walk-in closet, leaving jungkook alone in the bedroom.

“come back here!”

he jerks his head in distress, rubbing his eyes harshly with his tattooed knuckles.

“ah, ____!”

“what?!” you yell, voice bouncing off the walls of your apartment. “i found it!”

—

“is it too tight?” jungkook inquires, looking up to you from the floor.

you bend your knees to assess the tightness of knee pads. “nope, it’s good.”

he proceeds to grab the elbows pads he hung over the handle of the motorcycle.

“hmmm, next… you wear these instead.”

you pout, recalling that he forgot his riding jacket at work yesterday. “but what about you?”

“i only have one pair.” he says. “it’s fine, it’s just for now. let’s pick up my jacket at the company before going to the museum.”

“how about let’s wear one each?”

upon processing the mechanics of your suggestion, his tall and broad frame shakes with mirth.

you obviously grew up with little siblings. they were so lucky to have you.

“hey! what are you laughing at?”

“nothing, you’re just cute.” he chuckles, wrapping the other protective pad around your left elbow. “just wear them both. i’m confident with my driving but… i still need you as safe as possible, baby.”

“but jungkook! what if y-” you whine out a protest, which he instantly silences by slipping your helmet over your head. “ugh, you’re so rude!”

he beams with pride as he clips its straps beneath your chin. “wow, it fits so perfectly? i only guessed… ah, as expected of jeon jungkook.”

his hand freezes on the visor when you strike him with the beady eyes, pouting your lips to request for a kiss, which he grants— more than willingly. gladly. happily. with pleasure.

cruising through the city on a motorbike with the love of his life; going on dates; putting on your helmet for you and learning how to angle his face for when he steals a kiss— he used to only witness this in romance films.

at the end of the day he’s just a simple man, jungkook admits.

what a dream come true.

—

it definitely becomes clearer to jungkook today— why you did not oppose the idea of him getting a motorcycle license on such short notice.

“this is so cool!” you squeal behind him, subconsciously raising the pitch of your voice to contest with the wind and the roaring engines.

“____, be careful,” he chides you. “or else i’ll slow down!”

a sense of relief washes over him as you readjust your arms around his waist, your weight resting on him ironically making his chest feel lighter.

if only jungkook could protect you by keeping you bubblewrapped at all times, he would.

“you’re enjoying this more than i expected.”

the two of you idle before a red light. he balances the two-wheeled vehicle with his left foot planted on the ground.

“is it fun?”

“so much fun!” you gush, enthusiasm overflowing past the seams of your lips. “you already drive like a pro!”

“of course! i studied hard! i don’t plan on putting you in danger with my stupidity!”

“still-” you interject. “you’re just good at everything.”

while he is aware that he is gifted in many ways, technically speaking, jungkook knows he can’t possibly be good at everything. but hearing it come from the person he love and adore most in the world? he can’t help but to allow it to inflate his ego a little bit.

ten seconds before the traffic light turns green.

his smirk is hidden inside his helmet, but you can masterfully envision it in your head just from the transparent smugness in his voice.

“time to hold on again, baby.”

“i think you just like me feeling you up.” you muse.

you teasingly slip one hand underneath his shirt to caress his toned stomach, and he hisses out a curse. with how strict you are about road safety, one would assume that you would restrain on being frisky while riding a vehicle thirty times more dangerous than a car. you either have too much in trust your boyfriend or you underestimate your effect on him.

in his case, double the thirty.

the engine roars to life and the wheels screech against the concrete road. your gentle touch turns into a bruising grip on his waist.

jungkook thinks that you might be right. he would never miss an opportunity to feel your skin on his skin. he selfishly decides then and there— he now prefers motorycle rides with you.

—

it doesn’t take you long to catch up to that fact. when he tells you wear something comfortable, you also know not to spend too much time doing something cute with your hair because the helmet will just turn it into a tousled mess. for the past two months, he has been calling you every night to ask whether you want to be picked up from work with the bike or the car, because as much as you both relish in the thrill and the wind and the intimacy, sometimes you fall asleep on the way home from exhaustion and he doesn’t want you… quite literally falling on the streets of seoul.

but today is your day-off, and with your head hanging from the edge of the bed, you tear your attention away from your phone to find jungkook is upside down. he stands outside the bedroom door hugging your rainbow hello kitty plushie to his chest, frowning woefully with a cause you are clueless about.

the contrast of his black t-shirt with the rainbow makes you crack a smile, reminiscent of the countless memes you’ve seen on the internet. you find it funny, but mostly endearing. because you’re the one who loves colors but dreams of nightmares, while he loves dark colors but dreams of stars, fairies, and soaring through skies and different dimensions. you don’t believe in fate. however, jungkook believes that it was fate that brought him to you, and that you are the person he is destined with. you don’t believe in fate, but you wholeheartedly, unequivocally believe in him.

“i was watching the news-” he huffs, seemingly perplexed. “why is everyone breaking up all of a sudden?”

“who broke up?”

he freezes, attempting to recall the names that flashed across the television screen only minutes ago. “i honestly don’t know them, but still!”

“then why are you pouting?”

he doesn’t answer. instead, he carelessly tosses the plushie on the bed before climbing on it, sneaking his arms between your torso and the mattress to engulf you in a bone-crushing embrace. your phone slips away from your grip, buried somewhere in the sheets, but when big bundle of love and warmth is over you, it’s impossible to be consumed by anything else.

you weave your fingers through his hair, whispering teasingly. “scared of being in the headlines too?”

“scared…” he agrees, then he doesn’t. “of losing you.”

he scoots closer to nuzzle his face against your neck, his warm breath fanning your skin.

“i-it’s just,” he pauses. “ah, i don’t know! nevermind, forget it.”

“no, tell me. it’s okay.” your hands cup his cheeks, coaxing him to look at you. “tell me what’s bothering you. whatever it is. i’ll listen.”

there’s a glint of melancholy on his glassy eyes, and you desperately want to know what brought forth this pain so you can take it all away. your heart shatters when his nose scrunches into a sniffle, skin becoming more flushed, a shade of red that dusts his skin only when he cries.

“when couples break up after a long time… many of them say…” he trails off, held back by uncertainty.

“they say?” you urge him to continue, pretending to be absorbed in fixing his hair— running your fingers through the soft locks, rearranging his bangs, trying to see if they’re long enough to be tucked behind his ears— all in an indulgent effort to show him that this type of conversation doesn’t need to be awkward or intense.

“they say that… that they just woke up one day and- and realized they were no longer-” his lips curve into a frown, deeper than before, and you mirror him without knowing. “happy, or in love.”

he breathes shakily, avoiding your eyes to gather himself together.

fuck, jeon jungkook. man up! are you seriously going to cry right now? like this?

“and we’ve been together for five years.”

“almost five,” you correct him with a sweet smile, poking his soft cheek right where one of his dimples would be. “our anniversary is right around the corner.”

the unadulterated joy you radiated as you spoke those words makes the trepidation in his brain glitch.

“sorry, i couldn’t help myself. please continue.”

he licks his lips, and then opens his mouth but- “i’ve lost my train of thought.”

“oh my god, i’m sorry.”

“for what?”

“you were talking about something serious.” you wince guiltily.

“our anniversary is something serious too!” he points out, pouting cutely.

“yes, but… it’s a different story, breakups are- jungkook! why are you suddenly laughing?!” you sputter, shoving him away in annoyance when you hear a snort in the midst of his uncontrollable giggles. “what’s so funny…? you were just so close to crying!”

he shakes his head profusely, collapsing over you, but he ends up rolling over to the side so he can lie on his back and clutch at his aching belly.

“ah, ____! my heart fluttered when you mentioned our anniversary. i totally forgot what i was talking about!”

if it fluttered earlier, now it goes absolutely wild in his ribcage.

your positions are switched before he can comprehend it— you’re now on all fours on top of him. his head is trapped in between your arms and your gold necklace is dangling over his face and you’re straddling his lap and now it’s getting harder to breathe and not picture obscene images that involve you worshipping his body.

he probably likes this way too much than he cares to admit.

“do you see it now?”

he purses his lips, obviously distracted, controlled by his desire for you as he finds the curves of your waist to caress. “see what?”

“that you don’t need to be anxious about us not being happy in the future, because we’re happy right now.”

he cannot detect an ounce of hesitation even if he tried. you are steady. you are sure. something intangible and inexplicable floods your souls when your eyes meet, but the two of you know that it exists and it is real.

“fuck… i love you. i fucking love you so much.” his voice borders on a growl, and a whimper escapes your lips just before they crash against his for a kiss so full of passion that it completely catches you offguard. he pulled you down so swiftly that your hands anchored on the bed scrambled for his forearms to break your fall, nails digging into his skin as you balance yourself.

jungkook isn’t much for words, but something in him always wants more. he likes to speak with his tongue in a way so sweet that it compels you to abandon your vocabularies in the farthest back of your mind.

you sit down on his lap breathless after making out. your boyfriend watches you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, slipping his hands underneath his head as he cockily grins in satisfaction.

you roll your eyes at the sight of his biceps being shamelessly flexed. “bastard,”

“bastard you’re crazy about,”

“unfortunately,” you sigh with faux disappointment, hugging the hello kitty plushie you picked up from the floor.

“want to go for a ride?”

“to where?”

“anywhere,” he shrugs. “it’s already late so there shouldn’t be traffic anymore.”

you jump off the bed without another word, returning a minute later clad in a black harley davidson jacket. you look so fucking chic and attractive in it, he always pats himself on the back for buying it for you.

jungkook would go against all laws of the universe if it meant spending a hundred more almost five years with you, until the hello kitty plushie you’re still hugging becomes gray and unrecognizable.

“babe, why are you still staring at me like that? i’m ready!”

—

from the entrance, jungkook discerns your familiar figure pacing back and forth across your designated parking spaces. you appear to be engrossed in your phone as you nibble on your thumb, which he knows to be a tell-tale sign of your anxiety. you just got your nails done, and for the first three days, you’re usually very conscious of messing them up.

you fail to notice the loud presence of his motorcycle, not until he has successfully parked and pushed down its side stand on the ground.

“baby! what are you doing out here?”

he lifts off the helmet, ruffling his hair to tame it. and as he brushes his stubborn bangs away from his eyes, that’s when he sees his lover overcome with distraught.

his heart drops to his stomach.

your eyes are filled with unshed tears, chin trembling with the struggle of holding them back.

“jungkook!” you wail out his name, and you haven’t cried this loud since you were sixteen.

an unnamed neighbor walks by the scene and says to theirself, somebody must’ve died.

“yah- why? why, why, why?” he stumbles over his own words in panic, carelessly hanging the helmet on one of the handles of the motorcycle as he gets off. “what’s wrong? baby? what happened?”

you hide your face in the palms of your cold yet clammy hands, ashamed by the surge of your emotions flooding the parking lot as acid rain, but a sense of safety blankets you when jungkook gingerly tugs you towards him.

“i thought something bad happened to you! a car hit a motorcycle nearby- and i thou- i really thought-”

“oh, that’s right! how did you know?” he gasps. “i passed by them earlier. there were so many people and police officers.”

“jungkook!” you snap, hitting his chest in frustration.

“sorry- i’m sorry! okay, that was insensitive of me- fuck.” he rambles, and you visibly cringe when his glove-clad hands touch your face.

the texture, and only god knows all the places it’s been…

“there’s no need to cry, baby! i’m already here, aren’t i? i’m so healthy. there’s not a single scratch on me.”

he hastily takes off his jacket to reveal himself in a white sleeveless shirt. spotless that it looks brand-new.

“see? all good!“

you fall silent. your eyes frantically scan his body, but your brain doesn’t really register anything that you perceive.

“aigoo, why are you shaking so much?”

he can’t bear to watch you in this state. he feels nauseous, almost, like his gut is being twisted and wrung in different ways.

“my baby must’ve been so worried about me, is that right? come here.”

in the solace of jungkook’s embrace, wrapped in his strong arms that are, praise heavens, not broken, the pounding of your heart gradually returns to normal.

his, however, becomes louder. and these days he likes to believe that he is no longer the crybaby he once was, but his skin feels flushed as tears fills his eyes, because damn, what a blessing it is to be loved by you.

he leans on the motorcycle, lovingly rocking you back and forth with shushes and soft hums.

time flies by when you are floating, but jungkook is patient as he waits for you to land and come home to him, even when his feet have fallen asleep.

“you haven’t forgotten your promise?” you whisper.

“never not wear a helmet,” he coos, pressing his lips to your temple. “of course i haven’t forgotten.”

“good,” you mumble, drawing back. “go home and shower. you’re all so sweaty.”

“i will. i feel so sticky.” he chortles. “this is so annoying. i hate summer!”

—

you continue to cling to jungkook all the way to the apartment unit, arms circled around his torso and soft cheek smushed against his back. snuggling him from behind like a koala does a tree is a newly-discovered joy. and if you were single you would be rolling your eyes at a person for saying this, but it is quite wonderful to have a boyfriend for a pillow that is also a blanket. has anyone invented that?

“you know, i regret not getting a motorcycle earlier.”

“why?”

the door opens with a short jovial jingle as a signal.

“i saw someone with a puppy in a basket this morning. it was even wearing goggles! it was really cute!” he laments, dragging you along with him into the living room. “ah, i’m an idiot. why didn’t i think of that? we could’ve done that with bam!”

you form the mental image of tiny baby bam wearing tiny goggles and a tiny leather jacket, and then another, but with the current bam.

“but bam is already as big as the bike!” you dissolve into laughter.

jungkook grunts, and you can’t tell whether he’s genuinely feeling this regretful or he’s just trying to distract you after you broke down with the mind-numbing anxiety of losing him forever.

“exactly!”

you sink into the couch, instinctively reaching for the hello kitty plushie to hug. meanwhile, he begins stripping off his shirt.

“it’s not even possible at all now!”

“but i do want to see him wear goggles…” you say in jest, fishing out your phone from the pocket of your shorts. “should i look for one?”

wait, what do you even type for it? dog goggles?

“i found them. there are helmets, too.” you gasp, covering your mouth as an epiphany hits you. “the puppy wasn’t wearing a helmet?”

driven by curiosity, jungkook sits next to you as you search for the item online. he is practically naked, left wearing only his black calvin klein boxers.

“oh,” he pauses. “now that you mention it, the puppy wasn’t wearing one.”

“how are you still sweaty?” with your thumb, you wipe the bead of sweat threatening to enter his eye. “go shower first.”

he manages to sneak a chaste kiss to your wrist before it becomes out of reach.

“before that, i need to tell you something.”

you bob your head, encouraging him to speak out, but the longer you maintain eye-contact with him, the faster his impulsive courage melts into a puddle of nervousness.

marry me.

marry me.

“baby…”

“yes?” you half-smile. “what is it? you’re starting to scare me.”

marry me.

when i see the future, i only see you.

“i love you.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[kooyabooya]

BABYLON

m reader x sana // 26k words

Almighty hand to God, there had been much, much worse situations to get yourself stuck in. 

If there’s any sort of consolation to fall back on, you’d wish that you’d say something earlier, call this off with a simple push and shove on the way out the door, close it and wrap up nicely with no worry filling your mind. 

It’s not that easy, though. 

Never was to begin with. 

Not when you have the lights off in your study, the sound of laughs downstairs surrounding the dining table, really fucked how you’ve hidden away from everyone else - also wanting to at the same time because all of them would have the same thread of thoughts running through their head if they saw you at the front of your desk with another body pressed towards you. 

“Don’t get so worked up,” Sana tells you, lips fast across your neck while her singular hand is well deep into the grip of your shaft. You could feel her breath slip through the opening when her lips are back on yours, the taste of her is already addicting the more she leans, a hand in her hair trying to give more, fighting, but losing drastically. 

What you give, Sana takes. That’s usually how it works in most cases like these with her. You can’t stop, you won’t stop. It’s already difficult to break away once she’s lowering your inhibitions without the use of alcohol. 

“Maybe I should deal with you right now instead of later,” you tell her, hiding the smallest hint of worry when your hands find Sana’s hips. She’s proud of the sigh she lets out against your mouth when pulling away before you’re quick to drag her back in. “Let the whole world below know of the things you’re doing to me right now?” 

You won’t stop giving in, because Sana gets you. Just like that. 

“Have them screaming in shock when you bend me over the desk fucking me?” Sana asks, a tempting offer above a whisper at that. It also doesn’t help that she’s giggling at the thought of you doing exactly what she proposes. “Sounds hot,” she says, huskily, “because I know you would.” 

This was never supposed to happen. Hell, this was the last thing you expected to happen. All of the possibilities in repercussions start flowing through your head again because this was definitely not the first time you’ve surrendered yourself to Sana’s advances, nor that you didn't want to. 

She’s like quick sand, pulling you from underneath into the catacombs of temptations that would have Satan himself impressed if he could see you right now. Or how this woman at her fingertips is breaking down every last bit of rational support running through your brain just so that she can draw out the rasps of desperation to get her screaming, shuddering. 

You could lower the flag and raise up the drawbridges - it’s so easy to do. She’s playing all of her cards right, knowing that your hand would never stack up against hers. 

Forget calling a bluff in this house of cards, since the only play you have in your book is to fold. 

–

You see, the events that happened before the wildfire were relatively tame. 

Nothing but wins coming left and right in the avenue of your life. Speaking of avenues, there’s this newly acquired house (all thanks to your surprisingly good credit score) alongside this block that has a new occupant–

“Babe, the place is amazing!” Dahyun exclaims out, arms around your neck once you and her finally make it past the front porch, taking in the high ceilings and matte layout of the new space. All of this wouldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for the countless days and hours of work to achieve this milestone. You’ll be proud of yourself for settling down while others may be working for bigger goals and ambitions. 

(A minor correction: two new occupants.)

The house itself is in a nice area. Not too far from the city, in a pretty well modest community, alongside the hills. Detailing is pretty modern: four bedrooms, three bathrooms, two stories, kitchen was renovated before signing off the lease, ideas for rooms themselves are already drafting from Dahyun’s pinterest board. Knowing that your wife has some good taste, it wasn’t worth deliberating over. You’ve gone through the gauntlet of places in different areas: beachside, close by to your cousins, one was also about a two hour trip away from the city, there’s also this high rise apartment that would’ve been a perfect choice though it never happens. 

There’s some scattered boxes here and there still, but most of the things are already in place from the whole moving process. Aside from all the heavy lifting and not wanting to stain the ring on your finger from the dust and oil when the truck broke down on one of four trips, the beauty of being able to be grounded by the tune of Dahyun’s laughs and witty banter when you’re trying to catalog and take inventory of the things that will be kept and what’s going up for the garage sale you plan to have within the next week or so. 

“I’m just glad that we finally got it over with.” You put her down, eyes overseeing the view past the spacious living room, as well as the boardwalk-esque deck housing the pool right outside. “Absolute hell trying to get the final documents signed, but finally.” 

“I’m so proud of you honey,” Dahyun tells you, hand to your cheek with the most reassuring look that she’s known for giving in your times of crisis. “Had I known that we’d actually get the house after almost signing off on the last place with Jeongyeon–” 

“Our luck was pretty much cut out for us,” you amend, though she’s not thinking of the ‘what could’ve been’ - since the here and now was all that mattered to Dahyun. You wanted this, and she did too. The agreement was not hard to fight over; sights were set, end of discussion. 

“We should give our credit to Jeongyeon for referring us to this place,” Dahyun starts again, trailing off with hands behind her back, chin up when she walks in deeper. Her gaze turns back to you, leaning on the pillar when you’re staring up at the intricate set of lights hanging over the couch. “Didn’t you say this listing was about to be taken down at the last minute?” 

“Almost,” you answer, hugging Dahyun again with your nose in her hair, “Gladly got the call as soon as I found out.” 

Dahyun twists around, arms circling her waist, pulling her closer under your touch. She’s happy, giddy when the tip of your nose is nuzzling hers for a quick second. Cliché, corny even, but you’re in love and she’s in love - something that the new home will be more filled with for years to come. 

“Shouldn’t we empty out the rest of the remaining boxes?” you ask her, hands curling inward on the small of her back, leaning in slowly for the softness of her fingertips across your face, the plushness of her lips on yours. 

This was a brand new start, a turn of the page in the livelihood of things, one act onto the next. 

–

Here’s the thing about new beginnings, most of these aspects are supposed to be taken in a positive light.

Most of the time. 

The subject of change itself is frightening, can make someone anxious at times because of the uncertainty of how things would play from here on out. Naturally, it’s normal for human beings to feel like this - this daunting notion in being uncomfortable because of this collective notion of ‘being stuck in the past’ or ‘to relive the glory days’. Nostalgia is believed to be one of the great unsaid drugs that everyone takes unknowingly without even realizing it. 

Luckily, you’re not facing things alone around these parts of life now. 

Kim ‘the introverted but somewhat still a social butterfly’ Dahyun has this effect on others that makes her extremely likable. Hell, if it weren’t for that characteristic, the ring on her finger wouldn’t have been there in the first place. She just has this quintessential quirk of just being able to click with others like it's nothing, almost as if she’s known someone she’s just met for more than five years. 

It’s an art in itself to admire, a playlist of clips in your mind that you’ll keep replaying over and over whenever the instance occurs. 

You’re willing to be a people person while she does it effortlessly. 

Not even a week after getting settled in, Dahyun was already getting acquainted with the nearby neighbors opposite and adjacent to your place while you’re busy getting the groceries in (since one or two trips are always the priority for the efficiency of less work.) 

If you’re looking at your new house from the street and inwards, the home on your left is owned by Jihyo. She’s lovely, adventurous, mostly in and out of the house on a daily basis. You lean an ear into the conversation while Dahyun’s getting her small garden going that Jihyo was also a pilates coach, the hint taken with the amount of lululemon products she wears and has in her closet in the brief exchanges of hello’s and head nods. In the next house over to the right, there was Chaeyoung’s place. Dahyun tells you over dinner a few nights ago that Chaeyoung is this underground indie artist that’s hardly home because of her tour scheduling and the fact that she’s in London for her Europe leg on the calendar, but was home for a quick break since her brother just came back from the mandatory military service. 

“You know, when I first looked into this cul de sac, I didn’t expect to live next to a considerable amount of celebrities.” you say, tending to the raw set of patties spread across the grill while the backyard of your house was transformed to this small, homey, kickback-style of a housewarming party with nearly everyone invited along the street. “Too early to say I’ve hit the jackpot?” 

“Please,” Jihyo starts, the cup of bourbon in her hand swirling while the smoke is up in the air, “I think you think too highly of this community a lot.” 

“Everyone has something special going on around here, which is nice.” 

“A silent observer,” she murmurs at you, “Dahyun likes that about you, the ability to read people. You could honestly pass that as your hidden talent.” 

“I may not be a people person like her, but if the conversation persists–” 

“He has no problem slotting himself into it like it’s nothing.” Dahyun says over your shoulder, arm snaking your middle while she’s pressing a kiss into the blend of your shirt while you’re flipping burgers on the clock. “The best at it too.” 

Even through the shades of your glasses, you lean over with Dahyun scooching to your left. A white bucket hat is all you see through the lens that’s shielding the top of her head with the monochrome scheme she has with her dress and shirt. Simplicity at its finest with the way she swipes your drink for a quick clink with Jihyo’s before downing it after. 

There’s this mix of food and drinks being dished out, there’s a lot of simple activities spread out across the yard. Some people are in the pool with White Claws on the cupholders of the floaties, another group is playing spikeball that one of them brought over for more variety with the hoop on the outer rim of the boardwalk, the set table for beer pong, and essentially some others that were scribbled off the shopping list. 

You’re weaving in and out of different groups throughout the houseparty - the role of being the host of the party really shows with the amount of times you’ve checked in with everyone in the span of ten to fifteen minutes. It’s all in good graces really, to set a solid first impression while the ambience really sets everyone into a mood. Cooling down once the sunset hits, and all of a sudden the influx of drinks being passed around might be mistaken as a frat party. 

Aside from the inquiries of passing more drinks, you’ve noticed the stigma that’s seeping through the guest’s faces when you’re indulging in conversations, a hierarchy of sorts. And when they see you get cozy in the seat, that’s when the questions occur. 

Mina, the person living in the house on the opposite side of your street asks: so what’s your daytime occupation, if you don’t mind me asking?

Quick on the draw, you answer: Currently working in data science from the comforts of my home. Oh, and I also dabble with a little bit of history to a minor stance. 

“The world doesn’t thank enough people who aren’t willing to move for a charitable cause.” Her tone is nonchalant, almost flat. That simple black dress she’s wearing, the outline of her figure that may look unreal at first glance, the way her leg is folded on top that signifies that she’s all class, a tilt of her head that has you leaning back ever so slightly. “Are you this some sort of- house husband then? Given the way you’ve been tending to us around the party so far?”

“God no,” you answer, hand up in defense while you’re casually leaning for the unattended cup of Lager that was brought in by Jihyo’s fling? Booty call? Friend with some benefit? It wouldn’t matter since he’s athletic enough to have his own chain of gyms as a fine investment. “Call me a clean freak, but I get by with my duties around the new place.”

“What does Dahyun do again?” Lisa, another neighbor just a few houses down chimes in, “You said that she’s–”

“A corporate lawyer,” you say, catching Dahyun in your peripheral view who’s laughing with another guest that seemed to just make their way into the late afternoon. Hand to the back of your head while racking it, “She’s pretty damn good at her job too.” 

You get a collective nod from the two women when you keep your mouth partly open with a tongue nicking the inside of your bottom lip. Logistically, Dahyun was a key counterpart in her firm, the way that she’s her bosses’ right hand when it comes to finishing off deals whether the fact it came down to mergers or closing cases. She’s always one to speak her mind, not willing to play nice or by the book. 

Generally, a lawyer’s job tends to be stressful at times, given the unhealthy hours depending on what lands on her desk first thing when she walks in, early or not. If Dahyun needs some downtime, you’d give it to her - something about it that she coined you to be her sleeping pill. 

(Kinda funny, though.) 

However, there was this whole ordeal of some big litigation incident with one of the firm’s associated parties. Something about the high ranking chairman and close member convicted of fraud and if the press found out about it, the whole door gets blown up and it turns into an absolute shit show. Dahyun’s boss had her spearhead the whole thing and as a big token of appreciation, she managed to get time off. 

The apartment prior was starting to get a little bit cramped, so she brought up the idea of moving while eating out for lunch one afternoon and that was that. 

Explains how the house acquisition was more simple to deal with, considering how you’re good with numbers and finances, but that’s all to know. 

Tech savvy, is what Mina tells you, taking out of it with a margarita in her hand while you raise your cup in acknowledgement, breaking away from the set of couches around the makeshift bonfire pit. Ever the sentry, unintentional but it’s what a good party host does to get to know new faces, right? 

Like the ping pong ball on the table, you’re bouncing around the backyard again, avoiding the splash zone of the pool when you slide across the makeshift bar of different varieties of drinks off to the right of the sliding door, cups riddled both half full and empty that’ll have to be dealt with eventually later, or in the next morning - whichever one happens first. A frame of mind falls into the same habit, picking up the clutter for a bit before you could treat yourself to another choice of booze or wine you’ll fish out of the kitchen once done. 

Nothing would prepare you for the extra set of small hands swooping in the table to keep tight on the slack. 

She seems familiar, not long term familiar, but something that you’ve caught yourself having a double take at for a quick second only to forget a couple seconds later. A quick spike of the heartbeat, that’s also something that you’re very torn on in that moment - running back a necessary subroutine in your memory banks to check that you’re - well, you.

“I take you’re the guy Dahyun was praising about.” she says, her voice cheery with that simple but sly smile of hers that’s stabbing daggers into your heart. “Find it hard to believe that you’re her husband, actually.”

The solo cups slide in smoothly, placing it back in the respective stack while this girl is tending to the crushed water bottles and cans in that small plastic bag she’s putting them in. A small contribution at that, but a helpful gesture that you’ll indirectly accept once the plastic is tied and in the bin. 

“And what are you trying to say?” you start, arm bearing your hand when you stand square across from her. “Was it everything that you hoped to expect?” 

Unbuttoned baseball jersey, those high top sneakers and short shorts giving a slight peek into her figure from the down up. Her tank top also raised enough to show her toned midsection that looks tapered and detailed. Casual, you think, perfect for the summer vibe that you could honestly put a lei over her neck and all of a sudden this party is a fucking luau. 

“Hon!” a voice calls out to you in the distance, approaching you and the girl from the other side of the yard. When that person gets closer, it turns out to be Dahyun who immediately grins at the sight of you looking all curious. “Oh! Good, I’ve managed to get you two both together.” 

“But you didn’t do anything.” 

“Who said that I was the one to start it?” 

“Coming from the person who’s all for taking the credit for herself.” 

“Always the pleaser,” the girl laughs out loud, Dahyun closing in with her fingers intertwining with hers. There’s history to them - not even a second thought to track back, it’s all there right in front of you to see. It also clicks in your head that this girl was also the same one that Dahyun was gleefully excited to see back in your sit-in with Mina and Lisa. 

The exchange of happy glances abruptly stops when Dahyun catches you with an arched brow, looking for answers, and to this she just smiles downward because how could she forget with the formalities, it’s silly. “Babe, I’d like you to meet Minatozaki Sana, one of my closest friends since college.” 

“Sana,” you say, and when the syllables reverberate past the oral cavity and into the air, it rolls off the tongue nicely. “I see, friend of Dahyun’s?” 

“Indeed I am,” she says, extending her hand as a peaceful offering - not even realizing the turmoil that’s running through your head while hiding it effortlessly. The way her hand fits in yours, her whole body looks delicate like she’s handmade with God’s well crafted time; she’s also a few inches taller than Dahyun (by two for the accurate calculation), you’ve got Dahyun to mold into the threads of the mattress and now imagine–

“I was wondering who was getting Dahyun a bit excited at the gate when you came in,” you say as you’re pouring yourself another cup of brandy this time, since the other drinks were relatively tame for your high alcohol tolerance. “Now with a face to the name, I gotta say, you’re pretty likable already.” 

Bottom line, it’s really curious to act this way. Clearly, you’re smiling at the fact that she’s standing there with her arms crossed, you’ve placed your cup down filling the next one, because another wouldn’t hurt. 

So how did you and Dahyun meet, you say - palm flat on the foldable table that sends the drinks sloshing slightly at the change in stable weight. I would assume that the story in itself is an interesting one, I hope? 

Sana and Dahyun have this exchanging look between the two of them, the infatuation of how their minds are interlinked. These two have been through everything, despite the differences in majors and fields of work - the bond that they have is admirable. “What do you know about me that Dahyun has told you?” 

“Whatever that wasn't ordinary already,” you reply. “What also boggles my mind is that–”

“If she told you about the time I almost had to blow my professor to give me a passing grade, she’s dead wrong. It never happened.” That star-stricken grin that has you pouting slightly and rolling your eyes because her answer has you completely way off of left field. 

Not that, you add on but-hmm it can only make you wonder of the kinds of things that happened in that period of youth, before Dahyun came along into your life albeit a simple nudge of the shoulder while passing between working schedules. A part of the script of life that’s rewritten in itself and jesus - it’ll sit in the comfy nook of your brain while it sends your heart and gut flipping in all directions. 

Let that be a new doc or spreadsheet for you to graph out in your mind, because there’s a lot to compute and learn into getting this right. 

–

So it actually turns out that Sana’s the next door neighbor living on the left of your house. She just wasn’t there during the whole moving process before the housewarming party because like Mina, Sana was out and about seeing the world - something about putting some miles in her life trying to cross off one or two things off the bucket list, maybe more. 

There’s only some noticeable details to keep track of in a few: 

* Said somewhere along the lines of having a fear of heights? Lost a bet to her cousin and went skydiving to get over it. 

* Well-spoken, considering that she was in Dahyun’s undergrad cohort before she had a change of heart in her choice of major, leading towards the pipeline of communication studies or working with kids, cute. 

* She’s an only child in the family and very accepting of the fact of having a big house to herself (since Juile, her housemate who was also paying for half of the place but hardly around to live inside and still depositing the rent when it was time). Lonely, one might say out of sympathy but that would be undermining her success till now. 

* Oh, and that story of her blowing her professor to get a passing grade? Hard to believe how it’s true and very similar to a common storyline you’ve surfed incognito on the internet before.

“Look,” and she says this with a whole hearted laugh when you’re behind her and Dahyun walking out of the side gate. “It was only a one time thing, I swear and plus,” you’re having flash of doubt when Dahyun looks over, and you’re terrible at hiding it because it’s in your eyes, a shake of the head in disbelief when Sana’s shoulders slouch, “we were sophomores that hated that fuckass professor so much, I was willing to take the fall.” 

“And you did, but thank god there’s no proof of documentation that recounts such events like those, right? Right?” 

A prompting cough deviates the ongoing conversation, “I assume that everything was handled then?” To this, Sana nods - right hand swearing under oath, smiling earnestly with those eyes of hers, left hand supporting her elbow. She’s distracting with how her tank top peeks out with her chest open slightly. In the court of law, she could never get away with testifying let alone convince the grand jury. “I mean, what would happen if there was something that’s sizable enough to damage your image of being this good-willed human being?” 

“Then everyone would watch the world burn if that were the true, but I’m cautious of my digital footprint, always making sure that my track record is clean.” 

(She’s in the same pedigree as Mina, Lisa, and pretty much everyone that’s occupying the boulevard: poised, casual, stable, know themselves all too well to get what they want - because they always do, it’ll have your head turning from the moment they walk in to when they leave the table. Dahyun gave you the brief rundown about her circle of friends; they’re good people, not wanting to let the finer things of life get to them, stay true to their words, grounded even.)

It’s how the amber light of your garage door shines above that gives Sana this radiating shade of copper in her hair. You’d offer to walk her back to her place if it wasn’t just a few steps away. Better yet, Dahyun would’ve permitted you to do so if you were to ask right now, but it’s fine. The grace period of life works in mysterious ways, funny how this sense of nostalgia comes back when you see two lovely girls play the game of catch-up, hugging after not seeing each other for a couple years. 

Tuning back in to the image: 

“I’m baffled you’ve managed to land a house like this, especially with your money and the amount of back breaking work you do on a daily basis. Twenty trials? You’re a fucking workaholic.” 

The pair of them laugh together, it’s really heartwarming to listen. 

Still, 

“-plus the extended vacation time you just got-” Sana sounds like a kid on the last days of school trying to come up with a multitude of things to waste time while Dahyun just listens to her rambling; eyes curving up with stupid smiles and the head tilts as if the secrets being exchanged are not meant to be spoken of to others, they look good together, wow. Have we checked the calendar if it’s Pride month still?

When they turn toward you, the actions seem unreal to register. Dahyun’s monolids contrast Sana’s double eyelids, the way Sana’s eyes especially look almond like. Her smile is a little smaller compared to Dahyun’s and when they’re just freely cuddling each other without any spite of jealousy beneath it.

They’re leaving you dumbfounded, consider yourself to be humbled. 

Sana breaks the hug first before she lets out an overreaching hand for you to shake. You’ll admit on another given day to Dahyun that Sana’s pretty, the small pull hinting at her smile all the more reason to give a positive outlook for first impressions that will also have you wondering how in the hell isn’t she in a relationship yet. Overkill when she does the line with her eyes while keeping the same smile when mirroring Dahyun’s expression, too. 

“Same number as always?” Dahyun asks, clinging onto her hand like she’s going away for a sizable amount of time. “I got nothing for the next couple of weeks.” 

“I’ll just walk over and ring the doorbell, don’t bother.” Sana’s answer is optimistic, and you’re hoping she’ll stick to her word because you’re willing to break the lines, the yellow tape at the scene, and ignore the lines of ink blacked out for confidentiality assurance. 

You and Dahyun say good night, and she’s just happily bouncing along the sidewalk into her own front yard. 

“She likes you, by the way.” Dahyun tells you, slotting herself right underneath your right arm while you’re squinting to see absolutely nothing in the darkness, not even tuned in to what your wife was telling you. A few sweeps of looks across the street pass and you’re rubbing warmth on her shoulder, only to nudge your head slightly to finally hear. 

“Sana’s…interesting.” you say, blinking, looking down at Dahyun’s gaze before your eyes shoot away scouring for something else to eye at in the short meantime before a light slap to the stomach sends you snorting out of the quick annoyance. “Hey, based on how she acted, I would’ve thought she’d be anything but ordinary.” 

“She’s done some stupid shit, that’s for sure.” Dahyun signs to her own admission, seeing it first hand of the stories that were told an hour ago. “Though, she’s gotten better once I convinced her to see things in a different perspective.” 

“Could’ve passed as a good lawyer if you asked me.” 

“Please tell me that’s satirical.” 

“Wasn’t planning to say, but I guess it just happened.” 

A close of the gate and up the steps into the front door, easy to say that getting yourself settled in for once in your life doesn’t seem to be that bad of an idea. The plans themselves are just getting started, drawing them up on the itinerary sometime later this week will get a number of things going. 

–

Apparently nobody saw this coming, and let this be an error in the calculations because evidently, this whole ‘summer in the hamptons’ type thing was about to be undermined entirely. 

Turns out on the following day, Dahyun gets this business call at around three in the morning, and the phone just keeps vibrating on the nightstand. She eventually lets you off slumbering with the lamp on while she goes to the couch to hear what her boss was egging on about for what you think would be a short call, but it wasn’t. 

What you eventually find out hours later is that Dahyun was called in to help play defense in this big lawsuit that was deemed to be ‘the second coming of the Watergate Scandal’. God, those news anchors and journalists need to do a better job of nailing the creative writing aspect because it was just fucking awful when they’re reporting it at eight in the morning after. Apparently you’re also reading an article online on your desktop about Dahyun’s firm coming under fire for a sizable client that’s been doing murky deals behind their backs that would not only jeopardize one branch of the corporate relationship, but all the potential deals that have yet to be signed. It’s a mess. Though, work shouldn’t even be the thought since Dahyun’s pulling out all of these boxes that were related to this case out all over the dining room table that she has to bring back to her office and whatever was on the menu for the boat party next week that you’re having with close family and friends was about to be canceled. 

And this has happened on many occasions, but if it involved Dahyun or anything related to the law firm she holds dearly to her heart (of course, you’re first, obviously) the support in her endeavor would always be important to protect. 

“I just hoped that they were able to handle this quietly, and without my help.” You’re dipping your head down to spit the last taste of mint from your mouth. Dahyun leans forward on the sink with her ankles crossed, wearing one of your shirts blinking dutifully, quite zoned out while her hand is over your hamstring, tapping it gingerly. 

“Well if that were the case, then they would’ve called you in anyway.” You say, raising an eyebrow with the tinge of mouthwash cycling in and out when you spit again. “So much for having your rewarded vacation time.” 

Dahyun leans back against the mirror when she’s putting her hair up in this messy bun. She looks a little more relaxed compared to the ragged breaths down your ear when your cock was buried inside her, clinging to your neck while that vicious upstroke of your hips sends her absolutely blown out. The look she gives with her pleading eyes when you take the toothbrush out of her mouth, washing it after she leans over to spit out the toothpaste before handing a washcloth for you to wipe yourself with. “You think I shouldn’t go.” 

“Wasn’t really bringing that up for you to consider, but judging how this looks from the outside in, I’d say it’s pretty bad.” 

“You’re really not helping my train of thought here,” she sighs, hands bearing her waist, the crinkles of your shirt on her subtly showing that petite frame, the image itself recorded in your memory banks loads of times - each one just like the first, if not better. 

Sliding over a few inches to where she sits there idly, your hands placed on the outer rim where her knees bend over the marble counter. She doesn’t change her posture when you’re looking her in the eyes trying to get a read on what her next move might be. Still elegant as ever, Dahyun will always put this appearance on even when it's the simple domestic life she’s living. 

Energy levels are still high, and the initial action was to get back to watching this sappy rom-com kdrama that bored Dahyun to the point where she slipped a hand inside your sweatpants just to ‘spice things up a bit’. Once the prompted question of are you still watching appears on the screen after minutes of inactivity, no point in answering it while she’s happily fucking herself over you while you’re sprawled across the satin sheets, gripping into her perfect waist with the sound of her hips with yours bouncing off the new walls. 

When’s the flight? You ask her, hand sliding up her thigh slowly. I could put in a word for your associate to get that done, save the trouble. Inevitably, the jaws of justice will soon swallow her up again when she manages to break free from the shackles of court orders and depositions. 

“First thing at nine,” she answers, fingers tugging at the midpoint of where the seam of your shirt and the waistband of your sweats meet. “Got some things to pack up soon, but I think most of the papers and boxes won’t be a lot for me to carry on the quick plane trip back.” 

“Crazy that they get paid for a short flight from upstate.” 

“In addition to the fact that they’re also on my dad’s payroll.” 

“A plus I might admit.” you muse. 

Dahyun shifts her gaze from right to left, spreading her legs wider when you scoot her hips up to meet yours. The hum of satisfaction that she gives when your eyes flick up to see that rosy shade of pink plastered across her face, eyes waiting, honing on something that she subjects that will be given to her. Precision was one of her key strengths, but when that’s used against her, it’s a completely different story. 

When she tugs a little bit more on your undershirt to lift, she usually does so with this sense of security - like a kind of clinginess that you won’t have any sort of complaint against. You’ve understood it to a degree. Whether you’re dropping by the office of the firm or being dragged into the kitchen after sitting on your chair for hours and hours doing analytics and business calls, moments like these with Dahyun are always something to behold. Considerably, you don’t mind giving into her needs for attention; in fact, you’re willing to do that without even thinking twice. 

“So,” Dahyun prompts with this sultry voice of hers, clueless and innocently - as if she has no idea what she’s doing to you. With her (your) shirt rumpled all over her body, those pretty eyelashes, her creamy thighs, the way that her fingers are grazing the elastic of both your sweats and boxers, you begin to assess the conditions when you’ve nestled yourself in between her knees, some water staining the gray cotton when you finally lean closer. “How are you gonna handle yourself while I’m gone?” 

“I think you’ll lay the severance package,” you say, not giving any faltering sense when she’s ghosting her set of fingertips on the right hand across your chest. “If there’s damages to it, I don’t mind paying up.” 

“Non-compete or NDA,” Dahyun huffs, lifting the outer seam of the shirt past her hips, showing the opening underneath where her pussy is glistening with her slick, awaiting your end of the bargain, this non-verbal agreement where she knows that you’ll always deliver the requests and offers. “Besides, you still owe me.” 

Laughing, you do recall the statement. It’s funny - there’s a trade off throughout the day earlier where you’re awoken to her warm mouth, deepthroating your cock that leaves you with these sharp inhales. The way her jaw slacks of how she sucks, the mix of spit lathering all over your length while she’s bobbing away between your thighs at ten o’clock on a Saturday morning. Even after Dahyun takes care of the morning wood situation, you pay her back by eating her pussy freely on the kitchen counter as the logical option to keep yourselves occupied while waiting for the oatmeal. There’s no competition between the two of you of who makes the other cum the fastest, the hardest, let alone how many rounds can you do in a day; it really just boils down to this one simple look, a push-pull that sends the neurons firing away automatically - fucking each other ‘just because’ to put it simply. 

This girl on the bathroom sink, slouching, head against the mirror still while your hands finally snake under her shirt, feeling the unbelievable midsection under the breasts when she lowers her eyes, leaning up for the touch of your lips. 

Every kiss, stolen or prolonged, each one always has the flaps in your heart opening. She’s yours. 

Tender at first, but then the heat gets raised up when her arm hooks onto your waist, fighting the slipping tongue that’s breaking away for a slight second in her mouth. Her hands are also grasping for any kind of reach for her to clutch on, no luck for it when she finally takes her fingers into your hair, not wanting to pull away. 

Dahyun does this little whine after the quick inhale of air when you slip a finger or two inside her bare cunt, testing the waters as she bites her lip in anticipation. “Don’t do that now,” she spits. That obscene noise coming out of her instantly after when she bucks her hips forward again, accidentally curling a finger in her warm cunt that makes her look away from your intense gaze. “Darling, please–” 

“Use your words honey,” you whisper against her lips when you’re tugging on her bottom lip, causing her to sit up straight on the counter, slotting her arms around your neck with hands circling her waist. “Can’t really hear what you’re saying if you’re mopping my face up.” 

She’s losing her sense of focus when your fingers continue to bottom out the whole length of them, filling her up and pushing deeper. It also doesn’t help when your thumb presses flat on her clit that sends her mewling at the bend. Her face is against your neck, the steady pace of those staggered breaths against your skin keeps your current operation on the clock, unraveling this line when you’re slipping in and out of her. 

“Baby, baby, baby, please–” her heel locks the back of your thigh in place, hitting a kneecap on the cabinet. She’s reduced to these simple words and responses with the heavy breathing. Her hips are nearly coming off the glassy surface of the sink. The shirt’s lifted up beneath her perky mounds (and that fucking underboob is a national treasure in itself), the seal of your mouth is all over her throat: pulling, kissing, gnawing. You kinda feel bad for the concealer pack she’s gonna be using later for a brief afterthought. 

Although this little contest of edging Dahyun out to cum wasn’t on the cards for tonight. You’re managing this smile when she pulls the hair tie out of her hair, letting it flow freely. This look of post-sex yet natural style that she does makes you stare in awe when you pull her hips more out at the edge, the way her elbows are propped up nicely and her legs are spread even wider. Her hand pulls the shirt higher, showing her breasts now, the preferred choice of marks that were left there as a reminder from earlier. You slip out of the sweatpants and boxers, fixed on the brushing of her bare cunt just millimeters away from dipping yourself - a teasing tip, then the first couple inches at the half - and that shudder from her hips catches you off guard. 

“Yes,” Dahyun moans out that matches your sigh in perfect timing. A moment’s hesitation, replaced with the second necessary action to sink yourself into her more, parting her walls nicely, slowly, until you feel all of her wrapped around you. 

She gasps, mewling, spilling out this chain of hitched breaths, “god. honey, your cock–” 

It all slides out for a second. Unreal. Then you slam back into her again. Pacing was always the methodical approach, a line into the protocol when Dahyun is writhing in the drag of your cock fucking deep into her cunt, she’s biting her lip at the fact that she’s shimming her legs more out, wanting to choke herself down the length. My god, you’d love to keep the look she has on her face, lips parted at how badly she just wants you to split her in two, seeing the last hint of her pupils rolling back into her brain when you skate the palms of your hands across her stomach, clutching onto her perky breast when the tempo starts to increase. 

When your hands finally nestle into the curve of her hips, they stay there. They’re already at a good place when your cock finally feels all of her, so wet, so tight. A slight throb along the length when you drag yourself out, that small pocket of air escaping before the vice seals shut again. She’s unbelievably perfect, one label off the list from your head when you’re fixed on the sight of your length disappearing inside her, head tilting forward with every stroke back in. 

“You’re so - mmh,” Dahyun hitches her breath, shuddering, you could feel the rise and fall of her chest when your hand clutches her thigh. A choked out sob leaves her lips, and you’re impressed at the composure of nailing her cunt, the same spot being hit deep, even deeper, to that one area where she’s lost herself before. “Fucking big for me, this cock - feels so good-” 

“Dahyun...” you hiss, shifting your hands down to the soft cushion of her ass, sinking down once again, then another, and then another, sliding her out across the counter before you’re driving her back in, this never-ending piston into the fiery pit of heat, stretching her out, twisting that nimble body of hers into your own creation, coaxing every exhale you catch from her abdomen. “Your pussy is so–” 

What you meant to say was, “your pussy is so fucking tight, god damnit-” You know what, the thought can barely even be formed in your head when you meet Dahyun’s eyes, slowly fluttering shut with her teeth slowly disappearing behind her lip. That, and the feeling of her walls imploding your cock to the remnants of awareness you had left. 

It’s also pretty funny to think how Dahyun was fucking herself freely over you just an hour ago, only for her to be used like this and she knows you simply can’t help yourself. 

“Love, I can’t - shit,” that utterance nearly takes everything ouight of you to say; everything about it is euphoric, the way you have her legs up, bottoming her out. You look at her again, and she has her hand over her mouth, trying to fight that natural clench when your cock fills the heat inside her. “You’re so good for me, spreading yourself open like this. Fuck.” 

This is a case that you’ll take to your grave, knowing all of your wife’s body so well to the point that every kiss, thrust, moan, hell even the appearance when she’s like this for you will be more than enough to last as much as possible. Dahyun knows the switch off too - aside from the fact that she’s cock drunk every single fucking time you fuck her brains out - and she loves this. You see it in her pupils, the desperation to tear all the edges apart, the signal for you to finally wreck her in the way that she wants you to. 

“Don’t stop,” she begs, chest heaving heavily when her legs wrap around your waist, propping herself up for you to take her waist into your chest, letting out these songs of pleas that’s encouraging you to get to that edge first. You could feel her body going limp, the support is almost reflexive while your hips continue to pummel her out. 

“You-” you try to say. Fuck. It goes everything against the directive you’ve put yourself in, the noises of your skin clashing with hers, creating this filthy yet harmonious sound that only gets more and more harder. Dahyun’s breathless moans keep you in check when your motions start to get irregular, inconsistent, keeping yourself busy with your mouth all over her chest. “God, Dahyun–” 

“Do it baby,” she whispers into the cuff of your ear, “Keep fucking my pussy. Pound me like this.” Her hand does this simple action, and it’s lethal. All it took was a simple palm to your cheek, it’s filled with little meaning but carries so much intimacy. Moans and grunts continue to slip out while you search for her eyes, feeling that pull in your waist, grip tightening and loosening as you’re mindlessly thrusting. “You’re getting close for me, aren’t you?” 

“Honey,” and at this point you’ve got it all spun out of control, “You feel so fucking good.” 

“I know, baby.” Dahyun ignores your words of affirmation, smirking. “You know what to do.” 

God. She can kill you, bring you back to life, and kill you all over again. Begging was already done before, you’ve fucked her way past her orgasm on mulitiple occasions - using her as your cumdump; doesn’t matter what time of the day or what you’re doing. The endgame was always this: having you completely fucked out in that velvety smooth pussy of hers - all wet and warm enough for you to live in. 

With your teeth gritting and a final huff of air blowing past your nostrils, you cum inside her, filling her sloppy cunt all the way up. 

Dahyun is sinister, it’s not up for a fair debate. When she coos and hums into your ear canal, you’re battling every urge to just wrap your fingers all over the column of her throat, use the remaining bits of pulse in your member to get her screeching. Alas, you hold yourself back while the ropes of cum are spurting around her walls, her mouth also gaping open when the fourth and fifth pulse out your cock weakly. 

There’s this pause soon after, a collection of breath between the two of you that constructs a reconsideration of your choices. Dahyun has this telepathic connection with your mind that makes the connection instantaneous - you don’t say anything because there’s this one look in her eyes, hanging in the atmosphere bathed with afterglow - and she knows. 

When you do slide out of her swollen cunt, there’s a considerable amount of your cum dripping out of her, slapping the tip along the outside of her folds just to tease her before retreating away entirely. The image of her legs spread out and her back laid across the sink will be saved into your memory for you to look on sometime in the future, or maybe even next week. 

“So,” you mutter, shaking off the small jitters of blood loss to the head when you’re massaging Dahyun’s thighs, “Have I paid off my case in due time?” 

Dahyun chuckles, a single finger raised up from the wreck beneath to get a taste, licking her lips following the fingertip. She wiggles up on her hands to sit on the counter again, hair flipped to one side while she lets the shirt fall down to cover her body, “Hate to say it, but you always do.” 

“That’s good to know.” 

“I’m also saying that you could use my help.” 

“Ha Ha,” 

“What? I’m serious.”

“I’m serious. Well so am I.” Dahyun sarcastically says, slapping your hip that makes your cock jump suddenly. You can see the dashes appear on her face when she lets out this simple smile, the eyes disappearing reflecting the same expression on her lips. She could saunter around the courtroom making a solid case for the defense, but no one would know the fact she’s all liquid putty when you have your hands on her like this. “I appreciate the thoughtful offer, but I think someone’s gotta guard the house while I handle work.” 

“I’m gonna hate you by the end of this.” 

“How bout you flip me over and rail my ass on the sink again?” 

You’re starting to curse that concrete jungle a little more by the end of it. 

–

Okay, to cut to the chase, there might’ve been a slight miscalculation that you had panned out in your head. 

You switch on the TV two days later and Dahyun’s already made her way back to ground zero in the city to handle this case, where it completely spirals into an absolute shitshow. All gloves are off when the story gets released out to the public, scapegoating one of Dahyun’s board members having themselves tangled in an affair with one of the staff. Sure, it could've been an analytical approach to brush off the heat that’s only growing by the second - a shitty attempt you might also think; either way, this trial was crucial for your wife’s firm to win because in the scenario that they lose, all credibility and positive imagery surrounding them will plummet and that equals no more lawyer work for Dahyun. 

She was optimistic at first while on the phone with you, talking about how this case should’ve been a cakewalk to handle, predicting the possible time period of when she should come back home to finally relax with all that hard work paid off temporarily. You’re smiling at the fact that she sounds composed, no hint of stress lying in her tone, riding on that high when you have her bucking into your hips just an hour before her private plane trip to the firm. 

It’s only a matter of time before all of this blows over, you think. Not your fault also when the house feels suddenly empty in the wake of this unexpected catastrophe. 

You’re hearing this definition of a fortnight. As in, Dahyun’s projected time when she could get out of the office and have someone else handle the case on her behalf. A little unusual for her to indulge in the understanding of the term itself, not while you’re making yourself dinner with the chops of onions on the cutting board and the phone being on speaker off to the right side. 

“Two weeks?” you’re asking, the dice of onion cubes being skated off into the pot left to boil while stirring. “That’s a pretty big ask for you to take up with your boss.” 

“Why do you think I’m hitting you with the English lesson?”

“Babe, you’re talking about a term that was used in the freaking 1800s.” you laugh, leaning back on the counter, glass of water in your hand as one of the stupid actions that most people tend to do when talking to their crush. “Would’ve been better if you just said two weeks instead of a fortnight. What do you think I am? Some kid that’s withering their life away over some video game?” 

“There you go again.” She laughs out loud. You can envision the picture of her rolling her eyes at you when you spew out complete nonsense that won’t comprehend in her brain since her lifestyle doesn’t line up with it. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, smirking with a dimple poking out against the touchscreen. “Seriously, when do you think you’re gonna make it back?” 

“Honestly, I don’t think it’ll be anytime soon.” she admits, hearing the click of your tongue over the speaker when you’re accepting the fact that her job might potentially be on the line if she were to leave early. “I know we said two weeks, but in this case-” You can hear her stop short when she clears the lump in her throat before continuing, “This trial might drag on for who knows how long? It might be a few days, two weeks, a month? Everything is laid out for us to fail.” 

“And you won’t.” you tell her, reminding the positives going forward. “Maybe it could look bad, but I’m certain that you’ll do a good enough job with what you have to work with. I’m sure of that.” 

That sigh of relief you hear through the phone. Yeah, you’re right. I get it. A little reassurance goes a long way for someone in her field dealing with that kind of work - not that you would relate or somewhat imagine what it would be like to be in Dahyun’s shoes, but aside from all bad things, you know that she’s headstrong to the point where none of this should even faze her in the first place. 

“You know you can’t go back to the old place, dummy.” you laugh, opening the lid of the pot that unleashes a quick cloud of steam rising above the rim. “Where are you planning on staying in the meantime while working?” 

“Minju has a guest room at her place.” Dahyun answers, “I’d figured that I should tell you this, but I think she and her associate are having a little thing together.” 

“And this is news to me, how?” 

“Because I’ve seen him and her get a lot closer than usual.” she adds, “You do remember that we have this policy that’s strict on relationships around the office–” 

“But you and I, along with some other considerable names and high-ranking figures, are the exception. I know. We’ve been over this story a bunch of times already.” 

Dahyun straightens herself up on the couch over the phone, folding her legs inward on the seat, sighing, smiling. “Are you eating dinner this late?” 

“Well, if you consider ten-thirty to be late to have myself a meal, then yeah, you can call that to be a late dinner.” 

“Rude,” she muses. “Can’t your wife have a little bit of curiosity about your day while being alone? Missing me?” 

“I guess, but there’s nothing to report on my end.” 

She hums, and you can picture the pout she’s putting on whenever you give her an open ended answer that could totally be expanded on if you just put the effort into it. Dahyun knows you're lazy to an extent when it’s off work hours, and she doesn’t blame you for that. “Have you been using your hand to keep yourself occupied while I’m gone, baby?” 

“Sweetie,” you chuckle, tongue against the inside part of your bottom lip when you automatically realize what she’s trying to do - what she’s trying to make you do. “No, we’re not doing this.” 

“Aw, why not?” 

“Because I can only do so much to keep myself sane while you’re not here.” 

“Fine,” Dahyun sighs out in defeat, and you turn off the stove to let the signature dish of your mother’s pork stew cool down before you get to eating. “One last thing,” she starts, “Sana wants a favor from you while I’m not there.” 

“Hmm?” you sound off, getting a small taste test of the minimal viscosity of the soup you just cooked. “What does she need help with?” 

“Just some heavy lifting around her place,” Dahyun answers, yawning. “I told her that she could come by the house to get you and help with whatever she needs.” 

“You’re setting me up, aren’t you.” 

A soft giggle could be heard in the background on Dahyun’s end. It probably shouldn’t mean anything, but a suspicion starts formulating in the back of your head. This could mean one of two things: you’re either fucked for the potential summer, or fucked for the potential summer. 

“Help Sana out tomorrow,” Dahyun instructs. “I don’t think anything bad will happen if you’re stuck with her.” 

–

Turns out that Dahyun would be right when you do stand at the steps of Sana’s front door, hand at the hip while the few seconds of silence runs the possible uncertainties through your head. 

A swing of the door inward: “Howdy stranger, have my pizza?” 

You get a good look at her. She’s wearing these thinly rimmed glasses, the middle wire sitting nicely on the bridge of her nose. Her long sleeve hugs her shoulders nicely, tugging at the fabric while her other arm is raised on the door. The shorts are also doing a number on you internally, highlighting the ridiculously long legs that has miles and miles of skin, aside from the fact that they appear to be too short (and also pink, but fuck, man.) Cozy, homebody type of vibe, is what you end off with. 

“Hey.” And this comes off as a half-choke in the fumble of words, “Dahyun said that you needed some help?” 

Sana cocks her head off to the side, brows attracted inwardly, lost for a second before she fully realizes the present dilemma that she’d had happen to forget. “Oh, I did ask for a few things.” 

“Fingers crossed your to-do list isn’t full?” 

She does this subtle nod of her head motioning you to come inside, and you hesitate for a second, peering over past her head of brown hair to see the state of the place and here’s how it looks: everything has a very simplistic aesthetic, blank tones of the furnishings and floorboards complimenting each other the more you and her make your ways around the place. Some boxes are still present here and there, half-open, half-closed, like the items in them haven’t found their rightful place amongst the shelves and cupboards and closets between the rooms. Sana mentions also that her and Julie also have similar tastes, but given the fact that they both haven’t been in the place that often because of their work, it’s pretty disappointing to take away. 

“How long have you had this house?” you ask, picking up a picture frame off one of the tables in the living room that has Sana and this other gorgeous girl leaning her head in with hers, you can’t put a name to her, but curiosity will come later when the time is right. 

“Just like you, not that long actually,” Sana answers, rounding past the corner towards the kitchen when you pick up on the lasting trail of her footsteps to meet her at point B. “Julie and I only managed to settle in about a few weeks ago before she went overseas for some big movie project that she’s a part of. Other than that, it’s just been me here all by myself.” 

“That doesn’t sound fun.” 

“I find it calming to have a big house with multiple rooms without the sense of company.” 

Your eyes trail off in the distance of this closed space. It looks barren, but rich, with the sense of presence from all of the different decorations and paintings all over the walls and tables. You might mistake this as a museum, an unplanned exhibit with your neighbor as the centerpiece of this gallery. 

“So,” you start to say, arms cross when you’re watching Sana on the opposite side of the kitchen island, sipping on a glass of strawberry lemonade, looking back at you with wide eyes, those pouty lips on the rim–

She points to the set of disregarded items off to your left side behind, the same set of boxes you noticed when walking in, “I need to get these things out of there and placed around the house,” and she starts to round the area of the kitchen to get closer to you, “and my garage door needs some fixing since it won’t open for some reason” 

“You really think I’m qualified to help you with the garage?” you raise an eyebrow in suspicion. 

“Dahyun asked you to help me, so please, make us happy.” 

–

The first meeting with Sana happens quite quickly. It should’ve ended there - a simple favor fulfilled and get on with continuing the daily routines around the house and neighborhood. 

Except it doesn’t happen that way. Not when Sana catches your attention when you’re taking out the trash, watering Dahyun’s little growing garden, when you’re getting your morning and evening runs up the hill and round the block, she always seems to get you caught in her lines of sight. 

You’re not against it however, taking a liking to have a quick chat with Sana about different things that were worth bringing up - it’s the simple camradire that’s developed rapidly after the housewarming party. She’s interested to see you with the garage open, finding a new thing to tinker and fix with the car (although modding a tesla would make some vehicle enthusiasts want to rip out their hair and gouge their fucking eyeballs,) she just makes the minute trip from her house over to yours just to talk. 

Dahyun’s calls circulate every now and then, getting the quick rundown of what’s been happening while she’s knee-deep in trial work down at the firm. You simply smile while tapping on the camera switch icon on facetime to have her look at the group of Sana, Jihyo and her summer flirt, Mina, along with a few others just have a communal game night of Mario Kart down at Sana’s place when everything is settled in. Before that, you were explaining the fascination of this ancient city that you’ve been reading into between business calls and graph inputs during work that may sound like you’re a boring professor talking about history. 

None of that would matter because Sana’s house is like this ancient city that’s riddled with riches and items of materialistic value that would probably convince someone else that their money is being wasted over meaningless items rather than propper investments. You get a few nods of agreement, maybe some fingersnaps because what you’re saying could be plausible with the amount of knowledge you’ve consumed to tell without boring everybody. 

“I could care less if that were the case,” Sana says, leaning closer on the couch while running a hand through her hair, the flowy locks combined with that cropped Prada shirt could have you reeling in an alternate universe, but it doesn’t. 

“Sana,” you call out, Jihyo’s also giggling at the fact before you even say it also, “your walk in closet is literally the devotion of this ‘city of gold’ I’m talking about.” 

“Hey!” and she’s taking this with a light offense, “I only say that it’s true because where else am I supposed to put the dresses?” 

“I suppose they could go somewhere else that doesn’t take up space in the racks?” 

“You’re the one who helped me put them up anyway!” 

“Don’t get all defensive now because I’m talking about it.” 

She cracks this smile while Mina sounds off with a ‘boo’ noise, “You can take your little history tangent up your ass then.” 

To that, you raise an open bottle of White Owl to her face, downing a bit of the drink while she rolls her eyes, narrowing while she purses her lips. She’s lining her fingers across the bottom of her chin, intuitively, studying the movements of your hands and eyes, getting a read of what makes you tick. 

Even after the activities of game night are all wrapped up, you stay behind in Sana’s house, picking up the assortments of empty glasses and bottles, the charcuterie board that’s scavenged through, except the stack of cheese that was apparently stale and too cold to even dig their teeth in. 

“Care for some cereal?” Sana prompts after the final sweep. 

“You’re asking me to have a night breakfast?” 

“You’re making it sound like it’s something to be frowned upon.” 

“Then why the paradoxical proposal?” 

She doesn’t bother answering that with a simple hum while you’re chuckling lowly. There’s already two bowls on the counter, and not long after, she’s holding out two boxes: Frosted Flakes and Cinnamon Toast Crunch. 

“I like the choices.” you tell her, placing yourself on one of the high chairs while Sana slides one of the boxes over with the jug of milk trailing just behind it. You snap a picture of yours and Sana’s bowls to send over to Dahyun and in which she responds in three seconds - you fell for the cereal bait tactic. 

What? I got courted with Frosted Flakes and you know this, they’re great. 

She did the same thing to me back in college, but that’s her ‘ol reliable’. 

Sana swipes your phone from your hand that you try to get back, but she skips a few feet away and starts to text in your place. “What are you texting Dahyun about?” 

“Why does it matter to you?” 

“That’s my phone you’re using.” 

Sana parts her mouth open, humming once, “I’m too lazy to grab mine from the living room.” 

“You’re texting my wife.” you deadpan. 

“She was mine first before you came along.” 

You roll your eyes. Ouch. But you sigh once the defeat settles itself back in over you. All that you’re just left to do is get these soggy, milky grains down before you eventually pack it up for the night. 

“Thanks again for staying back to help,” Sana tells you on the front step of her yard, “worth the treat of cereal as a reward.” 

“Nice to have some company, especially when there’s video games that make me feel like a careless child again.” 

“We’re all a little starved for a little fun, glad I contributed to that reach of youth.” 

And this comes out of nowhere, really, you miss Dahyun around the house and it’s felt like ages since you’ve last seen her. 

Sana has her knuckles against her cheek, the fingers are well refined, she has that glow on her face and that small hint of a dimple that breaks out underneath and well - that same pout you saw last time breaks into this perfect grin of hers that’s filled with uncut happiness, the way her eyes arch into that same eye smile Dahyun has really makes you think twice about your situation. 

It’s embarrassing, but you miss Dahyun while there’s this small crush of Sana growing inside you. Going against your vow might be one thing, but your heart can’t help itself to only tell you over your mind - well shit. Congrats. 

Though, she’s reeling you back in after seeing Hailey’s comet above, calling your name that makes you unsure if you even know your own name. 

“Will you be busy for the rest of the week?” She prompts. 

“You can just come past the gate and ring the doorbell, I’ll always answer.” 

Sana doesn’t say anything more than that, only giving you the usual ‘good night’ message before she sends you off on your way, just a few feet to the side and behind another door. 

–

Some weeks pass. It’s late, and hot. The combination of this nightly hot climate doesn’t serve anyone well. 

You hear a knock at the door that has you scratching your head over the fact on who would be at your front doorstep around this time. All of that gets thrown out the window when you look up past the column of wood to see Sana standing there, bundled up in gray sweats and an oversized sweater that’s draping her frame, two sizes too big, her shoulder noticeable to see. She has nothing else on or with her besides the phone in her hand. 

“It’s the middle of the night,” you announce, squinting at the light towering over you and her in the front patio of the house, letting out a sigh while Sana just wiggles her body side to side, acting all innocent knowing that she knows what she’s doing. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping already?” 

Sana finds your reactions to be funny. For every question, you give her a simple or calculated answer. A greeting in the morning or afternoon would be short and sweet ending off with ‘let me know if you ever need anything’ before heading back inside with the daily mail or some vacuum or bundle of rags to clean from the garage. Every blurt or sexual comment would send you coughing or spitting out some of your water when Sana’s dropping by to see what you were doing. Most girls other than Dahyun in her position would be automatically disinterested, not your fault for being naturally dry and introverted.  

“Julie crashed at Natty’s place, so I managed to drive myself back home.” Sana replies with a pull of her lips, breaking a sly grin when you return the same nod, prompting her to come inside because it wouldn’t be like you to keep a beautiful girl from around the neighborhood just standing outside your doorstep. 

The hums that come out of Sana’s mouth are refreshing, in addition to the little swing of her head back and forth when she moves past the first lounge area of your house to between the dining table and kitchen where she stops short for a second, looking off to the left, formulating a thought. You had the lights dimmed around the place, but you catch the silhouette of her side profile while a hand is behind her back, like one of those poses that she did for a magazine not too long ago that she shared when you finished up moving the last bits of her boxes. 

“Why come to my place?” you ask, flicking a light switch that brightens the area right outside leading up to the backyard. “Are you that bored around your house that you just walk over to mine?” 

“Not denying that I’m bored,” Sana amends, turning towards you again, “just wanted to give you some company.” 

“Sana, it’s late.” 

“Remind me again,” she pouts, the lift of her eyebrows makes you slightly cringe, “How long has Dahyun been busy with her work and that trial of hers?” 

“Last I heard from her was that she’s almost done closing off the settlements.” 

“Good, and you haven’t been losing your mind over the fact that your wife’s not with you.”

“Can I live normally while Dahyun gets to play the main breadwinner in the relationship?” 

Sana coos after that. She keeps this longing gaze at you while you’re returning the same fix on her. The end point of her nose, the lines of her cheek, that over peeking collarbone when she sweeps her hair from the front to the back with a little flip; you tell her that the downtime you were mainly focused on was trying to get back to sleeping, but the damn heat was the main excuse and to that she laughs, scrunching her face when she can see right through the poorly constructed lie. 

It’s distracting, the small rumbling of this breaking desire - makes you feel uncertain in how you should approach the current dwindling situation.  

Falling off the curve, however, Sana asks you:  “Do you mind if I can take a swim in your pool?” 

–

This should be a page in the history books, ripped away and shrouded in the shadows, never to be disclosed to anyone else that isn’t yourself. 

It’s also completely harmless when you’re mindlessly handing Sana one of your spare towels sitting in the bathroom, smiling sincerely when she accepts the simple item of hospitality with the add on of, if you also need some extra clothes to wear because you dipped your feet in the pool with the overhanging flared sweatpants of yours getting stained, I can lend you a pair while it dries up - pick it up tomorrow or have it dropped off- 

She floats her way down the steps, towel over her shoulder, “I’d take an extra pair of pants to use after I finish, thank you.” 

You nod, letting herself like at home as if her own home wasn’t only less than five seconds away next to yours. The glass sliding door opens up to the balcony when you finally hear the light crash of water being made from the floor below. 

There’s something calming about the light blue glow being illuminated from the pool, looking up at the different stars and constellations with today’s moon being somewhat of a mix between a half moon slowly transitioning into a crescent. Dahyun was also with you in this same position after the first night of moving in, pointing out the basic lines of the Big Dipper and the Alpha Centauri, you showing her Orion’s belt before she made a counterargument that it wasn’t a freaking belt, but it just goes to show that you’re just counting the days down until Dahyun gets back from brining the trial win home. 

Looking down, you just see Sana the singular hint of honey brown sitting on the edge of the pool before slowly dipping in, getting the ends of her hair wet before tying it up in a high bun and happily floating in place, sighing while the refreshing yet, cool temperature of water settle around her body. 

The room of your study looks tempting to set up base camp, not the worst option to consider also as a form to keep yourself occupied while your bubbly neighbor was right outside your backyard swimming in the night. 

(God’s really picking and choosing your battles in any way that he pleases, huh?)

You stay the course, grabbing a quick bottle of Heiniken from the fridge when you’re seeing the sight of Sana’s shoulders and arms breaking the flow of water, her head just above the turquoise surface, the light shining beneath her face to get a good glimpse of her rosy cheeks, those lips tugged at the ends of them in a soft smile, the line of her neck also doing you numbers than the beverage in your hand before you’ve even got a propper sip. 

Sana looks towards the back of the house, you raise the bottle up to let her know that you’re still here, noticing the pile of clothes on one of the lounge chairs, neatly folded with her phone as the cherry on top. 

Here’s where you make mistake #1: The second bottle in your left hand needs a drinker, and you step your way out into the boardwalk of your pool. A missing piece of detail that you completely ignored was how Sana’s pile of clothes was lacking one vital part–

“I find it to be pretty peculiar for my wife’s friend to be skinny dipping in my pool at around this hour.” you inform Sana of the situation, to which she softly laughs at the observation while you’re kneeling at the edge, placing the two bottles off to the side that you’ll get back to later. 

Sana floats her way to the edge of the pool right next to you, arms hanging on the deep end while looking up, “Didn’t think I needed the necessary layers, no?”

“You want to tell me about layers when you’re wearing nothing underneath.” 

“Where’s the fun in having swimsuits and trunks?” she teases, “it’s too much of a hassle for me to go through the exhausting process of changing in your spare bathroom that’s miles away from the pool.”

“There was literally a bathroom for you next to the kitchen that you passed by to get here.“

“Why don’t you join me? The pool’s too big to have one person inside.” 

No. No. Don’t even think about–

“And if I refuse?” you ask quickly, naively. 

Sana leans her head back, and your eyes can’t help in anything besides fucking you up. The waves of the water cleared up, returning to its calm, idle state where you catch the highlighted sallow skin against the light, catching her hips and legs flowing freely. She lets her lower body rise up to the surface, hands still alongside the edge almost as if she’s lounging on the nearby chairs - it also hits you that she’s doing it on purpose, the fact that her bare ass is just out in the open air for you to see–

Right on cue, mistake #2: you sit down nicely, criss-cross like a little kid; and Sana scoots herself to where you’re sitting, closely, dangerously. 

“I’ve got some pull for you to rethink, take my offer into some light consideration.” she muses, and the leaning closer coming from you is seriously not helping. She’s got her hand laying below your knee, and she might as well be right under you with the ground advantage. 

That same lean is also curious; it’s also pretty familiar too - how the natural state of gravity works, Dahyun reeled you in to some similar form a long while ago - forget if or maybe if the fact she looked first or you looked first, it doesn’t matter. One key difference between that event and now was the fact that you realize that you’ve toppled over and into the swimming pool, clothes still on and everything, the brisk feeling of water washing over before you find yourself breathing, ears getting flushed out and replaced with Sana’s sweet laugh to top if all off. 

You swipe your hands through your soaked face, slowly floating to the shallow end while cringing at the present moment that just occurred. The blend on your shirt and sweats mold to your figure, like someone had slapped clay on you. Chlorine is not good for the eyes, obviously, so keep rubbing your eyes and clearing out any sinuses while telling Sana that you’re not inviting her in the next time after this night. 

Sana has this effect on people, so natural and open to the point with others that she’s hugging everyone and doing skinship as she pleases, you’re not far off from the latter, in fact–

“I thought you’d be a little more vocal with the fact I pulled you in,” she tells you, turning away slightly when you splash a hint of water as she approaches you. 

“It’s cold,” you say blankly, slicking your hair back while Sana closes the distance. Sly smile and everything. 

“That’s all you have to say?” she asks, “So dry.” 

“Aside from the fact that you’re swimming naked in my pool, I think there’s more pressing issues for me to take care of.” 

Pressing issues noted, Sana is well within arms reach, except you have another look at her charming face, her body under the water - she’s well defined in all avenues, fair skin that would even rival Dahyun’s for a quick comparison, her hands continue to do their own thing when they’re measuring the shape of your middle, fingertips grazing the soaked shirt and all. 

“I’m sorry” she breathes out, the faintest apology of them all. 

You’ve got your arms around her waist, not a care to fully realize what you’re actually doing; it’s a collapse in real time, her hand to the back of your neck: mistake #3. 

With a simple press of her lips on yours, she grips tightly, the draw of air clouding the intoxicating taste that has you humming a bit, the slide of her fingers down the line of your jaw before going off the rails with replacing the hand with a full on arm, hooking onto your neck while you move up to her upper back. 

But this inferno was unraveling. 

Her legs fill the gap between yours, hands are now on both sides of her face, thumb sliding across that prominent cheek bone that will have you sculpting out the details some other time. She’s kissing you like she wanted this to happen, the desperation, hunger even, like it would be the last thing needed over everything else, and you’d give that to her. It’s all sinking, that box of thoughts that was supposed to stay at the bottom of the ocean, the sealed lock intact and with no key to open, it’s resurfacing like the breaths of air you and Sana share with your faces just centimeters away from each other. 

“Do you think you can forgive me?” she stops to ask. 

A fucking truck of reasoning is what hits you, pulling back even more but your hands are now keeping Sana in place, just right above her ass holding at the hips. “Yes- no-” She pulls you in for another convincing kiss before another could be stolen on her cheek, the same sigh she sounded in your throat a few seconds ago comes around. “I don’t know anymore.” 

“It’s okay to not know.” Sana’s face softens when you can’t even bother to look her in the eyes now, tilting your chin up to support, lightly stroking it. “We probably shouldn’t.” 

She’s right. You’ve got to end this and you have to end it now.

“But what if we did?” You’re left breathing, in disbelief. 

“Would you want to find out?” Sana asks again, unsure but also confident. “There’s this kind of luxury I’m fascinated with discovering the unknown.” 

You’re thinking of these different stories in your head, the different kinds of graphs and tables riddled with numbers trying to come up with a logical case, predicting a scenario where you could forget about all of this, count the days until you won’t be alone again with the right person. Except Sana is dishing out all of these simple motions that have you leaning in for more, yearning. A hand is being slid across the shoulder, her face is suddenly closer with yours when you pull her towards you. “I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t afraid.” 

“Don’t feel bad,” she tells you, a comforting whisper, wisping in the breeze. “You’ll be able to catch on quickly.” 

(If there was anything that you’ve noticed while starting this new chapter: you’ve learned that the sly smile armed by Minatozaki Sana will have anybody flipping over, ruining lives and starting fires.) 

All common sense gets tossed out of the pool when you kiss her again, a choice that will have its own consequences when the time is right, the floodgates of sin opening harshly while you've just signed your one-way ticket straight to hell.

–

Another thing that you learn from the houses that are oozing with richness up and down the street is that money and sex have powerful selling points. 

This may be subject to change, but when you have an art piece like Sana stolen from the museum of her house (figuratively), all fingers and charges point toward theft, the necessary offenses that follow after don’t really matter as of right now. 

–

It’s not that difficult for you to fall in a place like this: carrying Sana up the steps but only stopping short at the doorway when she’s lapping her tongue into your mouth. She’s still wet in your hands from the pool, and you have the wall play as a part to keep her in place - the fit of your lips breaking apart before they find themselves again. 

“Mmm,” Sana hums into your mouth when you finally let her down, on the balls of her feet while your hands wrap around her waist again, knee lightly nudging the apparent line of your cock with the pads of her fingers soon after, testing it. 

“Hey,” you mumble, pulling away with an audible smack from her lips, tongue licking your mouth while she softly laughs, and again - it’s definitely on purpose when her hand palms your cock more firmly through the soaked sweatpants that has you gasping for a millisecond. “Trying to get on with it faster now, are we?” 

Her hand sets itself on your chest, eyes meeting with hers half-lidded, she knows what she’s doing, she knows that this is wrong, and she most definitely knows that this is on purpose. You tilt your  head more deeper only for her to stop you for not more than two seconds, before easily allowing you to kiss her once again. 

“Who’s leading?” Sana laughs at herself, still stark naked when your hands land at the rise of her hip, massaging the slope of her ass with the droplets of water gliding across your palms. “Wouldn’t be right of me to do all of the hard work, begging at the fact that you’re about to fuck me over in this huge house, get your fingers inside and finally have that perfect dick that Dahyun always talks about.” 

“She told you?”

“Much like every time we catch up. Always.” 

“What do you know so far?” 

Sana sighs when you kiss her again, the lines on her face softening like a flush of anxiety that suddenly went away in a matter of a second. Your hand is quick to travel to the back of her head, pull the elastic of her hair tie that lets her locks flow down while the counterpart is palming her warm, bare cunt, eliciting a slight gasp while you’re smiling into her skin. “She- she told me that you were disappointing the first time y-you guys did it.” 

“Oh?” you mutter, thumb tapping on her clit that makes her whole body stiffen while the pad of your middle finger slowly scoops under her folds, noting how much she’s gotten slick in the short span of time. “The inexperience was the main factor.” 

Another finger pushes inside, feeling the stretch while your ear receives the steady decline of Sana’s breaths, lip being pulled inward by the upper row of her teeth while her chest heaves, the heat becoming too unbearable to handle. She’s not one to let you take the easy route, putting her lips back with yours while you scoop under her luscious ass, walking past the doorway and into the bedroom - a space where Dahyun’s appearance was the common one - now introducing a newcomer that will make her case to stay. 

The landing on the bed isn’t gentle, and Sana slightly sets herself up on one elbow, while you’re tugging the sopped clothes off your body, trying to get a read into this pretty woman’s eyes of the things you want to do to her. You���ll make her cum, flip her into the mattress, have her bouncing on your cock later, get her whimpering while you drink in the sight of her pretty face just blown out, euphoric, the writing’s already on the wall before you even get a chance to draw the pen. 

“You think I’m gonna disappoint you with my performance? Maybe prove that Dahyun’s point still stands?” you ask her, making your space bigger over hers when you’re on top of her, pulling from the hips to get her to meet your thighs. Sana bites her lip in a short excitement, keeping her gaze on yours when her fingers finally wrap around your cock, giving a few experimental pumps while she spreads wider, opening the gates to an avenue that will have you packing your bags to the next house over. “Imagine if–”

“I’ll make you shut up about your worries, now fill my pussy up. With your fingers, your cock, just anything, please.” 

She’s desperate for you, and you have to admit it too, but when that first rush of every single sensation registering in your mind from the very instant you have your cock wrapped around her, sliding inside those lines with the small tug of your hips, pushing more while you could feel nails rip into your skin. 

It’s a new entry of data, the approach of how Sana’s pussy is downright perfect for you. There’s a slight throb, a misfire when the strokes are still hesitant, uncertain exchanges of breaths with the slow blinks between her eyes and yours. Uninviting, but all the more welcoming with her walls, clinging into the deeper ends of her cunt, breaking down the imaginary lines of numbers and rope circling through your head. 

“My, fuck–” and you also choke out something too when she says that, the muted cry she let out while you take a moment to readjust, sliding out before you yank Sana’s hips onto your cock again. “T-this is everything.” 

Like you need the exposition on the term everything. All of your worries wash away when you thrust more ferociously, the internal bomb in your brain ticking away the time every single speck of seconds that passes through burying your cock inside her. You’re nowhere near gentle at this point, the squeeze that has you mirroring Sana’s “hnns” over the claps of your thighs with hers, taking advantage of the arch in her back by hooking your arms underneath while one of her long legs locks around you. 

“So good,” she just groans out, relishing in the feeling of it. “Don’t stop–” 

You’re also not safe from it either, fingers resting alongside her midriff where her hands are placed on top, grasping at the new angle of your hips where it has her wheezing, the fresh spot of heat hitting the base also making your lose your sense of awareness, reduced to nothing but just a desolate being of a husband that’s throwing their marriage away. 

Her creaming cunt only keeps you focused, the pretty sounds and remarks coming out of her mouth has you giving her expressions of confusion, lust, shock, and maybe that longing look of when you see someone at first sight and it just kills you, right then and there. The sheets come undone, a pillow is used as a secondary support underneath her back, a clutch of the tit and she does this simple evil grab of your hips while you’re ruthlessly pounding into her helpless body, utilized as a vice the more you hold your end of the bargain. 

“Sana, you’re–” and again, the mind blanks out of this small blurb of praise before she just giggles for her response, fucking her so throughly that you’re running the different combinations of tempos to get her even more ruined, fucked dumb, maybe even have her begging to be used over your cock like this again soon - the eventuality of that notion will be all too apparent when the sun rises the next morning. 

She just clings to you, keeping your hips in motion while her hands cup around your face once more, pulling inward for that press of lips all over again like the beginning. You feel the wobbling lip, a thumb quick to keep her coaxing while she whimpers in absolute bliss. 

“I want you,” she huffs, and you’re falling through the cracks with every steady stroke of your cock between the opening of her legs, “to make me cum. Make a mess out of me and this pussy.” 

You’re taking shelter between her mounds, not wanting to look up in pension for the cardinal sins committed tonight, lips swiping up and down her neck that has Sana moan out in approval, the clamp of her walls tightening every return back to the bottom, her hands are over your back, tracing lines, fantasizing. She’s a fucking waterfall every thrust you take. 

“I’m- fuck–you’re gonna–gonna make me cum so fucking hard.” you feel the pulse impending, the muffled squeak that she makes in your lips, she’ll be the first to fall. That eruption happens fast, the spasm and tighter grab in her walls around you while she’s crying for now. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for this incident, a flashpoint in time that was probably bound to happen, fucking Sana in the walls of your own bedroom this hard– “You’re something else, just like you were meant to have me like this, God.” 

“Keep fucking me like this - god that feels so good, You and your cock it’s-” she huffs, barely smiling. She can see you slipping, at the edge, the litany of moans sounding like a siren out at sea. That mess she requested, you’ll give it to her, bury your cock in the deepest depths where it shouldn’t even be humanly possible, where the molten hot walls are bursting the thickness of your head, grinding out every cell and fiber - it’s possible. “Fuck, that’s so hot when you’re all fucked out for me.” 

“Sana,” you say, and she has your hand over her tongue, licking up the thumb, and you’ll swear that it’ll do damage to you for centuries. 

“Mhm,” she responds nicely, the last bit of the hum coming out as a hitched whimper, “Cum inside me.” 

That’s how she’ll want to do things. If she wants something, she’ll get it. You do the same amount of damage to her like she did to you while she’s begging, whimpering, getting all of the lovely noises of being fucked out to oblivion out of her mouth until she’s leaking - washing you over, from the legs, to the pillows and sheets. Stretching her out perfectly, get her to slur out phrases that she would say normally on occasions not like this, only to come back around and have you fill in between the gaps. 

You slip, she slips, it won’t matter, because you or her will make the catch, that extra push deep, maybe harder. The velvety drag already has you addicted to her, the sight of her body above this hips was just the plus. 

“God, Sana. So fucking wonderful.” you snarl against the line of her cheek, one last final dip that has your cum flooding deep into her warm, velvety cunt. 

The throbs of your cock has Sana mumuring softly, saying something like - yes, yes, keep fucking your cum into me, so that I can feel it - nice and hot, god yes. 

You slide out halfway, and her hips buck from the tender motion while your hands rub her thighs. And you also black out for a second when a few more spurts coat her walls even more, the pullout quick for a fist around the head of your cock, covering her waist in the remaining bits of cum still left inside you - well fucked and sloppy. 

Sana’s eyelids flutter shut, your hand rubbing along the oblique of your hips, that sense of desire finally fading away when you fully realize what had just transpired in the past hour or so. The lights are off in the house with the illuminating glow of the moon breaking through the window, tinnitus ringing in your eardrums and your eyes are fixated on Sana again, cross-eyed on the cum-soaked fingers she has, taking the liberty of sucking on them shamelessly, and the fucking noises she makes has your jaw to the floor. 

“Thank you,” she says, sweetly, innocently, sitting up on the bed with her legs crossed, the trail of cum still apparent on her stomach. “You certainly did not disappoint.” 

You, my friend, are entirely fucked. 

“What’s gonna happen to us now?” you ask her, rubbing your face and shaking your head in disapproval while Sana cleans the rest of herself up with her fingers. “I think we made–”

“Did I not tell you to worry?” Sana’s quick to shut you down, her look cross while you don’t even bother to meet her in the eye. This is supposed to feel wrong, it shouldn’t feel like anything else besides that. She scoots herself over to you with a quick kiss to your cheek, one that you accept openly, but still feel pensive over. 

“We can talk about it later,” she says, sliding herself into the rumpled sheets, patting down the open space next to her. “Would you mind if I stay the night? In your room? And in your bed?” 

“I can’t really turn down that offer,” you laugh, following along with a hand trailing up the side of her figure, giving a meaningful press of lips to the spot of her hair, “I actually like the company now.” 

“Would you also mind if I want it later when I can’t sleep?” 

“I’m seriously gonna hate you for this when we’re done.” 

“But I’m asking nicely.” she says, and hums this sweet tone when you lay next to her, feeling her ass shimmying against your cock underneath. “You’ll say yes,right?”

“Keep up with the needy act, and maybe I’ll have to fuck the want right out of you.” 

Sana rolls herself on top of you, finger tracing the lines of your face again, sketching, the bottom of her lip tugged by a pair of teeth. There’s that sly smile again, mischievous. It’s the reality now, she’s won you over. 

“Consider it a gift for you.” she adds, kissing you again before she goes slack on your chest, the wave of sleep finally setting in. 

–

(This actually comes later when you can’t dream a wink, staring up at the high ceiling: 

It only takes little effort for someone to make a house into a home - and you learn to the best extent possible, Sana slots in that missing piece where Dahyun is supposed to fill - without even fully realizing it. 

Her and Dahyun are two sides of the same coin, both give you this sense of ease and confusion that has you looking off while they’re trying to hide the inevitable laughs. They’re both also moodmakers with the way they look at you with the earnest smile, a reminder of one and the other that you’re not too far behind to follow. 

Every nick of the mouth moving, the glint in their eyes that will break you down from the shackles of rational thoughts while the springs in your bed are supporting the absolute fucking you’re doing over them. 

Maybe this summer will be saved after all.) 

–

When the crack of dawn breaks through the sunrise, you’re trying to recollect what little thoughts you have left of your deteriorating marriage; as in, what’s gonna happen to you when Dahyun finds out you’ve slept with her close friend who just happens to live in the house right next door, aside from other things. This space was now tainted in the heinous acts you’ve committed but the only thing that was filling the front of your mind was the amount of work emails you saw on your phone while waking up. 

“You’re just gonna leave me here in the bed all alone?” Sana asks, your back still turned to her when you mindlessly flick up the switch to your bathroom. 

A simple spin on the ball of your heel, and the image is just majestic to witness. 

This 5’3 brunette that’s all sunshine and rainbows, replaced by a deity that oozes sexiness and uncapped lust, lays on the side of her frame with an elbow propped up to support her head, hair still having that post-fuck frizziness to it, the sheets are covering most of her middle, but that outreaching left leg exposed, folds in, and you catch that slope of her hip, her ass is also not that far behind to look over. 

You already know her body all too well. If you could put someone that’s remotely close to the Greek god of Aphrodite, Sana would come very close to that. 

“Are you really expecting yourself to stay here?” you ask, fishing for your toothbrush before washing it with one hand, the other grabbing the minty toothpaste that was adjacent to it in the cup. “You know that I have work, not to mention working at home too.” 

You watch from the doorway when she sits up, the romp of her sheets falling over in front that shows that pale chest, her firm breasts that lay beneath her fine collarbones, there’s a new set of hickeys - the hickeys, showing your favorite spot to soothe her while she’s wailing in your arms, the rise and fall of her shoulders every breath let out has another wanting bite of her swollen lips. 

“Is it too much to keep you company?” she asks again, tugging on the comforter, hoping that she’ll get the right answer out of you.

“It’s not that I mind about the company of you, it’s the fact that others would get suspicious.” you retort, placing down the brush filled toothpaste on the counter, “That’s the last thing that I want to happen.” 

“How long has Dahyun been at trial with her firm?” 

“At least a couple weeks at this point.” 

“That’s what I thought.” 

“You need to go home.” 

“But your place is a lot nicer than mine, clean also.” she smiles, looking up little by little when you approach her on the edge of the bed. A hand is outreached with hers, and it’s damning how well it fits with yours, the automatic reflex of brushing your thumb over the highest peak of her middle knuckle. You don’t even flinch at the fact that she’s moved your hand over to her breast, tracing her nipple. It’s not hard to ease into these seductive advances, softly chuckling at the way Sana’s tit has a sort of weight to them - perky, but impossible to resist. 

“What am I gonna do with you?” you ask yourself, a little loudly for Sana to hear too, “I have to get ready.” 

“Breakfast on the table?” 

“Have you freshen up before you do the walk of shame next door.” you whisper, helping her up, swooping under her legs in a bridal carry. The tangle of her hairs on your chest when she leans her head in, laughing, the smell of citrus and lingering sweat. “The comforter was too heavy and hot anyway.” 

Sana just giggles, waving her feet in the air, into the bathroom where her skin glows a little bit lighter. “What’s the point of having that open room next to yours if it’s not used?” 

–

(There’s a lot of questions that don’t get answered. Partly because Sana can’t concentrate while you’re kneeling between her legs in the shower, lapping away at her clit, washing away any slick that’s left out; her fingers are splayed out across the tile, slipping, dripping away from her hips. 

You also shouldn’t be whispering these sweet nothings into her ear either, kissing her as if in another reality, maybe this too, could be a thing. It isn’t fair, it’s not right. She comes off as urgent, hoping to keep your mind off of the responsibilities sitting at your desk for just a little while longer. “Don’t do this to me.” That’s a plea, your mouth hovering over her neck, she has your dress shirt draped over her on the kitchen island with her knees apart again, filling in the space while she’s all porcelain teeth and warm tongue. She tugs on your lips like she wants every last bit of you, and it’s not worth fighting for. Her mouth gets on the cuff of your ear, and she whispers this spell, a curse rather, impending your fate even more: 

“I think you know all of the things that I would do to you.”) 

–

Fucking Sana has its own luxury. 

This living art piece wandering about in your house where no one else knows. She comes to your place, you go to hers, it’s a trade off that’s very easy to do when you’re just a few steps away from each other’s doors. 

We could also talk about benefits. The benefits. She asks for a couple favors - a helping hand to clean the house (yours or hers) as an example - you have some requests of your own, mostly to just have a quick bite of her cooking or pull some aged alcohol that was gifted to you a long while ago, half  the bottle already gone before the end of one night. It usually ends up with you sinking inside of her, caressing her gentle body, kissing the nape of her neck when your hips mesh with hers perfectly. 

It’s a new fun that’s profound in yourself. This super popular model that has every hot contact of companies you could name off the top of your head in her phone, taking a quick hiatus for some ‘me’ time. She’s got a solid income, her closet is full of brands that you take note of to give to Dahyun later down the line, and the sex man, it’s just fucking- well, terrific. 

If having Sana all to yourself was the prime exclusivity in its own right, the girls she invites over make everything much more interesting, just aside from the fact that she comes unannounced most of the time. Oh, and that girl in her picture framed back at her place, Chou Tzuyu, she’s a real sweetheart. You’ll have her tag along with Sana no matter what time of the day it is (or night, because you’ll always be free outside of work when it counts). 

Sana usually stays in your house more compared to hers, and she usually seeks you out first with a longing press of lips on yours. Tender, sweet, before you get into the best part of your regular business day, bending her over the nearest piece of furniture and dumping a nice hot load between her thighs while she goes on doing whatever you need her to do around the house to keep herself busy. 

She doesn’t let you have your way that easily. There’s this business call you’re doing, talking about how the numbers don’t really add up for this list of statistic report you were handed an hour prior, trying to fight the gravity of your head leaning forward–

“Sana, your fucking mouth. So good, jesus.” you mutter, cradling her head while she taps your cock on her perfect lips, laving her tongue over before she dips down again, pushing you past the tightness of her throat. 

–of the very person pushing your thighs apart underneath the desk when she primes at the very angle, bobbing her head slowly while maintaining that hypnotic friction of her hand over your shaft. 

You hit the key binded to the mute button on the call, not giving a single ear of the person in the session rambling about well, if we could get an extra day or two with the new inputs for the program, then maybe we the numbers that are put together can line up with the graph - ‘and, let me get this straight–’ 

“Mmph, god.” You’re broken down to just a few simple actions, combing Sana’s hair, guiding her silkly mouth onto your cock, and she doesn’t let up the fucking pace. You’ve got your fingers intertwined with hers on your thigh, not giving a care of how she’s so persistent to get you off like this, choking, drawing back for some air - her pinky and ring finger moving in this motion on the tip that has you shuddering. 

“Such a fucking hard worker,” she says, biting her lip, the glare in her eyes that’s nearly demonic while her tongue slips along the underside and upper part of your cock. “How could you talk so calmly while your dick is in my mouth?” 

“I’ve had practice before,” you answer, slightly smirking at the memory of Dahyun doing the exact same to you long ago, it’s no different.

Keeping it together wasn’t the option anymore, while the rush of Sana’s mouth is drawn back to you, proceeding with the online meeting as planned, discussing the future plans delegated to your coworkers. Too bad that they can’t hear the litany of gurgles and gags happening below your desk, struggling to not use one hand and keep Sana buried under there, watching with that lustful look in your eyes when she knows you’re about to pop, the shake of your leg as the sole hint to what she needs before putting both hands into the mix, all wet while every ounce of focus gets diluted to the ceiling. 

The meeting eventually ends while groaning at Sana’s throat bottoming you out, spilling inside that heat with a weak buck of your hips, shoving everything into her where your balls meet her chin. It just happens, more and more; her mouth is so fucked for you that some of the cum gets on her teeth when you slide out of her. The worst part: you’re still fucking leaking, getting it on her bottom lip, another rope above her eyebrow; the splatter doesn’t even end when she lightly presses a thumb down at the base and you get another drop to her cheek - it still isn’t fair when she wraps her fingers around, lightly stoking while your entire lower half of your body is still twitching once the work is all done. 

Sana can be evil, but she goes back to being a bundle of joy when she plants a kiss to the tip, pushing your chair back and kisses you back on the lips, wiping some remnants of your cum from your lips onto her fingertip while she sucks them cleanly. “Productive call?” 

“Got a few more clients to talk to, but thanks. I needed that.” you sigh, fingers on her chin to assess the proof, nodding Sana off to go ahead and wash up before cooking lunch. 

“You still want the usual meal?” 

–

Sana goes away for a few days, and the place gets hollow again. 

You have the phone in your ear with your manager to talk about potential vacation time (talk about great timing too), and with a press of a button on the TV, you see the headline on the channel broadcast: 

Dahyun and her firm won the trial. Which means that she’s finally coming home.

–

Dahyun’s homecoming is a bit short lived when you wait for her right on the street, her personal chauffeur rolling away while she’s walking to you with a duffel bag, a carry-on luggage, and her briefcase that she sets down before jumping into your arms. She smells soapy, a nice tinge of lavender when you bury your nose into the midpoint of her collar and neck. You tell her that you’re proud, give her the necessary congrats before dishing out the reassurance that you didn’t burn the goddamn place down while she was out saving her own job. 

“You didn’t miss much,” you say, watching Dahyun take a longing bite of the salmon dish you cooked for her, the hum of approval with that smile you’ve missed so much for god knows how many weeks has it been. “Besides the fact that you were saving your career, I kept myself busy with the projects at mine.” 

“Really,” she starts, “I would think that you’d drive yourself insane up until I finally managed to get back. That racing sim setup would literally drive your attention away from me, so I thought that was one of the things to keep you busy.” 

“I didn’t even have the whole thing unboxed yet,” you manage, swiping her glass of water for you to drink out of while she drives the knife into the food for another slice. “If anything, I was just cooped up in my office while keeping the house nice and tidy.” 

“Good to know. Have you been doing stuff with the others while I was gone?” 

“Who do you mean?” 

“I mean. Jihyo, Mina, maybe even Sana.” Dahyun says, and your gaze shifts from stoic to this more pensive one; like the last name makes you remember things that you’re not supposed to. “You did help with Sana right?” 

“I did. I was hoping that she left a handful of messages for you to read when you got off the plane.” 

The doorbell rings, and your wife is quick to answer it with that fast-paced walk of hers. By the time she opens the door, the home is filled with a familiar sound that was echoing through the hallways not that long ago, a week, three weeks even. 

Sana greets Dahyun with a loving embrace much like yours earlier this morning. Their conversation was pretty much filled with the usual ‘when did you get back?”, ‘you have to fill me in on everything that happened at your work!’, and ‘did you give him a hard time with the stuff you asked him to do?’ All of these questions have your head at an angle when you see the pair of them cling onto each other, like lost friends who haven’t seen each other but miraculously reunite at an airport after who knows what time frame you’d put them in. 

(Sana gives you this gaze, one that will have you kicking your heels while she combs down Dahyun’s hair, that sly smile of a girl who knows what they did, what she does to you.) 

You do nothing, just give her the simple wave and smile like nothing ever happened, while your mind plays a whole different tune and movie in the back of your head. 

–

(A small tidbit about montages: these moments in time from here on out to help shape up how stories play going forward. It’s not pretty, playing Sana’s game of chess while the ‘oh, my wife doesn’t know I cheated on her with her best friend who just happens to be our next door neighbor’ runs in your head. 

The blips don’t also fucking help either:

Instance #1: Another house party hosted by you and Dahyun where you bump into Sana in the kitchen, who returns with a playful tap to your crotch and a smack to your ass that has you buckling forward while you hear her laugh fade into the crowd.

Instance #2: Sana comes over for a movie night with Dahyun. While she went to use the bathroom, she uses this as an advantage to straddle over your lap, sucking your face up with her lips like a vacuum in the dark before she hurries back to her original spot on the couch, fixing up her hair and wiping her lips, playfully pointing at the hickey underneath your jaw that has you rolling her eyes by the time Dahyun settles back in the seat.  

And finally, instance #3: The infamous office room incident. Where you had a dinner party with the neighbors again to celebrate your promotional achievement of heading this massive project that would benefit into making electric cars more affordable for the common money maker. Everyone is having fun with the drinks and partying aspect of it while Sana is on her knees, again, in the dark, deepthroating your cock with the door open for anyone to notice. All urges are off the table when you and her stow yourselves away into the guest room (with the meticulously placed soundproof foam pads all over the walls) when you have Sana’s light body bouncing over your cock, hammering down her hot cunt for a few minutes while she bites her own finger when you switch up the tempo to be more slow, loving, a deliberate way where she can really feel every throb inside her. She has a hand to the small of your back, you’re covering her moans with your palm, making her cum over and over until she’s walking to her house with a stutter in her step. 

More incidents did occur, but there’s got to be a sense of craziness if we’re thinking of going through all of them.) 

–

“I’d say that things are pretty normal now,” you say, arm around Dahyun’s back with fingertips just grazing the top of her ass, legs over your lap while taking shade on the couch in the backyard patio, hanging out with a quartet of drinks on the table, two for you, and the other two for Sana and Tzuyu. 

They’re here on another hot Thursday, not wanting to risk a brownout with the a/c running for more than the viable six to eight hours that you’d normally have while working, taking a dip in the pool for a bit. Two pretty girls in clad bikinis: Sana in a revealing two piece that barely covers her nipples and pussy, Tzuyu in a striking singular bathing suit that shows those luscious thighs almost having you drool when she gets out of the water. 

“This was so much better than just walking around in our underwear around the house.” Tzuyu says, laughing, grabbing her bottle of this brand you pulled from the fridge when she takes a nice swig. You remember the faint memory of waking up one morning with Tzuyu and Sana, both of them taking turns fucking you in different parts around the house. Tzuyu on the couch in the living room and Sana again on your office chair, hopping along your cock while you’re typing in a report on the desktop. 

Sana’s laugh fills the atmosphere when she talks about pushing Dahyun into the pool, her look unamused when you stare at her in bewilderment while she sees Dahyun slap your shoulder, motioning you to take on the defensive. “You really have nothing else better to do than to spend your time with us.” 

“You and Dahyun are good company.” Sana says, dismissively, hand on Tzuyu’s thigh to also include her in the conversation. 

Dahyun shifts her legs off of your lap, pulling them in towards her while you sit up, leaning forward for the empty bottles before you’re stopped by Sana and Tzuyu, who both offered to get another round of drinks back inside while you relax. The pair of them both walk away, arm in arm, two beautiful girls with both bearing breathtaking asses, all within line of your eyesight. 

“You don’t think I know,” Dahyun says, snapping your gaze immediately back to her. 

“Know what?” you say, crossing your arm over while she leans in closer to you, making a face that looks very serious, but not threatening. A lick of your inner lip sends you uneasy while Dahyun’s eyes stare deeply into your soul. That deepening pit of anxiety inside your stomach has you second guessing on whether or not being honest and transparent with your wife should be the best route to go knowing what you did. What you’ve done. 

“Nothing,” she answers after, “Wanted to test something out of you.” Dahyun then leans her head into your collarbone while you stare out into the blue horizon hearing the sounds of Sana and Tzuyu come back with another bundle of bottles waiting to be downed. 

–

This happens entirely on a whim, and when you’re not even a part of the picture. 

Sana answers the door to her house, eyes shooting up when Dahyun’s at the top step, smiling with a bag from the bakery and a full bottle of sparkling cider. 

It’s the usual game of the catch-up conversation, Dahyun talks about her draining work from the trial, plus her extended vacation time handed by her boss. Sana talks about the upcoming collabs that she’s been appointed to, a plane waiting with an open door for her on the taxiway by the end of the month. 

Exchanging laughs, quick memories of their past hangouts. The high-school reunion type vibe has this sense of nostalgic feeling between the two of them, but Dahyun drops the act completely out of nowhere to talk about more pressing matters. 

“How long?” she asks Sana, placing her glass neatly on the counter across from her. 

“What are you talking about?” Sana says, swallowing down a lump of bread down her throat, worrying. “Did I do something wrong?” 

“I know you’ve been getting cozy with him,” Dahyun says flatly, “I just want you to tell me if that’s true or not.” 

“About?” 

“Getting his dick all up inside of you like you wanted.” 

“I thought you were okay with it?” 

“I never said anything remotely close to that.” Dahyun sighs, grabbing the half-full bottle of cider before downing it straight from the opening, placing it down right after while Sana taps her finger on the counter. “Besides, he’s probably worried that our marriage is ruined.” 

“Doesn’t seem that way.” 

“Sana, what are you implying?” 

“What I’m implying,” Sana prompts sweetly, stepping towards Dahyun around the counter, snaking a hand down her waist where it’s open in the crop-top, kissing her by surprise. Dahyun’s mouth opens wider, fingers curling around the nape of Sana’s neck, like an old memory locked away coming to light again. “Is that we show your lovely man that shouldn’t be the case between us.” 

She dips her face into Dahyun’s again, the kiss more intoxicating than the first initial contact. It’s how Dahyun melts down from Sana, the way her spine curves backwards, Sana’s hands there at the perfect time to support her, both of them are panting into it, how open they were about their feelings for each other before you waltzed in to have Dahyun all to yourself. 

“I hate how I like you and him both.” Dahyun gasps when Sana plants her lips across her neck, her hands grasping her waist and ass that gets this hum of approval from Sana on her skin. “Maybe we could find a probable compromise to solve this little problem?” 

“Is it the same compromise I’m thinking of seeing his pretty eyes when we cum all over his cock?” Sana asks with a wink while Dahyun just giggles into her chest. 

“I love it when you and I are on the same page.” 

–

A sigh leaves your lips when you hear how the metal grinds inside the lock of your doorknob, pushing the front door open to see the surprise of an article of clothing, sitting at your feet, tilting your head to the side when you pick it up to see that it was a cropped shirt. The soft sound of the humidifier fills the eerie silence when your eyes notice another piece of clothing a few inches away from the shirt, connecting the dots in your mind realizing the trail of clothes up the stairs. 

Once up the steps, the pieces start to get larger: first a shirt, then some stockings, the door leading into your bedroom was ajar, the knob hanging with two pairs of panties. The hinges on your door squeak but so quietly, and your ears are greeted with a familiar laugh, not just one, but two. 

Without producing any more noise to make your presence known, your eye captures the sight of Sana on your bed, dipping her head lower to a girl laying underneath, caressing her face while the other girl giggles, returning the kiss openly. It’s pretty peculiar, when you also realize that both of them are naked on your mattress, it’s also really fucking peculiar when you connect the dots that the girl laying underneath Sana is Dahyun of all people. 

“I suppose that Sana’s little secret was finally let out by her.” you finally say, leaning on the door frame with the smooth wood wide open. And when the both look up at you, Sana looking up and forward, Dahyun looking from under while laying still, fuck, it’s sending signals to your brain at the image of them on top of each other like this, a mesh of skin on skin, their pretty faces stacked on their chins - you could sketch it on an easel, because that’s a literal art piece in real time. 

Your mind doesn’t even register the few seconds after, when both Dahyun and Sana make way towards you, the movement of their bodies in perfect sync, hypnotized at the way you watch how they stand on their tiptoes - ghosting their hands all over your chest and hips while your hands tend to their asses, palm at the defined fit of them, softly laughing. 

“We had,” Sana and Dahyun both say each word in different pauses, something straight out of a horror movie at the way they ad lib each other’s utterances. “An idea,” Sana adds. “That you’d hope you’ll like.” Dahyun finishes. “Would you like to see what we were discussing?” 

(God picked your battles, and maybe you could let him off the hook just this once.) 

“Impress me,” you simply say, while Sana pulls your head into hers when she kisses you in front of Dahyun. 

–

So Sana and Dahyun return to the positions where you first found them.

The only difference being, Dahyun hanging her head off the bed upside down, dragging her tongue across the seam of your balls while Sana’s tongue slips inside your mouth, her slender fingers giving these languid strokes to your cock while the pair of them just hum in content, getting you ready when all of the gears are primed to click. 

The contrast between the two of them, Sana being gentle with her lips while Dahyun is the complete opposite with hers, aggressive with the way her tongue swipes across the underside of your cock, her hands wrapped around your thighs to get more of those lavish licks at the base that has you counting stars behind your eyelids early. 

“How are you rock fucking hard?” Sana husks, brushing her lips against yours while Dahyun leaves a path of pecks to your inner thigh before she rolls her body over, looking up with her doe eyes while Sana lets herself fall right next to her, flipping her hair back while the sheets crinkle at the elbows, reflecting the same look before flashing her eyes back at Dahyun. “Makes me wonder who you’re gonna finish inside of at the end of this.” 

“Didn’t know that this was a competition,” you say, mind zoning out when Sana draws her tongue up your underside now in a quick lick, Dahyun smiling on the opposite end doing the same exact thing, that will most definitely bite back your words. 

It’s only right that Dahyun gets to be the first to push your head into her mouth, inhaling a bit while her tongue smoothes out across the area, delicately brushing along the length that sends the synapses in your spine on an electrical current. Sana just looks in awe at how much your wife is taking you, twisting a hand in play while she plants a wet kiss to her temple. 

You could get lost in the finesse of how Dahyun’s small hands skate up your length, the cushion of her mouth already enough to have your tongue between your teeth, but Sana didn’t come her to just watch, tapping lightly on her shoulder and sliding you out of one heat into the next, and the expectation you had for Sana blowing you always gets thrown out the window. 

“Fucking whore she is,” Dahyun rasps when Sana lowers her lips more down your cock, rolling along with the lightest graze of her teeth along the top, a twitch of your legs with a billowing puff of your cheeks to let them know that what they’re doing is working. How many times has he let you blow him under the desk? You hear Dahyun ask Sana, pulling some stray strands of hair from her side when she clasps her lips at the base, keeping you there in the sweltering heat. 

“Oh Dahyun,” Sana reprimands, “You have no idea how much I’ve made him cum while you were away.” 

A hand is thrown into the mix, behind both of their heads when they meet the glints in their eyes, uniformly taking your cockhead from the side, slowly sliding down at the suction, how they both fluidly slide you in their mouths in alternating fashion. Sana popping with her mouth, Dahyun swiping along the slit the next second. 

“Christ girls,” and you could hear the giggles of satisfaction to your amazement when they both have a hand along the length, stroking slowly to the point you can’t even look them in the eye. “You had this planned for a while now, haven’t you?” 

“I was against Sana’s crazy idea,” Dahyun purrs, face flushed when you notice that Sana’s hand is at her rear, fingers dipping into her cunt that’s already slicked up, waiting to be stretched, “but then she convinced me otherwise after some- propper persuasion.” 

“Tell me,” Sana chimes in, that innocent pout with her pursed lips doing absolutely no justice to how she looks right now, “Who do you think is the bigger slut between the two of us, me? Or Dahyunie?” 

Dahyun guwaffs when she leans into your palm, slapping your cock along her lips while you thumb the soft skin on her temple, swiping the underside of your head makes you grit your teeth at the amount of teasing they’re both doing. “Maybe he should fuck our faces to see,” she suggests, “Who could choke the hardest over this fucking cock.” 

(With a pair of wide open eyes, you could only mouth the word, “fuck.”) 

“You’d like that anyway, won’t you daddy?” 

The obedience settles in when both of these girls let their hands rest on the edge of the bed, finger and thumb wrapped around your cock when you tell both of them to hang their mouths open, rubbing your tip around the rim of Sana’s lips when she opens wider, wider until her jaw fully slacks at the whole length, and you love how she’s a pro at this. 

You take your deserved pleasure of how each of these girls' mouths feel around you. Sana’s lips being so unbearably perfect with those pretty lips of hers, sliding out and have Dahyun practically inhale your cock next, her eyes blinking up over the tight seal she has over you. “Jesus, baby–” 

Sana helps play the guide fucking your cock more into Dahyun’s mouth, the subtle flick she has sliding around with every move and thrust flushing into her throat. Her small lips were already ahead of the curve mirroring Sana’s movements a few minutes ago, the pressure sending waves from your hips up, lightly clutching her hair to keep the ache building. 

“Taking your baby so well, huh?” Sana growls over the sound of Dahyun desperately slipping her head down your length. “You like how she’s deepthroating you after not having your cock for a whole month?” 

“Feels so fucking good,” you answer, spreading your legs apart to keep Dahyun’s mouth on your cock warm, moaning so loud when Sana’s other hand works your balls, fingernails scratching along the ridges of skin while she fingers her, the moans sending vibrations along your shaft nearly breaking you. “Keep- gonna cum on this pretty fucking face.” 

Borderline filthy, almost off the fucking rails. Sana doesn’t like to play fair when she pulls Dahyun off of your cock, the drag of her tongue stripped off with a line spit connecting to her lips that’s soon catered to Sana’s mouth kissing Dahyun again, and the sight in itself is a blessing that you’ll never take for granted, how their faces tilt every second they meet, the smile breaking at the corner where you could notice them, delicately letting their fingers explore their faces, hooking into their hair and necks, the rise and fall of their shoulder every breath taken. 

Sana’s head spins out of control when she’s pushed onto the pillows of the bed, propping on her elbows while Dahyun spreads her knees apart more, kissing up the line of her inner thigh. “Dahyun,” she rasps, head reeling back when she’s getting close to the center, “I’ve been dreaming of this to happen for so long: you eating me out while your husband is oh- looks like he’s already ahead of the–” 

You don’t pay attention to their short exchange of words, relishing in the taste of Dahyun’s pussy, licking past the slit when you grip her asscheeks a little more tighter, a slip of the tongue over her clit, lapping up in the ways that you know your wife likes. 

Like the trail of clothes to the bedroom, your vibrations transfer up to Dahyun’s mouth and into Sana’s cunt; it’s a connecting line of fucking when you slide your tongue deeper, where the heat is the most hot, hooking your arms over Dahyun’s thigh’s while Sana grips her head, whimpering the moans where she’s left struggling for air. 

“Look at us, Dahyun, shit, he’s eating away at you, you’re eating away at me, this is so fucking good.” 

Sana’s the first to sputter, the amount of hums in approval, cracking under the faults. You and Dahyun are on the same page when you’re slipping two fingers in - then three; Dahyun catches on while getting fucked over, adding her four fingers into Sana’s stretching pussy. She’s gonna lose it. 

That whine she makes, when she’s over the edge, it’s the missing symphony in your ears. 

“Yes, I’m cum– gonna fucking cum,” she cries out, Dahyun leans all the way in, back arched in a way that would rival a gymnast. The way your fingers are clutching at her snowy skin, enough to easily scratch and draw bruises, she’s quivering when you’ve also made her reach the peak like Sana: these meaningless sounds, air getting more static through their tracheas. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” Dahyun whines out matching Sana’s volume, hips tensing while your mouth is pressing against the pucker of her ass, tongue and finger tag teaming while she fucks Sana through her sensitive pussy, past the first hurdle of cumming and skating a pair of fingertips over her clit, making Sana lock her knees while the circles on her nub continue, speaking complete nonsense and in mewls. 

“I’ll fuck you now, just like you wanted.” you spit, pulling yourself closer to Dahyun by the hips, her whole body relaxing when you have the head of your cock, skimming the folds of her pussy while Sana cradles her head on her boobs, leaving languid kisses while Sana puts her legs up underneath. 

“Need it–” Dahyun pants, only to be shut up by Sana kissing her again to keep her dazed. 

“What do you need, honey?” you ask, leaning forward to kiss the line of her back, hand massaging her waist before you retract your hand up the dunes of her hip, onto the divot of her hip while impulsively smacking your wife’s ass that makes her yelp at how hard you hit it. 

“Your cock- need your cock inside me-” She can barely answer while she’s drunk at the teasing of your cock along her pussy while Sana’s lips work her neck. “Need you to fuck me.”

“Well, he’s gonna have his work cut out for you isn’t he?” Sana asks, massaging Dahyun’s waist while the top of your thigh meets Sana’s ass, licking your finger to make her squeal when you rub it on her clit, and you get several. “Fucking our brains till we’re drained.” she tells you, watching as you stroke the length of your cock. How long could you hold out? How much can you handle? You’ll be good for us, let you easy- until you’re cumming a whole fucking mess. 

Sana means business, Dahyun is already putty just waiting to be put back into a tube and spilled over on the bed. “You two will be good girls for me, and I’ll fuck you guys right.” 

You mean what you say, it’s in existence. And when you push your head into Dahyun’s perfect pussy, the opening rips out a tone within her that you’ll always remember - sucking in an air at the clamp, taking you all the way. Sana smiles at the wince Dahyun makes, holding her face when you pull back, slowly thrusting halfway, the tightness leaving you speechless. 

That very moment where you’re sinking - where you don’t even have to say anything. (Because Dahyun was just made to take your cock that doesn’t feel undeserving at all.) Her ass is spread out, cunt gripping the whole fucking length while she buries her head into Sana’s neck. You could also hear a hush come from Sana’s lips while you’re still fixated on your cock disappearing inside of Dahyun. 

“Just-” Dahyun sputters, the octave in her voice going up pitch by pitch, fucking her soaking hole while you’re pushing everything to the possible ability you can, where you can feel the clench around your head, sobbing, hands over the dough of her ass, getting her cock drunk until you senselessly empty yourself inside her. 

“Harder,” Sana chides, tongue on the neck while she’s the supporting beam of the shaking girl laying on top of her. “I want her to be broken in two.” 

So you keep pounding, this familiar angle with your hips to where Dahyun has died before, shrieking while she feels like she’s floating in her head. When you see her head move over to the side, her profile in view, you’re blown away by the fade of her blush, Sana’s hand underneath to her chin, her back arched to the highest point she could possibly have it in, pistoning yourself in like it wasn’t the daily routine as it is, not ever realizing that it would never stop being like this. 

When her moans reach the apex, you could see Dahyun mouthing something, a wobbling lip hindering for her to even say the words properly - Baby, I’m gonna fucking– cum so hard on your- 

One final push in, and her entire lower half shakes, a dam finally cracking under the pressure. 

Sana’s just there to admire the artwork of her face, while reassuring that everything will be taken care of once all of this is done, a kiss to the lips while your cock continues to slowly plunge deep, cumming on your hips, the warmth too comfy to even leave. This would be great, one more sense of presence in the bed that will be a mainstay from now on. 

“Look at you doing so well for him,” Sana says, and she’s still laughing, drunk on the sounds of Dahyun while her half-lidded eyes are telling a different tale. “You’ve missed his big fucking cock, fitting so perfectly inside you, hmm? Look at how much you creamed all over him, ugh, filthy.” 

Dahyun just shudders while you’re massaging her inner thigh, pulling the head of your cock out of her fucked pussy, slapping the head agasint the sensitive clit, and you chuckle lightly at the small twitches she makes every hit that she feels; once, twice, thrice, and even the fourth. 

“Was that enough to satisfy you?” you ask, learning over to get your face in between the two pretty girls, getting a whiff of your wife’s hair while Sana’s quick to plant her lips on the cuff of your ear, bold, trying to hide how badly she wants the next go at you railing her. “Could you take more tries before your cunt gets my load all up inside of you?” 

“She’s not gonna answer that for you right away.” Sana sliding herself down, her fingers fluttering around your shaft. She does these circular motions alongside the skin that had your head sideways the other day back on the couch, realizing how sterile you were at being delicately handled, she’ll play that to her advantage, and she always finds something new. 

“Now that you had your fill with her,” she continues on with this while showering Dahyun with peppered kisses across her breasts. “Don’t you think I should have a go? Make you throb to the point where I get to feel the teeny bits of precum before you burst?” 

“Sana, that’s not nice.” you tell her, lightly tapping Dahyun’s waist, leaning over to the nook of her neck to whisper something. Have her something to do while keeping Sana’s mouth occupied, because I hate how she doesn’t shut up about things like these. And Dahyun follows along, still coming down on her high, shimmying her way up on her knees and when she finally hovers over Sana’s face, you see the quick peek of her tongue tip in preparation while your fingers are working fast around Sana’s thighs, pulling her towards you and priming Dahyun for the perfect angle. 

“Should we shut this little slut up, honey?’ Dahyun asks, biting her lip at you while you slapping your cock along Sana’s folds, to an amount enough for her to hide the growl coming out of her mouth. “I think she’s a little too antsy for the both of us.” 

“Ladies first,” you smirk, providing the common courtesy, dipping your cockhead in before backing out, catching the small ‘fuck’ being let out by Sana. Dahyun takes the quick moment of weakness as an opportunity to finally sit on her face, her hand also quick to rub her clit while the woman’s open mouth on her pussy starts to tear away at the threads, and you know Sana well enough to describe the feelings. 

It’s listed as this: tight, so fucking tight to the point that it should be considered to a world class delicacy that’s not meant to be enjoyed leisurely. 

That sharp draw of air through the thin lines of your teeth, finding that leverage into her cunt, easing into her, trying not to get ahead of yourself when she’s finally flush with your hips. You could hear the hum of satisfaction through Dahyun, her hand gripping Sana’s hairs between her legs, lightly grinding her cunt over her wet, hot mouth. 

“Right there, yeah, there we go.” How your cock stretches alongside the walls, spreading her apart. It’s always a real show to keep both eyes open on, no quarter of the inch left behind. Sana would be this tornado that swoops in places, taking people off their feet. In trade for that, she offers a grace with her person - a vibe that comes off as rich, tied to materialism, to be used as a personal fucktoy when the time is right, and that instance of ‘time’ happens to be legitimately, every time. 

You could take days to figure out how you managed to get in this position. It’ll only take you hours, minutes; hell, maybe even less than a few milliseconds to wrap your head around the fact of how full you make Sana with your cock, providing the same structure of strokes, slowly building up pace like with Dahyun a few minutes ago. 

“How’s he feeling, Sana? Does he fill you up well like he said that he would?” Dahyun finally says, hair curtaining the right side of her face while Sana’s eyes can only look up while her mouth works her pussy again. The gluttal sounds of moans and chokes and smacks of Sana’s lips on Dahyun’s other lips, the only thing that she can do while you’re splitting Sana apart, her also doing some small movements so that she could fuck herself back onto your cock. 

Dahyun pulls her hips up for Sana to speak, “Oh baby, it’s fucking me so deep. Want him - want daddy to fuck this pretty pussy–all for him.” 

“Is that something you can do…fuck her cunt the same way you fucked my cunt?” 

This takes a pause, flashing a gaze to Dahyun while you could feel the muscles flex in Sana’s legs and hips, driving yourself into her continuously, keeping a rhythm in check. The demand that’s being proposed doesn’t even register in your mind and Dahyun does this swift motion of doing a complete one-eighty of her hips, pressing her ass down onto Sana’s forehead, leaning over with a hand onto her waist while the other pulls your face in with her small fingers. You’ll have to pay attention, because her lips are quick to keep you from snapping out of Sana’s perfect pussy. 

“What are you asking me to–” 

“I want you–” one kiss to get you drunk from Dahyun, “to fuck her properly–” another kiss to keep focus, “until she cums–” nothing wrong with having a third kiss, “all over this perfect cock.” 

Your hand is quick to reach across for Dahyun’s breast, kneading it in a way that she knows that she’s still yours, her eyes flickering down to the sight of your cock sinking back into Sana’s blown cunt, floating a pair of fingers on the clit, watching as you tear her apart, not wanting to shy or look away herself. 

Sana’s quick to pull her face off of Dahyun’s ass, gasping for air before sweeping the flat of her tongue across her pussy once again, “So fucking perfect for me, daddy, please, don’t stop,” is what she says to you while you can see her legs go limp slightly from the sides. 

The creaks of your lofted bed frame are singing at the shift of movement between the bedsheets and pillows, pulling yourself (with Sana inside still) up to the edge, planting both of your knees when you bottom yourself a little bit more deeper. You notice the image of Sana’s face fucked out, how she’s blushing, twisting her head to the right with her eyes closed, Dahyun manages to stave off to the side, taking a momentary break while you carry on with teasing Sana’s swollen clit, getting a few whines, moving her head against the sheets in a brief tantrum. 

“Had enough yet?” you had the frame of asking, smiling alongside the line of Sana’s neck while the temporary angle of your cock just nudges that one spot you’ve managed to hit a couple times, the symphony of Sana’s little ‘oh’s’ when a small move of the hips just has Sana’s cunt clenching the head of your cock to send you gasping as well. 

“Stop - stop with the questions,” she huffs, body stiffening before the wave of relaxation when you’re leaving more pretty bruises along the drawn canvas of her middle, licking up the deserved sweat of your hard work that’s also staining the sheets, along with the soaking that’s between your legs and hers. 

You get a command, Sana looks up in a panic when Dahyun tells you to start fucking her harder, lifting the small of her back to get her horizontal with the mattress. 

The levels just only seem to go up higher than then; Sana’s eyes being pulled down and rolled back. She knows you’re hitting the right spot, because of how she’s lightly pulling her legs up, you doing most of the support when she’s drawing these hitches of air, shuddering all over your waist while you push her beyond that edge. Her head is doing this bobbing motion when you slide with that upstroke, and you could feel the drag of her nails digging into your forearms that would seem accidental in another circumstance. 

Dahyun plays spectator, catching her breath, hand toying between her thighs while you’re fucking the girl beneath you into a spilled puddle all over your lap. 

“Are you seriously getting off without my help?” you ask, effortlessly gliding into the folds of Sana’s cunt. “Touching yourself while your best friend is taking my cock, sweetie? God, look at her, she’s wrecked.” 

Sana pulls you in with little strength she has left, able to get her arms around your neck and shoulders, tightening that pull even more against you. 

“Want you to cum,” she pleads, “I want you to cum inside and just, fuck, you don’t–” It’s miserable, hopeless, the power you have to just do exactly that with the way both Dahyun and Sana are both moaning and panting and just straight up rubbing both of their swollen clits while the length of your cock is still drowning in one of them. 

It’s how you do these broad strokes, slowly, strategically, a technique that you’ve perfected over the amounts of times you’ve got yourself completely fucked over, balls tapping above the pucker of Sana’s ass when pulling yourself in from the top of her thighs, a holding point while doing the best punishment of teasing you could ever do for someone like her. 

(Calling Dahyun over: shut this bitch up for me, please?) 

It’ll do you numbers in which: you’re still fucking Sana insanely hard still, with Dahyun’s head hovering above the present action. 

Sana’s clutching on to Dahyun’s leg, pressing her eyes into the skin, not wanting to let this fantastic feeling ever end, muttering all of the lovely things that she’s told you before multiple times. You could see the tug on her lips, tilting your head at how familiar the look was because you’ve seen it the first few times at how she couldn’t believe that you’d feel this good inside her, to get her stomach transformed into ashes and have her seeing stars. Sana’s body is “Pandora’s box’ full of lust, just waiting to be opened until you’ll give her opulence of what she needs from you, to fill her up. 

“Fuck her through and through,” Dahyun orders with this hint of anger, “need to see her cum–” 

“Give me your mouth, princess,” retreating from Sana’s exhausted cunt and getting Dahyun’s mouth all over you, cleaning up the mess of Sana’s slick right off of your length, stomach dipping when her throat swallows almost the entire half. 

Your ears are zeroing in on the gags your wife is making on your cock, doing a double feature while her fingers are rubbing Sana’s clit to keep that ache, grasping a high ponytail with one hand, sucking away that will have you dreaming that the tension is almost tempting of spilling inside her throat right at that second. Dialing back with what little warning you have left, slipping back into the other hot warmth below her chin. 

Despite the numbness clouding your brain, the obscene sounds of hums and whines tie in perfect tandem while you’re gliding back into Sana’s cunt, alternating between the tender rings of muscles, stretching around your cock in a one-two step: Dahyun’s mouth sliding and slobbering down your length, teasing Sana with your cockhead in her cunt massaging the walls around that squeezing vice. 

You’re not at fault for when it happens: face red hot from within, the sound that rips through your vocal cords while your knees buck at the sensation of Sana’s ass bouncing back off the edge of the bed, and the small gyration of her hips when you’ve driven all the way to the hilt, she can sense it too.

Again, you’re not at fault for the way your cock pulsates that first second inside Sana’s sopping fuckhole, the first shots at the deepest pit where you could take it, twitching while you’re trying to save yourself from losing all of it from the first hold. Any second longer inside that lovely heat will have you rethinking your life choices up until this point. 

You pull out, fist tight around your cock when you could see the lower point of your tip, giving an act of generosity firing another shot of cum inside Sana, cock out in the air where Dahyun sees the opportunity to lean in, drinking in the remaining spill that–

Scratch that, it’s not remaining, because you’re cumming everywhere. 

There’s drops of white spilling from the front of her lower lips, pumping out the leaks on the flat of Sana’s stomach. Shit, you even managed to get a few globs on Dahyun’s cheek, even up to Sana’s right tit. It’s all fucked, you almost topple over on top the both of them, the arm serving as a last gasp foothold while the color drains from your face. 

Dahyun pushes you up with both of her hands, staring at you with the splotches of your release slowly sliding down alongside her cheek. She’s taken aback with the load, but what she does with it–

(Well, don’t be surprised. She’s the love of your life for god’s sake.) 

Two fingers skate off some of the cum off her profile, rubbing it on her lips. You draw yourself away while Dahyun helps Sana sit up on the bed, her hand quick to dip under her cunt where she picks up more of your cum that you’ve spilt inside. Sana catches on quick to lick off the cum off of Dahyun’s cheek, tongue sliding across the plane to swallow, the small ‘mms’ and audible smacks of lips colliding. Dahyun just laughs when she examines her palm, placing it underneath her mouth and Sana’s both of them licking the dribble up like two birds in a bath, washed over with sweat and slick and filthy and–

“So fucking gross,” Dahyun says, finger to the arch of Sana’s brow, wiping a wisp of hair off. “Like, are you gonna be so full of yourself–”

“Hey,” Sana tuts, “Don’t get all mad now that I’ve managed to push his buttons better than you.” She then slumps herself over Dahyun’s lap, hand massaging her waist while Dahyun leans back on her palms, crossing one leg up the edge to support her head. They both get secluded in their own little world, whispering these different sayings to each other with a soft smile at one, a scrunched nose to the other. 

You manage to slot yourself to the side, next to Dahyun, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, “I thought this wasn’t a competition over me.” 

The pair simply roll their eyes, Dahyun runs her fingers through Sana’s hair, unconsciously, affectionately. They’re still coming down from all the fucked out clarities while they simply - just - look. Being proven wrong wasn’t that much of a loss in itself; in fact, it was actually inviting when you’re giving them the same confused expression that has the brain questioning everything from the plain existence to whether or not this new reality was even sustainable amongst the three of you. 

“We could all agree to an accord together,” Sana says enthusiastically, “like distinguished human beings- or, something like that.” 

(I mean, there’s a blueprint to draw up for that extra room anyway, but you’ll get to that later.) 

–

It’s during one Saturday morning, when the plates and bowls of today’s breakfast are already in the sink, you have a single carry-on duffel bag in your hand, placed on the highest step of the stairs, taking in that crisp air through your nose. Everything comes to a gentle slope, the clouds are high up in the sky, meshed up together, shielding the landscape from the beaming sun, and the time hasn’t even hit noon yet. 

“I just don’t get it.” you beam, elbows on the railing while your eyes get caught up in a pair of blue jay’s gliding past the street, fascinated by the companionship of nature. Only to have your attention drawn to the awaiting car on the driveway, Dahyun’s personal chauffeur (and to this day you’re still wondering if that person even gets paid or not). “All of this trouble of having a vacation, get reeled back into working, have more time off than expected, but still decide to take up another work order again?” 

Dahyun steps out the doorway, slapping your arm, leaving your face with a small wince that you play off with dead eyes. “I could call Nayeon to put in a word for Momo. If you’re making such a big deal out of it, I might as well tell them myself that I wanted more time off than need be.” 

“You said that it was work related.” you tell her as the counterargument.

“But it’s not!” Sana bursts out, all smiles while you’re walking down the pathway with another bag in your hand onto the asphalt. “Such a buzzkill, as if you didn’t want the whole place to yourself to burn down. You spend wayyyy too much time up in your little office, so consider this to be punishment.” 

“Where did this come from?” you ask, flustered, with arms up trying to play the innocence card. 

Dahyun pulls Sana’s singular luggage from her hand and into the trunk of the car, the bag you were carrying also next to be put before a shut off of the compartment. “We’ve been planning this for sometime, and now we’ve decided to do it. Together.” She pulls up her own passport with an airline ticket shoved in between the pages. You could probably guess where they’re going, judging from the assortment of clothes that they’ve packed, it must be somewhere tropical, like Cancun or in the Bahamas, maybe even Malaysia was on the cards, but you take it with a grain of salt. 

“Is this supposed to be a besties trip that I didn’t even know about until now?” you ask the two girls standing behind the car, leaning back onto the glossy material of the paint job while your arms are bridged between your chest. “I’m also assuming that this is predetermined–” 

“Stop being so analytical.” Sana groans out, “You really have to think twice about what our summer plans were?” 

“Maybe he just needs a few conditions.” Dahyun adds on, nudging Sana’s shoulder to which her face suddenly lights up in excitement. “Besides, he’s really good at reading between the lines, like, you know, he has a good thing for body language - go ahead, test him, I’m sure that he’ll show off like he always does.” 

(It’s how you catch yourself shaking your head downwards to the Earth, hiding the grin that’s breaking on your face because Dahyun knows how well you observe your surroundings. She’s trying to play dumb at the fact that she went ahead to grab your duffel bag while getting the shower ready for yourself. You also notice that Dahyun’s driver got her roughly about ten minutes early to put your bag in the trunk and pretend that nothing ever happened. It’s cute when she gets sneaky and mischievous, because Sana will always buy into what she devises to get you stressed, a migraine pounding through the back of your head, taking it out when you have both of them moaning underneath or straddled on top of you.) 

So you say: “Are there any guarantees to this if I do what you ask?” 

Dahyun puts her passport out in front, shifting her thumb over to show yours underneath. You pretend to be shocked with lifted eyebrows, but you already have them figured out. 

“Honey,” Sana says, blinking with her teeth peering through her smile, “I can guarantee that you've got us both.” 

[luvtak]

fade into you, lmh x reader

genre/tw est. relationship! suggestive, pure sugar cane fluff (like high fructose corn syrup fluff), minho only knows how to talk with his hands </3, gn!reader!! minho calls you kitty and honey <3!! seriously cavity inducing fluff be warned !! mostly unedited…

w/c 848

omg i haven’t posted a fic in so long nor have i written anything in months :(( but i’m finally a lot more settled after a busy drama filled couple of months! I hope you love this fic as much as i loved writing it. I’m not kidding when i say i wrote this in an hour on my phones notes app, don’t be afraid to tell me how you feel hehe 🩵

It’s cold outside your sleeping bag, frigid morning fog seeping into the once cozy tent. You shiver at Minho’s nose pressing into your neck, his face as cold as a dog who’s been outside too long. 

You’re not sure why you let your boyfriend convince you to camp in the middle of autumn… less sure why he insisted it was just the two of you, but you could never refuse Minho when he asked you so nicely— hands easing sighs while his mouth asked the question; the only thing you could say was yes, over and over. 

Unfortunately, the ecstasy of being asked was not akin to the actual experience.

Insistent rain stormed down from the second you arrived to the last minute before your eyes closed, Minho in all his excitement forgot the cooler and was forced to drive all the way back—leaving you to shiver in the tent alone. No, it was not the romantic getaway your boyfriend promised, but being here now—warm despite the wilderness’s wishes—you think it could be.

“Are you still cold, honey?” Minho asks, his voice just a whisper amongst the whistling trees. 

With your eyes still closed, you can only imagine what he looks like… Soft with sleep, his eyelashes cascading shadows across the slopes of his skin, beautiful like hypnos after creating dreams. You can feel his breath against your neck and his hands clutching at your waist, so safe despite how strong he is. 

“No, min, I’m just right” you say, and you can feel his laugh, rumbling through him, feel his smile against your skin. 

You wish he knew how much you cherish him… how much you treasure these little moments with him. How you’ll think about this moment every time he’s away from you; rolling the memory around your tongue like it’s a piece of candy. 

Sometimes, you’re sure you can see a cord running from you to him, wrapping around the two of you like cling wrap—like every moment you’ve ever had was crafted by the fates, your story weaved by the gods themselves. 

“Just right huh?” he says, before he’s lifting his head to look at you, eyes open and beautiful. “Well goldilocks, look how pretty you are this morning.” His smile is mischievous and if you didn’t know better you may think he was joking, but his tone gives him away: too quiet to be anything but the truth. 

“Minho!” you cry, embarrassed by compliments this early, “lay back down, I need you to keep me warm.” He smiles down at you, knowing you well enough to see that you’re flustered, it’s always too easy; one compliment, and your skin is hot, his kiss lasts a second too long and you’re pulling away shaking. 

Minho doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of making your blood rush, enjoying the chase even when he has you. 

When his skin gets closer to yours again, chest to chest/heart to heart, you find yourself breathing his air like you share one pair of lungs. He’s so close to you, searing your skin even as the sleeping bag pulls awkwardly around your legs, letting cool air settle around your figure. 

His lips are so close to yours, one breath away from a kiss, so close you can feel his words flow into your open mouth. 

“Are you warm now, kitty?”  he asks, his eyes boring into yours before flitting down to look at your skin; miles and miles of it under his hands, valleys of skin that are his as much as yours.

“I’m warm, Minho, are you?” Just a whisper.

“just right.” A smirk. 

One breath, two breaths, three, and then he’s kissing you. Lips urging gasps to flow out of you, hands grasping at his tension filled spine. You’ve shared many kisses, sweet and sultry, frantic and lust filled, but something about this hunger is foreign to you. 

His kiss is filled with wanting yes, but it’s almost like he’s trying to tell you something but forgot the words. His hands on your thighs urging you to listen, please please please understand, they say, clutching at the muscle like he’s afraid you’ll never know. 

But you do, and so do your lips and your hands and you try your hardest to speak his language; responding to every bite with a nip of your own, gasping when his hands ask, kissing away the sleep still in his eyes. You know what he’s saying, I love you, I’m sorry you’re cold, I’m sorry I made you come on this rain coated trip, I love you I'm sorry, I love you I love you.” 

Your boy, always so embarrassed to tell you how he feels, but never afraid to show you. 

When you pull apart, hands locked together still, eyes gleaming with an inside joke, a shared confession; you can see he wants to say something, see he’s trying to build the courage to split his heart open. Instead he flits his eyes up to the sky and smiles. 

Look honey, the suns coming out” 

And you understand. 

© LUVTAK 2024

[keikikait]

ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴇ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

this is part three. for part two, click here!

pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 6.7k. i got carried away. i locked in all day to write this.

summary: a trip to get your new phone results in something new…until rafe finds out

warnings: SMUT WARNING 18+! HEAVY cunnilingus (pretty much all pussy eating), slight nipple play (f receiving), rafe is a munch argue with the wall, slight dom!reader (never written it before so soz if it’s awkward), leg humping, cumming in pants, some angst at the beginning/middle, smut at the end, jealous!rafe, some jj x reader, i haven't finished s4 so if i get shit wrong i'm sorry, not proofread

a note: i am so locked in on this series. that being said, this is most likely the final part. but don't worry, i have another rafe idea in mind!

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

You only get a few hours of sleep before Rafe is stomping around your room, getting dressed to leave you yet again.

The sunlight pours in through your now open window, your curtains flowing softly in the wind. Your bed is so warm and soft that you don’t even want to get up, your duvet smelling faintly of Rafe’s cologne. You sit up, rubbing your eyes. “Rafe?”

He turns to look at you, his blue eyes softening when he looks at your sleepy face. He slips his arms through the holes of his shirt before pulling it over his head, smirking. “Yeah? You okay?”

“Where are you going?” You ask, yawning.

“I gotta go.” He says, straightening his shirt out. “I was supposed to meet with Sofia for breakfast today. Some new breakfast bistro opened up downtown.” Rafe sits down on the edge of your mattress, leaning over and kissing your forehead. “I’ll be back tonight, alright?”

You whine, reaching out and grabbing his wrist. “No.”

Rafe sighs, grabbing your hand and gently pulling away your grip. “Sweetheart, don't do that.” He says, his voice stern. “I told you, I'm supposed to be with her for breakfast.”

“No!” You tug him onto the bed. “You love me, not her. You said so yourself.”

He falls onto the bed, cursing under his breath as he looks at you. He sighs, reaching out and taking your chin in his hand. “Don't do this, pretty girl. I'm supposed to be with her right now. Don't throw another tantrum like that. Not now. I don't want to be late. I'm not going to be late just because you are being a brat.”

You push his hand away, sitting up fully. “You can’t keep doing this to me, Rafe. I don’t want to tolerate your bullshit anymore.”

Rafe sighs again, frustrated. He grabs your chin again, more roughly this time. He moves closer to you, pinning you against the pillows. “You just promised me last night you wouldn't doubt my love for you again. I'm going to spank that bratty little ass of yours if you keep this bullshit up.”

“I’m not doubting you, I just…” You sigh, pushing against his grip. “I want to be your first choice. I want to be your only choice. I don’t want to be the other woman anymore.”

“You don't think I know that?” He snaps, his grip tightening. “I know that, sweetheart. You think I don’t know that? I know you don’t want to share, I know you want me to be only yours, I know all of that. But I don’t have a choice right now, alright? Why can’t you understand that?”

His grip stings your skin. You wince slightly, pushing against him. “Why can’t you just break up with her, Rafe?”

“Because I have to play the long game with her, baby. I don’t expect you to understand, but you gotta trust me. This will pay off in the long run, I swear. So stop being a brat about this, please.” He moves closer, shifting one hand to pinch your hip as a warning. “I don’t want to have to punish you for questioning me.”

You whine, squirming under his grip. “Rafe, please, just listen to me! I swear, you don’t need her, she’s just using you--”

Rafe’s phone starts ringing, vibrating on your bedside table. 

It’s Sofia.

Rafe looks over the nightstand, gritting his teeth when he sees her name. He sighs, grabbing his phone and holding it to his ear. “Hey, babe.” He says, his voice suddenly soft. He turns to look at you, a warning gaze telling you to keep your mouth shut.

The way he says babe makes your heart ache, tears welling in your eyes. You crawl towards the edge of the bed, wrapping your arms around his hips, and press your face into his stomach. You want him to stay with you.

He gently places a hand on your head, his fingers running through your hair as he talks to Sofia. “Yeah, I’m on my way right now, I’m just running late.” He says, his voice sweet as usual. There’s a pause as Sofia responds to him, his voice softening even more as he answers. “Of course I still want to come, babe. You know I do.”  He tugs your head back before moving his free hand to your chin, pinching it between his fingertips as he glances down at you.

Your bottom lip trembles as his thumb brushes over it. You kiss it, trying to nuzzle his hand.

Rafe’s silent as he listens to Sofia respond to him, his gaze growing dark as he glances at your face. He lets you nuzzle his hand, dragging his thumb across your teeth as he responds, his voice growing a bit deeper as he speaks. “Yeah, I’ll be there in half an hour, I promise, okay?” He sighs, holding your chin. “Alright. I love you too, babe. See you soon.”

I love you.

I love you?

Your eyebrows furrow and you immediately pull away, moving towards the head of the bed, trying to soften your cries as he hangs up the phone.

Rafe sighs, shutting his phone off and setting it back on the nightstand. He glances at you, watching as you scoot backwards towards the top of the bed. He frowns. “Hey. Come here.” His voice is so soft that you almost give in.

You shake your head over and over, bringing your knees to your chest. How stupid could you be? Why did you even believe him in the first place?

“Stop it.” He snaps, his voice suddenly serious. He grabs one of your ankles, pulling you down towards him. “I said, come here. Don’t make me say it again.” He pulls you down the rest of the way, pinning you against the headboard with his large, strong frame.

You try not to cry, biting the inside of your lip, squirming underneath him. “Just go. You’re going to be late.”

“Baby-” He sighs, his brow furrowing as he looks at you. “Why are you being such a brat? We talked about this last night, alright? I told you to trust me, so why can’t you trust me?” He gently takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him. “I swear, this attitude of yours really needs to stop. Don’t make me put you over my knee.”

The way he talks to you makes your skin crawl and your stomach churn. You squirm, trying to get him off of you. “Please let go, Rafe. I understand. Please just let go.”

He sighs again, frustrated. He sits back a bit, but he doesn’t move back entirely. He continues to hover above you, towering over your frame. “Sweet girl, please, stop this. I told you last night, I don’t want to have to punish you. I don’t want to fight you, but you have to let me work with her. I swear to you that I’m going to dump her as soon as I can, alright? You have to trust me.”

You sniffle, squirming underneath him. “Promise?”

“I promise.” He says, cupping your face and forcing you to look at him, his face just a few inches from yours. “I swear to you, I’m gonna dump her soon, alright? I’m not just saying that to make you feel better, sweetheart. I love you, alright? I swear.”

“I love you too.” You say. And you mean it. Does he?

He sighs, his brow softening. He leans in and kisses you, his lips gently gliding over yours. He pulls away after a moment, just to stare at you for a moment. He then glances at the clock on the nightstand over his shoulder, sighing again. “Okay, pretty girl, I really do need to get going now. I’m definitely gonna be late if I’m any more late. I’m sorry.” He moves back, releasing your chin.

“Be safe.” You call, standing up from your bed.

Rafe pauses, glancing back at you with a small smile, lingering by the door to your bedroom. “I will. Don’t throw any tantrums while I’m gone, alright?” He sighs, his expression growing soft. “I’ll call you when I’m headed back, baby. Love you.”

He exits your bedroom, and a few seconds later you hear your front door open and close.

You’re alone. Again.

It's only 8:30 AM, but the weight of the world already presses down on your shoulders. You groan, climbing back into your bed and burying your face in the pillow. You sniffle, wiping away the tears on your cheeks and your undereyes. Your mind races, and you know you should get up and get ready for the day. You should also eat something. The tasks loom like dark clouds on the horizon, threatening to overwhelm you. Instead, you close your eyes and go back to sleep, even just for a little bit.

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You forgot you smashed your phone.

After your morning shower and a rather large breakfast, trying to make up for the last two days. You search your living room for a while before finding it curled around the corner of the plaster wall. It’s smashed in half, the screen cracked all the way down to the charger port. Thankfully, you had a bit of forethought last night, ordering the phone to be for next day pickup rather than delivery.

You pick up the two halves of your phone, your finger accidentally running over the screen. Somehow, the phone still turns on, glitching for a moment. You carefully throw it into the trashcan before sweeping up the excess glass. You’ll have to go pick up your new phone today, as much as you don’t want to.

Maybe I’ll just go after lunch…, you think. You really don’t want to go out right now, especially not to the Apple Store in the mall, but then you remember that Rafe said he would call you tonight. You rub your eyes, letting out a loud groan before heading into your bedroom to change.

It takes you around an hour to get ready, picking out your outfit, fixing your hair, doing your makeup, getting yourself looking somewhat presentable and not like you just laid on your couch for two days. You end up picking a simple yet cute outfit, a white sweater tucked into a short dark blue skirt, black tights, and some heeled boots, and a small black leather shoulder bag. You check your reflection in your bedroom mirror, sighing to yourself. You looked good, really good. You could almost hear Rafe’s comments on your outfit; ‘You look great, sweetheart, but that means other men will think so, too.’ But maybe you did want them to think that way.

You hesitate a moment when you grab your keys. You’re still exhausted and really don’t want to go get your phone, but you need to get your phone, even for non Rafe-related reasons.

With a heavy sigh, you grab your keys and head out. 

After a short drive and a long peruse of the parking lot, you finally head inside the mall. You feel inclined to check Sofia’s Instagram, reaching for a phone that isn’t there. Making your way through the mall, you finally reach the Apple Store, which is mostly empty, and you’re quickly able to get in line for customer support. Luckily, it doesn’t take too long for you to get in, and soon enough, you’re talking with one of the employees, giving them the serial number of the phone you ordered. The woman behind the counter is all smiles, seemingly kind and cheery. She taps away at the computer on the counter top, typing in the number. She asks you routine questions before setting up your phone for you, sliding it across the table. 

“Thanks.” You say, standing up. “We’re all good on payment, right?”

The woman, Sherri, smiles and nods. “Everything’s all set, honey!” She says, cheerful. “Anything else we can do for you today?”

“I am all set.” You say, giving her a smile before hurriedly rushing out of the Apple Store. You mess around with your phone settings, looking down as you walk. 

“Ow. Hey—” You bump into someone as you step out of the Apple Store, glancing down at your phone instead of watching where you’re going. A familiar voice makes you stop dead in your tracks, and your head tilts slightly, a small smile on your face. 

“JJ, hey.” You say, putting your phone into your purse for safe keeping. 

JJ is grinning, as usual, his hands stuffed in his pockets and that charming smirk still on his face. “Hey, sugar.” He says, looking you up and down. “You look fancy today, you goin’ somewhere?”

“Just had to get a new phone,” You say, pulling it out to show him. “Smashed mine by accident.”

“Damn, that sucks, baby doll.” He says, leaning in a little closer to look at it. “You gotta be more careful with your stuff. A pretty thing like you needs to take care of herself.”

You blush, and your ears turn pink, too. You shouldn’t be feeling this way, especially with JJ. Even though Rafe had filled your head with tons of negative opinions on JJ, you had never had a problem with him. “Y-yeah, I know.” You’re having a hard time forming sentences, stuck on an endless loop of blushing and admiring the blond in front of you. 

“Mmm, such a cute blush. You’re a lil flustered.” He teases, leaning in closer, his eyes looking you up and down. He reaches out and grabs your hand to gently pull you closer, and you oblige, getting right up against him. “C’mon, baby doll, you got a crush on me now or somethin’?”

“Maybe.” You say softly, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

He chuckles, looking down at you. “Yeah, sweetheart? You got a thing for me?” His tone turns teasing, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.  His moves his hand up to cup your face, rubbing his thumb along your jawline. “What, boyfriend ain’t treatin’ your cute little ass right, or somethin’? That why you got a crush on me?”

“You know I don’t have a boyfriend, JJ.” You say, reaching out and rubbing the hem of his button-up shirt, your thumb swirling on one of the buttons. 

JJ grins at you, the smirk growing wider. “That right, pretty girl?” He asks, letting go of your chin and grabbing your hand, stopping you from swirling your thumb along his shirt. He grabs your hand instead, his touch rough. “If you don’t got a boyfriend, then that means you’re free game, darlin’.”

You intertwine your fingers, tugging him closer. “That I am.”

“Oh yeah?” JJ grins, being pulled closer to you. He grabs your wrist, turning and pulling you against his chest, his free hand resting comfortably on your hip. “That means I could kiss you, and you’d let me?” His voice is low, just above a whisper, as he looks down at you. He grins. “Maybe I’ll try it right now.”

“A kiss before our first date?” You ask, tilting your head a little. “How naughty of you, JJ.”

He chuckles again, shaking his head. “I’m a naughty boy, sugar, everyone knows that.” He says, his eyes looking you up and down once again. “But you look just too damn cute in that girly little outfit of yours, I can’t resist you. You’re too damn pretty.” He smiles again. “But yeah, I guess I should take you on a proper date first, huh?”

You nod, tugging him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Are you free now?”

JJ laughs, his arms wrapping fully around your frame as you tug him closer. He rests his hands on your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. He squeezes your hips with his fingers. “Free as a bird, baby doll. You wanna go right now?”

You nod, incredibly eager, willing to do anything to get your mind off of Rafe. You look up at him and bite your lip. “How about we try that new breakfast bistro downtown?”

“Whatever you say, sugar.” JJ says, his smirk growing wide as he notices the eager look on your face. “You seem like you’re kinda hungry for somethin’.” His hand moves to the small of your back, gently holding your frame close to his. “Breakfast bistro ain’t a bad place to start.”

“My car or yours?” You ask. 

He grins, grabbing your chin and tilting your face up to look at him. “You don’t mind ridin’ with me, do you, sweetheart?” 

You shake your head. 

He smiles back down at you, leaning in closer. His face is just a few inches away from yours, his eyes staring down into yours before glancing to your lips. “Good.” He whispers. “Cuz I don’t think we can both fit in your teeny, tiny car. Plus…riding on my bike means you can hold onto me.”

You glance at his lips before meeting his eyes. “I’m ready when you are, handsome. But remember,” You lean a little closer. “It’s just one date.”

He chuckles, his grip on your chin tightening just slightly before he leans in to give you a gentle kiss. “You’re cute as hell, you know that?” He asks, pulling away a moment later, grabbing your hand again. “C’mon, sugar, my bike’s parked out back.”

You eagerly follow him, your whole body feeling fuzzy.

The new bistro is called the Early Bird Cafe & Bistro. 

It’s totally not your fault it’s the same restaurant Rafe and Sofia are supposed to be at, just like it’s totally not your fault that you’re here with JJ at the same exact time. You spot Rafe right away, wearing that light blue sweater that drives you absolutely crazy, hugging his biceps and shoulders so well you wish you could sink your teeth into him. 

You slip the hostess $20, hoping she would let you get the empty table directly behind them. Sofia would have her back to you, but Rafe would get a front row seat. Your little bribe works, and she quickly leads you and JJ into the bistro and to the nearest empty table, right behind Rafe and Sofia’s table. You can feel Rafe’s eyes on you as you hurry into your seat, JJ sitting across from you, resting his hand on the table.

It’s perfect. You and Rafe can look each other dead in the eyes, while Sofia and JJ will have no idea. 

At first, you try to focus on JJ, listening to him talk as you look at the menu. You only peek at Rafe every few seconds, your eyes drawn to him, no matter how hard you try. He’s just sitting there, talking to Sofia as usual, but he keeps glancing at you, his eyes watching you intently. You order the cheapest thing on the menu, leaning across the table and holding JJ’s hand while he talks about his bike and how much it cost to fix it.

You prop your hand up on your palm, pushing your lips into a pout, and look up at JJ while he talks. You know Rafe is watching you.

JJ is absolutely loving your attention, oblivious to the fact that you’re doing all of this just to make Rafe watch. He laughs, raising an eyebrow at you when he sees the pout on your lips. “Oh, c’mon, you gonna give me that cute little pout? You tryna make me blush or somethin’, baby doll?” He reaches out and brushes his thumb along your lower lip. You kiss it, pressing your tongue against it.

He groans under his breath at the gesture, the smirk spreading wide on his face. “Oh, shit. You know, I love that mouth of yours.” He says, a hint of warning in his tone, his hand still holding your chin as his thumb continues to rub along your lower lip. You lick the tip of his thumb again, Rafe’s furious expression visible even out of the corner of your eye.

JJ’s lips twitch at the gesture, letting his thumb slide fully past your open lips, pushing into your mouth as he leans closer to you. “God dammit, you know how to tease a man, don’t you?” You kiss his thumb again before pulling back as the waitress rounds the corner, setting your food down.

Rafe is furious, chewing aggressively and holding his silverware so tight it might snap under the pressure. Sofia is rambling about something he doesn’t care about, completely unaware of his eyes remaining solely on you.

You keep your attention on JJ for the rest of your date. All things considered, he's actually a really sweet guy. Even after finishing your food, you continue to sit and chat, and you notice Rafe and Sofia doing the same. He was keeping an eye on you, occasionally glancing your way. The bistro starts to close down, so you and JJ start to head out. You fish through our purse for some more cash, but JJ’s already throwing it down, even including a small but reasonable tip.

“Thanks, JJ.” You say, slinging your purse over your shoulder. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t you worry about it, sweetheart.” He says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “I’m treatin’ you, alright? You don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” 

And you don’t.

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JJ gives you a ride back to the mall so you can pick up your car. After sharing a few more kisses, your back pressed against the hood, he reluctantly pulls away. 

“I had fun, sweetheart, seriously.” He whispers, his thumb rubbing your lips again before resting his hands on your hips as he leans closer. He gives one final kiss, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment. “I’ll call you later, alright?” He mutters, kissing you one final time. 

You nod. “Ride safe, okay?”

He chuckles, kissing your nose before letting you go. “Of course.” He says, putting on his helmet. “I’ll call you later. You be safe, too.” He gives a last wink before getting onto his bike and riding off. You wave him off, watching him leave the parking lot. You ride home on cloud nine, your chest feeling light, almost euphoric. You felt happy and wanted for the first time in a while.

When you go to pull into your parking spot, you see Rafe's dirt bike parked right next to it. “Fuck.” You groan softly, grabbing your purse before getting out of the car, closing the door behind you.

As you walk towards your front door, unlocking it, you hear the soft sound of music inside. You push open the door, your eyes widening when you see Rafe sitting on the edge of the couch, sitting in the dark. The only thing that gives the room any light is the streetlamp outside, the soft glow filtering through your windows. He looks up at you as you come in, a cold, blank expression on his face.

“How did you get in here?” You ask, setting your bag down.

At first, he doesn’t respond to you, sitting completely still. He watches your every movement, his eyes narrowing as you set down your bag. He stands up, slowly approaching you. He grabs your face in an iron grip, squeezing your cheeks just a bit too hard as he tilts your head up so you’re forced to look at him. There’s nothing but barely restrained anger in his eyes. “You have some gall.” He says, his voice low. “Being there with him. Letting him kiss you. Letting him touch you.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” You say. “You do that a lot.”

“Shut up.” He says, his hand still on your face. His eyes are cold and furious. “I had to watch him touch you. Kiss you. Look at you. Hold you.” His grip on your face tightens slightly. “I had to sit there and watch it. It was all I could do not to drag him out into the alley and break his goddamn fingers. I should’ve been on that date with you. That should’ve been me.”

“I’m tired of being your second choice, Rafe.” You snap. “I want a boyfriend. I don’t want to sneak around. I don’t want to be the other woman anymore.”

“Don’t you dare throw that in my face.” His voice is soft yet threatening, his fingers tightening around your face even more. “You know it’s more complicated than that. You’re not my second choice, sweetheart, you’re just-.” He sighs, frustrated. “Damn it, sweetheart, you’re just…” He shakes his head. “You’re mine. You belong to me. End of story.”

“Then fucking prove it.” You say. “You want me? You want me to belong to you? Dump Sofia. Dump her right now.”

He’s furious. He grabs your arms, squeezing them hard. “I don’t know how many times I need to tell you, I can’t yet.” He hisses, pulling you closer to him. “I can’t get rid of her until I’m ready, alright?”

“I’m not going to wait that long.” You say.

Your phone vibrates on the dining table, a phone call from JJ.

Rafe groans under his breath, his eyes darting to your phone just a few feet away. “Don’t.” He says, his grip on your arms tightening. “Don’t you pick that up.”

Your face falls slightly. “I’m not waiting around forever, Rafe. I’m not going to sit here and just hope that one day you’ll want me.”

He groans again, his grip on you bruising. “God damn it, I want you now.” He says, pulling you so close against him that you’re practically pushed flush against his chest. “I promise I’m going to break up with her, I promise, just give me some goddamn time.” His eyes are growing red and bloodshot.

You shake your head, your voice soft when you speak. “I can’t wait that long, Rafe. I won’t. You either have me now, or you don’t have me at all.”

Rafe scoffs, his eyes narrowing. “So what, you’re gonna run off to that dumbass, just because I can’t leave Sofia yet?” His grip tightens again. “Is that it, sweetheart? You’re just gonna toss me aside for some nobody?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” You say softly. 

He lets out a shaky breath, his arms wrapping around you. He buries his face into your neck, pulling you tight against his chest. “You’re supposed to trust me, pretty girl.” He mutters, his voice trembling. “You’re supposed to trust that I’m gonna pick you, that I’m gonna break up with her.”

“I don’t want some of you. I want all of you.” You say. “I don’t want to wait around until you decide to pick me.”

“You’ve got all of me, baby, I promise you.” He mutters into your neck, his arms squeezing you tighter. “I swear to you, you’ve got all of me, I just-.” God, he sounds so desperate, and his eyes are starting to well with tears. “Sweetheart, I need you to trust me, alright? I swear I’m gonna end it with her.”

You shake your head. “Rafe, I’m sorry. I can’t wait around for you anymore.”

He whines, pulling you back by your shoulders so he can look at you. He cups your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “God damn it, sweetheart, you’re killing me here. Don’t you understand? I need more time--”

His phone rings this time, lighting up from its spot on your dining table.

A call from Sofia.

You take a deep breath. You can do this. “You can either break up with her right now, or you can leave.”

He stares into your eyes, his face growing desperate. He can’t believe this is really happening. He’s going to lose you, he’s going to lose his mind, he’s going to lose the last good thing that ever happened to him. He doesn’t even know what to say.

The phone stops ringing.

You breathe out softly as it starts ringing again. “Choose, Rafe. Sofia or me. You can’t have both anymore. It’s not fair to me or her.”

He’s desperate, and panicked. He’s losing you. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do if he loses you. He whines again, the ring of the phone still echoing through your apartment. He doesn’t have time to think about it.

He slams his lips against yours, kissing you heatedly, passionately, desperately.

You pull away. “No, Rafe. Fucking pick something for once in your goddamned life.”

His hands are shaking as he grabs your shoulders. His breathing is shaky as he tries to pull you in for another kiss, but you won’t let him. He looks so desperate, his eyes full of panic as he stares into yours. His phone starts ringing again and finally, he slams his palm down against your dining table, the sound loud and harsh. “I-“ He pants, his voice strained. “I choose you, pretty girl. Alright?” He reaches over and picks up the phone, putting it up to his ear.

You’re honestly a little surprised. You were certain he was going to pick Sofia. You reach out and grab his free hand, rubbing your thumb against his palm. He’s still wearing that blue sweater.

He swallows, standing up straighter and gripping your hand. “Hey, So-.” He’s interrupted, Sofia’s muffled voice ringing through the phone. She sounds annoyed, maybe even a little angry. Rafe’s expression grows even more desperate as he listens to her talking, his fingers squeezing around yours almost painfully. 

Finally, Sofia stops talking. Rafe’s quiet for a long moment, swallowing hard again as he takes a long, deep breath. “Oh. Um, yeah, Sofia, about that-” He pauses again as she speaks through the phone. He swallows again, his eyes beginning to tear up as his voice breaks. “Actually, I think we should break up, I-.” More talking from Sofia, longer this time, sounding even more pissed. Rafe grimaces, biting his lip as his fingers squeeze yours even tighter.

You step forward, reaching out and wrapping your hand around his bicep, squeezing it softly, a silent sign of support.

Rafe’s eyes flick over to you, a little surprised you’re still willing to be this close to him, but he looks relieved, his eyes growing glassy and even more desperate as he stares into yours. He nods, his voice still trembling as he tries to respond to what Sofia is saying. “No, I mean it, Sofia… I’m serious, it’s over… because I- I’m actually- I’m seeing someone else.”

You squeeze his bicep again.

He closes his eyes, swallowing hard, his whole body tense and on edge. He’s never been in a situation like this before. Sofia says something else, her voice louder through the phone. Rafe sighs, running a hand through his hair, shaking his head, trying to keep his composure. “No, Sofia, I- I’m not doing this shit anymore. I’m in love with her, alright? I’ve been seeing her for months now, and I’m in love with her… and I can’t keep doing all this. I’m sorry.”

You hear Sofia screaming at him before she hangs up. Rafe tosses his phone onto the table. A soft squeak leaves your mouth when he suddenly hugs you, burying his face in your neck.

You hug him back, rubbing his back as he starts to cry. “Rafe, honey, it’s okay.”

He hugs you so damn tight. His shoulders are shaking, his breathing shallow and desperate. “Please, god…” He mutters, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Sweetheart, please don’t leave me. God dammit, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I put you through that, please don’t leave me. I need you, sweet girl. I need you.” His voice is soft and trembling into your ear as he whispers.

“I’m not leaving.” You say softly, rubbing his back. “I’ll call JJ tomorrow and let him down easy. I’m not going anywhere. You have me.”

Rafe squeezes you tighter. He’s scared, his breathing still shaky, his grip like iron. “Promise me.” He whispers, his lips brushing against the skin of your neck, pressing gentle kisses to your skin between each word. “Please, please promise me. Promise me you’re staying with me. Promise me you aren’t going anywhere, that you won’t leave me. Please.”

“I promise.” You say, over and over, as many times as he needs. You gently take his face in your hands, wiping away some of his tears.

He lets you wipe away his tears, the shaking in his shoulders lessening. He keeps his face close to yours, his arms still wrapped around you. He nuzzles his nose against yours gently, leaning his forehead against yours as he closes his eyes. “Thank you.” He mutters, his voice still trembling, barely audible. “Thank you, baby. You’re not leaving me. You’re still staying with me. You’re still mine.” His hand lifts to gently cup your cheek.

You kiss him, gently at first. He lets you lead the kiss. It’s gentle, and soft, and tender, he just wants to feel your lips on his, needs to feel them against his. But after a moment, his hands slide down to your waist, pulling you closer, wanting more, needing more. His lips move against yours more hungrily now. You eagerly match the hungry pace.

You shiver as his hands travel down from your waist to your lower back, then to your ass, grabbing and squeezing it. There’s a new desperation in his kiss, in his grip, in his whole being. It’s like you’ve finally gotten through to him, finally broken through the bullshit and made him realize just how much he needs you. He eagerly picks you up, and you let him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you into your bedroom.

The bed squeaks as he throws you down onto it. Rafe kneels at the end of it, grabbing your ankles and tugging you towards him. He’s quick to remove your tights and your skirt. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m gonna make it up to you. I’m gonna be a good boy.”

“You are a good boy.” You say gently as you lift your hips. He slides the tights all the way down, kissing up your legs.

Rafe groans, loving the way you call him ‘good boy.’ You can feel the smile that spreads across his lips as he kisses along your legs. He kisses his way up your thighs, stopping to bite at your skin, leaving behind bruises.  He reaches your hips, yanking down your panties and tossing them away. He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your hip. He looks up, meeting your eyes. “You’re so pretty, baby.”

You bite your lip. "Are you sure you want to do this?”

Rafe nods, moving his hands to grip your hips. “I'm sure. I want this.” His voice is firm, filled with determination. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before trailing his lips higher. He nuzzles against your cunt, inhaling deeply. “Fuck...you smell so good.”

He parts your folds with his fingers, revealing how wet you already are for him. He licks his lips hungrily before diving in, his tongue lapping at your slit eagerly. He moans into your pussy, the vibrations making you gasp and arch off the bed. His hands grip your hips tighter, holding you in place as he eats you out like a starving man. “Mmmm...so fuckin' sweet,” he mumbles between long licks.

A moan escapes your lips, your back arching off the mattress as pleasure courses through your body. “Oh god, Rafe…” You pant, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Fuck…”

Rafe growls low in his throat. He doubles his efforts, his tongue delving deeper, swirling around your clit. He sucks on it gently, flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue. His hands slide up to cup your breasts, thumbs rubbing over your nipples through the thin fabric of your top. He pinches and tugs at the hard peaks, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core as you squeal, squirming underneath him.

“Look at you. So responsive,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Gonna make you come so hard, baby.” His nose nudges against your clit as he tongues your entrance. You squeal, your back arching off of the bed. You reach up and tug on one of your nipples, your pussy gushing on his face.

Rafe laps up your juices greedily, his tongue thrusting inside you, fucking your dripping cunt. He moans at the taste of you, more turned on than ever. He reaches down with one hand, unbuckling his belt. His cock throbs in his slacks and he can’t take it anymore, edging closer to your legs. Caught up in the smell, taste, and feel of you, he starts to hump your calf, his thighs squeezing your leg to steady it. He moans into your cunt, pulling away from your little clit for only a second before latching back on.

He continues to suck and nibble on your clit while finger-fucking you roughly, plunging two digits deep into your tight cunt. “You're so fuckin' wet for me, baby,” he grunts, breaking the seal from your pussy to speak. “Love eating this sweet cunt.” 

Your toes curl. “You didn't ask if you could hump me, baby.” Normally Rafe is always the dominant one, using you like a personal fuck toy, but with his face buried between your legs and his cock rubbing up against your calf, you feel like taking charge.

Rafe whines, stopping his hips. “Baby, fuck, please let me hump you! It feels so good, eating you out feels so fucking good.” His breath is hot against your slick folds, his tongue darting out to lap at your juices, savoring the flavor of you. He gazes up at you, sucking your clit directly into his mouth.

Your back arches deliciously, and you nod. “You can hump me, baby. Make yourself feel good.”

With a relieved groan, Rafe resumes humping your leg, his thick cock sliding against your skin through his pants. He rocks his hips faster, the friction driving him wild. His tongue never leaves your clit, continuing to swirl and suckle the sensitive bundle of nerves. “You like watching me hump you, don't you?” he rasps, his voice strained. “Seeing me lose control because of you... Fuck, I love it. I love you.”

“I love you too,” You moan, hips bucking in his face. “Good boy. Keep going.”

Hearing you call him ‘good boy’, Rafe lets out a satisfied grunt. He increases his pace, his hips rocking against your leg even harder. He continues to lick and suck on your clit, driving you crazy with pleasure. He can feel himself getting close, his balls tightening and his cock throbbing. “God, baby, I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum!” he warns, his voice shaky with anticipation. “Cum with me, please!”

Rafe's warning turns into a guttural moan as he finally loses control. His hips jerk erratically, grinding his clothed erection against your leg as he orgasms. Thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock, soaking through his pants and staining your skin. At the same time, he sucks your clit into his mouth, his tongue working overtime to bring you to climax alongside him.

As the waves of pleasure subside, he slowly pulls away, licking his lips clean of your essence. He climbs up onto the bed next to you, his eyes glazed with satisfaction and adoration. “I love you. I love you so much,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You're so fucking hot when you cum for me. Such a good girl.”

“I love you too,” You say, grabbing him and pulling him closer.

He looks down at his slacks, soaked and covered with cum. He hums, reaching up and cupping your face. “Do you wanna clean me up, baby?”

You take a deep breath, a small smile gracing your face. “Yeah.”

Rafe grins, climbing up to lean against the headboard as you start to lick the wet spot on his slacks.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

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[azmageddon]

I Can't Lose Him (Part Two)

Pairing: Azriel x Cassian's twin!healer!reader

Summary: After spending a horrible day patching your mate together, you just wanted to sit by his side, but Rhys has other plans for you.

Warning: Medical treatment, needles, Devlon being a jerk (let me know if I missed anything!) Painfully inaccurate to the original plot.

a/n: This is part two to I Can't Lose Him! I plan to make a Part Three with much more Azriel in it. Let me know if that's something you would like to see! Anyone interested in a universe about Cassian's twin/Azriel's mate??

His gentle breathing and dreamless sleep, thanks to Rhys, ebbed and flowed across the bond. Like the waves of the Sidra along the shore, the peacefulness was comforting. You felt your eyelids growing heavy while you listened to his breathing; sleep claimed you for the first time in nearly two days. 

The quiet didn’t last long as you jolted awake when almost immediately after closing your eyes, you heard a whisper of your name inside your mind. Your eyes shot open and you sat upright in your chair at the intrusion in your head. Your eyes quickly assessed your tent. 

Azriel lay asleep soundly in the makeshift bed before you. His right arm was settled again, tied in a sling to support the once dislocated joint. Patches of gauze covered the many stitches that you had sewn to put his membranous wings back together. His leg, once shattered and ruined, was put back together like a puzzle, resting in a splint and arrow straight.  You could see the gauze wrapped tightly around his torso that Majda and you had done to dress the wound that had both your arms in Azriel’s chest just hours ago. You shuttered at the memory and moved on.

Across the bed, in another chair on the other side of your mate, sat your twin brother, Cassian. Head fallen back and mouth open, Cassian was deep in sleep, his light snores filling the otherwise silent tent. 

Continuing your observation, you looked to the entrance of the tent and saw Rhys and Nesta at its entrance. The voice that had called your name in your mind belonged to your High Lord. Your mental shields must have slipped in your exhausted state, and checking them now, it was confirmed that you were struggling to keep them up, just as you were struggling to keep your eyes open.

You sighed at the sight of the two, nestling yourself back into the chair. You pulled the blanket around you tighter and closed your eyes again. Without opening them, you spoke to the two hovering by the entrance. 

“I haven’t slept in days, Rhys. You woke me up.” You focused again on the gentle sway along the bond and felt sleep nipping at the edges of your mind. When Rhys spoke again, he pulled you back to the surface of consciousness. 

“It’s been a long day for all of us, Y/N,” Rhys responded, hesitating briefly before he went on. His hesitation made you crack one eye open and focus it on him. Noting the slight furrow between his brow, you knew his decision to interrupt your vigil over your sleeping mate didn’t come lightly. Nesta had migrated over to Cassian, waking him up and urging him to listen to what Rhys had to say next. 

“It’s been a long day for all of us,” he said again, swallowing thickly as if the next words were getting caught in his throat. “I need you for one more thing.”

You sighed and opened both eyes this time, turning away from your High Lord and focusing them on Azriel’s face. “Haven’t I done enough today?” 

“Yes,” Rhys agreed, but instead of turning to leave through the tent flaps and allow you to continue your silent watch, you heard his boots crunch over the ground, bringing him closer to you. When you turned to look back at him, he was eye level, one leg kneeling to bring him down to the level of your chair. His hands rested on the arm rest and there was a pleading in his violet eyes. 

“Please, Y/N, I need your help.”

You flicked your gaze over to your brother. He was awake now, leaning forward in his chair to hear Rhys’ request. Red rimmed his bloodshot eyes, a sign his exhaustion was also catching up to him. He simply nodded his head at you, silently urging you to hear him out. 

Turning back to Rhys, you signed again. “What is it?”

“It’s Devlon. He’s been injured.”

You flinched at the sound of the Lord of Windhaven’s name. The arrogant and rude male flashed before your eyes. Remembering his sexist taunts and roaming hands made a chill travel down your spine. He had laughed and spit at you on your first return back to Illyria after being Under the Mountain, claiming you were better suited as a female without your wings. The memories made your head automatically shake, pulling away from Rhys and turning your attention back to your mate, still blissfully unaware. 

“Ask Madja to do it,” Cassian interjected, aware of your feelings toward the bastard.

Rhys shook his head. “She’s back in the medical tent. She’s swamped. Besides, Devlon wouldn’t let her touch him when he first took the hit.” 

Your gaze never left the warm bronze skin of Azriel’s face. His long lashes tickled his high cheekbones, fluttering in his sleep. Despite the monumental wounds he was sprouting, you had never seen Azriel sleep so well. Usually plagued by nightmares or insomnia, it was a gift to watch his calm face.

“Make Jessina do it. Or Alice. I trained them both myself,” you offered, still unable to tear your gaze away from Azriel’s peaceful features. 

You felt Rhys’ fingers curl around your upper arm, trying to get your attention, but you refused to relent. You knew this was a lost cause and you’d be forced to leave your mate to attend to another Illyrian’s wound. But until then, you’d take every opportunity to soak in the calm. 

“You know I can’t do that, Y/N,” Rhys pleaded, tightening his grip on your arm ever more slightly. This forced you to look away from your mate and back to the anxious, violet eyes inches from your own. “He’s one of the most important military leaders I have. I can’t leave him in the hands of just anyone. If you don’t treat him, he may never fly again.”

You snorted at the irony. “Is that an order?”

“Never. Please, Y/N, do this for me. It’s a favor.”

There was a long pause where the two of you stared at each other. The centuries of friendship held you both together. You thought back to your time Under the Mountain, when Rhys had vowed to return you home, and you vowed to stay by his side and trust him with your life. But this request, to treat the one person that made your life a living hell when you lived in Windhaven, and even now when you visited the clinic there, you weren’t sure if you could trust Rhys with this.

“I’ll stay with him,” Nesta’s voice cut through the thoughts in your head and broke your gaze away from the High Lord’s. “I’ll stay with him,” she repeated. “Rhys and Cassian will go with you so you’re not alone.”

As you contemplated the offer, Azriel let out a huff of air, attempting to shift in his sleep. Four pairs of eyes darted in this direction and watched as he furrowed his brow in pain from the movement. He quickly recovered and went back to his peaceful sleep. 

“Devlon has a mate too, you know,” Rhys said, hoping he could guilt you into helping the Lord.

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t know the bastard was capable of loving anyone besides himself.” 

Rhys smirked and the two of you stood. “I never said he loved her.” 

You slid your boots back onto your feet and carefully draped your blanket onto Azriel before turning to Nesta. “He could wake up at any time; there’s no way to know.” You pointed to a small bottle on the table beside the bed. “There’s a pain tonic in there. If he wakes up, make him take it. He’s going to need it, no matter what he says.” Nesta nodded at your instructions and sat in the chair Cassian had just vacated. “Oh, and Nesta?” you continued, “Don’t tell him where I am.” 

***

Rhys entered Lord Delvin’s tent first, holding the thick folds of the makeshift door open for you and Cassian to follow through. You were immediately engulfed by the smell of fae bane.

“Absolutely fucking not,” you heard Devlon exclaim when he looked up from his spot across the tent. He was seated on a backless wooden chair, his right wing flared out. Another Illyrian warrior stood behind him, examining the large slit that spanned almost the entire length of his wing. You instantly understood what Rhys meant when he said Devlon may never fly again. 

“You asked me to get you the best healer I could find. Luckily for you, Y/N’s the best healer in all seven courts.” Rhys put a hand on your back and gently, but firmly, nudged you forward.

“She’s not getting anywhere near me,” Devlon sneered, flinching slightly at the pain when his wing twitched in anger. “Knowing her, she’ll rip my wings off too.”

It took everything in you not to recoil at the reminder that your own wings had been severed at the base and pulled clean off. “Well, that’s enough for me. Enjoy walking the rest of your life,” you scoffed, turning on your heel and making to storm out of the tent and back to your mate, but Cassian stood in your way. 

Arms crossed and a fake look of male dominance held his gaze to yours. You knew both Cassian and Rhys had to put on a show in front of the Lord of Windhaven, but your exhaustion made you curse under your breath when you saw your twin in the way of your escape. 

Cassian leaned down to whisper in your ear so only you and Rhys could hear him. “Heal him so that I can properly beat the shit out of him.” Without so much as a smirk, Cassian gripped your shoulders and spun you back around to face Devlon. 

“Knock it off, Devlon,” Rhys growled, his voice laced with the command of a High Lord. “Either you let Y/N fix your wing or you face the possibility of Seth butchering it.” 

Devlon quickly looked over his shoulder at the Illyrian still examining his wing and pushed him off, seemingly affected by Rhys’ threat. He turned back to you and you stood your ground, crossing your arms over your chest and casting him a look that said try me.

He looked you up and down a few times before accepting you as his only choice if he ever wanted to fly with his armies again. “Well, then, hurry up girl! Get over here and fix me, I haven’t got all day!” 

You snapped your head in Rhys’ direction, silently begging him not to make you heal the bastard. But Rhys simply jerked his head in Devlon’s direction and said, “Go on.”

You felt the gaze of all the males on you as you silently stalked toward the injured Illyrian. Rounding his chair, you stood behind him, ready to reach a hand out to assess his injury. 

Before you had the chance to touch him, Devlon hissed quietly “I better be able to fly after this, or I’ll hunt you down and gut you myself, the High Lord’s protection or not.”

Annoyed by the pure male arrogance, you roughly gripped his shoulder without responding and flashed your power through him. The sudden invasion of it practically made Devlon jump out of the chair in a shutter of pain as it raced through his body and settled in his wing. “Watch it!” he threatened, but didn’t pull away from your grip. 

You let your power wrap around the slit in the membrane of the wing and relay the information back to you. As you suspected, it was laced with fae bane, keeping the wound from healing and stitching itself back together. With another jolt of your power, you watched as the fae bane was lifted from the wound. As something only you could see, the poison seeped out of the wing and swirled in the air around it until you forced it to dissipate into a mist and disappear. 

“I need to sew it closed,” you said. Turning to Seth, you asked, “Where are your stitching supplies?”

The warrior stared at you blankly for a few moments, then shook his head. You rolled your eyes at the ineptitude of the male and thought to yourself, whoever made them the dominant sex was truly dumb.

You reached for the medical bag you brought with you and pulled out all the supplies you needed, placing them neatly on the table Seth dragged over to you. Settling yourself into another backless chair, you started to clean the wound in Devlon’s wing. 

You worked in silence for what seemed like forever as Rhys and Cassian stood watch. Devlon twitched every so often as the sting of the antiseptic burned his wound, but said nothing. The only thing that could be heart was the swish swish of your gauze pads against the membrane. 

Devlon sat there and eyed the general and the High Lord in front of him, and seemed to understand they were here, not to ensure his healing, but for your protection. He snorted as the thought came to him. “Where’s your other body guard?” 

You knew Devlon could feel you falter in your work at the question, but you quickly recovered and continued without answering him. 

“I hardly ever see you without the Shadowsinger practically crawling behind you,” he continued. “I’m surprised he’s not here on his hands and knees offering his back as your workstation.”

Cassian shifted where he stood. “Watch it, Devlon.”

You stayed quiet, gathering the dirty supplies and putting them to the side. You threaded your needle instead and prepared to start stitching the wound closed. “This is going to sting,” you warned, before plunging the needle into the membrane. 

“I saw the Shadowsinger being carried off into the medical tent during the fight.” You could hear the smile in his voice even though his back was facing you. “Is he dead?” he asked with no concern in his voice at all. He almost sounded hopeful. 

You forced yourself not to respond. No one outside of the Inner Circle knew you and Azriel were mated, and even they had only just learned of the secret during Amarantha’s reign. Allowing your anger to bubble to the surface and spill over on Devlon would only further his suspicions. So you quickly and efficiently finished the stitches, slathered the healing salve, and packed up your supplies, all while ignoring the chatter between the three males.

When you were finished, you stalked around to face Devlon. He stretched his wing in and out, testing the stitches and wincing at the leftover sting of pain from the healing wound. “This better work,” he warned.

You turned away from him, picking up your medical bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “No flying, and I’ll be back to see you in Windhaven to check the healing. Don't take the bandages off,” you flung over your shoulder at him. Pushing past Rhys and Cassian, you stalked out of the tent, your temper brimming at the surface. The two Illyrians followed behind you without another word to Devlon.

When you were finally out of earshot of anyone, you whirled on Rhys. “Don’t ever ask me to leave my mate to do something like that again,” you hissed under your breath. With that, you stalked away back to Azriel.

[mapis-putellas]

Flu shots

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 2100

Warnings: needles

Summary: Alexia Putellas; two time Ballon D’Or winner and le reina of football was not scared of anything. Not the dark. Bugs. Clowns. Heights. Not even spiders. Or well, that’s what you thought. It was only when the barça squad have to get their flu shots do you realise there is something she’s scared of after all.

Notes: I might have to start writing every other day because this took like four hours bro.

[prompts]

Alexia Putellas; two time Ballon D'Or winner and le reina of football was not scared of anything. Not the dark. Bugs. Clowns. Heights. Not even spiders. Or well, that's what you thought considering she'd told you no different. It was only on a random Thursday during the month of October when the team were told they all had to get their flu shots the next day do you realise that maybe that wasn't the case after all.

Though her face remains as stoic as ever upon being told, you see the way her jaw tenses; the way her hands tighten around the edge of her seat. Your immediate response was to reach for her. To pull her into a hug or take her hand, but neither you or Alexia were fond of any sort of PDA outside your home so you were forced to simply watch her try and pretend nothing was wrong.

When you had gotten into the car, a part of you had admittedly wanted to question her. To ask if it was needles that she was afraid of or something else entirely. Not in a way that would make her uncomfortable, but to simply understand just what was going on through her head so you could do your best to reassure her.

You choose to remain silent however, because Alexia was notorious for denying any and all negative feelings she had and the last thing you wanted was for her to lie to you.

Instead, you simply reach over the console and take her hand in your own, feeling the way she squeezes tightly before settling on trailing the pad of her thumb over the back of your hand. The drive home was silent, and not much was spoken from beyond that point either. You did, however, make sure you were the big spoon that night, holding her as tightly as you could.

Alexia was definitely much stronger than you, but there was only a few inches between your heights allowing you to hold her throughout the entirety of the night without getting uncomfortable. Surprisingly, she was still in your arms when you wake up the next morning, although now she was facing you and curled up against your chest.

Her face was half buried against your chest, her leg thrown over your hip as her hands cling to the material of your shirt. Her breathing was soft, her quiet exhales seeping through the material of your shirt and hitting your bare skin. 

Waking up before her was not a common occurrence despite very much wanting it to be, so you make an effort to be as gentle as you can as you reach your free hand out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Alexia does no more than scrunch up her nose, and you can't help but quirk your lips up into a tender smile as you place a delicate kiss to her forehead.

This, unfortunately, does cause her to start waking up, and you wince a little in regret as you watch her eyes slowly flicker open. She lets out a quiet groan at the brightness of the room, tightening her arms around your waist and completely burying her face into your chest.

You feel the way her hands creep up the back of your shirt, resting against the bare skin at the small of your back for a small second before she dips her fingertips just beneath the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

An instinctive shiver flows through you at the action as you reach your own hand up to cup the back of her head. "Good morning, baby." You greet, determined to be extra gentle with her today.

At the sound of your voice, Alexia tilts her head back, heavy lids blinking tiredly as she puckers her lips. You kiss them gently. Not once, or twice, but three times before Alexia hums in content and nuzzles her face back into your chest. You tighten your grasp around her, grazing gentle circles across the length of her back as she dozes in and out of sleep.

Eventually, however, it soon becomes time to get up and face the day. Despite the fact you usually shower together to save both time and water, Alexia requests to shower by herself today which of course you encourage her to do without question.

Whilst it wasn't rare for Alexia to shower by herself, it wasn't exactly a common occurrence either. The shower was her thinking space. The place she could let her defences down without fearing anyone would see or judge. Allowing you in there with her was exposing in both senses of the word, because not only do you see her, but you also see her. She often reverts back into old habits when she’s stressed or anxious, and getting a flu shot when you’re terrified of needles would definitely make her feel both of those emotions.

To save time, you head through to the guest bathroom to have quick body shower, forgoing washing your hair until tonight when you and Alexia would inevitably shower together. When you make it back to your shared bedroom dressed a simple jeans and T-shirt, you see Alexia sat on the edge of your bed with her head in her hands. She too was dressed, clad in a pair of black shorts along with a grey zip up hoodie.

Immediately, you were concerned, feeling that familiar tug in your chest that always seems to appear whenever you see Alexia upset. You make your way over to her, gently nudging her elbows off of her knees before easing yourself onto her lap. She avoids eye contact by immediately hiding her face in your neck, her arms looping tightly around your waist as your own settle around her shoulders.

"I think I know why you're upset," you murmur after a few moments of silence, cupping the back of her head and grazing the pad of your thumb against her scalp. Alexia immediately goes ridged beneath you, but due to your position on top of her, she was forced to remain still and not bolt. "It's okay, ale. I promise. I'll be with you the entire time."

Alexia says nothing, and you highly suspect your words had gone through one ear and out the other.

"I'll hold you through it, if that would make you feel better?" You offer a few moments later.

Alexia peeks up at you, cheeks shiny with the residue of her tears. "Qué?"

You cup her face and gently wipe them away before pressing your lips against her forehead. "On my lap, like this. No one would ever know. It'll just be between us." You offer.

Alexia looks visibly embarrassed at even the suggestion of allowing someone she doesn't know to see her in such a vulnerable state, but at this point, you don't really see any other choice. If you left to her own devices, you were pretty sure she wouldn't even leave the house.

"Amor..." she trails off unsurely, and you're quick to try and sooth her by gently resting your forehead against her own. Your hands rise to once again cup her cheeks, delicately trailing your thumbs over the warm skin.

"I know," you murmur in understanding. "It's just a suggestion, ale. I promise you the nurse is not going to care. They're there to do a job, not to ask questions." 

Alexia sniffles as another tear streams down her cheek, "I just wish...no estaba tan asustada." She whispers, and you're immediately forced to swallow the tightness in your own throat as you cup the back of her head and coax her back to your chest.

"I know, baby. I know. But it's okay to be scared. Even of something that feels as silly as this. You know I won't ever judge you. Neither will anyone else."

Deep down, Alexia knows you're right, but she just can't fathom the thought of a needle being in the same room as her let alone one being injected into her body. She finds herself shuddering at thought, skin rising with goosebumps that were thankfully hidden beneath the material of her hoodie.

"I know it doesn't seem like it now, but I promise you'll be okay my love. I've got you."

"Always?"

Always."

*

"Baby, you're gonna wear a hole in the floor." You warn lightly as you watch Alexia pace back and forth, your elbows on your knees and your chin resting in the palm of your hand.

You'd been at the doctors office for not even ten minutes, seated in a private room for which you were thankful. Despite encouraging her to sit multiple times, Alexia had done everything but. In fact, you were pretty sure she was becoming dangerously close to running.

To prevent her from doing so, on her next lap of the room, you reach out and grasp a handful of her shirt before tugging backwards onto your lap. She yelps in surprise as she lands, your arms looping tightly around her waist and holding her back flush to your front. Her feet hang a few inches from the floor, and you allow her to gently kick the heels of her feet against your shins to get all that anxious energy out.

"Relax, darling. Let's take some breaths, yeah?" You murmur into her ear.

Alexia clutches the hands on her stomach as she complies, taking a big breath in through her mouth and exhaling out of her nose.

"Again." You encourage, and Alexia complies, her eyes darting nervously around the room.

"Once more," she does, her head coming to rest against your shoulder. You press your lips against her cheek as you tighten your grasp around her. "Good girl. Now relax, okay? I've got you." You whisper, and Alexia takes one last deep breath before she stills in your arms.

Well, that was until the door opens. At the sound of it, Alexia immediately tries darting out of your arms. Due to your tight grip, she was not successful and the panicked whimper that escapes her lips does not go amiss.

"Hey, hey, ale, it's okay." you attempt to sooth as the nurse greets the both of you, pushing a metal trolley that held two flu shots. You wince at the sight, but Alexia only becomes more panicked.

"No, no por favor. No quiero." Her voice cracks, hands desperately prying at your own still clasped against her stomach.

"I know, I know. It's okay." Thankful over the fact you'd gotten her to take her hoodie off whilst you were in the car, you make eye contact with the nurse before silently gesturing to one of Alexia's arms. You receive a subtle nod in response, allowing you to bring your attention back to your upset girlfriend.

As her desperation grows, you're forced to pin her arms to her chest before wrapping your own around them. She wasn’t fighting you much now, but she was clearly still very upset.

"Alexia? Alexia, hey, look at me. Look at me." You bounce her on your lap slightly to get her attention, the blonde letting out a soft sob as she throws her head back against your shoulder.

"There we go, good girl. Take a deep breath for me, my love. As deep as you can."

Alexia shakes her head, eyes stubbornly screwed shut.

"Deep breaths, baby," you kiss her wet cheek. "Remember? I've got you. I've got you." You nod to give the nurse the go ahead, her gloved hand reaching over to clean the area on Alexia's arm with an alcohol wipe.

Alexia violently startles, but before she could yank herself away, the nurse squeezes her arm and quickly  gives her the shot. It happens in less than two seconds, not giving Alexia chance to work herself up further.

"All done, baby. It's over." You release her arms, shifting her on your lap slightly so she was sat sideways before pulling her into a tight hug. She lets out a deep, body shuddering sigh of relief as she hooks her arms around your shoulders and burrows her face into your neck, the tears of relief now falling down her face hitting your skin.

The feeling of the cold wipe against your bicep suddenly reminds you that you're here for a shot too, and you make an effort of relaxing your arm slightly so it wouldn't be as painful.

"I'm so proud of you." You whisper into her ear, and Alexia presses a gentle kiss to your neck in response.

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @marysfics @liloandstitchstan

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Trick or Treat | Bucky Barnes x Reader

This is my second Halloween fic this year because I have no self control!

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: anxiety

Sam’s Halloween bash launched into full swing, and seemed as though it would last till sunrise. Music pulsed through a set of massive speakers. Alcohol flowed. And throngs of people danced the night away.

Just as Sam instructed, everyone arrived decked out in costume. And as you scanned the crowd, you found Ghost Face doing shots with Barbie. Michael Myers grinding on Freddy Kreuger. Pennywise flirting with Beetlejuice. It was a picture perfect Halloween party- save for one thing. 

Bucky hadn’t arrived yet.

All of the partygoers formed a large, pulsating mass as they danced and celebrated, but you remained off to the side. In an empty, isolated corner, you checked and rechecked your texts. You’d already shot Bucky a few messages asking when he’d show. Asking if he was alright. And he swore he was fine. He said he’d be there soon, but that was as specific as he’d get. 

“I’m sure he’ll be here any minute!” Wanda yelled over the music. She swayed to the beat, swishing the skirt of her dress back and forth. Every few seconds, she stole a glance at the dance floor with want in her eyes. “Come on, let’s go dance!”

“I’m with Mary,” Nat downed the last of her drink and draped her arm over Wanda’s shoulders. “The Sanderson Sisters are the life of the party, we have a reputation to uphold!”

When the three of you decided to coordinate your costumes, Hocus Pocus had been the obvious choice. In the weeks leading up to Sam’s party, you helped one another piece together flawless renditions of each Sanderson Sister. Wanda decided on Mary, and Nat dressed up as Sarah, leaving you to adopt Winifred’s famous ensemble. 

And you had to admit, the three of you looked amazing. 

But you couldn’t run to the dance floor and party with abandon- not yet, anyway. Bucky said he’d be there. He swore to you that he’d make an appearance. And while a loud, overcrowded party wasn’t his favorite way to spend an evening, he knew he had to challenge himself. To expand his comfort zone. 

He wanted so badly to be “normal”. To function like a “regular” person. But he struggled. He had flashbacks. Panic attacks. Long depression spirals. And his anxiety always had the reigns. 

But he’d fought tooth and nail to vanquish his demons, and now that he was making progress and healing bit by bit, he wanted to join the ranks of "ordinary" society. 

And Sam’s party was the perfect opportunity. It was a safe, controlled environment where Bucky could stretch his comfort zone. Sure, it was loud and packed with people, but that was the whole point. If he was going to be “normal”, he had to be okay with noise and crowds; Sam’s party had both. But there was nothing for him to worry about, nothing to fear. He would perfectly and totally safe here. At least half of the attendees were fellow special agents, and you and Sam promised to stick with him all night. 

But the party started over an hour ago, and he still hadn’t shown. Worry creased your brow; it wasn’t like him to be late. 

“I think I’m just gonna hang out here for now,” you leaned against the wall and brandished your phone at them, “So I can make sure I don’t miss a call or anything.”

“You do you, sister,” Nat brushed a kiss against your cheek, “Mary and I are gonna command the dance floor.”

The two of them ran off, arm in arm, in the direction of the crowd. 

“Is he on his way?” Sam came around the corner, two drinks in hand. He extended one in your direction and sipped on the other. “I haven’t heard back.”

“I don’t know.” You took a long pull of your drink, “I asked if he was coming and he said yes, but he didn’t give me a specific ETA, or anything.”

Sam shrugged, “I think he might flake.”

That same sneaking suspicion had crossed your mind a few times over the last hour, but you refused to accept it. Surely, Bucky just needed a little extra time to prepare himself. To get in the right headspace. 

“I’m gonna- would you take this for a sec?” You handed your drink back to Sam, who swore to keep a watchful eye on it while you stepped outside to call Bucky. 

The phone rang and rang. And you feared it might go to voicemail. But at the last possible second, Bucky picked up. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” Something was off. He sounded almost nervous, like he’d been caught red-handed.

“Hey, Buck.” You kept your tone light. “Are you gonna be here soon?”

A long silence permeated the line.

“Um, yes. Yeah, I’m on my way right now,” he assured you. “Shouldn’t be much longer. I’ll see you in a bit. Okay?”

“Great." You didn't buy it for a second. "See you soon.”

For an ex-assassin with decades of stealth training and countless kills on his hands, Bucky was a terrible liar. But only when it came to you. He just couldn’t deceive his best friend, couldn’t pull the wool over your eyes. He simply didn’t have it in him; his brain and body rejected even the concept of swindling you. 

You knew for a fact that he was still at his apartment. Knew that his anxiety had won. You could practically see him sitting at home all alone, hating himself for flaking on yet another get-together. And while his closest friends danced the night away, he’d spend the entire evening berating himself. Chastising himself.

But you wouldn’t allow it. With a determined huff, you ditched the party, and set off in the direction of Bucky's apartment.

Bucky stared at the costume you’d carefully helped him assemble. It sat neatly folded on his kitchen table, all he had to do was put it on and head out the door. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. And it infuriated him. 

He spent weeks mentally preparing himself for this. He meditated, journaled, and even sought out extra therapy sessions. But none of it worked. He was still a slave to his anxiety, bending to every whim of the monsters in his head.

The whole thing was so stupid- it was just a party. He knew, logically, that there was nothing to fear. But part of his brain, the part that hated him, told him it would be too much. That he’d immediately get overwhelmed by the noise and the people and the lights. That it was a panic attack waiting to happen. 

He feared what onlookers might think, what they might say, if he broke down in the middle of the festivities. And he didn’t want to chance ruining Sam’s party.

And so, he’d lied to you. He wasn’t proud of it, but it was for the best. He just wanted you to have a good time. Wanted you to spend the night dancing with Nat and Wanda instead of worrying about him. It was better this way. 

A sharp knock jolted him from his seat on the couch. He crossed to the front door and pulled it open, expecting to see a group of candy-obsessed kids in costumes. But he found something else, entirely.

“Trick or treat!” You held a bottle of whiskey and a bag of candy proudly in the air, “Happy Halloween, Buck.”

Bucky took on a deer in the headlights kind of look. He was shocked, completely frozen. And as the surprise melted away, he found himself awash in strange mix of anxiety and guilt. You’d caught him in his lie; you’d found him out. And with you standing on his doorstep, he had nowhere to run. 

“Sweetheart, hey. Hi. Um, Happy- Yeah, Happy Halloween.” He tripped over himself again and again, his heart racing. “I was just about to call you and-”

“It’s okay, Buck. You’re not in trouble,” you shot him a wink. “I know parties aren’t really your thing.”

He gestured for you to come in and you happily accepted, sweeping past him in your elaborate costume. But he was so bewildered, so overwhelmed, that he left the door wide open.

“What are you doing here?” Quickly, he clarified, “Not that I don’t want you here. I just mean- why aren’t you at the party?”

“Cause I came to hang out with you!” You shrugged, “Plus, there’s no point in me going if you’re not there.”

Bucky appreciated your loyalty, your dedication to him. But he couldn’t let you sit on the sidelines with him.

“That’s sweet of you, and I’m more than happy to have you here, but I know you’ve been looking forward to the party and your costume and everything. And I don’t want to ruin your Halloween.” He leaned against his open door, “So, it won’t hurt my feelings if you-”

“My Halloween will only be ruined if we don’t hang out. So, come on,” once again, you held up the candy and alcohol, “trick or treat, Buck.”

With a stubborn smile, Bucky shut the door. He watched you struggle with the bag of candy and laughed as you used your teeth to tear through the plastic.

“You know, I think you’re doing the whole ‘trick or treat’ thing backwards,” he said as he fished a Twix out of the bag. “Cause you brought candy instead of taking some from me.”

“Or maybe I’m a Halloween pioneer, and I’m inventing new traditions,” you offered. “Now, let’s crack this open.”

Bucky gladly took the bottle of whiskey from you and led you to the kitchen. He crafted old fashioneds for the both of you and clinked his glass with yours. His night had taken a very sharp, very sudden upswing, and he was more than grateful.

“I saw some kiddos trick or treating down the hall, and at least four of them were dressed up like Sam,” you laughed. “Have they been here yet?”

You eyed the large bowl of candy sitting by the front door. It was still full, nearly overflowing with sugary treats. And you realized: it was completely untouched. No greedy little hands had dug through it yet. No mischievous kids had snatched a handful or two. It just sat there, waiting. 

It was sweet of Bucky to be prepared, to buy treats for the kids in the area. He was trying so hard to connect with people. To be a member of society. He wanted so badly to be seen as a person. But the world only saw him for his past. 

“Um, no, I haven’t had any trick or treaters,” Bucky said, “Well, except for you.”

You shot him a wink a took a drag of your drink.

“But I’ve heard them- they’ve been running up and down my hall all night. I just don’t think…” He clinked his metal fingers against his glass, “I don’t think any of the parents in my building want their kids knocking on my door.”

His shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly, and his head fell an inch or two. Saying it out loud was humiliating. He’d thought- he’d hoped- that the city would embrace him. That they’d celebrate his return. But the only welcome he’d received was dirty looks and people spitting at him on the subway.

Bucky’s words knocked the air from your chest. A combination of heartbreak and unbridled rage swirled inside of you; it was all so unfair. Bucky didn’t deserve to be treated like a pariah or a threat. He was least intimidating, most approachable person you’d ever met. Sure, he was a little shy. But he was so warm. So kind. He genuinely cared about people. He wanted to help his community and make people feel safe. But they refused to give him a chance.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you took his hand in yours, “More candy for us.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes and pulled you in for a long, much needed hug. He would never be able to express how much he appreciated your undying support. Your unconditional friendship. He knew without a doubt that he could always count on you. And after living in an unpredictable, erratic state of limbo for so many years, he cherished your consistency.

Bucky dug through the candy you brought, searching for a Snickers. “I know it’s selfish, but I’m really glad you came over.” He abandoned his candy hunt and brought his gaze up to yours, “Seriously. Thanks for being here.”

“Anytime, Buck. You know that.” You tucked the bag of candy under your arm and snatched your glass from the counter, “Come on, let’s watch a scary movie.”

Bucky followed your lead, only straying from the path for a moment or two. And when he returned, he brandished his overflowing bowl of candy in your direction. “I mean, if the kids aren’t gonna eat it…”

He sank into the couch next to you and took a swig of his drink as he watched you dig through the massive bowl of candy. A bit of guilt gnawed at him; he’d been so surprised to see you at his door that he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate all the hard work you’d put into your costume. And as you picked through his candy stash, he drank in the details of your ensemble: the perfectly crafted make up, the ornate dress, the complicated hairstyle. It was impressive, to say the least.

“Your costume is fucking incredible, by the way. You did an amazing job.”

“Oh, thanks!” A proud smile stretched across your face, “If it wasn’t so ridiculously uncomfortable, I’d probably wear it every day. But this corset is…” You pinched and pulled at the tight garment, “Definitely not intended for daily wear.”

“Then let me get you something to more comfortable.” Bucky was up in the blink of an eye, and before you could protest, he was gone. 

In the time it took you to locate and unwrap a Kit Kat, he’d arrived in the living room with a change of clothes for you. It was just a pair of sweatpants and a faded t-shirt with BROOKLYN emblazoned on the front, but after spending hours in an uncomfortable corset, you swore he was offering you a slice of heaven. 

With greedy hands, you accepted the clothes, “You’re a life saver!”

You sped off down the hall, promising to be back in a flash.

Bucky scrolled through the scary movies Netflix had to offer, but didn’t pay much attention. He couldn’t believe his luck. He’d planned on spending the night all by himself. He figured he’d oscillate between sulking and self-flagellation until he finally fell asleep. But you’d saved him, as you so often did.

“Seriously, I can’t thank you enough for the clothes. Now, I can actually breathe.” You plopped down on the couch next to Bucky, “Okay, what do you wanna watch?”

Bucky scrolled through a few more movies, “I don’t know, I haven’t heard of most of these. I thought I’d defer to you.”

You motioned for him to continue scrolling and gave him a little synopsis each time one of your favorites popped up on the screen.

He listened closely and took your summaries into careful consideration. And after hemming and hawing over his options, he found himself torn. “This is tough, but I’m thinking we go with It Follows or Evil Dead.”

“Both excellent choices!” You clinked your glass against his, “Let’s do It Follows first, and then if we want to watch another, we can follow up with Evil Dead.”

“Deal.” 

Bucky scrolled back a page or two and selected It Follows. The movie’s opening scene began, showcasing a quiet, suburban street. You tucked yourself closer into Bucky’s side and tore into a package of M&Ms, preparing to be scared. 

But after only a minute or so, Bucky paused the movie.

He turned to you, “Hey, I’m sorry about the party.”

“Buck, we talked about this. I’d rather hang out with you than-”

“No, I mean, I’m sorry I bailed.” He pulled his gaze from your face and placed it on the ice melting in his drink. “My anxiety kind got the best of me. And I-” He locked eyes with you, “I swear I tried. I wanted to go. But I just… I couldn’t do it.” His sudden eye roll caught you off guard, “The whole thing is so ridiculous, it was just a party, but even thinking about going made my hands shake.”

“It’s not ridiculous. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re still trying to wade through all the shit Hydra saddled you with.” You gave his hand a squeeze, “Healing takes time. And it’s not a linear process. You’re gonna have ups and downs- that’s perfectly normal.”

All he could manage was a sigh. 

“Like you said, it was just a party. Nothing major. So, who cares if you bailed? All that matters is that you made the right choice for you.”

“I guess.” He carded a hand through his hair, “I just want to be done with it all, you know? I want to be able to do things that normal people do.”

“I know. But, you have to give yourself some grace, okay?” You brushed a gentle hand over his cheek, “And you need to be patient. Cause there’s no skipping to the end with this stuff.”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“So, cut yourself some slack, okay?” You nudged his shoulder with yours, “No one is more deserving of slack than you.”

“I don’t know about that-”

“If the roles were reversed,” you posited, “And I’d been through all of the trauma and abuse that you went through, would you be upset with me if I couldn’t do certain things because of my anxiety ?”

“No,” he gave a fervent shake of his head. “Never.”

“And would you want me to be kind to myself?”

Without pause, an “of course” fell from his lips.

“Okay, then you need to extend that same kindness and understanding to yourself.”

“But I just want to be able to do stuff with you,” he huffed. “I want to go to parties with you. And concerts. And-”

“Hey, all that will come with time, okay? There’s no rush.” Once again, you gave his hand a squeeze, “You’re my best friend, and I just wanna hang out with you. So, it doesn’t matter what we do. As long as you’re comfortable, I’m happy.”

Bucky eyed you for a second, “You mean that?”

You nodded, “I swear on my life.”

An awkward smile crossed his face, “Then I guess I should tell you that I’m not- I really don’t want to watch a scary movie.”

“Oh, shit. My bad, Buck. We can watch anything you want,” you said, “You pick.”

With a few taps of the remote, Bucky opened an entirely different streaming service and selected a safe movie free of actual scares. 

“It’s still on theme with Halloween,” he promised, “But at least it’s not gonna give me more nightmares.”

“Yeah, whatever you want, I don’t-” The opening lines of Hocus Pocus filled the room, and you delivered a playful punch to Bucky’s arm.

He let out a loud laugh, “I had to, sweetheart. You’ve still got the make up on and everything.”

You pelted him with a few M&Ms before settling close to him. He draped an arm across your shoulders and pulled you tight, relishing in your warmth. He was so lucky to have you as his friend, so lucky to know you. He couldn’t believe you’d ditched the party you’d looked forward to for weeks- all for him. Couldn’t believe that you were spending your favorite holiday unceremoniously watching movies on his couch. 

But he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. After everything he’d gone through, he was just grateful that he’d befriended someone with such a kind heart. And as he settled in to experience Hocus Pocus for the first time, he started plotting how he’d make things up to you next Halloween. 

———————————————

@beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @juvellian @samanthacookieone @frombkjar @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @anything-more-than-human

[aouiaa]

hii can you please do an abby x reader where Manny throws a party at the WLF stadium and abby and her gf go and her gf gets quite drunk and when she gets drunk she gets clingy and it’s just cute and fluffy and stuff.

if not don’t stress 💐💐

❝ HOW ABOUT THAT OFFER ? ❞ — ABBY ANDERSON

warnings and disclaimers, dealer!abby, alcohol consumption, usage of pet names (babe, pretty), descriptions of types of drunks, abby being so mm (need her).

TAPE THE MOUTH SHUT, i couldn’t resist the chance to scooch in the amazing dealer trope. i meannn, who doesn’t love her? I DO, MUAHAHA. keep sending requests! i love getting requests, or asks in general. just read my rules AND don’t be weird. OKAYYAYAABYEYEE

A firm knock on the wooden, painted door interrupts the participants inside. the music, once a mere background noise, now assaults your ears as the door opens and manny stands there, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. after greeting abby with dab, the two of you step into the room, the space seems to shrink as groups of people mill about, mingling together. the thick air, laden with the combined scents of sweat and weed, assaults your senses.

The tension in the air calls for some liquid courage, barely letting abby mingle with her own crowd, you practically drag her towards the makeshift alcohol table, where you promptly pour a random assortment of shitty, cheap liquor into a solocup. abby, who’s barely registering how she even got it there, notices your witch’s concoction, and laughs, leaning close enough so you can hear her over the music. "you sure you wanna drink that?" she taunts playfully.

In response, you scoff, rolling your eyes as you defiantly pour the chaser into the cup. "i can handle my liquor just fine, abby." you assure her, unamused. she immediately leans back, putting her hands up in a playful gesture of surrender "alright, alright," she laughs, "just saying ‘cause last time..." her voice trails off into laughter as you let out a exasperated sigh.

As the night wore on, so did the consumption, making the atmosphere becomes more carefree. it was cup after cup as you soon feel that familiar warm, fuzzy feeling that signals your transition to “that type of drunk.”

Everyone knows there are distinct of drunken personas: the aggressive, rowdy, and affectionate. as for you, the affection is on full display as you shower the apples of the blonde’s cheeks with kisses, dispensing them like a sprinkler sprinkling a flowerbed.

Abby, taking on the role of the caregiver for the evening sticks by your side at arms length. seated on a couch in the far corner of the main room, you purchase a spot on her lap, head resting on her shoulder with your arm flung around her neck while your other hand gently holds a half-empty cup of tonight’s libations. one of her lean, strong arms is wrapped around your waist, acting as your anchor.

Occasionally, between conversations with manny, she checks on you. this time is no exception, a strong tingling feeling resonates down your body from the touch of her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, "lemme know when you're ready to head out, alright, pretty?" pressing a kiss to your cheek which makes you whinge, burying your face into the crook of her neck, flushed.

The thought of escaping this crowded scene and snuggling into the warmth of your fluffy pajamas, ensconced in the embrace of your plush bed, was tempting. but a guilty pleasure at best. you knew that abby's presence was strictly for business, parties merely transactions for her trade.

Over the course of the past three hours, a steady flow of people approached the two of you, each one slipping her money before muttering a brief ‘thanks’ and disappearing into the masses.

When money talked, you wouldn’t dare silent it.

It’s why you haven’t confirmed your submission, maybe the booze was talking, but all you really wanted to do was be coddled by your gentle giant. it’s not anything different than what it was three minutes ago. from afar, someone shouted her name, summoning her services. abby acknowledged the call, quickly murmuring, "i’l be back." before waving manny over to keep an eye on you.

It should have taken no more than a minute, perhaps a minute and a half if the asshole was particularly awkward. but that additional thirty seconds felt like an eternity of separation from her. you shook your head, pressing your body against hers as if your proximity alone could make her stay.

“no, stay here.” you sulk, abandoning the cup within milliseconds and wrap your arms tightly around her neck.

She chuckles, enclosing your body in a warm embrace. "but, i’ll be gone for a minute, tops." she promises.

Frustrated, you give her your best puppy eyes, questioning. “why can’t they just come over here?” shortly adding the dramatic proclamation, "i’ll die in those sixty seconds." that she knows you mean. with a heavy sigh and zero hesitation, she looks up at the guy waiting for her, then shakes her head dismissively before returning her attention back to you.

“okay, okay,” she hushes you, “i’m right here, babe.” she says, kissing your forehead and shifting in more comfortable position to embrace you. resting her head on yours and utters the only good thing that has came out of her mouth tonight.

“how about that offer?”

requests are open, don’t be shy :3

PERMANENT TAGLIST, @dyk3ang3l, @elliesprettygirl, @les4elliewilliams, @r3starttt, @slut4mascss, @marsworlddd, @bready101, @abbysleftbicepp, @airenaa, @caraphernellie, @astralnymphh, @whore87, @kaiilectric, @sapphicontherun, @mikellie, @nihilisticangelbby, @be3flow3r, @ppuussyyy, @clairoscharm

[!] — PERCHANCE YOU WANNA BE ADDED TO MY PERMANENT, look here for more info!

[onelittlespiral]

I’ve been looking for a fraternity to join at my new college, but none of them have really been letting me in. The only one left seems to be full of horny jocks that are dumber than a bag of bricks. Think you could help me… fit in?

FML: In

As you laid it all out in front of your friend, your plans, your goals, your desires, he just kind of shook his head in disbelief:

“I know that I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but damn that’s disappointing.”

“What’s so wrong about wanting to pledge?” you replied, “It would just make getting connected the university so much easier. Plus, the parties are legendary.”

“No I get it,” he scowled, “but really? Pi Kappa Epsilon?”

“Listen, they weren’t my first choice either. I would have preferred a group a little less… dim.” I knew he wouldn’t leave it there.

“Dim? Dim still implies some light on upstairs. You can just call them what they are: brainless frat bros. They think with their dicks and muscle their way through academics. I can’t believe you’re asking me to use my power for this.” He began walking towards the door.

I called after, “Look, I’ve seen you do crazier shit than this. You turned the guy upstairs into a dog for a week.”

He stopped in the door frame for a minute to chuckle, “If he was going to call the RA a bitch he may as well get first hand experience.”

“Please dude.” I stared at him.

After a moment he relented, “Fine. But are you sure you want this? You want to change for this? A frat?”

“Yes. And I promise I’ll get you into any party you want!”

“Fine. Give me a bit. But remember, you asked for it.”

He returned in a bit and tossed me a necklace from across the room, “Here’s your frat solution. Wear this to your next thing with them at their house.”

You inspected it. It looked like a basic chain necklace like you had seen other guys wear around “And do what? What does it do?”

He rolled his eyes, “And do nothing. It will help you fit into the frat, I promise.”

“No magic words or anything?” I asked.

He grinned, “Oh come on, think of me as better than needing all that crap. Now put it on so you don’t lose it.”

It fits well around your neck, “I’m headed over there tonight, I think it is the last event before they drop everyone. You sure this will work?”

“Trust me,” he says, “You want in the frat? You will be in the frat.”

When you arrive at the frat house, you do feel the necklace almost pulling you inside. It feels warm against your chest as you wander around, talking with some brothers and checking in with your fellow pledges. You get a sense of magnetism from it, like the necklace is pulling the frat house around it towards you. As the party kicks into gear, you focus less on the chain and more on socializing. But whatever it’s effect, it seems to be working. Brothers and other pledges are seeming to stumble over themselves trying to talk with you. Even the pledge master gives a knowing glance and tilts his head in approval. In a little under two hours, you begin to feel more at home in the house, more comfortable in the crowd. Maybe for the first time you feel a sense of brotherhood. So it is a shock when you step into the bathroom to take a piss and take a look in the mirror.

You don’t recognize the face that stared back. You blinked in confusion, assuming you had too much to drink. But no. The stranger in the mirror stared back into your eyes, copying your every move as you tilted your head and inspected your face in awe. The trance broke as you glanced down and saw the truth. Your polo shirt stretched against your chest as two pectorals firmly pushed out, flexing with each breath. Your pants had grown tight around my quads, now a good few inches short. They hugged your ass so tightly you were surprised they hadn’t ripped. Tattoos flowed down your arms, newly ripped and well toned. You noticed for the first time the power you felt coursing through your veins. You could almost feel your skin taut against your muscles as they slowly swelled. You pulled your top off to get a better look at the action.

‘Damn I look good’ you think as you admire the new cum gutters and still developing 6-pack. You try out a few poses in the mirror, just to see the muscles move. The necklace is no joke. No way PKE would drop you now, you looked like you fit right in. But, at the same time, you figured it may be time to get the necklace off. You didn’t want to change too much, and no telling how far it would go. You go for the back of your neck and and start to fiddle with the clasp when the necklace suddenly starts to warm up.

You feel the odd magnetism is no longer subtle. It feels as though the necklace is pulling against the frat house you, drawing it’s very essence towards you. At the same time, the growth within your body stops as the necklace channels all its energy towards your head. The sudden spike hits like a migraine, as you let go of the necklace and go to hold your temples. The necklace wants to finish its work. Your senses are sharpened to a point, as you feel the heat of the bros downstairs, taste cheap beer and seltzers, hear every footstep, see every muscle and bulge, and smell 100 horny men all at once. You feel the pure energy of the fraternity pull through your body as it shapes you. Beneath the pressure, your mind buckles as false memories push their way in. Memories of watching college football on TV. Working out during the summer to become a fucking stud. Playing the field as soon as you got to college. Meeting up with some brothers to get a foot in the door. Getting called a fuckboi for the first time on Tinder. Wearing it like a badge of pride.

Your brain throbbed as the energy reshaped your memories and personality, but your balls churned as it began to adjust your libido. They ached as they swelled to the size of golf balls. Your cock was rigid at attention as you grabbed it with both meaty hands and started to pump. Your body writhed as every stroke only makes the pleasure more intense. You are soon hot with the effort. An aura of testosterone and sweat formed around you as a frat funk sets in deep: a mixture of booze, yesterday’s workout, and cheap cologne. The smell only drives you more wild, and you start to feel your brain short circuit. Your mind, consumed by pleasure, gave into the pressure and lost any remaining will to resist. The necklace pulsed in time with your throbbing cock as it buried the old you. As you reached climax, you knew there was no going back. As you shot your load across the room, a new you was released. A dumb, horny frat bro ready to pledge PKE.

And then the door behind you opened.

The pledge master, apparently worried by how long you had been in here, walked in on your afterglow as you tucked your cock back into your pants.

“Hey man, you okay?” he asked before recoiling a step. You watched as he smelled your rank funk and nearly gagged. You took a step closer.

“Yeah bro, better than ever. What about you? You look like you’re about to vomit.” you said, leaning in a bit closer. You flex your muscles and let your pit stench join the lingering cloud. You feel yourself start to harden again as he tried not to react.

“Bro, you are fucking rank. You smell like a… like a-”

“Like a frat house should?” you taunted. He had stopped recoiling and seemed now to be fighting a different urge.

“I don’t know bro, you should get- get that looked at.”

His eyes were focused on your muscles as you slowly flexed them rhythmically to the music downstairs. I felt the necklace pulling him closer as he fought the urges he is having. Fuck, you remembered that feeling, that pull towards desire. You knew how to help him out though. You grabbed the back of his head and pulled his lips to your pecs. As his lips connected with your flesh and tasted the beads of sweat that rolled down your chest, he wrapped his arms around you and began worshiping your muscles. As he kissed and licked every inch of your chest and washboard abs, he gently rubbed against your rigid cock. It wasn’t long before he was licking at the fabric separating his mouth from his prize. But as he reached for the elastic band around your waist, you grabbed his hair and pulled him up.

Your mind reveled in in the power you held in your hands and the pleasure your new frat bro could cause with his mouth. But you only had one thing left on you mind:

“I wanna be in the frat bro.” You said.

He mumbled as his mouth still searched for your flesh, “Yeah man, sure thing. I’ll make it happen. You can be a frat bro. Just please let me suck on your-“

“No,” you boomed. You pulled him out of the bathroom and into the nearest bedroom, locking the door behind you. You grabbed his ass as he grew limp in your hands, “I want to be in the frat bro.” You slip your hand beneath his gym shorts and begin slowly finger fucking his tight, straight hole.

He understood his place as he slipped off his shorts and underwear, leaving his cheeks on full display.

He moaned like he was in heat, “Yeah bro. Please. I would be so honored.”

You bent him over and spat in his quivering hole before you pressed your cock against him. You didn’t wait for him to relax as you slammed your cock as deep as you could and watched him yelp in surprise. As you slowly sped up and heard him start to moan, you felt the necklace once again start to warm against my chest as its power flowed through your cock and into the bro beneath you. He too began to sweat with the funk of the frat as was remade in its image under your guidance. He was going to become just as unified with PKE as you were.

[sommerbueckers]

paige bueckers x r being drew’s babysitter!!

THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO FKN LONG CUS I WASNT SURE IF I LIKED THE WAY IT FLOWED OR NOT.

Part two here !!

I typed away on my computer as I tried to finish up the last of my homework. Drew was sprawled out beside me on the couch with his eyes glued to the tv, he had been silently watching Avengers: Endgame for the last hour and had promised to be quiet if I let him stay up an extra thirty minutes. I often had a hard time saying no to the kid, who wouldn't after seeing a smile as bright as his?

The ringing from my phone had been drowned out by the noise coming from the tv, and if it hadn't been more the constant vibrating I would've missed it. Answering the call, I told Drew I'd be back shortly before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Hello," I spoke into the phone.

"Hey peach, how's it going over there?" my mom questioned.

"It's going good, he's watching a movie right now," I said.

"How long are you going to be? Your grandmother is here and..." her voice trailed off for a moment and I could hear her shuffling around, "she's driving me crazy."

I snorted, "Maybe around an hour or so, I have to put Drew to bed and then wait for the parents to come back."

"Okay-" her voice was cut off by my grandmother's.

"Hi baby!" she exclaimed.

"Hi Nana," I smiled to myself.

"When are you coming back from that job of yours?" she asked.

"Soon."

"Well hurry, your mother is in a bad mood and it's getting me all frustrated and such," she groaned.

"Yeah, she tends to get like that, always complaining," I laughed.

I narrowed my eyes at the pair of headlights that begun to shine through the house. I poked my head out from the kitchen to see Drew looking at the window from his place on the couch. His parents weren't supposed to be back for another hour and they hadn't called to let me know about an early arrival.

I pulled my phone from my ear to check my notifications, and when I didn't find anything new, I slowly made my way toward the front windows. Exiting the back of a black SUV was Paige, Drew's older sister. She had a wide smile spread across her face as she shut the door, shaking her head. She stood there for a moment as she talked with whoever was sitting in the front seats of the car, and I felt Drew come up beside me to see out as well.

"It's Paigey!" he shouted happily, looking at me.

I nodded my head and watched him walk over to the door to unlock it. My grandma's voice on the other end of the phone pulled me back into conversation.

"You there hon?" she asked quizzically.

"Yeah, i'm here nana but I have to go," I told her.

"Aw, that's alright. I'll see you soon, right?"

"Yeah, i'll be home in a bit."

"Okay then, bye-bye," she said.

"Bye," I responded, slipping the phone into the pocket of my sweats.

Drew stood smiling with the door open as Paige made her way up the stairs and into the house. She picked him up into her arms and shut the door, locking it behind her.

"What's up dude, you miss me?" she asked.

"Yeah," he nodded honestly.

Paige laughed before setting him down, "Whatchu been doin?"

"Me and Bee made cookies and we made tiktoks, and then she let me stay up past my bedtime!" he told her, grinning from ear to ear.

"I see that," she glanced at me for a moment and a wave of nervousness washed over me.

She didn't seem upset at the fact that I had let Drew stay up, but he had a bedtime for a reason and maybe I should've just followed it. This was my third time babysitting for the family and Drew and I had gotten pretty comfortable with each other, I just wanted him to have a little fun.

By now, the credits for the movie had begun to roll and I pretended to be fascinated with all the stars that had been in it. I heard Paige tell Drew to go upstairs and get ready for bed, and when his little figure disappeared on the second floor, she proceeded into the kitchen. I bit my lip as I followed after her, nervously playing with my nails.

"He promised he'd go to bed without a fight if I let him finish the movie, I didn't see the harm in it," I admitted, leaning against the wall.

"Nah you're good, he usually only gets to stay up when he's with me so he definitely didn't mind," she laughed.

I breathed out a sigh of relief, "Good."

She pulled a pack of Oreos out of the cabinet and set them on the counter, ripping them open and eating straight from the pack. Her eyes zeroed in on my shirt and she was silent for a moment before she said, "What position?"

"What?" I furrowed my eyebrows as my mind immediately thought about sex, but that couldn't have been right.

She then smirked and gestured to my shirt, "Your shirt says Wayzata volleyball, what position do you play?"

I peered down at my shirt and mentally slapped myself for being so horny, "Oh, right, uhm i'm a setter."

"That's the one who does the thing with the hands right?" she asked, putting her hands above her head and pushing her fingertips up.

I laughed lightly, "Yeah."

She cockily brushed off her shoulder, "Yeah, I know my stuff."

"I see that."

"I think I've seen you play before, I was only there for like half of a game but it was pretty cool," Paige revealed, shoving another Oreo into her mouth.

"Hm," I hummed, "i saw you play once or twice last year."

Paige smirked and began to make her way to the other side of the counter where I was standing, "You mean the games against your school where we kicked your asses?"

"Well I wouldn't say all that, but yes."

Paige extended the Oreos out to me, "How would you put it?"

I gently took a few and thought about my answer, "You caught them on a bad day."

"Oh yeah?" Paige raised an eyebrow.

"Mhm."

"Both times?"

"Both times."

"Interesting take, I guess we'll have to see Tuesday night," she shrugged, a smirk crossing her face. "You gonna be there?"

"Probably not, I'll just ask somebody how it went," I said.

"Ah nah, you gotta be there," Paige smiled as she shook her head.

"Why?" I frowned, but couldn't stop the smile that broke through.

Paige stepped closer, "Because I wanna point at you when the game ends and we're up twenty."

"You are so cocky," I laughed.

The blonde held her hands up in defense, laughing along with me. A silence washed over us but I could still feel her eyes on me. We stared at each other for a moment, but just as she went to say something, Drew came running into the kitchen. He had changed out of his jeans and long sleeve and now wore a pair of dinosaur pajamas. He looked between the two of us as he said, "I'm ready for bed now."

"Are you sure you're ready?" Paige asked.

"Yeah," Drew responded.

"Hm, are you positive you're ready?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay, let's go," Paige said, stooping down so Drew could get on her back.

I followed the two of them upstairs and into Drew's room. Paige set him down and pulled the covers over him, "You got to stay up tonight so you better go to sleep," she gently pushed his forehead back.

He laughed lightly, "I will."

"Mhm, goodnight bro," Paige ruffled the boy's curls before she stood up and looked at me.

I smiled at her and turned to Drew, "Sleep tight dude."

I switched the lamp off and joined Paige in the hallway, softly closing Drew's bedroom door behind me. The lighting in the hallway was dim, the only sources being the lights downstairs and the one coming from Paige's room across the hall. We stood there quietly for a moment, her leaning against the wall with her arms crossed while I awkwardly shoved my hands into my pockets.

The longer I stared at her, the more I began to notice how attractive she was. She was tall and slender and happened to check every box when it came to my physical type in girls. Her head rested back on the wall as she watched me watch her with the cockiest expression on her face. When my eyes finally met hers, I felt embarrassed for how long I had been staring at her, but she didn't seem phased.

Did Paige like girls?

"My dad and stepmom aren't gonna be back for a minute," the blonde stated in a low voice.

I nodded, "I know."

She pushed herself off the wall and gestured to her room, "You can come in here if you want, give you a taste of what i'm bringing to the court Tuesday."

I raised my eyebrows, "Let's see then."

Paige pushed her door open wider and allowed me to step in first. It was pretty plain as far as decoration went, there were purple bedsheets and a few posters on the wall but nothing major. Her playstation sat on the dresser beside her tv and there were a few water bottles scattered around, but nonetheless it was clean.

I sat on the edge of the bed and Paige flipped the light on and grabbed the remote to the tv.

"You play 2k?" she asked.

"No, I don't really play anything other than GTA," I laughed.

"Rookie ass game," she joked, shaking her head.

She turned on the playstation and grabbed two controllers from a drawer, handing me one. "What's this for?"

"I'm in the mood to sweep, what team do you wanna play for?" she asked when the game screen popped up.

I frowned, "That's not fair, I don't even know how to play!"

"Fine," she sighed, "I'll teach you how to play...and then I'll sweep you."

"That was not fun at all," I sighed out, setting the controller down beside me.

Paige and I had been playing for thirty minutes, and out of all the games that we had started and finished, I had won none.

The blonde turned to me with a cheeky smile on her face, simply shrugging her shoulders. She laid back on the bed and put her hands over her face. As hard as I fought myself on not letting my eyes wander, self-restraint was a trait I didn't posses.

Her shirt was pulled up at the bottom, flashing a bit of her stomach. I watched her chest rise and fall under her shirt, and I wondered what color bra she was wearing. I wondered if I had the guts to be as bold as my alter ego was, would she let me find out?

I could feel my face growing hot the longer my mind ran wild, and I quickly turned my attention back to the tv.

"What do you wanna do now?" Paige asked quietly.

"I don't know..." I answered.

After shifting herself so that we were closer, thighs touching and all, Paige sat up.

"Me neither."

She said nothing as she stared at me in the darkness with the light from the recently ended 2k game illuminating our faces. It reminded me of the stare I gave girls across the net when the score was close in the second set, my eyes filled with nothing but determination. Only Paige's stare was filled with something else, something darker.

I could've been psyching myself out, you can only read so much Tumblr before it starts to affect your way of thinking, but my gut told me I wasn't. More rationally, the way her eyes were switching between my eyes and my lips told me I wasn't.

I have so much homework to finish.

Her parents would be home soon.

Drew was sleeping right across the hall.

I don't even know her.

"Do you wanna do something?" Paige asked me.

"Yeah, sure," I nodded, clearing my throat.

I waited for Paige to stand, to turn to another video game or perhaps find a movie that we could both watch. Instead, she stayed seated in her place next to me, eyes fixed on me. It was then and only then that I realized what she meant by 'something.' At least what I hoped thought she meant.

"Are we going to do something or what?" I...challenged?

Paige laughed and leaned closer, "Only if you want to."

"I'm still sitting here aren't I?"

___________________________________________________________

[the20thangel]

A Calling to the Past

Summary: Request! Targaryen!reader. The reader has a similar vibe to when Rhaenyra comes back bloodied from the hunt and Harwin Strong gives her the love eyes. However, in this case, it's the reader and Benjicot. Benjicot Blackwood has it down hard for a woman covered in blood.

Word Count: 1.8K

(this is an x reader fanfic but just with a name)

Note: This is the last of my current requests that I have taken. Requests are closed, as I will focus on my series now. Thank you all for your patience, and I hope you enjoy it.

Kingslanding was filled with noble houses from all across the realm. All were coming to celebrate the coronation of their new Queen, Rhaenyra. King Viserys, knowing that his health was not improving, decided to step down from the throne and pass it off to his heir. Of course, since it was still King Viserys, he planned a five-day celebration for the coronation, creating a massive spectacle everyone wanted to participate in—tourneys, hunting games, feasts, masquerade balls, and lastly, ending with the glorious coronation day. They were currently on the second day of the celebration, and Princess Elaena was exhausted. 

She did not do well with so many people being in Kingslanding. She preferred the comforts of the calmness in Dragonstone. But of course, being the twin sister of now heir Prince Jacaerys and Crown princess herself, it was her duty to entertain the many lords and ladies who walked the Red Keep. Princess Elaena was ever bit the beautiful Targaryen princess people expected. Her lovely white hair, which usually flowed freely, was tied to a braided bun today. She had deep violet eyes and beautiful dimples that accented her pearly smile. Everyone wanted to make the princess laugh or grin just to glimpse of her dimples. 

As the Princess arrived in Kingswood, she glanced at the many houses preparing for the day's hunt; she saw Lannisters, Tullys, Celtigars, Baratheons, and even Starks. All were here for her mother, which brought a smile to her face because until recently. Eleana worried that a war was brewing inside her family, one of Blacks and Greens, but the gods—she did not know which ones—decided to smile upon them, and thankfully, her mother's succession to the Iron Throne was smooth.  

Walking into her mother’s tent, Rhaenyra saw her daughter's clothes; instead of gowns like most of the ladies, her daughter was wearing her usual dragon-riding clothes. She smiled, knowing what her daughter’s plan was. 

“I see that you will be partaking in the hunt with your brothers,” Rhaenyra inquires, meeting her daughter and pressing a sweet kiss on her forehead. Their bond was strong, and Eleana cherished these moments with her mother. 

Eleana smiled no matter how old she was. She would always enjoy her mother’s affection. 

“Why, of course, I fear I would grow bored if I had to wait here with the rest of the ladies and gossip over tea. No, I’ll let Uncle Aegon do that,” smirked Eleana as she and her mother shared a quiet giggle between them. Aegon did love to gossip. 

Rhaenyra shook her head as she expressed good luck to her daughter, telling her to show those lords how to hunt. Eleana smirked and bowed to her mother, going to find her brothers eagerly awaiting her to start riding off toward the woods. Prince Jacaerys and Lucerys smiled at their sister. They would hunt with their step-father Daemon, Baela, and Uncle Aemond. Daemon nodded to his stepdaughter before signaling to the other lords that the hunt was commencing and riding off into the woods, with the princes and princesses following soon after. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Benjicot tried to stifle a yawn; he had forgotten how long and boring some of these hunts could be here, away from Raventree Hall. His father fondly shook his head at him, understanding his boredom, but Benji needed to get better at concealing his emotions. 

At the front, Jace and Eleana also stifled their yawns. They had been riding for two hours with only a few hares and deer being caught. All of the lords had yet to have any luck with elks or boars. Eleana briefly turned her back to the lords behind her, hearing how they boasted their hunting skills with puffed chests. Rolling her eyes, she faced forward again. Men and their egos, she thought. 

Suddenly, Daemon raised his hand, halting the party; as he looked around, he heard rustling in the trees. In the distance was an elk grazing in the grass, perfect for hunting. Eleana grinned as she reached for her bow; she took an arrow, nocked it, and pulled her arm back, aiming towards the great beast. She glanced at Daemon, who grinned, nodding his head, giving her permission to strike. Looking back at the elk, she exhaled slowly, releasing her tension, when a young knight from house Lannister shouted. 

“Look there, it's an elk!” causing the animal to stiffen, seeing the party and running away.  

Eleana growled as she released her arrow, seeing it miss the beast and hitting the tree behind it. With a dark glare, she turned to the young man.

“Yes, good ser, thank you for shouting the obvious. The next time you decide to shout like that, I will gladly hang you upside down as bait for a boar.” threatened the princess as she rode off toward the Elk. 

Daemon and the princes began laughing at Lannister’s pale face, which caused the rest of the lords to join in the teasing. 

“Well, then, perhaps we should divide into smaller groups. I will take a few of you men, and the princes will take another and meet up with my stepdaughter,” proposed Prince Daemon. 

 As the lords separated, Lord Samwell pushed Benjicot to follow the princes and princesses, expressing how he might have more fun with those closer to his age. Benji nodded as he moved to the other group, following the young dragons. 

Jacaerys nodded to the heirs of house Blackwood and house Tully as they rode to meet with Princess Eleana. Finding her off her horse, letting the animal refresh itself from the small creek. The rest of the group followed, allowing their horses to drink water. 

“Eleana, if you were going to threaten a Lannister, you should have just brought him to your dragon.” taunted Aemond, laughing at his niece’s sneer. 

“Hm, well, maybe he should have kept his stupid mouth shut; we lost a perfect elk because of his idiotic screeching.” countered the princess, rolling her eyes at her uncle’s taunting. 

Benji pretended to cough to cover up his laugh from the princess, and the prince’s bantered. Unfortunately, it backfired when the princess stared at him with an eyebrow raised in confusion. He gulped as the dragon princes and princesses looked at the young heir. Their eyes were daunting with different shades of purple. Luke, being the ever-sweet prince, decided to take pity on him and explained their stepfather’s plan to his sister. Eleana nodded, asking for the names of the new people in their group. 

“Oscar and Kermit Tully, and I’m Benjicot Blackwood, but you may call me Ben or Benji.” Benji shyly introduced himself as the Tully brother bowed to the royals. 

Eleana smiled subtly, “Well, my lords, as long as you don’t make the same mistake as the Lannister, you are very welcome to our group.” 

The young Lads grinned at the princess as they continued their way through the woods, conversing with each other quietly so as not to make any loud noises to frighten the animals they were hunting for. As they rode for another hour, they took a quick break to ease their legs from riding so much. As they stretched their aching bodies, they suddenly froze when they heard rustling from the trees. As they all hurried to reach their weapons, Luke yelled a warning to Benji, who turned quickly to see a different Elk, a buck, running towards him and loudly screaming. As he reached for his dagger, a blur of white passed him. Eleana quickly released an arrow on the buck’s neck, changing its course. The Elk grunted as it turned to the young people, who all braced themselves for it to attack. As the Elk screeched again, running to Eleana and Benjicot, Aemond, and Jace ran towards it, only for it to swing its antlers, smacking both princes to the ground. Benji braced himself, taking out his sword, as Eleana nocked another arrow, letting it soar to the Elk’s leg as it buckled from the pain. Benji placed himself before the princess and stabbed the Elk, trying to stop it from falling on them. The Elk wailed as it fell only inches away from the princess and lord. 

Huffing, Eleana smiled at Benji. “Well done, Ben. You managed to kill the Elk.” She praised him, chuckling as the heir of Raventree Hall blushed. 

“Only because you injured it first, princess, but what caused the Elk to react that way…” pondered Ben when he was roughly pushed away. 

A Boar ran from the trees and bulldozed his way to the group. Eleana, seeing the boar, pushed Benji out of the way as the boar tripped her and tried to attack her with his tusks. Ameond quickly ran and stabbed the boar, causing blood to drip onto the princess. As the prince took out his sword, he kicked the boar away from his niece, and Lucerys and Baela stabbed it, ensuring the beast was dead. 

Jace pulled his sister up from the ground, checking for injuries as the Tully brothers did the same for Benjicot. Benjicot waved off his friends as he went to the princess to ensure she was alright. Besides being bloodied with boar’s blood, the princess had no injuries as she and Ben both expressed their concerns to each other. Blushing at speaking simultaneously, Benji lowered his eyes and expressed gratitude to the princess. 

Eleana, cheeks red, smiled bashfully at the lord as she comforted him, “I’m fine, thank you. I apologize for pushing you. I just saw the beast coming so fast towards you, and I didn't have time to fully think about my actions.” 

Benjicot waved off her apology, “If it weren't for you, my princess, I would have been seriously injured. Thank you.” Grinning, as the princess’s blush worsened. 

As the rest of the group gave knowing glances, they started to pack their supplies and return to the camp, noting how a certain raven lord and princess stayed towards the back, quietly conversing with each other. Many gaped at the group once they reached the camp, impressed that they brought back an elk and boar. The royal family thanked the lads, inviting them to their table during the feast as they returned to their tents. 

As Benjicot returned to his men, he glanced back at the bloodied princess. As he smiled widely, he thought about how gorgeous she looked. Elaena, seeing the heir to Raventree Hall grinning at her with a soft nod, returned a dimpled grin. She liked having his attention to her. Unbeknownst to them, Rhaenyra was staring at the scene before her, feeling like she was watching a flashback. One of a similar bloodied princess and a dark-haired man nodding his approval. She wistfully smiled, remembering her sworn shield. She carefully made a note of the House Blackwood banner. She and Lord Samwell might need to have an interesting conversation soon after her coronation.

[kooyabooya]

SUITS, (STOCKINGS), & TIES

m reader x minju // 9k words

For the record, there aren’t any fingerprints seen underwater. Nothing to tie one to a crime. The trial itself is already a rapid current, pulling you and everyone around the bullpen into the endless sea of papers, payment record documents, video recording transcripts, then more fucking papers, and you absolutely hate it.

Files boxed in dating back to even before taking the damn job, the amount of trips to and from the copying machine, getting the materials right. Avoiding any fuck ups; that too, was always the end goal - staring at the blue folder sitting on your desk until–

Your fucking intercom’s ringing again. 

It’s always a trip, that’s how it usually flows around here: a turn to the left, round the front desk of the floor, hook right down the insanely long walkway, glass windows giving you this nice view of the city skyline. Pretty, at around one in the morning of another late night of work stacked upon your desk. 

Easy enough to also: take a moment to admire the view, since it’s the kind of view that you’d never get over no matter how many times you look at it. You sigh at the playback in your head, something that Chaeyeon talked to you about while hiding away from the pressures of work in her own office, bumping coffee mugs and wishing that the building had sliding windows to let the high breeze through. 

They would never allow that. You tell her, keeping the vibe lighthearted with a laugh. I mean seriously, even if we did, it’s all fun and games until someone in one of the conference rooms below us sees a body hurling down towards the ground at a hundred miles per hour. Chaeyeon complains that the air conditioning doesn’t even reach her office sometimes, and tells you that she’s jealous, wanting to switch places with you since the sun hits her back during the work hours. 

Sweeping past her office, since she’s gone for the day, the carpet gets pressed down by your loafers, tilting your head to see that the office at the very end of the walkway has the lights on, and you do notice the gap where the door should be; meaning that it’s open or someone stepped inside. 

This was the end point of this overbearing yet brief journey. The office that was considered to be base camp, the command center, the brains, one would say. One of the firm’s most well known figures with how she leans back into her chair with a leg across the other, showing that she means business, and knows how to look good while doing it. 

Prior, you loop around the pane entering the room- 

“You’re saying that I should sit back and do nothing?” Minju asks, finger tapping the peak of her nose, clearly pressed. 

“I’m not telling you to,” the woman standing across her with a left hand fastened to the hip with a lean to her right side, “We’re backed into a corner and all I’m saying is that we have to draw back and take this at a new angle.” 

“But you said that last time! And look where it’s got us.” Minju shoots back, both feet on the floor now, drawing herself closer to make a point. You’re trying to not make your presence known, seeing where this exchange is headed, fighting the urge to not butt in and make a fool of yourself. “Cutting a deal with the very same person that is trying to come back and rip everything from us was all part of your plan?” 

“Minju, I know you’re angry but–” 

Minju slaps her hand down on the desk, “We’ve got them right where we wanted, pulled all the stops, and now you want to just back off?” 

“I’m not backing off, I’ve managed to buy us more time.” the woman says, pressing on the rim of her glasses, sighing when Minju doesn’t even bother to look back at her in the eye, flipping through a packet with a pen in her hand to check and see if there was anything that was usable to help the situation. You’ve seen the packet on her desk earlier that way, ran that by Hyewon, her secretary, and now she’s finally looking at it. 

“Two days. That’s all I got until we fall back with the judge.” she says to Minju, “Unless you have something for me on my desk later today, I’m officially and unofficially grounding you.” 

“Dahyun-” 

“Zip it.” Dahyun says, mimicking a pulling motion with her right hand to her lip, “You’re already stretched thin as it is, this case is already taking a toll on all of us and this would be the last thing I need on my mind.” 

A tap to the glass on the entryway, “Is this a bad time?” 

The two women look at you in suspicion, both of them not even realizing that the door was open the entire time, listening to the conversation, “How long have you been standing there?” Dahyun asks, pointing at you while you’re leaned against the glass, foot pointed to the floor all relaxed and everything. 

“I’ve been here long enough, but a little over five minutes.” you answer, blue folder in hand. “Didn’t want to interrupt the usual bickering on a casual Thursday evening.” you also add, stepping inside Minju’s office where it opens up.  

The great Kim Minju, one of the firm’s best lawyers, and Dahyun’s right hand woman, one of the key people sitting at the high table; also your handler of these different cases and adventures that she usually sends you to do or help her with. Her office was classy, a row shelves off to the right side filled with an assortment of vinyls and picture frames of the people that she holds most dear to her heart. A record player was next to this trolley that had a kettle and a bowl of candies (though she doesn’t like to admit that she’s got a sweet tooth); there’s also her violet couch in velvet that you’ve also passed out on multiple times, drunk on the sweet scent that you still have to figure out which one she uses for that. 

“This is the last file for the case I managed to scrounge and put together.” you tell Minju, sliding it over across while her inky eyes dart at you, prompting a questioning eyebrow out of both of you while Dahyun’s gaze falls on top. “Everything in terms of deals within the last year from our target man should be all in there. Though, we had a minor hiccup earlier this week with–” 

“Don’t remind me,” Minju vexes, “That was my screwup with the family and now I’m paying for it.” 

“After I told you not to jump the gun.” Dahyun jumps in, hand on the corner of the granite. She sounds annoyed; after all, she was technically the ‘fall guy’ in all of this with her hiccup also in mishandling the exchanged information, not her fuck up though, since she was set up from the beginning after a hidden clause she signed a long time ago. She also swoops in to grab the file, opening it to skim through the papers, slightly nodding at what she could read for a few seconds. “Impressive,” Dahyun nods, “this is good leverage.” 

“Thank you,” you say, smirking while Dahyun hands you back the file for Minju to look at, pulling it out of your fingers to flip through. “Had some help from Hyewon, but didn’t want to take all of the credit.” 

“Well I appreciate you both.” Dahyun adds, “I had my doubts when I got the call to come back and see what all the fuss was about. Now, I can breathe a little more easily knowing that we have this in the bag, I hope.” 

“I’m still here, you know.” Minju huffs, rolling her eyes.

“Hush,” Dahyun scrunches funnily, taps your shoulder, causing you to shrug nonchalantly, “Thank you for hanging back to help me take care of this while I’ve been dealing with my moving situation. God, it's been a back breaker for me.” 

“How’d that go?” 

“We finally settled in, I had a small housewarming party about a few weeks ago or so, but I’ve been keeping in touch with–” 

“You said that your friend Sana was living in the area too, right? From college?” Minju suddenly asks, pen flat on the paper and fully invested in the life update. Dahyun nods to this while you’re pursing your lips at the news. You’re not one to lend an ear to these things, but you just can’t help yourself when they’re being talked about in the open. Talk about separating privacy and professionalism. 

“Yeah, it’s been good to see her, if it wasn’t for this fucking cas–” 

“Dahyun, it’s fine. We got it.” you tell her, slowly nodding to ease the stress, “You’re already doing so much by coming back from leave to deal this along with us. It shows that you do care about this firm and the reputation that it has.” 

“Look at you being a kiss ass.” Minju deadpans. You pay no attention to that. 

“And not taking this ordeal would've put the firm into crisis mode having the last thing I’d want to happen.” Dahyun scoffs, “Besides, the value is way more than that once all of this is over.” She starts to make her way out of Minju’s office, turning around to face both of you with eye contact, “I assume that you two will close up shop when you’re done?” 

“Don’t even need to remind us.” you tell her, Minju looks up with a soft smile across her face, lightly waving at Dahyun before she gives you two a quick goodbye, leaving shortly after. “She seemed a little more dismissive than usual, like she wanted to give us alone time don’t you think?” 

“I can’t stand her nosy ass sometimes, trying to veer the way how I want to do things.” 

“Ouch.” 

“I’m serious,” Minju shoots back, flipping through the packet, not giving an ounce of care through all of the blacked lines or different clauses in the suggested proposal that would settle this whole case. “I love Dahyun - I mean - she has the spare set of keys to my damn apartment since she moved away, that’s how much she means to me.” 

“Didn’t think you’d be sappy over your boss, especially after the shit show that we’d–” 

“One more word out of your smart mouth and I’ll stop looking through your documents to stall time.” 

“You already signed it, though.” you say, pouting with a frown, “Which also means that this should all officially end by tomorrow.” 

Minju sweeps through the row of open and unopened files spread across her desk, eyes canvassing between the texts and dried ink of signatures, vying for some sort of leverage that would go against Dahyun’s wishes. It’s natural for her to be extremely nitpicky - highlighted with a small curtain of hair falling in front of her forehead, pulling the side of her index finger back while her pretty eyelashes flutter about. She’s refined and very sophisticated, the kind that makes you stop in your tracks one day when she waltzes in the office on her own time, and not that she’s thirty minutes late in the morning. 

Throw the law degree away bucko, maybe that avenue of studying art and architecture would’ve been the better option considering how much you’ve been staring for the past five minutes. 

To fill in, here’s the brief rundown of the position. 

A lot of people would’ve killed to be Minju’s associate. I mean, the woman seeps in ‘getting what she wants’. You could consider yourself lucky, but Minju already had eyes on you from the first second you stepped into her office for the interview. The interview itself wasn’t all that glamorous: renting one of your best friend’s designer suits that would’ve been more usable for a fucking award show spritzed with a cologne that was way out of your league in terms of scent let alone price, a typo on the fucking resume that she looks with an eyebrow for an explanation, and a lasting impression that whatever happens would deem only to be the best going forward. 

Minju wanted someone who excelled both in book and street smarts, be able to get a grasp on the situation faster within the first few seconds of receiving the case or news, and most importantly, to steer Minju’s level of thinking where even the most irrational decisions would be reasonable. 

You hit all the marks, and qualified to be associate. End of story. 

“Everything that we all have here is solid substantial evidence,” Minju cuts in with a paper flipped back to the top of the page, pen flat on her fingers as if she’s fed up with playing reviewing proctor, “Nothing would change with what we already have on the case.” 

“But the conclusion would be different,” you reply, sitting opposite to her, respectfully doing nothing but twiddling a pen between your fingers, considering that you were pretty much done with your bout in the file room earlier today, finding the last bits of documents from the archives that would help into comprising the settlement. “After all, it’ll be you and Dahyun in that conference room tomorrow closing the deal. I’m just passing papers.” 

“I suppose that you’re afraid of taking credit where it counts. Because why put in much effort for this case especially when someone else could’ve handled it when I asked?” 

“Dahyun insisted on coming back to oversee this. Had it been anyone else, the firm would’ve been up in flames if it wasn’t for her quick thinking pulling up the memos and signing payments from all those years ago.” 

Minju closes your blue folder, sliding it off to the side, flipping open her laptop without a flinch before typing away. “You know,” she starts, giving you this quick gaze that has you nicking your head a few millimeters, catching the pen in between your fingers to highlight that she has your attention, “I could’ve done this myself with Hyewon’s help, give you at least some days off after working you down the bone.”

“Now why would you do that?” you ask, four fingertips on the back of Minju’s laptop, closing it slowly while you’re rounding the fine corner of her obsidian desk, thumb wrapping underneath when her chair meets square with your hips. “That’s not very work-efficient for you to do that to me now, is it?” 

“You want to lecture me on how I should make you operate?” 

“She knows about us…by the way.” you tell Minju straightforward, smirking when you see that high arch of her brow, grimacing at the faulty accusation that she already knows by way of presentation. Doesn’t take long also for the different neurons firing in her brain that’s filled to the brim by the way of the law - only for that to be completely flattened out in one of those lobes replaced with various details of what you’re talking about.

“What are you talking about?” Minju asks, tilting her head upward that makes the sight of the high ground utterly so familiar. 

“Dahyun can easily tell that we have something going on,” you remind her, “She can easily read the both of us like a children’s book and–” 

“Bullshit,” her face crinkling with a tone more deaf the the simple drone of a dead phone line, “You know damn well that there’s nothing happening between us, so stop with the conviction.”  

“I’m not saying that you’re being convicted of my point,” you start, pushing her chair away to leave you space when you’re leaning over, seeing her back hit the cushion of the chair where she wiggles more comfortably with both hands on the armrests, “if anything, you’re just simply denying that there was ever really a thing between you and I.” 

“And that should be the end of that, no?” Minju coos, tipping her head a little bit higher, “Can you concur that there is nothing happening between us, especially in the workplace?” 

Minju is a professional, on par with the same archetypes like Dahyun. She’s witty, calculated, knows a lot more things from her experience compared to you, and blowhards herself way too much for anyone’s own liking. Every argument with her always starts with her leading the charge, to make you feel smaller right off the bat so that you’d have no way to counter unless your point seems fit to her points of focus. 

Okay, it may not be every verbal exchange with her on a day to day basis, considering that it’s also filled with witty banter and small inside jokes that could totally fall within the implications of the term ‘flirting’, but nothing ever really escalated from that. 

You also stuck your ears in between conversations during various corporate events and coworker mixers. Hell, even the pool of associates away from the main quarters of partners and senior partners all gave you the necessary praise for the chemistry that you’ve developed with Minju. Some days she wants to have your head on a platter, other days the talks were good, and you two managed to get things done around the office. 

Except for one day, and the details are still a bit murky for you to put up in recording: another workday in the office, maybe a little slow for Wednesday transition from morning to an afternoon -  but a free flowing circulation of phone calls, fax reports, conference appointments with clients, and a running order of Hyewon’s go-to latte from the coffee shop on the first floor. 

Bouncing back and forth between Dahyun’s office and Yuri’s, you make a quick detour towards Minju’s office who happened to slot herself on the left side of you while matching your walking pace. Expecting a quick quip from her like any other morning, you were waiting for it, but she hits you with the ‘file room, now.’ order that has you in-tow right behind her on the way there. 

Though your mind was already in overtime mode with the workload that was dropped to your desk roughly about two hours since arriving, it had already been nonstop and maybe Minju’s time could be quick if it was related to saving the firm from being purged by pulling some old papers in the filing room. Somewhere along those lines, your mind gets blanked out from the cramped space of the metal shelves, those dusty boxes, compounded by dim lighting in the room already. 

What you do remember: 

The small little gasps and hums when you’re sucking along the line of Minju’s neck, gripping the fistfuls of her dress and sliding your hand along her thighs. 

(So much for keeping it professional with the woman who’s also technically your primary boss.)

“How do you want to go about this?” you ask, “Do you want me to persuade you into telling Dahyun that we need a little more time?” 

Minju hums, pensively, as the question itself is rather a tempting decision that’s also actionable at best. You could see the small lump from the inside of her cheek before she shifts it across her upper lip to the other side, twisting her chair forward to place both elbows on the desk with fingers intertwined like she’s praying for the Lord’s insight from above. “We’ve been on the nose with this thing for too long now, I think it’s about time to cut our losses before things get ugly.” 

You don’t say anything, leaning yourself onto the obsidian while your arms bridge themselves together, flexing the wool in the threads when she makes eye contact with you, flicking her eyes back onto the paper where there’s a few blank lines that still need to be written in ink. 

With a simple lift of her signature ballpoint pen by you, she takes it, twirling it around like you were doing a few minutes ago to imply that your point finally got through to her, fingers grazing along the fine paper to fill in the gaps. 

But the vantage point where your ass is pressed against the edge is proving to be some sense of uncomfortability, so you change course, from left to right, vacant chair adjacent to the desk in your hands in a fraction of a second, scooching closely while Minju scoffs at the prying during the task, “Didn’t think it’d be that easy for you to be cooperative with the demands.” 

“Stop,” and Minju sings this with the better facade of her naivete, “Unlike you, I’m willing to actually listen to what's being asked from the first try, and not have it repeated to me through different remarks.”  

You get too close, too soon, when the ends of her hair brushes against the front corner of your lips and cheek, she could hear the air close at the bottom of your throat when the tip of your nose barely grazes her cheekbone. A moment like this occurred before, you could say it’s in the sense of deja vu: Minju invites you out for some quality time between partner and associate, a few drinks were on the table, and Minju challenges you to a simple game of pool. 

Sounds pretty mangable and straightforward, right? 

Wrong. 

You get shafted by Minju the first game, pull yourself back the next round. There’s this back and forth like usual banter between colleagues, dishing out trash talk for some good ol’ competition. The count of drinks gets lost along with the perception of time, and this happens on impulse when you’re backed into a corner with the eight ball being the last one for Minju while you’re behind on three solids. She rambled about you being always two steps behind and you can’t blame or deny the fact that she’s also way out of your league, so what do you do? Take the pleasantries of hums to your advantage, molding your hips along with hers, calloused hands lightly clinging onto the denim while your chin nestles into her collarbone, saying carelessly with intent of taunting, don’t you think you should call the last shot if you do make it? 

Minju nips her lip triumphantly, turning her head, catching on with what you’re incessantly doing, whispering her call: left corner pocket. The attention to the black ball slips out of your mind when she presses your lips onto your cheek, a fatal blow while the space opens up between you again, tipping her head back also lets you know that you lost the best of three series, which also meant that the loser has to pay the bill. 

(You pay your dues, but also add the pay up by making your own call: pocketing yourself into Minju’s cunt on her bed later that would only serve all the wiser.) 

A flashback in your mind that took minutes, only to be reeled into the real world by merely seconds, “You missed one more claus–” 

That gap could be filled after, because this deal on the agenda was more important to deal with. 

Minju grabs you by the tie, leveling your head with hers. Your hands are quick to smooth out her skirt from behind, letting the various files and dossiers rest across the desk or on the floor, depending where her hands land for a proper hold. Some lights stay on long after hours, to serve as a subtle ambience that no matter what time it may be, someone’s still hard at work on a case, or waiting for their personal driver on the ground floor. Though, some other cases include a well-spoken conversation, or even just chatting between colleagues - this chat about work with Minju however, was anything but that. 

Right off the bat, you’re reminded of how Minju is so easy to break down, despite her having a front that has every possible contingency of shutting herself away from others because she’s not that kind of character to be soft and open, until where your fingers are dancing alongside the slope of her bottoms at the hips, thumb rounding the hard end with a slow pull of her chair to reel closer until you’re at the edge of your seat. 

The move itself is so subtle, setting her on the desk in a similar position that you were in while she was signing through the documents with her ass pressed against the desk, scooching back while dancing with her tongue, lips parted with her head tilted. You’ve also managed to get your hands underneath Minju’s perfect thighs, lifting her up to the tabletop, spreading her long limbs much like to that excerpt of Moses parting the Red Sea, dipping your hand underneath to get a feel of her lace. 

Minju’s breaths become slightly erratic, nearly short-circuiting the more your fingertips dance along the line of her skirt; inner thighs pressing along the side of your hips while you cater your mouth and fingers in her hair, her neck, the growing heat rising in the skin when she whimpers through your teeth given how cold it was in the room. How your fingertips graze along the slightly damp fabric with one- maybe two tips, you chuckle softly at how she’s very responsive to the touch, the small clutch around your neck and back from her arms to serve as a safeguard. 

This is something that you’ll probably take to the District Attorney, let alone have Dahyun in the loop, in the specific case where you find yourself with no other option, a last resort to drown her into the ground: 

“Let me ask you this again,” you prompt with another received kiss to the growing swell of your bottom lip, “Are you sure that there’s nothing happening between us? Especially in the workplace?” 

Minju gasps out before you shut her up with your lips, channeling the moan when you increase the intensity of swirling around her clit, putting her hips out forward to sate that ache for at least something, anything. 

“You’re certain that you can say with full confidence that you have no kind of interest in me, whatsoever, admit to me right now that I’m correct.” 

You could tell from the look on her face and the moan she lets out, vocal cords open and freely flowing with the heavy tone while crumbling at the touch, all hot and wet and losing most of the plot at this point before even getting to the real business. It’s really wicked, how this woman as your boss flaunts around the floor, knowing that she won’t let anything get in her way for getting the case done, doing whatever it takes to see it through to the end and even if the methods aren’t within the boundaries. 

Like you could handle the boundaries yourself, playing nice isn’t always the way to go. 

While your hand hikes up the smooth skin of her thigh, feeling an unfamiliar ridge, a weave, something that hugs her leg that probably deserves to be there, to help with the appearance and everything- maybe not or maybe so, you’ll assess when the moment gets there. She grips around what she could touch in terms of your blazer, hips pushing forward at the flex of muscle when you’re scratching the surface of her clothed cunt, the ripple effect shown in her body as she arches first, then sighs into your collarbone the next. 

“Mmn, pretty–” Minju groans out, letting a small hiss through the porcelain cracks of her teeth, “so well, so, so amazing.” 

You’ll seek out the wants, the needs, the odds to break even, testing out the very little restraints in patience left while this cold-hearted woman is melting into your touch, giving you the benefit of having free reign over her body, when she’s murmuring these little hums and broken phrases that switches back to yours with more perversion. 

“I need an answer from you.” Playing prosecutor against the defense wasn’t always ideal unless it’s a mock trial, but you’re always one to challenge Minju, getting her to see your points on a day to day basis, proving her wrong when you know it’s impossible to. She can see right through you, always letting you take the loss, never accepting a victory that you rightfully deserved. You’ll be good, go to her when you’re in a rut, she expects it to happen, that’s how loyalty works. Though, there’s nothing wrong with being defiant. “Don’t make me ask again.” 

It’s all a tease, the way you let the lace dip underneath the slit with the extra press of fingers, toying with the soaking walls and fighting the urge to tug the strings the more you repeat the same fucking routine–

“Baby,” she croons, it’s pathetic. You’re about to get worked up too if you play the waiting game, dragging your thumb across her clit so delicately that she’s quivering, squirming, feeling the tense in her shoulders through the button up, hanging onto your forearm when the hold gets a little too tight. Those breathy gasps get your mind ahead to what’s coming, the natural instinct of what you’ll do to her in her office, on top of her desk, and maybe even on that stupid velvet couch if need be. 

You can hear the huffs more clearly down your ear, the rise and fall of her upper body when you coax her for a few seconds; she’s spiraling out of control, a whine gets suppressed with a press of lips to her throat, and she stumbles back on her arm, spreading wider in mirth. 

She’s shaking her head, eyes screwed shut, like wincing, the whine too - holy hell - it’s reminding you after that night at the bar with her, a moment coming full circle. 

A hand sweeps through her hair, fingers carding, you kiss that sweet spot just underneath her earlobe, a lick from the tip of your tongue to get her more fitful, bring the desperation and sluttiness out of her lips. 

“Do you have- “ she’s sputtering out the letters and consonants, intertwined with hitches and moans, “any idea of what you do?” Minju can’t stay composed while the nips at her jaw and neck close the distance between her mouth–

“Haven’t had the slightest.” you whisper, hiking up the last bit of her skirt to see the new piece to untangle, “God, Minju- lacy stockings? Really?” 

The laugh she lets out should set you off in annoyance, almost like a border that’s meant to be there and never to be touched - let alone cross, fingers clasped around the nape of your neck to keep you trapped while she smiles to the small victory, “You sound surprised. I always come to work with these pairs from time to time, but you don’t leer when I want you to.” 

Her eyes flutter shut once again when you tend to her pulse point, mouth gaping open when you’re doing two things at once: soothing the warmth on her neck while your fingers work teasing her clit and walls, a punishment of sorts when she’s reeling back onto the desk with a slipping hand, her other limp gripping your forearm to not stop - but keep going. 

“How long–” Minju asks while she’s practically sliding off of the polished bark, “have you waited to do this…to me?” Strands of hair falling forward ever-so slightly in front of her forehead, hand tangled to the back of your head while your ear is pressing against the hard line of her collarbone. You don’t pay any attention to her subjective inquiry, replacing it with another strand of moans leaving her lips when you skate her ass across the table again, the bottoms of her thighs meeting yours, melting a bit more when her core rubs against the emerging bulge from between your legs. 

She knows what she’s doing, it’s a trade off of pushing buttons. Trying to get you to lose all the sensible urges just to give her what she exactly wants. 

You let your hands map out the case: her hips, the flat plane of her waist, where the peak of her hips meet at the hint of her obliques, only for your digits to spread out behind on the curve of her ass, feeling the lacy panties that might go against dress code policy because of how too fucking thin they were. Minju grins against your mouth, the exchange of hot air serving to be this addicting oxygen that you can’t get enough of. “Who knows how long I’ve wanted to have a crack at you. I just put myself off to the side because I knew that I’d never stand a chance.” 

She laughs, and you hate to admit how much you like it. The image of her being disheveled in front of you, just inches away from the fingertips; legs spread out wide on her own desk, waiting to be ruined. 

“What’s going through your head right now?” Minju asks, tossing her arm on the lower section of your waist, seizing you while failing to meet her glazed eyes. “Have you…fantasized about me? Tell me all about it. I’m intrigued. Want to know what gets you off after work.” 

And there it goes again: the banter. She’s always quick for a couple liners, sayings and slang that you’ve shared with her day in day out. Minju isn’t the kind of person to greet you with a ‘good morning’ or ‘want to get a quick drink or bite from the cafe downstairs?’ - but rather: right down to the dirty business of what she needs you to do in the long, extensive hours of the workday, dealing with clients, putting up with her and Hyewon’s bullshit, getting the necessary paperworks, and having some random beef with Yena in the break room. Minju is always quick to give you insight on what needs to happen, you also supply your own opinions and takes where Minju does accept some of them (most of the time). 

Except for this, when her cropped blazer is barely hanging off the shoulders, skirt hiked up past the peak of her thighs, displaying that wet spot in between her unbelievable legs, pulling you by the tie because she doesn’t have time for you to fucking daydream saying: “C’mon, pretty boy. You’re basically drooling in front of me and we haven’t even got to the fun parts yet–” 

She stops short when you lay the rough palm of your hand against her pussy, hushing through the cuff of her ear, grip tightening and muscles tensing in her body as if something snapped within you - which it did for a slight second - before you draw yourself back, finally looking her in the brown ambers of her eyes. 

“I had a dream once,” you finally built up the courage to start, “about being here, in your office.” landing a kiss to the corner of her lip to keep yourself focused. On a night just like this, where you’re sitting nicely on top of your desk. Your legs were spread apart like so. Minju coos when she sees you lightly licking your lips. It would’ve been better if you were already out of your clothes, naked for me. Her head dips forward when she feels the languid circles rubbed across her clit, I fucked you right here, on this desk. And then, I ruined that pretty little couch that you love so much apparently. 

“God, you’re insane.” She’s acting innocently like she too hasn’t been teasing you out and around the workplace before this. 

Insane? It becomes a little bit more deranged where Minju’s jaw drops to the floor when she hears the sinful sound of her lacy panties being ripped away from her hips. 

“Oh, I could do a lot more for you right now, and believe me, I will.” You assess the drainage when your finger plunges into her cunt; the sharp inhale she takes in while saying ‘shit’ is only brief when you’re thrown off by her walls tightening around you, her hands working the buckle of your belt and slithering past the pants. 

“And how do you suppose you’ll keep your word?” she asks, fingers coiling your cock, the reaction easily readable judging from the loss of breath through your windpipe.

“Consider this as wet work.” 

“Wet work?” 

This attractive woman who’s posture could rival classy models, with those perfect lips in both sets, the image now being unraveled like an item being auctioned off to the highest bidder: how her legs open enough for you to fill the space, the way her bra sits across her chest once the blazer is finally discarded onto the floor. (She’s pretty now, she’ll be even prettier when you have your way over her, helplessly letting these soft sounds out, coming undone over or underneath, it won’t matter either way, because that’s always the endgame.) 

“You’ve got your skirt on still,” you observe, pulling her closer to the edge of the slab, “I don’t know if-” 

“Ignoring the double entendre you made?” she gasps, struggling to keep composure when the ends of your fingers, tightening her grip around your cock while the other arm is thrown around your shoulder, “just-please-like that-fuck-oh fuck-” 

Minju sort of hides away from the immense pressure in her cunt and her clit, seeing the usual features on her face show a little more crease to them, slacking with her words, lost, feeling every bit of you, huffs of poor syllables and consonants, octaves going up in keys. You’re loving how needy she’s getting. 

What’s the matter? You whisper against her chin. You don’t seem too well. Body burning up? Too hot for you to handle? She’s gone too far off to answer, only by huffs and light nods of her head, the flex in her knees, hands across your broad back, working herself around your fingers, groaning when it gets all too much. 

The idea of staying at the firm for the night doesn’t seem that bad of an idea to do. 

“Fingers, babe,” she whines, rasping in moans at the ends of them, “fingers are too fucking good, want it- so bad-give me a–fuck-” 

Her eyes are screwed shut, clinging onto your body desperately while she starts to work the buttons off your shirt; starting in the middle rather than the top or bottom because she can’t think straight. But she diverts her hands instead to the loops on your sides, wiggling you out of your pants more - keeping herself moving while trying to ignore the throbbing that’s happening between her legs. 

“Tell me what you need, boss,” you say, a little tinge of sincerity behind the professional title. “Maybe put some solidity to this little affair?” 

Minju gives you this glare, scattered ends of her hair covering the little blush that’s all too apparent across her cheeks, failing fantastically the way she lets out this wail when your two fingers fill up her cunt completely, pulling her over the edge of the desk one last time as you mesh your hips right in the underside of her thighs, body leaning back with the arch bending a whole lot deeper, head back while you lean yourself forward that tips over a few trinkets across the desk; some picture frames fall face flat, that one pendulum set you’d always mess around with in the morning briefings nicks around in disarray, and her nameplate kinda just gets hit in the crossfire by Minju’s stray hand and onto the floor. 

“Call this,” she sputters, gasping, heaving most likely, “a hot and steamy affair.” 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” you retort, “don’t get smart with me now.” 

She just looks at you with that same sly smirk she’s been wearing whenever she teases you about anything. You find it annoying at times because of how effortless she does it, this time her breaking smile doesn’t match up with her eyes and how they are dead, sincere with a desire waiting to be fulfilled, a craving that’s been long overdue simply because you know that Minju is not an easy person to break down, though that’s been proven to be the complete opposite now. 

There’s this priming for a second, your own hand wrapped around your cock, getting close, until you nudge yourself from the first few inches inside her cunt, feeling the small press to push more, replaced with the easy glide inside the compact, yet addicting heat. It’s also kinda cute how you and Minju share this quick inhale - a hiss would be better to describe it - then you see her blown out irises, that sly smile getting more lazier, lost completely when you drag the half of your length out, slowly, steadily. 

“Wait, fuck-” she mumbles out, laying flat across the top. Her chest rises and falls a little more erratically, eyelids fluttering shut when you sink back right in, deeper this time, delicately, a little tease with the pullout before feeling her out completely. You learn for the first time ever since stepping inside that one room that day for the interview: that small thought of how it would be so easy to slot yourself right into Minju would be nothing but a pipe dream, becomes too real to relish in the feeling now. 

Then she mumbles again: “holy fucking shit.” 

You give one good snap of the hips for good measure, and the ripple effect of Minju’s body sliding across the desk, the wiggle in her perfect tits, her hands hold fast to yours around her thighs as if she’ll do the fucking all by herself while you just stand there in awe. 

But you’re good as fucked if you weren’t already, so you snap your hips back into her again, harder. Then again, filling up her perfect cunt each and every time you bottom out. You’ll take this image to your grave, let this be the last piece of evidence submitted to the judge who’ll sentence you do a much safer place in hell: MInju’s pretty body, with stockings around her perfect legs, tits sliding across her chest in every stroke, cock disappearing inside her cunt as her pretty lips fit around them with ease. 

“Minju, I - God,”, you try to tell her, the promise buried in your throat, buried underneath the air that flows right above the words, as your hips meet hers, the audible smack of her thighs filling up the office, how amazing she’s massaging your length well deep inside her, all slicked up and smooth for you to keep going. “I’ve been waiting for this- dreaming how to get you all stretched with this tight pussy. Your cunt, baby. Minju–” 

“You’ve shown me why - why I chose you, out of everyone else - show me again how good you can-” she breathes. When her mouth trails off again, because of the strokes, the clench in her pussy, hands clinging onto your wrists as you cast your own hands onto her waist. 

Eventually, nothing sounds better than the noises she makes against your collarbone, angling deeper where - you find out on the fly, and maybe something to keep in mind for later. It’s all coaxed out when you’re working her to the wall, holding her carefully while she can just keep herself stretched out, working all of the bundle of nerves across the spots inside her cunt. 

“More, honey,” and the pet names just seem to escalate as they come, do they? She sets herself up on a wobbly elbow, seeing the flex of muscle across your arms and stomach each time you rip into her, fucking her with a steady pace, but teetering on the subtle rawness, that hidden potential that sets yourself apart from the other talents you have working as one of the top employees. “Love it when you- fuck me to pieces.” 

"Anything else you want to say to me?"

“What’s also nice is that,” she continues to ramble (another thing that you’ve heard make rounds through the wings), dizziness shown in her eyes, the continuous clapping of her pulsing cunt, tightening around you, molding her into the perfect shape of - “how you continue to surprise everyone here, including me-” 

A string of curses spill out your mouth, Minju can’t help with the mix of laughs and moans at how good you feel inside her, the sight of your cock vanishing between her legs, putting one past the degree where her knee nearly touches her clothed tit, and that gets her wincing for a quick second. You’ll probably put this in a mental file, how you’ll get her to molten cunt more creaming until she cums, cums, cums and cums-

“-you’re like me, but only as a handsome guy who continues to impress-” 

Anything else that comes out of her mouth in lieu of praise will only feed that ego in your mind to get one over her, to say that you’ll always be two steps behind her while she’s five ahead. She doesn’t let you off easily, so why would you do the opposite for her? Rocking your hips towards hers makes the legs of the desk mirror the motion of your tempo, thumbs pressed up against the mold of her ribs just underneath her breasts, deep into the skin where you could also bend the bones beneath them while they rebound off of the smacks. 

You’ve got your hand over her mouth, to shut her up, eyes squinted tight to where her brows could meet in the middle, grasping onto your wrist while the muffles of your name reach higher in octaves, sobbing in her moans while she’s suffocating against the roughness of your palm.

She can’t keep focus for any moment longer, eliciting shorter gasps when you tease by slapping your cock head on the nub of her clit, gritting her teeth at the shameless tease you’re giving. 

“Can-” it’s a little sweltering to notice that she’s reduced to helpless one word blurbs, slipping inside of her once again to make her chest freeze off of the flares in her waist. “harder- i need you to-” 

The shiver that erupts through your fibers sends you in limbo, feeling Minju’s ankle anchor behind your back, serving as the reins when you stutter in pace, ass hanging off of the desk to completely bottom her out, and your cock is constantly getting soaked with a new layer of her slick each time you pull back. 

That low groan she lets out meshed with the word ‘fuck’ undermines her whole persona. Once known for being straightforward with her words, now lurching you in to keep pounding into her, slaps bouncing off the windows when she tries to perch her head upwards to see the damage, but slowly losing tension in her neck, deprived of focus when she lolls her head back to the original spot, sucking in air, sobbing even more loudly. 

“Please, like that, keep doing that, I’ll let you anything to me, just–” You could see her lip wobble a bit slightly, cunt shaped to every minute detail of your cock, “i’m so- so fucking close, you fuck me so good- so well–” 

“So tight,” you say, deep of that desired well. Minju is past the point of where the obscene words and demands can’t even be verbally said anymore. She’s whimpering, lazy wrist over her mouth again, the little strands in her hair bouncing along as one of the ripple effects caused by your length. “Gonna have you aching for me long after-” 

It’s all royally fucked. 

The way that she, oh- 

How she clamps well around you, the new coat of her arousal soaking your crotch. When you’ve edged her out past the bar and how her whole body spasms in strain and ease, she’s clutching for something within arms reach - your hands and fingers, or anything that she can grasp - while these sinful sounds unravel her from her vocal cords. Her eyes look like they can’t open at all; with the small stream of stray tears falling from her cheek. You’re also crinkling your own features, jaw hung low with the bellowing moan leaving your mouth along with hers. 

You could easily get lost in the reveling of Minju cumming over your cock, but you’re not seeing this through to the end not just yet. 

In one swift motion, you flip her over, hook her waist, pull this one party trick of stripping her bra away from her chest, pushing her back down to which she giggles slightly. “Here.” you tell her, mouth well above the lobe of her ear, hanging her ass off the desk again. “I’m just getting started.” 

Minju puts this lazy smile on her face, eyelids still closed, using whatever energy left that you haven’t dicked out of her to catch her breath, sliding her palms across the desk downwards to set herself in place. “God,” she says this as a revelation, “you are so fucking good.” 

A low chuckle is all she hears while you pull her back up against your stomach, twisting her head up to your lips, pressing them to her cheek, while she traps her bottom lip between her teeth. 

You say this as a serving rebuttal: “I’m better than good.” 

Minju can be selfish at times, always willing to put her own personal interests over yours or anyone else’s (most of the time). But when you’ve broken her down to this: knees apart, your back flush with hers on her favorite couch, pushing well past the limit, driving your cockhead down the deepest depth to where you could get it, cupping the crease where her leg and hip meet, clasping with the pads of your fingers, dragging and impaling her what could be a punishment for her - or a reward to the limitless amounts of things that she wants and receives on almost every occasion. She’s the kind of woman to play the long game, hard to get, make someone like you grind your way in order to rail her in the most intense-rough fuck that she loves (but won’t admit), or the excruciating delay of feeling every nerve binded inside her walls, where the veins of your length just graze slightly enough to feel the tense in her muscles, her hands; going limp while lazily whining at the slide of your dick inside her cunt, playing with her while she’s whimpering at you to finish the job. 

“God fucking dammit,” she manages, laying herself flat while you’re hovering right on top of her, taking your cock while she can only grip the seat covers. It’s all there, bare back and ass, the set of stockings still on her majestic thighs. You’re hitting her hips hard and heavy, the stable and slow strokes while she fills your ears with these strings of babbles that aren’t really conceivable to decipher or understand. She got a little to excited, bouncing her ass back against your cock while you just drop your arms and admired the show, before pushing deep with your balls nicking the clit at the end of every thrust, and that earns you these thick gasps, only taking you whole with every slam of your weight against her nimble body. “God, I- fuck- need you all the time, please.” 

“Whatever you want,” you hush against the crook of her neck. That is something that you’ll take to heart under oath. She croons at how you're spilling all of these filthy things in her ear, a guarantee of sorts to the promises that have already bent the both of your minds into obliviion. "If it helps to stop you from fucking those other scumbags you call 'your clients' on a weekend basis, then I'll give it to you, sweetheart."

The self-control went off the rails a while ago, this was just free real estate with the endless cantations of moans coming out of her. "Need me to cum inside this sopping cunt so badly?" you ask, pulling a handful of hair that lifts her by the neck, "love using this pussy to get myself off."

She's giggling at the action because it's necessary. You could imagine the grin on her face for the entire world to see. "Words baby, or I'll cum-"

“Fuck- just, do anything- I want you.” Minju gasps with a whine tinged behind the words. It’ll be in the records, spoken into existence. She could care more less than a fuck of what others think after all of this is over. Pace slowing down, feeling that throb tremor against her walls when you’ve held out for this long, an overdue reward in itself. 

It just took one more good hit to bury your cock into that perfect pussy, spilling everything, sending it deeper in the trenches of her cunt, fucking yourself in while she’s putting some effort to say your name, only for it to be overpowered by the gluttal moans you’re letting out while the shackles of tension finally come loose. Her head is pressed enough to leave a visible print on the cushions, crying before the shudder translates to her noises when you drive all the way in for one final time, letting the pulse die out; every heartbeat, every drop. 

Your nose is pressed into the side of her head, taking in that sweet scent from her hair, showered in bliss, tangling and untangling until she takes rest in your arms, straddling your lap, chin forming alongside the small dip in your collarbone. 

Minju offers this lazy smile, matching your rise and fall of breaths in your chest, blowing this hint of cool air to your neck that makes you twitch slightly from the sudden sensation, lips against the line of your throat: 

“A hot and steamy affair, huh? I think I can let that pass by.” 

“You really want to call it that?” you inquire, hands sliding down to the plush of her ass. 

Minju simply laughs while you shake your head at the rhetorical question. “All honesty though, I thought that you and-” 

“We are not going there.” you tell her, leaning back when she sets herself straight in your arms, hands along broad shoulders with the curtain of her hair falling towards one side. Definitely something that you’ve had in a wet dream before - talk about having deja vu. “Absolutely not.” 

It’s when she trails her fingertip across the chiseled form of muscle across your chest, elevating her hand higher to cup your face. She gives you this look in her eyes, the kind that would make anyone keel over because as you’re reminded: Minju is someone who always gets what she wants. And when she rubs her thumb across your cheek, your cock jumps a few millimeters underneath her hips to which she notices, and seizes the opportunity presented to her. 

Leaning forward with a purring whisper in the act, and you’re suspended in time while she moves. “I think I should repay you for treating me right just now.” 

Minju has never owed anything to you. For the most part in your career, it was her that has given you these chances to make a name for yourself, to prove that you could go toe to toe with the best in the court, to prove to her why she chose you out of countless others to be her associate. If anything, you owe pretty much everything to her. 

But maybe-

Maybe just this once-

“My little pretty boy needs to have his cock all cared for, right?” she asks when she sinks down to the edge of the disgraced couch, spreads your knees apart, eyes trained on you, lowering her head to swipe her tongue across your balls and the base of your shaft, feeling that same twitch in your cock when she gets a dainty hand across the length, well trained with the languid strokes that she’s giving you; it’s not hard to give in to that searing heat of her mouth while you’re trying to find the right words to respond. 

(The options here are very limited: considering the fact that you have your hips forward with your friend / partner / new love interest slobbering all over your length, rubbing the head of your cock across her pretty face until she drains you out completely, painting her cheek white and bathing in the taste of your cum while you’re struggling to stay awake. 

After all, you could just spend the night here at the firm bearing in mind how late it is. 

Or better yet, have Minju stay at your place to not give Dahyun another headache to deal with the next morning.)