#I’m sorry that sounds incredibly difficult

[twopoppies]

.

[crownofgildedlilies]

fake dating

pairing: midoriya x reader

summary: Izuku really needs a favor.

wc: 2.8k

event masterlist

You probably should have just said no. 

Though it was so incredibly hard to deny Izuku of anything, it wasn’t impossible. Difficult beyond belief, but not impossible. You only had yourself to blame, really, when you agreed to his request. You even had a few days to back out, but a part of you just couldn’t get yourself to let him down. 

But really, you wished you didn’t sign up to pretend to be Izuku’s partner when all you wanted was for it to be real. 

“Are you ready?”

No, you weren’t, but you couldn’t exactly tell Izuku the truth as you stood outside his family home, second away from attempting to convince everyone that you were dating. The very thought made you flush. 

“Wait, hold on,” You hesitated, grabbing his arm gently to stop him from opening the doorway. He followed your direction immediately, checking you once over to make sure you were alright. Just another reason why you were hopelessly in love with your friend—he was just so good. “Do you remember the backstory?”

“Yeah, do you? I wrote it all down if you need to review.” He nodded, and the fact that he had taken notes on your fake relationship made a grin form on your lips. 

“No, I’m good. It’s just…” You trailed off, dropping your gaze from him in an effort to make the heat in your cheeks disappear. “Will your mom be suspicious if we aren’t physically affectionate? We never really talked about that.”

From the corner of your eye, you watched the color rise up Izuku’s neck and take over his features. 

“I don’t think so? W-we could hold hands, but only if you want!” He hurried to ensure you were comfortable, just like he had from the moment his plan was brought up. He was just as nervous as you were, only you were doing a better job at hiding it. 

Barely. 

“Okay, yeah.” You agreed, sliding the hand that was holding his arm down until it wrapped around his own. You could feel the raised skin from his scars under the pads of your fingers. Subconsciously, you brushed your thumb over the worst of the damage on the back of his hand. 

“S-sorry about my scars. I know they’re weird.” He apologized, not able to look at you. Frowning, you squeezed his hand once in silent reprimand. He had led you to the front door and was seconds away from letting you into his childhood home, but you couldn’t let him continue on thinking you thought his scars were weird. 

“They’re not.” You murmured as he pushed the door open, sounds and smells of dinner cooking alongside lively conversation washed over the two of you and almost drowned out your words. “I don’t think so, at least.” 

True to his nature, Izuku flushed at your words, but was kept from responding as none other than the Inko Midoriya raced towards the sound of the front door opening to sweep her son up into a massive hug. Izuku didn’t let go of your hand as he hugged his mother back, an action you both didn’t miss and felt incredibly endeared by. 

“Mom,” Izuku started, gesturing towards you with his free hand when he finally let his mother go. “This is—”

“I know who this is.” Inko interrupted, pulling you into a hug just as tight as the one meant for your son. Instantly, you felt a wave of guilt for lying to this woman about the truth of your relationship with her son. Izuku hadn’t said anything about it, but you knew that you’d have to fake break up after the dinner. You couldn’t exactly fake date forever. “You’ve talked about them for weeks! I’m so glad to finally meet you, dear. I’ve been begging Izuku to bring you over.”

“Mom,”

“I’m glad I could make it,” Overtop Izuku’s whine, you managed to force the words out despite how flustered you were at discovering Izuku—apparently—talked about you to his mother. So much so, that she had been asking about meeting you. 

You were so screwed. 

“The food’s almost ready. Everyone is in the other room.” Inko started herding you and Izuku towards the sound of chattering. He kept his hand clasped around yours, even as his mother nudged him around, but you couldn’t help but realize that he was doing everything in his power to avoid looking directly at you. 

Was he embarrassed? The whole point of the evening was to pretend that the two of you were dating to get his mother to give him some space on the matter, so why would he care that she believed your ruse? 

“Go socialize, you two!” Inko gave you one final push into the sitting room, already dotted with Izuku’s various aunties and other relatives. You hadn’t expected to recognize anyone, which is why you were totally surprised when you met a set of very familiar red eyes. 

“No shit. You actually went through with it.” 

“Kacchan!” Izuku’s panicked voice filled the silence left by Bakugou’s crude and cryptic comment. All of the aunties in the room paused to glare at him, and Bakugou’s mother cuffed the back of his head in reprimand. 

This was bad. Bakugou was the only one who knew about your crush on Izuku. It wasn’t that you had told him, but more so that he confronted you about your feelings one sparring session and you panicked too fast to deny it. Since he was the only one who knew, you had thought it was safe to mention your fake dating plan to him.

Now, you were certain you were going to regret it. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, though you knew that the Bakugous and Mrs. Midoriya had been friends since the boys were in preschool. You just didn’t know why he had to be there. If it had been a different situation, you would have laughed at the sight of Bakugou sitting on Mrs. Midoriya’s small couch with neighborhood aunties surrounding him on all sides. But he was grinning far too smugly for you to consider the possibility that he would keep your secret. 

“I was invited,” Bakugou shrugged nonchalantly, then dropped his attention down to your hand wrapped around Izuku’s, and you just knew he was going to make some teasing comment. It was bad enough he taunted you in private over your crush on damn Deku, but you knew you were in serious trouble in front of a crowd. “What are you doing here?”

You grit your teeth at the smug asshole, face burning so incredibly bright red. From the corner of your eye, you knew Izuku was in a similar state. 

“I’m Izuku’s date,” You explained what he already knew. It was hard enough to pretend to date Izuku to begin with, but now to do it all with Bakugou watching?

“Yeah, my date.” Izuku nodded. From the expression on his face, you knew he was thinking something similar to you. He was even closer to Bakugou than you were. 

Bakugou smirked, but after a moment’s hesitation, he shrugged and went back to whatever conversation he had previously been in before your arrival. As he dropped the topic, you let out a breath you had been holding in due to nerves. 

“That was close,” You murmured in Izuku’s ear as he led you across the room to an empty seat. 

“Sorry,” He whispered back, close enough that you felt his breath brush against the shell of your ear. Shivering, you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. “I kinda forgot that Kacchan would be here.” 

“That’s alright,” You assured him, even though the way your heart was pounding in your chest was absolutely not alright. “I think he’s playing along for now.” 

A truce, it would seem. 

You should have known you couldn’t trust Bakugou when it came to matters of teasing Izuku. 

At the dinner table, you sat beside Izuku, his hand still diligently holding yours. Of course, Bakugou had seated himself across from Izuku, shooting the two of you knowing, taunting looks as you ate. It was hard to answer Mrs. Midoriya’s questions about yourself or follow the conversations around the table when you were just waiting for Bakugou to start something. 

“How long have you been together, again?” Inko asked politely as she served more of the food she had made onto your plate. You smiled graciously at her, trying to remember the story you and Izuku had created. 

“A month.” You felt so guilty for lying, but Izuku had asked you for a favor and you’d agreed. 

Though, it felt less and less like a fake date when Izuku refused to let go of your hand for a moment. Under the table, your fingers were threaded together and resting in your lap.

“Uh huh. And how’d you get together?” Bakugou cut in, shit-eating grin on his face as he leaned forward, interested in the conversation about your relationship. 

“Katsuki, you’re being rude.” His mother chastised, but you felt a sudden need to rise to Bakugou’s challenge. If you were going to fake date Izuku, then you were going to do it right. 

“Izuku just asked me when we were hanging out one day.” You countered with a newfound bravery. It wasn’t exactly a lie—you had been hanging out with Izuku when he asked you to be his date, only with the caveat that it was fake. Bakugou grinned at you playing into his game, leaning forward on his elbows. 

“Yeah, Kacchan, you know.” Izuku stammered to back you up, and you smiled softly at him, brushing your thumb over his scarred knuckles once more under the table. 

“What did he say, exactly?” Bakugou pushed for details, smirking. 

“Why do you want to know?” Your face scrunched in confusion. It seemed more like he genuinely wanted to know instead of just teasing the two of you.

“Curious,” Bakugou shrugged, though his attention suddenly was fixed on Izuku, who was flushed bright red. “What’d ya say, Deku? Anything dramatic when ya asked ‘em out?”

You turned to face Izuku with a confused frown. It seemed like Bakugou was having a separate conversation with Izuku right in front of you. 

“Oh, leave them alone, Katsuki!” Mrs. Bakugou ordered, and you realized exactly who he got his temper from. Scowling, Bakugou turned his focus from you and Izuku to argue with his mother. Despite your confusion, you managed to steal a glimpse at Izuku and found him blushing red and pushing food around his plate as if he was deep in thought. 

Your secret was safe, for now.

Somehow, you made it through dinner without further comments from Bakugou, and before you knew it, Izuku was walking you home. 

“I think it went well.” You hummed, breaking the tense silence that had fallen over the two of you the moment his front door shut. His hand had slipped from yours once the night was over, and with it went any disbelief about what the night had been about. “I’m sorry that I probably won’t get to see your mother again.”

You really were upset about it. Inko had been an absolute delight, and you knew exactly where Izuku had gotten all his sweetness from. But at the mention of your inevitable fake breakup, Izuku tensed from beside you, pausing on the sidewalk outside his building. 

“About that…” Izuku muttered, trailing off in nerves. You frowned at him in curiosity, having to fight the newly developed urge to hold his hand. How were you supposed to go back to normal after a night of pretending everything you wanted was real? “I, uh, actually meant for this to be real.”

“What?” Your mind went blank as you tried to process what he said. It wasn’t out of character for him to suddenly drop information on you out of nowhere, but never had it been something so serious as his possible feelings for you. 

“When I asked you to be my date tonight.” He clarified, voice wavering. “I meant for real.”

You blinked slowly at him, barely able to keep your jaw from dropping in shock. How hadn’t you realized? When he asked you, you had just assumed he meant fake dating, and he had never corrected you. But to know that he meant it as a real, actual date? You couldn’t believe it. 

“Why did you let me think you meant to pretend?” Shock was the only emotion evident on your face as you watched Izuku’s face flush at your admonishment. 

“Because I didn’t want to push my luck! Plus I thought it might have been your way of letting me down easy. But Kacchan kept teasing, and I thought maybe he knew something I didn’t. And I don’t know, I’m really nervous right now. Please say something. Anything, really—”

“Izuku Midoriya.” You interrupted his rambling with a call of his full name, and it works a little too well, getting him to stop talking at the cost of making him go pale and freeze with wide eyes.

“Oh no.”

“You’re adorable.” Recovering from your shock, you grinned, reaching out to wrap your hand around his like you wanted to from the start. Holding his between both of your own, you made sure to brush your thumbs over his scars he had said thought made him weird earlier in the evening. 

“Oh?” 

“Ask me again.” You encouraged him, a smile gracing your lips as you watched every expression that washed over his features. 

“What?” Ever oblivious to matters of the heart, his face twisted in confusion. “But the dinner is over already.”

“Izuku.” You tugged on his hand, bringing him half a step closer to you. “Ask me again.”

It seemed to dawn on him what you meant, and a blush bloomed across his face while he gathered his courage. 

“Will you be my date to my mom’s holiday dinner party?”

“Of course I will.” You giggled, knowing it was a little ridiculous that you were making him ask you again but unable to go without setting things right. You had been too oblivious to know what he meant before, but now you could fix it. 

“Really?” He asked, eyes wide, as if you weren’t holding his hand between your own. 

“If you want me to.” You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. 

“Yeah.” Izuku nodded quickly, clearly excited. “Yeah, I really do. For real, this time.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes playfully at his teasing jab. You were probably never going to be able to live down your misunderstanding. 

You tugged his hand once more until he was so close you had to tilt your chin up to face him. With your sudden proximity, his teasing tone vanished, replaced by one of thinly veiled nervousness. A sweetheart.

“Do you kiss on the first date?” You asked, voice innocent despite the question. Izuku’s face went red, and you could have sworn you heard him audibly swallow.

“I’m trying very hard to be cool about this, but I can’t lie to you. I’ve never been on a first date.”

Oh, now that you knew he wanted you, you were going to eat him alive.

“Do you want to kiss on the first date?” Rephrasing your question, you tilted your head slightly to the side to watch his reaction. 

“Yeah.” 

Gently, you set a hand on his cheek to guide his face closer to yours, taking the lead to press your lips against his in a short, sweet kiss. His lips were slightly chapped from the cold and how often he chewed on them, but you enjoyed the way he burned against you all the same. 

“Did the nerd finally ask you for real?”

At the sound of Bakugou’s voice, you jerked away from Izuku. With the adrenaline of Izuku’s confession, and then your kiss, you had forgotten you were only standing outside the building he lived in. It was a miracle that only Bakugou had caught you.

“Kacchan! I didn’t see you there!” Izuku, as red as ever, greeted your mutual friend with a renewed energy he hadn’t possessed when he’d been taunted with your fake date. Now that you had cleared the air about your intentions, his confidence had come back.

And apparently ruined all of Bakugou’s fun.  

“I was just leaving.” The blond rolled his eyes, shoving past the two of you with a frown and his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Watching him disappear down the sidewalk, you narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him. 

“Did he know this whole time?” You asked Izuku. You knew you had confided in Bakugou about how you felt, and if Izuku had done the same, then he had known the entire time and could have cleared the air. 

“I… think so.”

“Oh, I’m going to kill him.”

if it’s not painfully obvious, this isn’t proofread

also i feel like i could have done so much better

[pucksandpower]

Say My Name

Oscar Piastri x streamer!Reader

Summary: when fans mistake Oscar for your ex while he is hanging around in the background of your stream, you get introduced to a side of Oscar that you’ve never seen before

Warnings: 18+ content

Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you narrate the intense battle unfolding on your stream. “Oh damn, that was close! I almost got sniped there.” You lean in, eyes narrowed at the screen. “Gotta be more careful or this round is over.”

The chat explodes with messages cheering you on. Being one of the top female gaming streamers has its perks, like an incredibly loyal fanbase that hangs on your every word.

You glance at the viewer count — over 50,000 watching live. Not too shabby.

“Okay team, let’s rush B, I’ll try to draw their fire.” You move your character into position, heart pounding with anticipation.

Suddenly, a quiet thump comes from the living room behind you. You start, whipping your head around, but see nothing amiss through the open doorway. Must have been your imagination.

You refocus on the game, calling out tactics to your teammates. Another muffled sound, like something soft hitting the floor, catches your attention. You turn off your video and hit mute on your mic. “Hello? Is someone there?”

No response. You’re just about to unmute when a very familiar face pops into view from the hallway. It’s your boyfriend of nearly two years.

Your face splits into a huge grin as you take in his messy hair and the rumpled clothes he slept in on the flight. “Oscar! You’re back early!”

He crosses to you, bending to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Missed you,” he mumbles against your hair.

You tilt your face up for a proper kiss, “I missed you too, ba-”

But you’re cut off as his lips crash into yours, insistent and heated. Heat blooms in your cheeks at the sudden, passionate embrace. Far too soon, Oscar pulls away, leaving you flustered and breathless.

“Sorry,” he says with a smirk that suggests he’s anything but. “Couldn’t help myself.”

You shake your head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous. I’m working, you know.”

“So I noticed.” Oscar settles onto the couch just off-camera, casual as can be. “Don’t mind me, keep going.”

“You sure?” You eye him skeptically. The stream has been on a short period without your commentary and the chat is getting restless. “I can take a break if you want.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “No, no, I’m just going to hang out here for a bit. Go ahead.”

Hesitating only a moment, you turn your video back on and unmute your mic. “Alright folks, sorry about that little pause. I, uh, got a surprise visitor.” You gesture vaguely toward where Oscar lounges behind you.

The chat instantly lights up with questions about who was there. Smiling to yourself, you ignore them for now, re-focusing on the game.

Over the next hour, it becomes increasingly difficult to concentrate. Oscar keeps distracting you, making silly faces and gestures whenever you glance his way. More than once you have to stifle a laugh after catching sight of him. Your fans seem to find your giggly mood delightful, though they remain oblivious to the cause.

Finally, in a rare break between matches, you swivel in your chair to face him. “You’re being so disruptive,” you stage-whisper. “Don’t you have better things to do than pester me?”

Oscar feigns innocence. “Who, me? I’m just sitting here, love.”

Rolling your eyes, you stretch your arms overhead with a groan, back popping from sitting so long. Oscar’s gaze shamelessly rakes over you, darkening.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter, fighting a smile.

“Like what?” His eyes glint with mischief.

You open your mouth to respond, but a new donation notification pops up on your stream, cutting you off. “Oh, wow, thanks for the ten thousand bits, Legend27!” The expensive donation isn’t that unusual, but the comment attached gives you pause.

I’m so happy you and Eric made up! You two are couple goals for real.

Frowning, you scan the new barrage of messages flooding the chat … and find dozens echoing similar sentiments.

Your stomach drops as you finally realize what your viewers think is happening. They assume Oscar is actually your ex, the one you briefly dated and had an awful breakup with over two years ago. Apparently his surprise appearance has led them to believe you two have reconciled.

Heat floods your face at the misunderstanding. Objecting seems pointless though — you’ve learned it’s better not to discuss your private romantic life on stream. “Ah, thanks guys, you’re too kind,” you finally say, aiming for a neutral tone.

Beside you, Oscar stiffens, catching the implications of the messages. His jaw clenches and you watch as his face cycles through a series of micro-expressions — first surprise, then confusion, quickly followed by displeasure and … jealousy?

Uh oh. This could get messy fast if he gets worked up. You try to subtly shake your head at him in a silent plea to ignore the chat.

No such luck. His brow furrows deeper and you can practically see the tension ratcheting up in his shoulders.

Suddenly, Oscar surges to his feet with a muttered curse. Before you can react, he’s stalking around the side of your chair until he’s directly in view of the camera’s frame.

“Oscar, what are you-”

But he cuts you off by cupping your face in his hands and kissing you hard. Your startled squeak is smothered by his fierce, possessive mouth moving over yours.

Powerless to resist the onslaught of sensations, you melt bonelessly against him as the kiss stretches on and on. Only the escalating number of notifications showing the shock and exclamations from your viewers finally breaks through the heady fog.

With extreme reluctance, Oscar ends the kiss, both of you panting. He keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your flushed skin as he growls, “She’s mine.”

Then, before you can respond, he reaches past you and slams his palm into the power button of your streaming setup, shutting everything down.

The simultaneous howl of outrage from tens of thousands of confused fans cuts off abruptly as the screen goes black. Only the two of you are left in the ringing silence that follows.

“Oscar!” You finally manage. “What was that?”

He pulls away enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze, his brown eyes blazing with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I got … jealous,” he admits, seeming almost surprised at his own vehement reaction. “When they thought I was your ex. I didn’t like that at all.”

Your expression softens at his uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. Reaching out, you trace his sharp cheekbone with gentle fingers. “You have no reason to be jealous, silly man. It’s only ever been you.”

Some of the blazing heat in his stare banks into smoldering embers at your reassurance. “Yeah?” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Good.”

He leans in again until his lips are a hairsbreadth from yours. “Because you’re mine, okay? And I’m yours.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, dizzy with wanting him. “I’m all yours, Oscar.”

The possessive words seem to flip a switch in him. With a low, rumbling sound of approval, his mouth slants over yours once more in a searing, demanding kiss that makes your toes curl.

The abrupt ending to your stream is already causing a social media firestorm of epic proportions. But surrounded by the circle of Oscar’s arms, his familiar warmth and love, you can’t find it in yourself to care even a little bit.

After all, you think dizzily as he deepens the kiss, your fans should have recognized that you two were a couple from the very start — because Oscar Piastri is most definitely not your ex.

He’s your everything.

***

Oscar’s hands are everywhere, seemingly unable to get enough of you as his kisses grow more and more fervent. Your back hits the wall with a gentle thump as he crowds closer, caging you in with the solid warmth of his body.

“Missed you so much, love,” he rasps against the heated skin of your neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

A whimper escapes your lips at the scorching path his mouth blazes over your pulse point. “I m-missed you too, Oscar.”

His name falls from your lips like a prayer and he rewards you by sucking a mark into the sensitive spot just below your ear. Pleasure zings along your nerves at the hint of delicious possession in the act.

When he finally pulls back to gaze at you with dark, hooded eyes, his lips are reddened from enthusiastic use. The sight sends a molten flare of desire arrowing straight to your core.

“Say it again,” he commands roughly, voice gone low and gritty in that way that never fails to make you melt.

You blink up at him, momentarily lost in a lust-fueled haze. “W-What?”

“My name.” His large hands skim over the curve of your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt. “Say my name again.”

“Oscar,” you breathe without hesitation, watching raptly as his pupils blow wider at the sound. “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...”

Each breathy iteration seems to stoke his hunger hotter. His fingers flex against your sides like he’s holding himself back from something.

On a daring whim, you slant your mouth near his ear, letting your lips brush the shell with every word. “Oscar Piastri,” you practically purr. “My Oscar.”

A broken groan is your only warning before he’s on you again, mouths crashing together in a heated crash of lips, teeth, and tangling tongues. His hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck, angling your face for deeper exploration.

When you finally manage to tear your lips away, you’re both panting harshly, chests heaving. “What’s … gotten into you?” You pant.

Rather than answer, Oscar just shakes his head and dives back in for more fervent kisses, like a man dying of thirst and you’re the most delicious drink he’s ever tasted.

It’s not until he suddenly grips your waist and spins the two of you around, depositing you on the desk with a surprising lack of finesse, that you realize just how wildly affected he is.

Oscar licks into the seam of your lips like he’s staking a claim and something within you shatters at the stark, naked wanting in his eyes when he pulls back the tiniest bit.

He just stares at you, chest heaving, gaze roving hungrily over your features like he’s memorizing you all over again. His pupils are blown wide, just thin rings of molten brown remaining around the black.

When he speaks, his voice is low and gravelly in a way that vibrates through you. “Say. My. Name.”

“Oscar,” you respond immediately, not even having to think. His hungry gaze burns over you and you feel stripped bare and vulnerable under the weight of it.

But rather than make you want to cover up, it has the opposite effect — you’re reeling him in, hands fisted in his shirt to pull him closer. You never want this delirious, frantic sense of possession and desire to end.

“Again,” he grinds out, sounding utterly wrecked already.

“Oscar.” You bare your neck for him as you say it, like presenting an offering. He groans low and deep, instantly ducking to mouth along the column of your throat.

His hands are everywhere, pushing up the hem of your top, kneading along your sides and ribs as he nips and sucks bruising paths across your collarbones and chest.

“Don’t stop saying it,” he orders, more plea than demand.

So you let his name become a breathless prayer falling from your lips, over and over between gasps and keening whimpers. You lose yourself in a heady feedback loop — the more you speak his name with naked wanting, the wilder it seems to drive him until his touch grows scattered and devouring.

At some point his hands finally succeed in tugging your shirt up and off. Your name doesn’t even register when his scorching mouth closes over one peaked bud, your back bowing at the shuddering bolt of sensation that lances through you.

All you can seem to process is the feel of his calloused palms mapping every inch of newly-exposed skin and the desperate mumble of “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...” spilling shameless and endless from your lips.

Eventually, the heated exploration of his mouth and hands becomes too much to simply lay there and take. With a low, guttural sound you haul Oscar upright and swing your legs around his hips, relishing his full body shudder.

“Not enough,” you accuse roughly, rolling your core against his in clear invitation. “Need you closer, Oscar.”

His heated groan at your wanton demand is music to your ears. Strong hands grasp your thighs to hitch your legs higher around his waist as he surges against you.

“So impatient, my darling girl,” he teases. This close, you can make out the faintest brush of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones that you’ve mapped and memorized with lips and fingertips a hundred times before.

You can’t help but reach out to graze them with your thumb, gazing up at him with naked adoration. “My Oscar,” you murmur reverently.

His eyes slip shut for a beat, jaw ticking as if your words have an unexpectedly profound effect on him. When he opens them again, his gaze is fierce and intent.

“Yours,” he vows simply, leaning in to seal the promise against the plush of your lips.

The kiss is somehow softer and headier than before. You get lost in the lush glide of his mouth, every sliding brush of lip and tongue shorting out whatever rational thoughts remain until all you know is his name — the shape and taste and weight of it against your own.

It’s the only thing that seems real, vital, until at some point Oscar’s mouth leaves yours to trail hot, openmouthed kisses down your chest and stomach and lower still.

Your back bows as you squirm incoherently against the press of his lips and tongue. His restraint seems to have finally snapped, movements growing hungry and rough as he works you steadily higher.

“Oscar,” you sob out his name like you’re breaking apart, pleading for something you can’t quite name. He answers with a rumbling sound of satisfaction that vibrates hotly against your sensitized flesh.

More, is all you can think as he redoubles his efforts.

At some point, you must have arched helplessly off the desk because suddenly his hands are at the small of your back, fingertips digging in hard as he holds you arched for his questing mouth.

The intimate angle of his positioning has your jaw dropping open on a silent scream of overwhelmed pleasure. All that escapes is a strangled gasp of, “Oscar!”

He growls something incoherent against you that might be praise, might be reassurance, might just be your name groaned out roughly in shared bliss. But you honestly can’t tell anymore — you’ve transcended far past coherent speech and rational thought.

Everything has devolved into just sensation and feeling and the endless loop of his name spilling over and over from your lips like a benediction.

Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...

Just when you think you might actually shatter into pieces from the intensity he’s wringing out of you, strong hands are abruptly hauling you up and off the desk in one smooth motion.

You cling to him with heavy limbs, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he staggers the few steps to your shared bedroom. At some point his shirt has vanished, allowing your hands free rein to roam over flexing muscle and heated skin.

When the backs of his legs hit the edge of the mattress, he pauses to claim your mouth in another searing, shattering kiss. He whispers something fervent and intense against your lips, your name perhaps intertwined with endearments or promises.

You can’t be sure. All you know is the shape of his name against your tongue, the only word your mind seems capable of holding onto as he lowers you reverently to the sheets and stretches out over you.

When he finally sinks into you with a harsh groan of relief, your back bows and you let out a broken, high keen — his name once more torn from your lips in breathless ecstasy.

“There you are, that’s it love,” he growls hoarsely as he begins to move, words interspersed between drugging, thorough thrusts. “Let me hear you, let me hear my name on those pretty lips.”

So you do, shamelessly loud and incoherent now as he gradually unravels you from the inside out. His name and gasped pleas and frantic praise all blur together in a continuous stream of blissful delirium.

At some point, his own control seems to splinter apart, hips snapping hard and deep as his pace turns utterly unrestrained. Still, you chase that shattering edge, crying out for Oscar as your whole world narrows to the merciless intensity of his driving thrusts and demanding hands kneading your flesh with staking ownership.

When you finally go soaring over that dizzying peak with his name torn hoarse from your throat, he follows you over almost violently with a ragged shout. Oscar’s arms shake dangerously as he holds his weight off of you, pupils swallowing up the copper of his eyes entirely in onyx pools of spent lust.

As you slowly float back down from that searing high, limbs heavy and sated, you reach up to trace the sharp line of his cheekbone. He turns his face into your palm with a shuddering exhale as if grounding himself.

For several long breaths, all that can be heard is your shaky inhales mingling together while your racing heartbeats gradually return to normal.

Finally, Oscar presses a warm, lingering kiss to the center of your palm before shifting to stretch out beside you, his weight dipping the mattress.

You immediately curl into the reassuring heat of him, despite the sweat still cooling along your skin. One of his arms bands around your waist, holding you flush against his side while his other hand comes up to card soothingly through your hair.

Nestling your face into the curve where his shoulder meets his neck, you press a gentle kiss to the hollow of his throat and whisper, “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” he murmurs back, low and slightly scratchy in the aftermath. You can hear the smile in his voice as his fingers keep carding idly through your hair.

Silence falls again, comfortable and peaceful in the aftermath of your frantic passion, both of you simply basking in the warmth of shared nearness.

Eventually though, the question you’ve been avoiding asking slips out in a hazy murmur. “What brought all … that … on, Oscar?”

He’s quiet for so long, you begin to wonder if he fell asleep. Just when you’re about to shift to look at him though, he speaks up.

“When your fans assumed I was your ex … the way they were celebrating that the two of you got back together ...” His fingers stroke almost absentmindedly through your hair as he pauses. “I dunno, something in me just .. .snapped a little. Seeing them say over and over how perfect he was for you ...”

He trails off with a low chuckle, and you can’t resist craning your neck to glance up at him curiously. When your eyes meet his, his expression is rueful.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of any other name on your lips, love. Even your own.” His fingertips trace the line of your jaw with unbearable tenderness. “All I wanted was for you to say my name like that — like it’s the only word that matters in the entire world.”

Just like that, a fresh ember of want rekindles low in your belly at the slightly awed honesty in his voice. You exhale a shaky breath, searching his stormy gaze for … what? Evidence of how crazily affected you are by such a simple revelation?

Whatever he finds reflected in your stare seems to give him pause as well because his eyes almost immediately darken with renewed hunger.

“Say it again then,” he husks, rolling until he’s leaned over you, hands planted on either side of your head. There’s no demand in the words, just low, thrumming need thrilling between you both.

So you reach up to cup his face in your palms, rubbing your thumbs over the sandpapery stubble along his strong jawline as you gaze adoringly up at him.

“Oscar ...” you breathe out his name like a sacred invocation. “My Oscar.”

His eyes slip shut and he makes a low, ragged sound of pure satisfaction on an exhale that ghosts across your lips.

“Yeah,” he rasps, bending lower until his forehead rests against yours. “That’s it, love … that’s all I ever want to hear.”

You pull him back down to you then, unable and unwilling to resist sealing the promise of those words against his lips with your own.

And as everything inevitably dissolves into heat and need and formless ecstasy once more, you lose yourself to the endless chant of his name on your lips — your entire world whittled down to just that one exalted word, over and over and over.

Because really, what other name could ever matter when Oscar Piastri is the only name you’ll ever need?

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (02) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 11.9k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii really touched with all the love for this story! I don’t know about you but this hits harder with all the boys away and we’re missing them so badly. But we’ve got this! 💕 But thank you thank you for all the messages (sorry I can’t get to each one!) and the interest and excitement. Hope you enjoy this one ☺️

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Despite hoping that he wouldn’t, Jungkook, in fact, pushes you further away on his second day on the job. 

To his defense, it was partly your fault. You smiled at him last night - perhaps due to your delicious dinner that you didn’t even know was from him - and it disarmed him. 

The words you uttered after just flew over his head and he just nodded, too out of it to confirm what you’d said. It probably had something to do about you not coming to his penthouse, because it’s Tuesday morning and you’re still not here. He’d expected that like yesterday, you'd prepare his breakfast, and after all that transpired, debrief after yesterday’s meetings and discuss the next steps. That was his routine with Lucas, and for all the things that you seemed to know and do right - from his room design, the doneness of his eggs, and his coffee - this was a miss. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be assisting me from the start of the day?” Jungkook says over the phone, his tone sounding annoyed. “I’ve been waiting for you since 6:30.”

Your heart drops at his words, the memory from last night of him agreeing to you sticking to the same schedule you had with Hoseok suddenly feeling like some made up scenario. You remember telling Jungkook that you go straight to the office the rest of the week; you’d only go to Hoseok’s house on Mondays to prepare his clothes and brief him because he’s able to manage from Tuesday onwards. Your new boss, for some reason, perhaps misheard your question. And now you’re the one in trouble. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you bring yourself to say, your voice in a panic because regardless of who’s in the wrong, making him wait is not a good start to his day nor yours, and especially not to your already rocky relationship. “I can get a cab then head to you.”

“So you want me to wait for you some more?” He chides, his dry laugh making you want to throw your phone just so you won’t hear his voice anymore. “Just stay wherever you are, but I want the meeting minutes from yesterday ready when I get there since you’re not here to go over them with me.”

Jungkook hangs up and your head thumping on your desk is immediate. It’s barely the start of the day and you already want to go back home and probably never come back. 

You left the office at 9 last night, knowing you were too exhausted to continue working on the annotated documents, and then got soaked in the rain on your way home. You planned on coming to work early - given that your boss didn’t require you to go to his penthouse, a claim you stand by - so you can continue, but now he wants the meeting minutes in an hour, and that isn’t usually due until three days later. 

Neglecting the sandwich you planned on eating for breakfast, you work on your notes from the first meeting and then move on to the next. Every footstep you hear makes you anxious, and you breathe a sigh of relief every time you find out it’s not him. Every minute counts and you’re thankful for each one. Until, of course, you run out of it. 

“Send them to me now and meet me in my office,” his voice echoes through the hallway that leads to his room. 

Jungkook walks straight past you and doesn’t even give you a look.

“Yes, sir,” you squeak, quickly sending the email then scurrying to where he is. 

You find him seated on his chair, his leg crossed over the other one as he goes through the notes on his iPad, his furrowed eyebrows making you sweat in worry. He doesn’t seem pleased. But from what you’ve witnessed so far, you doubt there’s much that pleases him.

He encircles words and scribbles on the sides, mumbling “incomplete,” “what does this mean,” and “this is not what I said.”

Jungkook sets the device on his desk and groans. He turns to you with a hard glare, and you clearly see just how displeased he is. Not that you have any defense - it’s your job to do what he asked in a manner that’s up to his standards - but you already felt discouraged in the morning, and your meal skipping caused you to lose focus in the afternoon, resulting in your less than satisfactory documentation of the meeting.

“Ms. Cho, do you know the value of these documents? And why I require them to be comprehensive and done on time?”

“Uh, ye-yes, sir,” you drag out.

“Why?”

It’s too early for this, you think to yourself. Clearly you know why they’re important; you’re just too tired to articulate the reasons to him. But you try, as the words form in your head. You’re about to say them when he stands from his chair and walks towards his desk, leans on the edge and then intently looks at you, as if he’s judging even the way you’re breathing or standing. And you’d probably fail, given how your body seems to cower in his presence. 

“Because decisions are made through them,” he says, drowning out your thoughts with his stern voice. “I attend numerous meetings everyday. Decision points can be buried in the discussions unless they’re documented properly. And even when they are, they’re not actioned upon immediately unless I have access to them and unless they’ve been processed and verified. I don’t leave those conference rooms and forget about what took place. They stay in my head, that’s why I ask you to write them down, and that’s why I require you to meet me first thing in the morning so that I can process them with you, and let those points guide me for the rest of the week.”

His glare continues, so does his voice getting louder. “My job isn’t just to sit around and listen to people. I make decisions. And it’s your job to make sure I have all the correct information to make them.”

“I… I understand, sir. And I… I apologize for the oversight,” you stutter, still unable to look at him. “But about this morning, uh… you, uh last night, I—”

“Was there an explicit statement from me about not having you come in the morning?”

“No, sir.”

He lets the silence draw out, perhaps to let your own words sink in. He does have a point. You stand by your claim that you’d asked, and he nodded, but you should also know that such gestures aren’t clear responses, and that’s on you to make sure that you’re both on the same page. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say with conviction. “I made an assumption when I should have clarified. And even then, it’s your first week as Vice President. I should be assisting you in all the ways I can.”

Jungkook watches your form, hands clasped together with your nails sinking into your skin. Your head is bowed down, unable or unwilling to look at him this whole time. He knows he’s at fault, too, but he’d never admit it; he’s not exactly the type to do that. 

You stand there in submission and a part of him wants to apologize, but that’s not the type of weakness he wants to show, not when he needs to establish authority and more importantly, distance.

“I require Lucas to still come every morning because that’s the only time we can debrief about the previous day’s activities,” he says, making his voice calmer now. “We go through the minutes, clarify things, finalize them, and then disseminate so that people don’t forget. Teams collaborate effectively when there’s accountability and when timelines are adhered to. It’s my job to make sure they comply. And that means it’s your job, too. I don’t have to remind you of your roles now do I, Ms. Cho?”

“No, sir,” you respond, finding the strength in you to finally look at him, his hardened stare still unnerving you. 

He uncrosses his arms and walks back to his seat. “My cousin and I work very differently from each other. It’s on you to adjust.” 

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in acknowledgment. “I’ll be at your apartment at 6:30 every morning and I’ll do better with my documentation and preparation of all the files.”

Jungkook just hums then proceeds to work on something on his desktop, which you take as your cue to leave. You bow again and excuse yourself, but his voice stops you as you open the door.

“Push back this morning’s meeting to 9:00,” he says. “And make sure you have something to eat. I can’t have you be unfocused again like yesterday.”

You survive the rest of Tuesday. You eat snacks rather than proper meals, and you find that that helps you more with time and focus. The meetings for that day are less intense, but with you still figuring out exactly how Jungkook wants the documents prepared, you stay up after hours and work on them for the next day, with you constantly going over the recording to make sure that you documented everything correctly. 

You arrive at his penthouse at 6:30 every morning during the week. You make his breakfast while he takes a shower, which is really whatever’s in his fridge or pantry. He doesn’t seem to mind what you prepare for him, and you’re glad that he doesn’t find any more severe reasons to dislike you. There’s still the occasional correction of your minutes, but you chalk it up to him just being too particular. There are terms he uses that you’re not familiar with; he’s an architect by training after all.

Perhaps it’s why he’s as specific and detail-oriented as he is, and more visual than anything. Hoseok is a perfectionist like him, but the older man has everything organized in his head and then executes them, whereas Jungkook needs them all laid out before him. Whether it’s about a policy, a process, and especially a design, he makes sure they’re drawn out, and the way they all just make sense to him is immediate. 

You suppose that’s what he’s used to. Plans need representation beyond words; he doesn’t seem to be the type to use much of them, in fact, unless he’s correcting you. But that’s what you’ve noticed. At some points during the meeting, he’d draw something on his iPad and send it to you; you both discuss it the next morning, with you finding the words for it for proper documentation. 

But his mind doesn’t seem to stop, as you catch him on the way to work sometimes doodling some design on this leather notebook that he carries with him everywhere. Whether it’s the Arts Center or something else, you’re not sure, but you know that any moment he pulls it out, he’d spend a good amount of time on it before getting out of the car.

He remains distant and disengaged as you expect him to be. Unlike Hoseok who asks you how your evening went or how the trip to his house was, Jungkook doesn’t talk about anything that doesn’t concern work. And so when he isn’t talking about it, there’s just silence - whether in the car, in the elevator, or the walk to his room. There’s none of the laughter or the questions about how you’re coping with all your tasks, and there’s definitely nothing about his life that he shares. Not that you thought he would, but the difference with your old boss is striking, as you think of the times when Hoseok happily talked about the salsa studio he was at with A-yeong over the weekend or the movie they watched together the night before.

The comparisons remain in your head throughout the week. You try to focus on your responsibilities but you realize that you haven’t properly moved on from the culture and environment that you used to enjoy when Hoseok was still leading the team, and that has affected your work in obvious ways, and especially your approach to it. 

There’s anxiety with every task that Jungkook asks of you, even if they’re things you’ve done so many times in your three years as the VP’s assistant. You find yourself constantly clarifying his instructions, prompting him to question your ability to take them. You feel like he’ll be displeased regardless of what your output is, yet you still end up spending too much time going over files that you forget to eat or clock out too late. You don’t get proper sleep either, nervous about what the next day will bring. You second-guess yourself constantly, and all the confidence you built in all your time here doesn’t seem to have as strong of a foundation as you thought. 

So when you make another mistake the following Tuesday, whatever belief in yourself that you have left dissipates. 

“Ms. Cho, where is the folder?” Jungkook asks, his gaze hardening the longer you look at him without a word. 

You’re currently at a restaurant, given that your boss has a meeting with Mr. Hu, the owner of the company that produces quality materials that Jungkook wants for the Arts Center. This was scheduled just yesterday, which is also when he’d asked you to put together the rough draft plans and design that he worked on last weekend. The project is in its early stages but the plans are clear to Jungkook and he wants to secure this deal early on, especially with Mr. Hu leaving the country for a few weeks. 

You finalized this last night and left it on your desk along with the portfolios that Yoongi and the support team have been taking from your shelf. Given the week you’ve had - lack of sleep and frustration more than anything - you rushed to get ready and mistakenly took a portfolio and not the folder meant for this meeting.

“I… I’m so sorry, sir, but I seem to have taken the wrong files,” you stutter, eyes on the ground as you clutch the portfolio for support. “They… they were on my desk along with others and I left them in the office.”

There’s a long pause before Jungkook speaks, the irritation clear in his voice.

“Do you at least have a soft copy?”

“It’s on a USB, sir,” you reply, nervously raising your head. “I left it as well.”

You try your hardest not to look at him, even if it seems like he wants you to, just so you can see the burning way he does it. Because you feel him huffing, you can see how he’s clenching his fists as he controls what he’s feeling, which is definitely anger towards your stupid mistake. 

Jungkook clears his throat before turning back to the man seated across from him, his voice apologetic as he explains that you weren’t able to bring it. 

“Ah, what a shame,” Mr. Hu says, judgingly glancing at you. “I was really looking forward to seeing your plans, Jungkook. I could’ve advised my people to check on the materials you want this early.”

“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook says. “Perhaps I can email them over to you?”

“Oh don’t bother, I’ll be chasing the Italian sun for the next three weeks,” the older man chuckles. “I’ll see you when I get back. By then, I hope you and your assistant have sorted things out and could give me actual information about what you want.”

“We will, I assure you,” Jungkook says, before saying goodbye to him.

He walks past you and you follow, with no words said as you both wait for the car and enter. 

You can hear him panting, and you know enough that's due to an extreme emotion he can’t express. He won’t look at or say anything to you, and that feels more terrifying. 

His phone rings, and not only does the person on the other line talk about what just happened, you happen to hear it, too.

“Hey, I heard what happened with the big boss,” the man says. “Did you really go to the meeting unprepared?”

“It wasn’t me, but yeah, what a mess,” Jungkook huffs, his head leaning back on the chair, his eyes closed as he calms himself down. “What did he say? Is he angry?”

“Nah. You’re a Jeon; he can’t be. He was just a bit annoyed because he was supposed to have a meeting with another client but he chose to see you.”

“Fuck. What an embarrassment,” Jungkook groans.

“Well, he does have high praises for your father.”

“And this is his first time working with me. My dad’s gonna hear about it and give me shit for it.”

“Just another normal day at the office, right?” The man laughs. “So, was it your assistant that screwed up?”

Jungkook hums his yes, knowing you’re two seats away from him, although he’s unsure if you can hear their conversation. For your sake, he hopes you can’t.

“See? This is why you should’ve taken Lucas! That guy was always two steps ahead of you.”

“That’s what I said, but when are my requests ever granted? Never. Another normal day at the office, huh?”

“If she’s pretty, maybe you can forgive them and just suffer through her incompetence,” the man laughs again. “I mean, she’s got to have some redeeming quality somehow. If she doesn’t, that just sucks for you.”

“You really enjoy making fun of my misfortunes, huh?” Jungkook huffs.

“Just sometimes. Not used to you not having your way, that’s all.”

“Well, nothing is going my way, that's for sure. But whatever, I’ll figure it out. Make sure Mr. Hu holds out for me, okay? I need you to help me this time.”

“Hey, I may laugh at your misfortunes but I always have your back,” the man says. “Good luck, VP. I’ll see you soon.”

Jungkook drops the call and you feel him glance at you but you remain stiff on your seat, unwilling to move nor look anywhere else that isn’t your lap. You’re glad that he decides to close his eyes for the rest of the ride, though, so you take your chance to shift towards the window and watch the buildings fly by, willing your tears not to fall.

You hold out until you arrive at the building. That is, until Jungkook heads straight to his room and asks you to follow. 

“Own up to your mistake and look at me,” he says, his voice seeping with disdain. 

You lift your head and meet his eyes, his gaze piercing right through you and you’re unable to move, to speak. But you try - a futile attempt, really - at appealing to the compassionate side of him, if it even exists. 

“I’m so, so sorry Mr. Jeon,” you plead for forgiveness. “I didn’t mean to forget the folder. It’s been a tough week and—”

“A tough week?” he mocks, his voice getting louder now. “As if you’re the only one who’s had one? I come here and find myself doing your job. I spent the weekend drafting the designs because I need that deal early only for you to screw it up! My father’s been on to me about this project and I need everything done right but I can’t seem to because my assistant, who’s supposed to be assisting me, can’t even get the most basic things done. All you had to do was bring the folder. You didn’t even have a contingency plan of having a soft copy. Were you not trained for this role?” 

You visibly shake but Jungkook doesn’t let up.

“Answer me.”

“I… I was, Mr. Jeon,” you tremble. “I know I’m not the smartest but I work hard and I—”

“You work hard?”

“Yes, sir.”

“In what?”

“In preparing your files and organizing everything for you and…” you try. 

A month ago, you’d be saying these things and more with so much conviction.  But all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to break you down and make you doubt every single skill you’ve developed and been praised for the past few years.

“And I can criticize each of those tasks in just this one week you’ve been my assistant.”

“I… I just needed guidance, sir, because it’s a new—”

“I need guidance. I need assisting,” he sneers. “My father wanted me to keep you because you apparently know how things are supposed to be done but you’re asking for guidance from me?”

There’s silence on your end and you’ve never felt as small as you do right now. The way Mrs. Byun abused her power over you and humiliated you during your first years here continues to be unmatched, but being treated this way by a man whose family you respect somehow hurts you more. 

You want to give up now. You’ll lose everything if you decide to just quit but it’s not like there’s much left of you to go by anyway, given the week that you’ve had. But if there’s anything your mother taught you is that the lowest you can go is when you don’t fight for yourself, so you gather what little dignity you have left and look him in the eyes. 

“You do things very differently from Mr. Jung like you said, and I admire your thoroughness,” you start, trying your hardest to calm the tone of your voice. “You’re adjusting to your new role with a new team and a new assistant that you didn’t choose but somehow you have to trust and that’s unnerving if you’re used to being in control of everything. With all due respect, however, perhaps if you let the people around you adjust as well, we would all find a way to work together effectively and respectfully. A little bit of compassion wouldn’t hurt, and it goes a long way.”

At his silence, you continue, digging your nails deeper into your skin to help you remain stable.

“I apologize for all the mistakes this past week. I know it has been unpleasant for you as well. I’ll do better, that I can promise. But if the way I work is not something that is up to your standard, then there’s only one thing to do. Me quitting would put you in a worse light; you can fire me if you think it is best,” you bravely state. “I can deal with the consequences.”

Jungkook continues to just look at you, unable to say anything this time. Perhaps he isn’t used to someone speaking to him like this. Maybe he’s finding the right words to hit you back and break you even more. The tiniest part of you wants to think you’ve softened him up a bit; hopefully he’ll be less angry at you the next time.

“Is there anything you need me to work on, Mr. Jeon?”

“No,” he answers. “Just hold off all calls for me for the next hour. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Understood, Mr. Jeon.” 

You bow and head out the door. 

Jungkook watches you leave, and the farther you become, the more he wishes you’d stay.

He’s unsure why. Perhaps it’s the way you spoke to him, similar to the way you did the first time you met over a week ago - with conviction and grace despite you putting him in his place. Maybe it’s him, trying to find the words to apologize without seeming weak, or to encourage you without being comfortable. The tiniest part of him just wants you around; he doesn’t know what it is about you but he finds himself feeling intense emotions because of you - frustration, fear, and an overwhelming feeling of sadness and regret. 

He returns to his seat and glances through the window, the angle of his chair allowing him to see you outside, although he’s unsure if you’re able to see him. Either way, it’s not like you’ve ever looked his way anyway, so he feels a little safe doing this now. 

You’re seated and turned away from the desk, with your fingers pressing over both your ears, as if you’re blocking out the sounds of the room; perhaps you’re blocking out his voice that’s probably still echoing in your head. He’d seen you do this last week, too, after you failed to show up at his penthouse in the morning. He thinks it’s your way of dealing with stress, a quiet one, in contrast to boxing like what he prefers to do. It’s the only time he’d ever allow himself to express anything, after all, other than getting mad at you apparently. 

You finally turn around, but it’s not long after when Do-hyun arrives and takes your place, leaving him to wonder where you’re off to. He focuses on his work like he meant to do, opting to read and send emails while he calms himself down. His eyes always turn to your desk, though, and when he sees that he’s halfway done but you’re still not back, he decides to head out.

“Mr. Jeon,” Do-hyun stands up and greets him. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Where’s Ms. Cho?”

“She had to go to the washroom so she asked me to cover for her first,” she responds. “But, uh… She’s been gone for half an hour. I… I’m not sure what she’s up to but I can—.”

It’s at that moment when you return, and the way that both Do-hyun and Jungkook look at you that you know they can tell. You can’t exactly cry for 20 minutes and then expect to ease the swelling of your eyes for the next 10. But you act like nothing’s amiss, so you dismiss the younger woman and turn to Jungkook.

“Was there something that you needed from me, Mr. Jeon?” You ask nonchalantly.

“Just, uh…” he stutters now, taken aback by the casual way you speak to him despite your glassy eyes. “I’m meeting the CEO and President tomorrow to discuss the Arts Center. Put the initial plans in presentation format and send it to me first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond, returning to your seat and not sparing him another glance. 

You work on the presentation in between the other things you need to finish. You draft memos and letters for Jungkook’s approval, and it’s half past 4 when you enter his room to have them signed. 

“I’m heading out at 5 for dinner,” he says as he signs the documents. “I’ve added points on the shared file for the presentation. Make sure to include those.”

“I will, sir.”

There’s a brief moment where you and Jungkook just look at each other, words swimming in your own heads that neither of you wants to say out loud.

You wish he’d offer an apology.

He wishes you’d say that you’re okay.

You want to tell him that the Arts Center already sounds amazing; you hope it turns out the way he imagines.

He wants to tell you that he won’t fire you, that despite how he’s been, he doesn’t want you to go anywhere.

But the moment passes and then it’s gone. You bow once more and then head out the door. 

He leaves at exactly 5, merely nodding at you as he leaves. 

Jungkook sees you again that evening, four hours later as he drives home after having dinner with Seokjin and Taehyung, the brothers he’d grown up with. The office is on the way, and it’s near the bus stop where he spots you, trying to catch a cab that someone always gets to before you do. 

The rain has started to pour, and his anxiety builds; he was never fond of it, given the memory it holds. But it’s you in your thin coat that suspends that for a while. You’re clearly shivering, unable to get a ride, and getting wet from the downpour. You cross the street, seemingly just submitting to the weather, and you disappear amongst the crowd of people just trying to get home. 

He checks his phone as he gets a message and sees the email you sent 20 minutes ago - the presentation he’d asked you to submit in the morning. This is you, making up for today, he guesses. He’s why you’re braving the rain. If he’s being honest, he’s why you’re suffering at all, and he can’t help the way his heart stings at the thought. 

The convenience store is bright and dry unlike the streets outside, and that’s why there’s a substantial amount of people seeking shelter from the downpour that came out of nowhere. 

You welcome the rain. It served as a distraction when you were growing up and your mother’s ex-partner would yell nonstop. You’d hide in your room and cover your ears like your mother taught you to do. When she was able, she’d stay with you and cover your ears with her own hands and tell you that it’s gonna be okay, that even if you can’t stop the scary sounds, you can drown them out enough that they’ll stop bothering you. 

You didn’t think you’d ever do so again but you’ve done that twice in one week, and all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to lecture you about what your job entails. He didn’t yell, but his voice was still piercing, firm and low as if he reserves that intensity for instances of pure frustration. 

That kind of thing takes a lot out of someone. It’s different when a boss is out to abuse their power and take advantage of you. Mrs. Byun made you do her work so she could spend her lunches out and then take credit for outputs without acknowledging you. She sucked up to the directors to overcompensate for not knowing how to answer their questions. And then she had the guts to embarrass you and call you out in front of the team for not being able to do your primary tasks, which was only because you were doing hers. It took a while but her incompetence caught up to her and her departure felt like freedom. But the experience with her was constricting, suffocating, humiliating. It was dehumanizing, too, as you went home to an empty apartment every night, feeling less and less of yourself.

But the way Jungkook treats you hits differently. You’ve survived the worst and ended up in a good spot under Hoseok’s leadership where you built your confidence. During those years, you felt capable, like you were trusted; you felt that your hard work earned you respect. 

Now, you feel all that crumbling. You feel exposed, bare; as if you’re realizing you’re not that good after all. How you’ve been isn’t like you. You’re meticulous, analytical; you’ve sat in so many meetings as an observer and know how things work, how the directors think, and the kinds of outputs expected from you. But recently, you find yourself just lost, questioning everything all the time, and so incapable.

You let yourself feel the burden weigh you down as you eat a small cup of noodles and call it dinner. You walk down the aisles and pick out your favorite snacks, first eating the roasted almonds as you head out the door. 

The rain has let up, with but a drizzle left this late evening. You catch the bus and munch on pepero and chocopie this time. You’re in your neighborhood by the time you tear open the frosted mini donuts. You’ve been mindlessly eating the whole time, but once you get off your stop, you start walking towards the community center. The public library is closed but something about sitting outside the door gives you comfort, just like it used to when you were growing up.

Your mom couldn’t really afford daycare. She’d spend her lunch break picking you up from school then dropping you off at a library where her friend worked; that nice woman always looked after you until your mom came back to pick you up. Some days when she wanted to take you away from the mess that was her partner, she’d take you there, too. 

You read mostly picture books and colored on your coloring book and played with your paper dolls. Even as you grew up, you didn't really read; you just liked that the library was quiet, comfortable, that it made you feel safe. 

Your phone beeps and you see a photo that your mother has just sent of her dry living room floor. 

[From: Mom] it isn’t leaking anymore! 

You smile, imagining her sigh of relief and the way she’s probably humming about the house. You decide to call her; another bit of comfort would definitely help.

“Hi, darling,” she answers after the first ring. “Min-woo went to the hardware store when he arrived in the afternoon so he could fix the roof. What a relief.”

“That’s great, mom,” you reply, wishing you were back home with her. “You can have a good sleep tonight, then.”

“I will. What about you?”

“I hope so.”

“Have you had dinner?”

“Hmm, yeah,” you hum. 

“And where are you now?”

“Outside the library,” you say. 

There’s silence that comes after, a way in which you both say things without words sometimes. Your mom is good at that, and even if you can’t see her, you know there’s love in her eyes. And even if she can’t see you, she knows there’s sadness in yours. 

“So, work has been tough lately, am I right?”

Even without any confirmation, she already knows. She probably knew when you said that everything was fine after she asked how things were going during your visit over the weekend. She probably picked up the faintness of your smile and the way you fell asleep on her lap while you both watched TV and she combed your hair like she always did. 

“The new boss is quite hard on me,” you admit. “He expects too much, asks me to do too much… I’m trying but I keep making mistakes. I’m missing things I normally don’t. I’m not like this, mom. I… I’m better than this.”

“Oh, darling,” she sighs, wishing she’d hugged you a little tighter before you left. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Maybe you’re still adjusting. That’s valid, you know? It’s only been a week.”

“Yeah, but he acts like he’s the only one who needs to adjust and that I just magically know how to do things his way,” you groan. “It… it just makes me feel like I’m not good enough. That I… that I shouldn’t be here.”

“___, you didn’t suffer through your first few years there just so you would continue to doubt yourself,” she responds. “You deserve your role, regardless of what he thinks. You work hard and that means everything.”

“Not to him apparently. Even if I work hard, if it’s not up to his standards, it doesn’t mean anything. I can’t even do anything about it because he’s the CEO’s son.” 

“You can quit, you know?” She says after a beat of silence. “You don’t have to stay if it’s too much, and especially if it’s unfair. Just because you know you can handle it, doesn’t mean you should.”

The thought settles in your head. You did just tell Jungkook that you’d rather he fire you, which honestly terrifies you because much as he’s insufferable, you do need this job. Helping your mom over the weekend reminded you of that. From the health insurance to the salary, you don’t have to worry too much because you can finally repay her for all her hard work in raising you, in protecting you, in surviving for you. 

“I know,” you sigh. “Maybe I just let the tough first days get to me.”

“Whatever it is, you shouldn’t suffer. And you definitely shouldn’t suffer alone,” she advises. “I’m glad you came over during the weekend even if for unpleasant reasons. I got to hug you even if I didn’t know you needed it.”

“I always need it, mom,” you admit. “I don’t have to say it. It’s the only one I get anyway.”

“Well, it’s because it’s the only one you accept,” she points out. 

“True,” you laugh. “But I… I’ll do better. I’ll get my head straight tonight and treat tomorrow like my first day and you know, show him I’m capable.”

“That’s good. And you can come over again this weekend if you want. The storm should be gone by then. The girls want to go to the park. I know they’d love to hang out with you. If you don’t have plans of course.”

“You know I only ever have actual weekend plans when Jimin and Soomin visit me. But yes, I can take the trip on Saturday. If Jungkook wants me to do any work… screw him.”

Your mother laughs, only because she knows you don’t mean it. You know it, too. Regardless of how you think of your boss or your job, you know the value of your work, and you’re not one to sacrifice it for any reason. 

“Are you feeling better, darling?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “The rain’s stopped somehow. I needed to be here. And I… I needed to hear your voice.”

“Good. You know you can call whenever. I don’t have to summon you with photos of a roof or grilled makchang or something every time.”

“I know. And I will. I’ll see you soon.”

You drop the call and start walking back home. Talking with your mom is the strength you need to get through such a tough day. It doesn’t change your situation; maybe Jungkook will still be upset with you in the morning but you’ll handle it, just like you handled all the difficult times before. 

Your mother taught you something else - it was grace. You’d fight back if you need to, but you can always do it with gentleness; sometimes that works wonders, especially if you can’t afford to respond with rage. 

You’re quite nervous walking to Jungkook’s penthouse the next morning. 

Before he left last night, you were sporting glassy and swollen eyes, after all; it wouldn’t have taken much for him to know what you were up to by being away from your desk for half an hour. But you’d been too upset to think of what he would think about it, so you acted like it was nothing when you returned to your seat, took note of his instructions, and watched him walk out. No other words were spoken and quite frankly, you don’t know what either of you could have said after what transpired. It’s a new day, though, and like you told your mother, you’ll just focus on your work and try to get that old version of yourself back, the one you’d felt slipped away this past week.

You enter the front door - as he’d told you to just go in so you don’t disrupt his workout - and immediately hear the loud sounds of leather hitting leather. He seems to be aggressively punching the sandbag, with more evidence of it coming in the form of his deep and successive breaths that you can hear as you walk towards the kitchen. You stop on your tracks, though, as a pair of red laced underwear lays crumpled on the floor.

That definitely wasn’t there yesterday morning so it must’ve been from last night. You’re not one to judge; he did have a frustrating day that you caused and releasing all that stress in this way is understandable. You just wish he had the courtesy to clean up, knowing that his assistant would be coming but then again, you also don’t know if that’s too much to ask of him.

You don’t realize that you’ve been staring at the underwear until you hear him, his deep breaths in tandem with his steps. You walk towards the counter and set him a glass of water before he notices what’s got your attention, but he still does, as he stops at the spot where you were and lets out a grunt. 

From your periphery, you see him pick up the piece of lingerie then throw it in the trash. You turn to him and bow in greeting, and Jungkook merely nods, the slightest of head tilts to acknowledge your presence, seemingly avoiding your eyes, even as you ask what he prefers to eat this morning. You’d like to think that in the recesses of his bitter heart, there’s remorse over yesterday at least, if not over the past few days. But you’ll take it; his silence is better than anything at this moment. 

You follow him towards his bedroom, stopping briefly as you look around and make sure you’re not intruding. You’re unsure if the woman is still here, but he picks up on that.

“She’s gone,” he says, walking to his bathroom. “I never make them stay.”

It’s a part of his life that you’ve only heard of. The gossip that Do-hyun hears from the washrooms in the office may be true, considering his weeknight bang and the left-behind underwear on the kitchen floor. He still had some energy based on his morning workout though, and you don’t know why the thought of him fucking someone and then boxing in the morning is making you feel hot all over. 

You snap yourself out of it, knowing it’s inappropriate and definitely not what you should be worrying about. He’s a stressed, obviously attractive, and rich bachelor; you’re not surprised he’d have women at his beck-and-call and be nonchalant about it.

You walk inside his closet and choose the shoes and accessories he’ll wear today before heading back to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast. He walks in 30 minutes later, and you approach him to fix his collar and his tie like you always do, now getting used to his natural scent with hints of jasmine and bergamot. Your eyes focus on the silk necktie, hoping you’re able to control your nervous breathing being this close to him. 

He may still be annoyed at you and you may be invading his space, and the realization makes you step away quickly, taking his plate from the counter and placing it on the dining table. You open your iPad and go through the presentation he asked you to do, surprised that he’s already added a few things.

“Is the presentation final, Mr. Jeon?” You ask. “I see you’ve already looked through it.”

“Sort of,” he responds. “I woke up at 5 and reviewed it before my workout. Let’s go over them now.”

He looks through his iPad as he eats, going over each slide with you as if he’s practicing. The more he speaks, the more you envision the Arts Center and how he wants it done. The way he puts together the ideas into a coherent design is impressive. You almost see it as he does, and much as you thoroughly dislike him right now, for the sake of all the good things that this center will do for people, you really want him to succeed. 

You remind him of a few more things before he finishes his meal, and it’s not long after when you’re in the car, the silence thickening the tension between the two of you once more. This continues until you reach the office, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the distance between the both of you now. 

While you do feel better, the anxiety remains. You don’t want to mess up. And as you enter his room to give him papers to sign and you see him going through his presentation while the leather notebook he was drawing on earlier lays open on the desk, you find yourself also just not wanting to disappoint him. He clearly works hard and despite his treatment of you, you want things to work out for him. 

It’s an hour later when you’re both walking towards the elevator to head to the conference room on the CEO’s floor. It’s just Jungkook with his father and cousin today where he’ll present the initial plans for their comments and their verbal endorsement of the draft budget. 

It’s a massive project that’s working within strict timelines and Jungkook is adamant on getting this ready by mid-next year. You can tell how much he wants to deliver this well - the board of directors would be his next audience and a boost of confidence would be much needed. 

You make him a cup of coffee the way he likes and sit next to him. The distance allows you to keep your eyes away from him; with the pressure he’s under, you don’t exactly want to be close to where you can easily trigger him. 

CEO Jeon and Hoseok arrive, greeting you with their bright smiles, a reprieve from the stoic looks and tight-lipped and furrowed brows you get from Jungkook everyday.

“Hi, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “A week has passed, huh? How has it been?”

“Challenging,” you say honestly, “but still good. I’m learning new things, Mr. Jeon.”

“That’s good,” he smiles, glancing at his son whose eyes are focused on his laptop. The elder seems unconvinced by your half smile but he nods, turning back to you. “By the way, I heard on the news that the typhoon hit your hometown pretty badly. How’s your mother and her family? Mr. Ri mentioned that there was an incident over the weekend. Is everything okay?”

You’re used to CEO Jeon asking things like this prior to meetings. He believes it’s a way to release certain feelings and not keep them hidden, and while you don’t really want to talk about it right now, you appreciate the concern. 

“She, uh. A large tree fell over our house last Saturday,” you say, to the surprise of both CEO and President. “I had to travel in the morning to help my mom. A portion of the roof was damaged and she had to call a company to fix it. Min-woo and the girls were away and mom didn’t want to deal with the workers since she was alone so I had to stay over the weekend.”

“That’s unfortunate,” the elder Jeon laments. “How is your house now? And your mom?”

“The roof is sealed. But she slipped on some debris and had to be assisted; she was being stubborn about it. She’s okay, though.”

“Ah, it must’ve been a tough few days. And for you, too,” Hoseok says. “I mean, given all the work and then having to be there for her. I’m sorry, ___.  But I’m glad she’s doing better. Tell her I send my regards, okay?”

“I will, thank you.”

Jungkook tries not to look affected as the older men ask you more details about what happened that he, of course, didn’t know about. There’s that guilt over how he treated you yesterday, learning now what you had to do over the weekend. You don’t seem the type to blame any oversight or mistake on something like that, but he would know that the tiredness and preoccupation could definitely affect things. Even more, he’d implied that you don’t work hard and that you’re being a burden to him, which is far from the truth. 

The conversation ends and he’s unable to look at you, as he stands from his seat to begin his presentation. Everything is set up, including a pointer and a marker and a glass of warm water on his side. He proceeds, presenting his design, the materials, the budget, and the timeline. 

You take note of all his answers to the questions and the ideas he comes up with on the spot, with him repeating things and stating how he wants certain points written down. You’re immersed in your own task, feeling like you’ve found your rhythm because you’ve done this so many times but the fear got ahead of you. This morning, it’s as if you’re in your element again, and there’s relief that fills you this time.  

The meeting is moved to a restaurant after the third hour. There’s an event that the CEO suggests that Jungkook’s team organize as a way to build linkages with the arts and culture networks, making sure that the younger Jeon becomes known in those fields as well. 

You have to go by memory as you listen and eat your meal, but the distance from Jungkook remains. You merely nod at his words and avoid looking at him unless you need to. It’s your way of getting over last night, you think. You still have his look of frustration etched in your mind and it’s still a bit fresh; you’d need at least another day before you can look at him normally again. You hope that other than Jungkook himself, no one notices. 

But you suppose you’ve underestimated Hoseok’s ability to pick up on your behavior; it’s one of his strengths as a leader, after all. He’s always been good at reading people, a skill that Jungkook clearly didn’t develop. 

“Hey.”

“Mr. Jung,” you greet, a wave of nostalgia hitting you because his smile is one you used to see everyday, regardless of how stressed he was. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, not really. It’s just been over a week but I’m still getting used to the bigger office and the new secretary but I just wanted to check in,” Hoseok says. “You and Jungkook have been very busy, I rarely catch either of you.”

“Well, he wanted to get all the introductions out of the way so he can focus on the Arts Center,” you reply. “There’s a lot happening with that one so he’s in meetings and calls all the time.”

“Ah, of course. It’s a good design and I’m sure it’ll boost the local arts scene. He got inspired during his travels in the Southeast Asia sites and has been talking about it for years. It’s good he has the freedom to work on this now.”

You merely nod, not having much to say about your boss’ passion project that’s just made him angry and frustrated. Quite frankly, you don’t know how he is when he isn’t working on such high-pressure matters, but you can already tell he isn’t someone you’d want to be around in any other context. 

“But how about you? Are you getting enough rest? All these meetings and then traveling home on the weekend is tiring, ___. I hope you’re looking out for your health.”

“I am,” you try to assure him. “I can handle it.”

You smile before shifting your eyes to your desktop screen, not wanting to look at him any longer because a second more and you’d probably burst into tears. Experiencing Hoseok’s kindness for these few minutes has just reminded you of what you constantly miss - that feeling of safety and care, of someone looking out for you and not holding you back. 

“I’m glad you are,” he smiles again, holding your gaze when you glance at him, and Hoseok hopes that in this short moment of calm, he’s able to give comfort that he just knows you need. “Anyway, I just wanted to drop by. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“I’ll see you, Hoseok.” And as if you knew why he came over in the first place, you add, “and thank you.”

Jungkook sighs in frustration as he watches your fading smile before returning to type away on your desktop. He was about to call you to ask for a project portfolio on the shelf but stopped once he saw you talking to his cousin. You seemed a tad bit lighter than usual; Jungkook could only assume it’s your natural state, even if all he’s seen of you is that of perpetual worry and stress. 

He thinks to himself that a part of that is because of him. Maybe a big part, he admits. He wouldn’t have known about your town in Daegu or that your mother resides there and that you had to go home over the weekend, hence, your oversight yesterday. He’s at least decent enough to acknowledge that he shouldn’t have been so harsh on you in the first place. He’s just not used to things not going his way; he wonders now what the people under him suffered through to make sure of that.

Not wanting to disturb you, he decides to get the portfolio himself, so he exits his room and leans on your desk, his eyebrows scrunched as he reads through the spine labels of the folders. He doesn’t notice you stand up and attempt to ask what he needs but he does find it, reaching over on the third shelf for it. 

“I could’ve gotten that for you,” you huff.

Jungkook spots a small pout as you utter the words, disarming him a little.

“It’s… it’s fine,” he mumbles, willing his mind to go back to what he was thinking about before you said something, which is the other project he wants to look at. 

But you pick up on his words. “Seongbuk, 2021,” you repeat. 

You look up and know exactly where the portfolio for that project is. You drag your stool with your foot and walk up the steps, carefully pulling out the folder and underestimating just how heavy it is. But before it can slip out of your fingers, Jungkook gets a hold of it, his right hand gripping the spine while his left palm supports your back. 

You stiffen when you realize just how close he is to you then step down the stool, somehow nervous to look at him.

“I, uh, sorry. You were about to fall.”

You stiffen again because he didn’t just apologize, did he? Your eyes are glued to the ground and you don’t see Jungkook’s surprised look.

Because he did just that. What felt more alarming than his apology was that it had been a reflex for him to have his hand behind you, his heart leaping a bit because you really were close to falling. An injured version of you isn’t something he wants to deal with, and he convinces himself that it’s because it would look absolutely terrible for his assistant to get hurt on the job, and especially in his presence. 

“Is that all you need, Mr. Jeon?”

“Uh, yes,” he responds. “Be, uh, be careful.”

He takes both folders and heads back to his room, his face buried in the pages as you sneak a glance at him from the window.

“So, how’s the second week as VP going?” Hoseok asks his cousin from across the table of their favorite Japanese restaurant during their Friday lunch. “Worse than the first?”

Jungkook, not keen on answering truthfully, merely shrugs. 

“Well, I can bet you though that ___ is definitely having it worse than last week.”

“Did she say anything? About me specifically?” Jungkook asks, his curious eyes telling Hoseok that it’s more of concern than anger. 

“Of course not. She’s there to protect you, Kook, not tell on you. Is there something to say? About you specifically?”

Jungkook knows how well his cousin can read people, especially him. They’d grown up together after all, and had gotten close because the older man always stayed next to him, knowing how shy little Jungkook used to be. So he narrates what happened - that he’d gotten angry, that he was being too strict, that he wasn’t leaving you room for adjustment. He’d of course excluded his own oversight and need to establish distance and authority, chalking it up to not having the familiarity and conveniences he’d been used to back in Singapore. 

“I feel like working with father even closer now, it’s like I’m under a microscope,” Jungkook continues. “I don’t wanna mess up. I just don’t wanna give him a reason to criticize or question me.”

“Well, if he learns about how it’s been with ___, he’ll do exactly those things,” Hoseok responds. “He cares about his people, you know? I’m sure that’s the one thing he wants you to do right.”

“Can’t say I’d know. It’s not like he’s any more compassionate than I am. We’re talking about a man who yells at the managers who can’t get things done right.”

“They were abusing their power, that’s why,” Hoseok explains. “And I’m not here to defend the man - I’ve been on the receiving end of his anger twice and saw how he’d push people to their near breaking point a few times but he’s not a terrible person. I’ve seen him be understanding and caring to his staff way more; you just haven’t been around that much.”

“It’s not what I saw growing up.”

“Well, we remember what we want, and forget the parts that don’t make sense to us.”

Jungkook stays silent as he munches on his steak.

“He wants to get closer to you, you know?” Hoseok continues. “He hopes that with you being around, he can mentor you, learn from you. All those years that you were home, you felt so far away from him, farther away than Jeong-sik who wasn’t even here, and he doesn’t know why.”

“He can’t expect to be a rich, ambitious businessman and be close to his son,” Jungkook huffs. “All he ever cared about when I was growing up was work. Sure, he had rare good moments, but we all know it was to compensate for always being too busy. He pressured me to do well at school then missed awarding ceremonies. He scheduled some family time then left me and my brother in some cabin in the woods by ourselves. He wants to work with me here then disallows my requests. What does he want from me?”

“Your time, I suppose. Maybe your understanding, too.”

“Did he give those to me when I was younger? He had so many chances these past 30 years and he wants those now?”

“People are complicated, Kook. Sometimes they lose sight of what’s important, of what’s in front of them… doesn’t mean they’re bad people,” Hoseok says. “And it doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a second chance. I mean, don’t we all want that? Don’t we all grow out of our bad habits and just yearn for something good?”

“Not everyone does that.”

“Maybe not, but your father has. And he just wants another chance. And whether or not it was her fault, I’m sure ___ wants that, too.”

“Did you really ask me to treat you to lunch only to advocate for the people I don’t really care much about?” Jungkook laughs bitterly. 

“No,” Hoseok chuckles. “I really wanted to try it here. But also, uncle took me out to drinks before you arrived and was all honest with me, which was a little weird but I guess he thought he could get some perspective from you through me. And ___ was my assistant and I think highly of her. It’s upsetting how things started for you both. I guess I just feel kind of caught in the middle between you and the people you actually care about. So yes, I deserve this free lunch.”

Jungkook doesn’t correct his cousin, more for the fact that Hoseok really does get caught in the middle - always has, even between him and his older brother whom Jungkook never really got along with; it definitely isn’t because he acknowledges that he cares about you. There’s no reason for him to feel that; you’re just his assistant, after all. 

Being beautiful and capable and hardworking doesn’t have anything to do with being cared about. 

“I… I admit being too hard on ___. I get that she’s good and stuff but maybe that fits with your leadership style more,” Jungkook tries to reason. “Maybe she just thrives in a team where she’s led by someone like you, someone who’s good with people and who’s process-oriented and I don’t know, someone who isn’t as tough or meticulous like me.”

“I’m sorry, Kook, but you sound stupid. You clearly don’t know anything about her. She’s experienced all the lows - the disrespect from the men, the abuse of power from the women, all the long hours and ridiculous deadlines, the loudest of yells and the craziest demands,” Hoseok exclaims. “She’s been here for just eight years but it feels more. Sometimes I don’t know why she stayed but I’m glad she did, selfishly, and that’s because she helped me so much. Are you… are you giving her reasons to leave so you can have Lucas with you?”

“No,” Jungkook dismisses the thought, although he does admit it entered his mind before he even started. “I’m just… not used to her. And the mishaps didn’t help. I just wanna be able to do my job and do it right.”

“And you will, if you just loosen up a bit and give her a chance to show you that she can help you. It’s just that I’m not seeing that same joy and energy in her eyes and her smile,” Hoseok explains. “I was thinking last Wednesday that maybe it was because of her mom but during the meeting this morning, it was the same. I’d hate to think that’s because of you. Because if it is and she’s thinking of resigning, I won’t stop her. I might even suggest it to her. “

The thought of you being gone causes a lump in Jungkook’s throat. It’s selfish, really, because despite how he treats you, he still wants you here. It’s just as silly, and stupid, and something he doesn’t have a clear reason for. But other than his cousin not trusting that he could treat you fairly, it’s the possibility that you might just quit yourself, something you seem to be capable and willing to do. And that voluntary departure is something he doesn’t want to deal with. Once you leave, you’ll just be gone; he won’t have a reason to seek you. 

“I’ll do better,” Jungkook finally says. “I’ll stop being such a pain in the ass and be… kinder, I guess.”

“She’ll probably see right through you if you fake it,” Hoseok laughs. “Just be fair. Trust me, that’s what she’d want, too. Correct her if you need to, but do it constructively. And please, try to smile every once in a while. It won’t hurt you. Nor would it ruin whatever tough guy image you have.”

Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes but he lets out a chuckle. His cousin won’t ever let go of the fact that 18-year old Jungkook had his first tattoo because he wanted to look tough. 

“I still have to establish authority, Hoseok. I can’t do it like you do.”

“Well, you’re missing out. Smiling always makes you feel a hundred times better.”

“She’ll probably see right through me if I fake it,” Jungkook repeats his cousin’s words almost mockingly. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows I’m not… cheerful. It’s like, how I’m compared to you.”

The two start walking back and Hoseok takes a jab at the younger man. “Actually, I heard that I’m the handsome one, too, and the stable guy, the family man, the man you’d take home to meet your parents…”

Jungkook laughs along. He agrees, and while it was not Hoseok’s intention at all, it does make Jungkook wonder even hours later - given all the things that characterize him, which are nothing like the older man’s - who would want him? Who would even take a chance on him? Who would even think it’s worth it to be with him?

Chaerin did, and then he self-sabotaged and lost her. Maybe the women he meets at clubs and takes home, but then all they want is a good time anyway, just like him. Maybe it’s someone he’s never met, but he also doesn't know how to be someone that someone else would love. 

Maybe there isn’t any. And maybe that isn’t so bad. Perhaps he’d have to start getting used to that fact; it’s easier than realizing he’s not meant to be with someone after all. 

He pauses the thought and decides that’s for the weekend version of him to lament over. This Friday afternoon, he’s focused on firming up the project details with the design and logistics teams. He’d just finished his meeting with them, with you barely looking his way just like you’ve done throughout the week - which he can’t fault you for because he was doing the same - and he’s back in his room to coordinate with other units. 

You, on the other hand, seem to be fixated on the quarterly reports that you’ll be handing over to him. It’s past 5 and he knows you’ll be staying up late again, given that he’d ordered you at the start of the week to finish the reviews by Friday. He’s given you too much to do, and after everything he’s done, letting you off early is a way for him to apologize without actually apologizing. 

He picks up the phone and calls you.

“How many reports do you have left to review?” He asks.

“Three more, Mr. Jeon,” you answer. “I’ll finish them tonight, please just give me another hour and a half.”

“Are you going home to see your mother tomorrow?” 

“Uh, yes, sir. I leave in the morning,” you say, curious at the question that you never thought he’d ask.

“You should clock out now, then.”

“Oh, but the reports, sir. I—”

“It’s okay,” he says, surprising you. “I’ll be busy with Arts Center details this weekend so I won’t have time to sign off on the reports anyway so you can continue them on Monday.”

You’re too shocked to speak that it doesn’t register that you’re indeed not saying anything.

“Ms. Cho?” Jungkook repeats your name.

“Oh, uh, yes, as long as it’s okay, Mr. Jeon.”

“Yes, that’s what I just said.”

“That’s, uh, thank you,” you mumble, turning on your roller chair to retrieve your bag and start packing, only to look up and see through the window that Jungkook can see you right now, smiling like a giddy child. There’s this movie that’ll show on your favorite local channel and you’re glad that you’ll be able to catch it tonight. 

You’re unsure what Jungkook’s eaten to be dismissing you this early. Maybe it was the lunch he had with Hoseok earlier; maybe it was the older man knocking some sense into him. You don’t have the energy to think about it, given that you now also have time to cook yourself proper dinner and enjoy eating it while watching and curling under your comfy blanket on your tiny couch, just like how you used to enjoy your Fridays. 

You’ll deal with the unreviewed reports and Jungkook returning to his normal, grumpy self on Monday. Tonight is all about you, and the weekend version of you is about being with your mother, her partner, and your stepsisters. There’s nothing like being with the people who make you feel safe; you’ll deal with the stress when a new week rolls by.

Jungkook watches you excitedly leave your desk. He can’t imagine the relief you’re feeling of being relieved this early and then spending your Friday evening the way you want, however that is. He lets himself wonder for a bit how you would spend time by yourself. Yoongi did say your friends aren’t in Seoul and your family obviously isn’t.

But then again, maybe you do have a partner, and maybe that’s why you looked as happy as you did. He’s not quite sure what to do with the slight distress at the thought, but with the absurdity of the amount of times he thinks about you, he decides it shouldn’t matter anyway. 

He has his own plans, too, like watching sports over bottles of beer that night, and then playing video games the next day before going to a bar with Seokjin and Taehyung. 

That Sunday, he works all morning then works out in the afternoon. In the evening, he decides to meet his friends again. 

Entering the club, he spots the table where they are - Seokjin has his arm around a woman and his lips glued to her ear; he pulls her closer as she laughs at his words. Taehyung has one next to him, too; they’re engaged in some serious conversation, it seems, given how passionately they’re talking to each other. That is, until his hand slides inside her dress; maybe it wasn’t that deep. 

Jungkook doesn’t know how his friends can converse with the women they find in these places. Given, Seokjin tends to stick to the same one for months and Taehyung is just naturally flirty and friendly so maybe it’s not that hard. 

For Jungkook, it’s just not something he’s able to fully or even properly do. What does he say? He’d brag about his work and his lifestyle if he was the type, but he isn’t, and there’s nothing else about him that he’d like to share. He’s always straightforward when it comes to these things. He’s picky; he does have a type, after all, but he always knows what they want and so do they. 

So when he spots a woman by the bar - the one who’d bought him a drink last night - he just smirks as she takes her shot and bites her lips when she catches him looking. 

“Hey, I finally caught you sober,” she giggles in his ears after she meets him halfway. 

“And I finally caught you without a man next to you,” he whispers. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah, he was just my plaything last night,” she responds. “I could be yours.”

Jungkook chuckles, enjoying her bluntness. He takes her hand and waves at his friends; they already know he’s taking off and they won’t hear from him for the rest of the night. 

It’s the way most of his evenings go anyway, whether he’s here or in Singapore or elsewhere, really. 

Jungkook likes the thrill, he likes the shallow intimacy he gets from the feelings of ecstasy and carnal desire. He likes that he doesn’t have to share anything about himself apart from his name so they could scream it, likes that there’s nothing about the other person to uncover, and that there’s nothing about himself he has to be honest about. He likes that he’ll remember the pleasure until the next day but nothing else - not her breathing, not her gentle touches on his chest, not her soft whispers of his name. 

There’s nothing much about her he’ll care for other than that she had a good time. And there’s nothing about tonight he’ll regret, except not making sure that she left his apartment like he always asks them to do.

Because it’s Monday morning, and there’s that woman wearing his coat and nothing else. 

And then there’s you, dressed in your skirt and blouse in his living room, with a look of shock on your pretty face. 

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[thewritingrowlet]

The Office Romance pt. 1, ft. tripleS Seoyeon, Kep1er Dayeon

tags: creampie, daddy kink

length: 8k+

author's note: It's been a long while since I've written about Seoyeon. So, to rectify that, I'm featuring her in this start of another series (this feels like a bad idea, ngl).

-

“Miss Yoon, to my office, please,” you say into the landline on your desk that’s connected to Seoyeon’s. “On my way, sir.”

Within seconds, Seoyeon appears in front of your eyes, and you lock the door behind her with a push of a button. “Sir?” You shake your head. “It’s not the time for that.” She knows what you’re getting at. “Oppa?” “I miss you, sweetheart.” She looks at you confusedly. “Sorry?” You take a deep breath before continuing your point. “We haven’t spent time for ourselves recently, have we, sweetie—we’ve been so busy with work.”

Seoyeon sits on the empty chair on the other side of the desk. “That’s true,” she sighs, “so, what’s your idea?” You suggest getting lunch together, but she seems hesitant to take you up on the offer. “People will see, though,” she says quietly. You close your eyes as realization hits: only a handful of people (who you trust the most) know about you and Seoyeon, and it’s safer for the both of you to keep it that way.

Without command, tears start flowing out of your eyes, and Seoyeon jumps off her chair in shock. “Huh, what—oppa, are you okay?” You nod. “I-I’m fine; I just realized how complicated our relationship is.” Seoyeon isn’t convinced that you’re fine, so she pulls you onto your feet and hugs you tightly. You put your lips on her forehead, feeling apologetic for bringing this life upon your lovely girlfriend. “I’m so sorry, sweetie—I didn’t mean to drag you into this life like this.”

Seoyeon has been your number one supporter since day one; she’s been by your side through all the ups and downs of the company, unwavering in her approach to this difficult job while maintaining the other side of the coin as your girlfriend. She’s doing all these things for you, and the only things she’s asking in return are your loyalty to her and commitment to the job—on top of appropriate pay, of course.

“It’s a good thing that you’re paying me a ton for this,” Seoyeon tries to lighten the mood. You crack a little laugh. “I’m glad that it’s enough for you.” She looks at you in the eyes. “I mean, with sex on top of it, it’s more than enough.” You smile a little before frowning again when another realization hits. “We haven’t had sex in a week,” you say quietly. Your girlfriend smiles, showing you the incredible patience that you admire her for. “It’s fine, oppa; like you said, we’ve been very busy with work.”

An idea enters your mind. “What do you say we spend this weekend for ourselves, sweetie?” Seoyeon nods enthusiastically. “Sounds great, oppa,” she says, “I must warn you, though: if you don’t touch me at least twice, I’m quitting this job.” “You got it, sweetie.”

Seoyeon asks you to return to your seat, and because you expect that she’ll want to leave your office and get back to work, you unlock the door for her. “I heard that,” she comments, “are you kicking me out, oppa?” You blink rapidly in confusion. “Excuse me?” She leans very closely towards you. “Don’t you want a blowjob first?” Her whispered words give you goosebumps everywhere, and you can’t help but nod. “That’s what I thought.”

Seoyeon pushes your chair backwards a little to make space for her to get on her knees. “Feed me your dick, oppa,” she allures. Without wasting too much time, you unzip your trousers and pull them down along with your boxers, exposing your hard cock to your girlfriend. “Omo, you’re excited to see me, aren’t you?”

You let out a moan when Seoyeon first lets you in her mouth. “That’s really good, baby—fuck, you’re so good.” Much to your satisfaction, your girlfriend starts bobbing her head along your length faster. Your eyes gradually close as your eyelids feel heavy, but that’s when she slaps your leg to get your attention—Seoyeon doesn’t like it when you’re not looking at her during a blowjob. “Sorry, baby; you’re just too good,” you reason.

She’s trying to say something, but because your shaft is lodged in her mouth, nothing but intelligible sounds come out. You see that she’s tapping the back of her head, though, so you guess that she wants you to put your hand there. “Alright, alright, here.” You place your hand on the back of her head, expecting nothing from her in return.

She proves you wrong, however, as she negotiates more of your shaft deeper into her mouth, possibly into her throat. “Good girl, baby,” you utter without thinking twice. Not satisfied yet, Seoyeon fixes her hands on your knees and forces herself to take the entirety of your length, ignoring whatever blaring alarm from her body and brain, and at the same time, taking you closer to cum-land.

“Baby,” you finally manage to say something, “I’m going to cum.” Seoyeon removes you from her mouth momentarily to gather herself. “S-sure,” she says between heavy pants, “one—oh, God, one second, please.” You lift her chin so that you can look right into her big, adorable eyes. “I love you,” you whisper to her, “thank you for making the time for this.”

You can tell that she wants to be kissed but is hesitant to come in for one considering your cock was just in her mouth, so you take the charge and kiss her passionately. “I like that,” Seoyeon quips, “that’s a green flag for me, you know.” You run a thumb back and forth on her cheek. “I love you, sweetie—I love you sooo much.” She smiles, a mix of cuteness and sexiness shown on her face. “Give me your cum, then, sir.”

Seoyeon opens her mouth as wide as she can, and there’s nothing better for you to do than to shove your cock into her mouth. “I’ll give you my cum, baby; don’t worry about nothing.” She closes her eyes when you start fucking her mouth while making sure her teeth are off your cock. “C’mon, Yoon Seoyeon, you can do this—you’ve done this dozens of times,” she tells herself. Thinking that you’re close, she fixes her hands on your knees again to prepare for your semen.

Even though she has prepared for it beforehand, Seoyeon still panics when her mouth is suddenly flooded with your cum. She tries to stay in place and receive everything, but despite her best efforts, it starts leaking out of the corners of her mouth, and she can only hope that it doesn’t land on her clothers. “Should’ve undressed first,” she thinks.

Salvation comes to her as you place a palm under her chin while pulling out at the same time. “Come here, sweetie.” You pull her head closer to you to help make sure her clothes stay clean. “Thank you, baby—thank you for everything,” you say as you clean her face with facial tissues.

“Do you want to spit that out, baby?” Seoyeon shakes her head, and instead swallows your load in one go. You show her a big smile. “You’re such an amazing girl, you know that?” She thanks you for the kind words (and the load). “Do I look okay, though, oppa? Am I too messy?” You run your fingers through her hair to help her tidy up. “Should be okay now, baby.” “Thanks, oppa.” She gives you a peck on the back of your hand. “See you later, okay?”

Seoyeon makes her way out of your office, and as soon as she closes the door behind her, she sees Dayeon, who’s sitting on a chair while hugging a big binder. “You were there a long time, Seoyeon-ah—what were you doing?” “I was just doing my job, Dayeon-ah,” she replies, trying to play it cool. “That must’ve been stressful, because your hair is quite messy,” Dayeon strikes for the second time. Seoyeon’s heart jumps a little, but she manages to deflect once again. “It was a pretty serious matter.”

She can tell that Dayeon isn’t entirely convinced, but whatever is in that binder matters more. “So, is he free now?” Seoyeon nods. “You might want to ring the bell first,” she adds, and apparently, it sounds odd to Dayeon, as proven by the raised eyebrows. “Is that so? Why, is he naked?” It’s getting hard for Seoyeon to stay serene. “No, but he has a lot of work other than whatever is in that thing.” “Sure, he does,” Dayeon presses the bell to your office, “well, see you later.”

Seoyeon watches on as Dayeon disappears behind the door to your office. “You’re not stealing him from me, you bi—” A ding from her phone interrupts her train of thoughts; it’s an incoming text from you, thanking her for making you cum and relieving some stress. “See this? He’s mine, not yours.” She takes a seat on her chair and promptly lets out a deep sigh. “Why are we doing it like this, oppa? Can’t we just tell the world we belong to each other?”

-

Dayeon enters your office with a big smile. “Yes, Miss Kim?” She reaches behind her head and frees her hair from the tie, showing you a rather sexy side of her. “Miss Kim? Really?” She slowly makes her way closer to your desk, and only now do you notice that the first two buttons on her blouse are undone, letting you peek at the white lacy bra she’s wearing underneath. “When are you going to treat me like you do Seoyeon-ie, boss? I don’t want to wait forever, you know.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss Kim,” you deflect, trying to stay solid under pressure. “Also, it’d be helpful if you'd stop trying to seduce me every time you walk into my office.”

Dayeon places her hands on your desk and bends forwards just enough for you to see her cleavage more freely. “Oh, c’mon, don’t be too hard on me.” She smirks when she catches you looking at her chest. “Don’t you want to touch these plump tits, boss?” You shake your head to both clear your mind and tell her no. “I have a girlfriend, Miss Kim,” you open a card, “please stop.”

You expect her to listen and stop trying to seduce you, but instead, she moves to sit on your desk with her legs slightly parted. “You’re such a good boyfriend, aren’t you, boss? Here you are, working hard at your company while she’s off doing God-knows-what.” “My girlfriend is a hard-working woman, Miss Kim,” you say, not accepting the slander. “So am I, and that’s why you should consider giving me a chance.” She must’ve missed the single most important detail of this exchange, which is the fact that you’re taken, but you just want to stop at this point. “Miss Kim, let’s address whatever you actually came here for, and we can pretend this never happened.”

Seeing that there’s no way to progress, Dayeon jumps off your table and tidies up her clothes. “Fine,” she sighs, “I guess we can talk about work instead.” She places the thick binder on your desk crassly. “These are reports on our trainees, let me know which of these girls you want to choose for debut.” “I need—” Dayeon interrupts by placing a flash drive on your desk. “Here are their practice videos,” she adds.

“Let me know about your thoughts about these girls soon, okay?” Dayeon then makes her way out of your office, and as soon as she disappears behind that door, you let out a big sigh. “Why are we doing it like this, Seoyeon-ah? Can’t we just tell the world that we belong to each other?”

-

“Seoyeon-ah, why are you still here?” Your question snaps her out of focus, making her jump in shock a little bit. “Oh my God, you didn’t have to surprise me like that.” She pats her chest to calm down. “Can I help you, sir?” You show her a warm smile while pointing at the clock hanging on the wall. “This is quite literally not the time for that, is it?” Seoyeon’s face instantly relaxes and her body sinks into her chair, releasing the tension she has been holding for hours now. “You want to go home, baby?” “I still need to finish this thing, though,” she says.

Your heart sinks: you forget how much you rely on Seoyeon for a plethora of things, taking her help and presence for granted more often than you’d like to admit. “We can continue tomorrow, love; let’s just go home, please.” Seoyeon stares at you blankly, possibly contemplating if she wants to finish it tomorrow and go home with you tonight. “Yeah, let’s go home,” she finally comes to a decision, much to your delight.

Seoyeon looks around to make sure there’s no custodian or security guard around, and when she sees that the coast is clear, she takes your hand in yours. “I love you, oppa,” she says softly, filling your heart with some much-needed warmth. “I love you more, baby, and I can’t do anything without you,” you reply, making sure she knows that she’s appreciated. Seoyeon giggles. “Would you consider giving me a raise, then?” “Yes, absolutely; I’ll see what I can do, okay, baby?”

As soon as you step out of the elevator, you see Dayeon hanging out with a security guard with her back turned against you, which gives you enough time to let go of Seoyeon’s hand and pretend nothing happened. Dayeon turns around when the guard points inside where you are.

“Oh, hello, boss,” Dayeon ignores Seoyeon and only greets you, “going home?” You put on a smile and simply nod to her question. “See you tomorrow, Miss Kim.” Initially, she doesn’t say anything when you walk past her with Seoyeon, but as you’re inching closer towards your car, Dayeon opens her mouth. “Do you sleep with your secretary, boss? Is she that girlfriend you spoke of?”

Both you and Seoyeon stop in your tracks, and admittedly, you’re very nervous. “What the hell are you talking about, Dayeon-ah,” Seoyeon comes to your aid, “I have a boyfriend, just so you know.” “You don’t actually think that I’m that stupid, do you? It’s not hard to put 2 and 2 together,” she presses on.

After thinking about it for a moment, you decide to interrupt and just reveal the whole thing. “Yes, Miss Kim, I do sleep with my secretary who is also my girlfriend.” You sigh, feeling somewhat relieved. “So, please stop trying to get to me; I don’t want to cheat on my beloved.” “Yeah, okay.” Dayeon bows while her eyes release tears, “I apologize, sir—have a good evening.” You look at Seoyeon, and she looks right back at you with this flat expression that you can’t figure out the meaning of. “You too, Miss Kim. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

-

Seoyeon is oddly quiet tonight, visibly tense and deep in thought—not even a flavorful dinner managed to get her to relax. “Love, I hope you’re not thinking about work right now.” She shakes her head. “I’m just thinking about Dayeon-ie.” You stay silent and see if she wants to continue. “How long do you think she has had a crush on you, oppa?” “I don’t know, honestly,” you sigh, “I think the more important question is why me, because aside from my position, I’m just a regular, boring guy—even you acknowledge that I’m a boring person.”

Seoyeon moves to sit on your lap. “Just so you know, dating a boring guy is fun, as odd as that sounds,” she says. Truthfully, you’re glad to hear that, but you’re curious about the reason. “Just think about it, oppa: because you’d rather stay at home and be boring, I don’t have to worry about you running around the city looking for one-night stands or side chicks.” “I mean, yeah, but I also don’t go out much—isn’t it boring for you to stay at home with me a lot?” Your girlfriend shrugs. “I mean, you’re still willing to go out on dates when we have time.”

Now that Seoyeon has brought up that topic, you suggest getting dinner together tomorrow after work, which makes her light up. “Hmm, yeah, about that,” she fetches her tablet from the table, “the dance instructors are inviting you to attend a monthly evaluation tomorrow at 6 p.m.” “Okay, but can I have you after that?” Seoyeon doesn’t answer right away and scrolls up and down on her tablet. “Yeah, you can,” she says, “what do you have in mind?” “Dinner, love—did I not tell you that already?” Seoyeon laughs. “Sowwy, daddy.” “Daddy? What, you horny?” Seoyeon places her hand on her crotch and then yours. “I need a bit of warmup, but you seem eager.” “I’m always eager for you, baby, but do you want it?” You ask to make sure you have consent. “Only if you promise to make me cum.”

In the few years you’ve been dating her, only twice have you not made her cum, both involving you busting early: the first one was because you were strangled by her ass and couldn’t hold it back, and the second one was because you were not in peak condition. Seoyeon expressed her disappointment on both occasions but didn’t let you touch her to rectify your failure. Ever since then, you make sure to make her cum first before you try to chase your own orgasm, and it’s been working well so far.

You carry Seoyeon like a koala, and she circles different parts of your body with her arms and legs. Once you’re close to bed, you pretend as if you were going to drop her, making Seoyeon scream the loudest you’ve heard from her in recent memory—eh, actually, that scream she let out when you surprised her on her birthday was likely louder.

“That was so not funny, oppa,” she whines, “why would you do your girlfriend like that?” “Sowwy, baby.” You gently set her down on the bed. “How about that, love?” Seoyeon looks away momentarily. “I was about to get mad, but let’s be real, how can I get mad at you, oppa?”

You kiss her fleetingly. “You’re so sweet, aren’t you, baby? You’re always so kind and hard-working.” Seoyeon’s boba eyes widen even more while her cheeks are painted pink. “W-what are you talking about, oppa? Why so sudden?” You take a knee in front of her. “Baby, I’m so thankful for you, both personally and professionally; I seriously wouldn’t last a day without you.” She places her hands on either side of your face. “Thank you, oppa,” she says, “life has been very pleasant with you by my side.”

The two of you came to the bedroom to have sex, but here you are, crying to your heart’s content in each other’s arms because you’ve been overwhelmed by emotions. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” you wipe tears off your cheeks, “oh, I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to make you cry like this.” Seoyeon shakes her head. “W-with you, I-I cry because of the right reasons, oppa.” You chuckle slightly. “Is this a good segue to sex, though?” Seoyeon pecks you on the forehead. “Us crying right now means good emotions, and good sex needs good emotions,” she says.

After calming down, Seoyeon takes off her T-shirt, revealing a black bra that you love seeing her wear the most. “I consent, oppa.” You join her in undressing and let your clothes scatter all over the place. “I love you, sweetheart,” you say softly, “I’m glad to be with you all the time.”

Seoyeon falls backwards onto the bed, and you take the chance to take her shorts and panties off. “Oppa, before we start,” she calls a timeout by placing a finger on your cheek. “Please don’t get in my ass; I’m not in the mood for it.” “Of course, baby—thanks for letting me know.”

You grind your tip against her entrance, and Seoyeon promptly starts moaning. “Vanilla is great, isn’t it, baby?” “Y-yes,” she says, “I-I can feel how much you love me.” “That’s great to hear,” you whisper, “here I go, baby.” “Yes, make love to—oh!”

With little problem, you ease your cock into her pussy, her warm walls hugging your shaft snug. You hear her soft and angelic moans in your ear, and you’re doing your best to keep this tempo that’s nice and relaxed amidst the temptation to go hard and fast.

“Oppa, I love you—I love you so much.” “Oh, I love you more, darling; more than words can express.” Seoyeon lets out a mix of giggles and moans. “Really?” You peck her on the lips before answering. “We’re having sex right now so that I can show you, instead of telling you.” She places her soft hand on your cheek. “Keep showing me, then, oppa.”

You hug her tightly as your shaft moves in and out of her, exchanging moans with each other freely. Seoyeon suddenly lifts her butt off the bed while yelping. “You alright, cutie?” She nods. “J-just goosebumps,” she says. Now that she’s mentioned it, you notice that you also have goosebumps on your forearms. “We’re equal, baby.”

You’ve lost track of time at this point; the pace makes it feel like it’s been hours, but neither of you is showing signs of impending orgasm just yet—at least that was the case, until Seoyeon announces that she’s getting close. “Y-you need to go faster if you want to make me cum, oppa,” she says. “I don’t want to—it sounds exhausting,” you crack a little joke. She lets out a gasp of disbelief, playing along with your joke. “Su-surely you’re not that mean.”

You straighten your posture and fold her in half. “Oh, I’m so ready for this,” Seoyeon approves of the change of position. Once your knees are set, you start pumping into her fast and hard. “Yes, daddy, yes!” She pulls out the kinky name out of her bag. “Fuck me, daddy!”

Your girlfriend is moaning without any care about anything else, while you’re endlessly fucking her; whatever agreement you had about vanilla and making love has been thrown out the window.

“More, more! Make me cum, daddy!” Seoyeon is great at pushing the right buttons at the right time to egg you on. You fasten your grip on her ankles and move your hips as fast as you can while praying that you won’t bust too fast.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby.” “Y-you only no-noticed that now?” You chuckle a little. “Yeah, kind of,” you say, “are we ready to cum yet?” “S-soon, daddy.” “Hard to get, aren’t you, cutie?” Amidst the endless moaning, Seoyeon manages to let out a laugh. “Y-you love me f-for it, d-don’t you, daddy?” “Damn right.”

After what feels like forever, Seoyeon finally announces that she’s ready to cum any second now. “Just a bit more, daddy, please.” You opt to let her legs relax and come in for a hug, having had enough of being rough. “Come on, my love,” you whisper in her ear, “cum for me, please.”

A part of your mind wonders if the slower pace will postpone her orgasm, but no is the answer you’re getting, as Seoyeon asks you to pull out when her orgasm hits, her legs and thighs shaking as per usual. You lie on your side next to her while your hand gently runs on her head. “You’re always so pretty, baby—even prettier when you cum, might I add,” you praise her. She wants to say something back, but her heavy pants prevent her from doing so, hence the nods. “Take your time, baby; we have all night.”

-

You’re getting some looks from a bunch of people when you’re walking through the building with Seoyeon, and you wonder if you’re simply being paranoid. “Baby, is it just me or are they looking at us weirdly?” “I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.” Seoyeon picks up the pace of her steps while keeping her gaze forwards.

You invite her to your office before releasing her into the wilderness that is secretary work. “I’m sorry, baby; I just wanted to make Dayeon-ie stop flirting with me.” She sighs. “Yeah, it’s fine; I didn’t want to stay silent while she kept pursuing you either.”

The bell to your door rings, and Dayeon appears soon after. “Hello,” she says, “am I interrupting?” You and Seoyeon look at her in confusion. “No, no,” you break the silence, “please come in, Dayeon-ah.” As she gets closer, you see that her eyes are red—she must’ve spent some time crying. “I-I’d like to submit my resignation letter.” Dayeon places a piece of paper on your desk, sobbing as she does. You quickly scan the letter, and under the reason section, she’s written that “she is no longer able to stay professional at work.”

Aside from her shenanigans, Dayeon is great at her work. As a former idol herself, she has a keen eye when it comes to evaluating trainee candidates, hence how she was able to keep her position this long despite her occasional unprofessionalness.

As thoughts run amuck in your head, Dayeon sobs more and more. “S-sign it, please, sir,” she urges you. You pick up a pen from your shirt pocket, but you can’t bring yourself to sign the letter. “Oppa,” Seoyeon steals your attention, “don’t sign it.” Both you and Dayeon look at her confusedly. “Let her stay, oppa; we need her.” “I-I literally tried to steal your boyfriend, Seoyeon-ah—why would you let me stay?”

Seoyeon holds Dayeon’s hands. “I know you did, but at the same time, you didn’t know that we were dating; I don’t want to punish someone for being clueless,” she reasons, and you think that it’s a reasonable point. “She’s right, Dayeon-ah,” you support your girlfriend’s idea, “you’re a valuable personnel in this company.” You put down your pen and the letter. “Now that you know about our relationship, I hope that you’ll stop chasing me and be able to put your expertise to good use.”

Seoyeon pulls her into a hug, which makes Dayeon burst into tears. “T-thank you, Seoyeon-ah—thank you, boss. I-I promise I will work hard.” Your girlfriend looks at you with a smile and teary eyes, and your eyes are threatening to release tears because of this sight.

Dayeon quickly pulls away from the hug and wipes tears off her cheeks. “S-someone give me orders—please tell me what to do.” Seoyeon whispers something to her ear, and considering how her eyes widen seemingly in shock, it must be something crazy. “What did you say to her, sweetie?” Your girlfriend doesn’t answer while Dayeon makes her way around your desk and kneels between your legs.

“Let me suck your cock, sir.”

You look at Seoyeon, who has a naughty smirk on her face. “What the hell did you just tell her?” She shrugs. “She wanted your dick, so that’s what she’s getting.” You want to say something back, but you’re distracted when Dayeon unzips your trousers. “Look at her, oppa, and tell me she’s not excited right now.” Dayeon indeed seems excited and ready. “Fine,” you decide to play along, “we’re not doing this ever again, just so we’re clear.”

You inhale sharply when you feel Dayeon licking the tip of your cock. “I will make sure you remember this, boss—you can tell me later if I’m better than your girlfriend.” “Just get on with it, please,” you say, oddly eager about getting a blowjob from another girl—a home wrecker.

She parts her lips and slowly negotiates your shaft into her mouth, seemingly (and understandably) struggling with your unfamiliar size. In the corner of your vision, you see that Seoyeon is moving to stand behind Dayeon. “Deeper, slut—if you want to please him, you have to show more effort.” She pushes Dayeon’s head forwards, making her gag on your cock. “Sweetie, be gentle with her,” you say. “Nah, she can take it.”

It is when the gags get worse that Seoyeon lets Dayeon remove you from her throat. “N-not too rough—h-have mercy, please,” she begs. “Do you want to please him, or no?” Dayeon nods weakly. “I-I do, b-but please let me do it at my own pace.” “Fine,” Seoyeon steps away from you and Dayeon, “continue, then.”

Dayeon turns her attention back to you. “W-water, please.” You grab a bottle that has some leftover water from yesterday. “Open your lips, cookie.” Once she opens her mouth, you guide the bottle towards her and help her take a sip. She finishes the water in one go, and unfortunately for her, that’s all you have. “Sorry, I haven’t refilled my water today.” She shakes her head. “I-it’s fine, I-I’ll manage.”

She starts stroking your cock, indicating that she’s ready to go again. “S-sorry, oppa, my gag reflex is so bad.” You rub her face gently. “Do you want to stop?” “B-but Seoyeon-ie said—” “Don’t worry about her,” you interrupt, “if you don’t consent, then we must stop.”

After thinking about it, Dayeon decides that she wants to stop right here and asks both your and Seoyeon’s consent to try again some other time. Seoyeon suggests inviting Dayeon to your apartment on Saturday night, which you have no problem with. “We’ll see you again on Saturday, Dayeon-ah.” “Y-yes, sir,” she says, “t-thank you for the opportunity.” You smile at her. “Now, get yourself tidied up and start working, please.”

While Dayeon gets herself sorted, Seoyeon extends the invitation to attend a monthly evaluation to her, mentioning how Dayeon’s experience might help the company make decisions about these trainees. “Yeah, I’ll be there—thanks for inviting me.” During the exchange, you see that Seoyeon is starting to soften up to Dayeon, which provides you with some much-needed relief.

It is when Dayeon exits your office that Seoyeon approaches you again. “I love you,” she says, “everything I do for you is out of love, oppa.” “I know, sweetie; I’m always thankful for you.” You and Seoyeon move towards each other at the same time for a kiss. “I’ll see you later, oppa.” “I’ll see you later too, sweetheart.”

-

The clock shows 4:00, which means that it’s time to go to that meeting that Seoyeon has prepared materials for.

“So, to remind you, we’ll be talking about some debut-related stuff with a bunch of people—the important things for this meeting are in this binder.” “Thank you, sweetheart,” you take the big binder from her hands. “You’re attending too, aren’t you?” Seoyeon laughs. “We both know you can’t go through the day without me.” You nod. “I know, sweetie, and that’s why I asked.”

Seoyeon wraps an arm around yours as you walk towards the meeting room with her. “I’m nervous, baby,” you say. “Honestly, same,” she replies, “believe me when I say that I'm glad I’m not the boss of this company.” “Oh, don’t worry, you’ll be joining me soon, Miss Yoon.” You try making a joke to suppress the nervousness.

You believe that you have valid reasons to be nervous; the future of this company depends on whether the 5-member group that’s going to debut in January next year succeeds. Not only that, but these 7 trainees who have been spending so much time training at your company are very hopeful about making the debut team—it’s going to be so damn painful for everyone when you announce the two trainees who won’t be debuting in January.

When you enter the room, Min Suhye and Min Suji, the dance and singing instructors respectively, are waiting for you. “Hey, guys,” you greet them, “how are you two doing?” Suji’s face lights up. “We’re doing very well; these trainees have been working really hard and really well recently.” Her words blow tenseness away from your mind. “Well, you guys deserve all the credits; you’ve been tireless with them.” Suji looks at her sister momentarily. “Yeah, actually, we’d like to take a bit of PTO next week or the week after.” You figure that they deserve some much-needed rest, so you agree to let them take leave, and in turn, let the trainees get some rest as well.

After a short wait, you’re joined by the choreographer and music production team. “Hi, hi,” the choreographer greets you, “sorry for being late; I had a discussion with Sihyeon-ie.” “Is she okay?” You ask because you care about these trainees and their instructors. “Yeah, yeah—she just had questions about some choreo details.” You’re glad to hear that people are as serious about this as you are; it would be difficult to proceed if someone were to lose motivation during this long process.

To not waste more time, you start today’s meeting. The production team plugs in their laptop to the speaker and projector, taking the first turn to “speak.” “Which one do you guys want to check out first?” You see on the big screen that there are demos titled A through D, each around 3 minutes long. “We’ll start from the top, okay?”

Demo A immediately catches your attention; it sounds fun and exciting with the uplifting beat, and the supposed chorus part has that banger factor (your opinion, not official production term). Demo B and C sound cute, but C in particular sounds quite generic. “Maybe we can include B as a B-side,” you think. Finally, you arrive at D, which sounds like another title track material. “A or D as title,” you write on your little note.

“I’d like to hear what everyone thinks about each demo,” you start the discussion. The instructor sisters love C but are worried about it coming off as boring, so they vote for D instead. Your beloved Seoyeon, on the other hand, thinks that A should be the title track, like you do. You’re glad that she’s of the same opinion, but you make sure that your face doesn’t show any sign of bias in front of these people.

“I think A is great,” says the choreographer, “we should be able to make a catchy choreo that sticks to people’s minds.” Before casting your vote, you ask what the production duo thinks. “When we were making these demos, we thought that maybe we could include C in the EP; I personally think that it’ll be a fun addition to it, you know.”

After a short discussion, it is decided that A and C will be in the debut EP: A is the title track while C is a B-side track; someone suggests putting C at the end of the play. “Yeah, sounds great,” says production, “we’ll be working on the lyrics soon.” You thank everyone for making the time for the meeting and sharing their opinions on the demos, earning smiles from each present. “I hope you guys remember that you guys are important to me and this company,” you say. You want to say that you’ll be giving them bonuses based on the group’s success but it’s probably best to keep it as a surprise.

Seoyeon approaches you after everyone has left. “Did I do well, sweetie?” She nods. “You always do well, but sometimes I wish you’d show more authority.” You scratch your chin as you think about her words. “I mean, I just wanted to listen to everyone’s opinions first.” She nods again. “Thankfully there wasn’t much disagreement today, but should it happen in the future, you’ll need to be able to take point, oppa.”

Someone’s knocking at the door, so Seoyeon makes her way towards it to check. “Oh, it’s you—come in.” Dayeon appears at the door with a plastic bag in her hands. “Erm, I bought some kimbap for you guys—I-I wanted to get donuts but I don’t know if you guys like sweet stuff.” “Thank you, Dayeon-ah; we were about to get food ourselves.” With a sheepish smile, Dayeon hands the bag over to Seoyeon, who doesn’t seem to be in the best mood, before leaving the meeting room.

“You alright, sweetie?” Seoyeon sighs. “Just wondering if giving her a second chance was a good idea.” “Sweetie,” you hold her soft hands in yours, “you know I would never cheat on you, right? I’ll make sure Dayeon doesn’t get too close to me.” She sighs once more. “Just… don’t leave me for her, please.” You assure her that such thing won’t happen; you love Seoyeon so much and don’t want to see her go.

-

“Oh, hi, Jihyun-ah—going somewhere?” You catch Jihyun, one of the two eldest trainees, leaving the training room. “D-director,” she’s visibly surprised to see you, “I-I was going to get some water for us.” Based on her sweaty forehead, you can tell that she’s been practicing hard. “I’ll get it for you; please return to the training room.” Jihyun seems reluctant to accept your offer, but she doesn’t dare argue. “Yes, director—thank you so much.”

You grab a box of bottled water from the storage and carry it towards the training room where the trainees are. “Good thing you’re fit,” Seoyeon quips. You chuckle. “I know, right.” As soon as you enter the training room, you’re met with bows and hellos from the trainees. “Hi, hi, hi,” you put on a kind smile for them, “Jihyun-ie said you guys needed some water, so here it is.”

You hand a bottle of water to Jihyun, who then passes it over to the other trainees until everyone has a bottle in their hands. You invite everyone to sit in a circle on the floor, and Sihyeon, the other eldest trainee, tries to get a chair for you. “That’s not necessary, Sihyeon-ah; I’m just your co-worker, not your dad,” you make a little joke, making her laugh a little. “Come, guys, let’s just sit on the floor.”

“So,” you start, “how’s everyone doing?” You make sure your tone is gentle in front of these exhausted trainees. “We’re fine for the most part, sir,” Jihyun answers on their behalf. “Most part, Jihyun-ah? Is there something wrong?” Jihyun reveals that Sunbin has been feeling some pain in her right calf because she didn’t stretch properly. “Are you okay now, though, Sunbin-ah?” Sunbin says that she’s feeling better after having applied some ointment on her calf, which brings relief to your heart. Sunbin is the youngest despite being of legal age and is also a big softie, so it stings to hear that she was in a bit of trouble.

“Director, director,” Sunwoo steals your attention. “I-if it’s okay with you, can we have some pizza and fried chicken, please?” You burst out laughing. “Of course you can, Sunwoo-yah—look, do your best for tonight’s evaluation, and I’ll buy each of you a box of fried chicken and two large pizzas to share; how about that?” Everyone’s face lights up as the room is filled with excited cheers—look, Soobin is beaming right now!

As trainees, dietary restrictions can be quite rough on them, so the fact that you’re agreeing to their request brings joy to their hearts. “Order for them, please—buy some for us as well,” you whisper to Seoyeon, who immediately pulls out her phone to order food.

You spend some more time talking with the trainees and are soon joined by the Min sisters and Dayeon, who are here for the evaluation, and everyone starts getting on their feet. “Girls, huddle, please,” you join them in the circle, “you are so close to debuting, and I know you guys have what it takes.” “Thank you, sir,” Jihyun says. “Fighting on three—one, two, three, fighting!”

You and Seoyeon take a seat at the big table with the Min sisters and Dayeon. “We’re ready when you are,” you say. “Good luck, everyone!” The song starts playing after everyone’s gotten to their positions—they’re doing a dance cover of tripleS’ Girls Capitalism, followed by a full cover of Kep1er’s Love on Lock right after.

You put on a serious face as the trainees go through the first cover and nail some important details from the original performers—shit, Sunbin seems to be in discomfort. “Pull through, Miss Jeon; c’mon, you can do this shit,” you say in your head, hoping that it’ll reach her. Your attention is stolen by Jihyun, however, as she steps closer towards the table to make a big impression on you and company. “Good job,” you mouth to her, drawing a small, proud smile on her face.

Sunbin immediately falls seated onto the floor after the cover is finished, scrunching her face because of the pain. You step away from the table to check up on her. “Are you okay, Sunbin-ah?” She nods weakly. “J-just my calf, director.” Jihyun passes you the ointment and you open the cap. “Excuse me, Sunbin-ah; I’ll help you apply some of this, okay?” Only when she nods do you start putting ointment on her leg. You then help her sit on a chair and return to yours. “You can sing your lines while sitting, Miss Jeon,” you say, “everyone else, please proceed as planned—eh, actually, drink some water first."

“You’re so kind to them, director,” Suhye makes a comment. “I don’t want to simply be a boss to them, Suhye-yah,” you reason. Suhye doesn’t say anything back, and you take it as a sign that she agrees with your approach.

The girls move to take their positions for the next cover, and Jihyun is the last person to get ready because she was still taking care of Sunbin. She seems to have also said something to her, and you hope that it was words of motivation or comfort.

The second song starts, so you shake your head to get rid of other thoughts in order to focus on the performance. It’s been smooth so far; Sunwoo and Daeun seem to be more immersed in this cover compared to the previous one—they must like this sort of song more. Jihyun, the always passionate one, is doing her best too, along with Hyeonju, Sihyeon, and Soobin.

Unfortunately, however, Sihyeon’s voice cracks a little, but she manages to stay focused and carry on. You and Seoyeon, in a moment of like-mindedness, quickly put up the OK sign to help assure her that she’s okay. Another thing to note is that Sunbin is giving absolutely everything despite being seated, showing everyone present her perseverance that is second-to-none, and at this point, the best choice of action seems to be debuting all 7 of them.

Once the performance finishes, you start a wave of claps, and in response, the trainees bow in respect and gratitude. “Well done, everyone,” you say, “now, I’ll have your instructors say their feedback.” “I’d like to start,” Dayeon says, so you let her do so. To your surprise, she leaves her seat and starts undressing, thus revealing her idol-like practice attire that consists of sports bra and compression shorts. “Wow, she came prepared,” you think. Apparently, you’re staring too much, proven by how Seoyeon pinches your thigh as punishment.

Dayeon gives Sihyeon some feedback and goes as far as showing examples, and the other trainees start replicating her, taking the guidance seriously. “I understand if you’re not too big on showing your curves, but it’s often necessary,” she adds. “Oh, and don’t forget to make eye contact even when you’re in the center.” After Sihyeon, Dayeon turns her attention to Soobin, who apparently was caught lacking.

“Soobin-ah, I want you to look at me and then compare my moves with yours, okay?” She does this piece of choreography like the pro she used to be—muscle memory goes crazy when it comes to dancers and athletes. Dayeon then tells Soobin to do the same and is quick to see the part that was not good in her eyes. “Right there, stop,” she says, “where’s the detail on that move, Miss Park?” Soobin repeats the piece once more, but she still doesn’t manage to satisfy Dayeon. “Oh, c’mon,” she’s getting heated, “stick your butt out some more when you’re doing those steps, Miss Park.” Soobin does the move again as instructed, and admittedly, that last try looks better. “There, that’s better,” she says, “remember the details, okay?”

Behind the standing ladies, Sunbin is looking at the floor, seemingly in low spirits. “Let’s talk to Sunbin-ie,” you say to Seoyeon, who follows closely behind you as you walk towards Sunbin. “Miss Jeon, how’s your leg?” “I-it doesn’t hurt as much anymore, director.” “Then follow us, please.”

Right as she’s stepping out of the training room, Sunbin starts crying. “P-please don’t fire me, director; I-I know I was wrong for not warming up correctly, but—” Her gust of tears interrupts her own words. Seoyeon promptly hugs Sunbin, making her gasp in surprise. “It’s okay, Sunbin-ah; accidents happen all the time,” she says, “please don’t cry, we’re not punishing you or anything.” “B-but—” Seoyeon doesn’t let her make a counterargument, placing a finger on her lips to stop her. “Just worry about your legs first, and then, I want you to remember this instance and warm up properly next time, okay?” Sunbin nods and hugs Seoyeon more tightly. “T-thank you so much, ma’am,” she says tearily.

-

Seoyeon falls onto bed as soon as you enter the bedroom with her after showering. “God, that was such a long day—it's helpful that dinner was very good.” “Thank you for sticking around until the end, love,” you don’t forget to express your gratitude. “That was me both as your secretary and your girlfriend, by the way.” “I know, love, and I’m thankful for you, like I always am.”

Your girlfriend gathers her might and moves to sit. “If you’re that thankful for me, surely you can do me a favor.” “Sure, baby,” you take a knee in front of the bed. “What can I do for you, baby?” “Why don’t you make me cum, hm?” You chuckle. “Yeah, I’d love to—I thought you were tired, though?” Seoyeon shakes her head. “We can pile on some more exhaustion so that we get better sleep.” “Sure, baby.”

You stand back up and stretch a little. “Wouldn’t want to pull a muscle like Sunbin-ie.” Your little joke makes her laugh. “She’s so cute, isn’t she?” “Yeah, that’s something I wouldn’t say—I don’t want to come across as creepy, you know.” Seoyeon pinches your forearm. “You should be more worried about me, if you catch what I’m saying.” “Oh, I know.” You’re getting impatient to start. “Are we ready to start, or no?”

Seoyeon pulls her T-shirt over her head and uses it to cover her body. “Are you okay, love?” “I don’t like this bra,” she says, “I don’t think I look good in it.” A few questions pop up in your head: which bra is this, why does she not like it, and what did she mean “I don’t look good in it,” because Seoyeon looks good in everything and nothing. “Can I look?” She shakes her head. “Turn around, oppa; let me take this off myself.”

You do as she asks and let her do her thing. “Here,” she hands the bra over. You see that it’s a nothing-out-of-ordinary sports bra. “What’s wrong with this, baby?” “It makes my breasts look flat, and I don’t like it—not when I’m trying to have you between my legs.” You scratch your head as you try to come up with something to say. “Baby, look,” you start, still wondering if it’s a good thing to say. “You are attractive, ‘kay? You don’t need to worry about looking flat or whatever, because respectfully, you are very hot.”

Your girlfriend beams and taps your face gently. “Congratulations, you passed the test,” she says. “Test? What do you mean?” “Ah, don’t worry about it, oppa; just know that it was the correct answer.” You’re speechless, unsure of what to make of this situation. “C’mon, oppa, touch me.”

You’re still stumped even after getting rid of your clothes. “Baby—” Your words are cut off when Seoyeon starts stroking you. “C’moooon,” she picks up the pace, “get hard and fuck me already.” It is when she thinks you’re properly hard that she lets go. “There you go—now please fuck me.”

You pretend like you’re about to kiss her, only to turn her around and have her bend over. You place a palm on her pussy to check if she’s really ready. “You can feel how wet I am, can’t you, daddy?” A mix of gasp and moan escapes her lips when you stick two fingers in her pussy. “I-I’m ready for you, daddy,” she states the obvious.

With your cock in hand, you slowly and gently ease it into her, earning a long moan from her until the entirety of your length is inside. “S-say something, daddy; t-tell me I’m good.” The way you’re bending forwards allows you to hold her tits and say words right into her ears without compromising your pace. “You’re always good, baby; I will never get tired of you,” you say, “you’re such a good person on the outside and a sexy lady on the inside—speaking of inside, you’re also so damn tight all the time.” “T-thank you, daddy,” she lets out a moan before continuing, “t-the way you tended to Sunbin-ie was a-attractive, you know.”

You laugh internally; you say what you said because Seoyeon wanted to be praised, but she mentions Sunbin in her reply. “This moment is ours, love; let’s not bring work to bed, hm?” Seoyeon nods slightly. “I-I’m sorry, daddy.”

As a gesture of accepting her apology, you start moving your hips faster to reach that sweet spot of a tempo. Seoyeon then straightens her back so that only her knees are on the bed, and you do the same in cooperation. “Fuck me like this, daddy.” “You love taking me deep, don’t you, baby?” “Oh, oh, yes, I do; I fucking love it when you’re hitting me deep.”

Seoyeon is active today, moving her hips downwards to meet your thrusts in the middle. You reach around and begin stimulating her nub, making her moan louder and faster. “Daddy, daddy,” she chants, “y-you’re going to make me cum.” “Yeah? Is that so?” Your speech is rather breathy at the moment. She turns her head to the side. “Kiss me, daddy.”

Seoyeon, after taking a few dozens of thrusts from you, suddenly slams her hips while screaming from the top of her lungs—poor girl didn’t have the chance to announce her orgasm because of how sudden and hard it hit her. At the same time, her walls are squeezing your shaft really hard.

You notice that she’s getting weak and threatening to tumble forwards, so you fasten your hold of her body to make sure she doesn’t go face first into the bed. “Great job, love—that must’ve felt good, right?” “A-amazing,” she answers weakly. “You’re also amazing, baby.” You send a barrage of kisses to the back of her head (because you don’t have access to her face) to make sure she knows that she’s appreciated.

“D-daddy,” Seoyeon captures your attention again. “C-cum in me, please.” “Gladly, baby—here I go, okay?”

You start off slowly, savoring your girlfriend’s tightness and warmth to the max since you were busy being fast on her earlier. “I love you, baby; I love you so, so much.” “I love you more, daddy—oh, yes, daddy.” You ask if she can help you get closer to orgasm by grinding her hips against yours, and she does just as you ask. “Oh, you’re amazing, baby; you’re always so fucking amazing.”

With a grunt, you release semen into her core, filling her to the brim and earning a very sexy moan from Seoyeon, who immediately falls onto the bed as soon as you let go of her torso. You slowly retreat from her pussy while placing a hand underneath to catch the excess cum. “Oh, you’re holding it in—good work, baby.” “I-I don’t waste your cum ever, do I?” You peck her in the forehead after flipping her over. “That’s true,” you say.

[reysdriver]

Hey darlin'! I just saw your one-shots and i REALLY love them!! I need morr about Eddie with Hopper!Reader <33 Please!! A fluff or a smut where the Reader have to deal with her father. Hope you can answer. Have a nice day!! ✨️

-🩷

You and Eddie try to have a chill night in, but it's difficult when you have the world's most paranoid chief of police as a father — eddie x fem!hopper!reader fluff

warnings: none

words: 1.2k

a/n: thanks for submitting a request! I'm sorry it took so long, I've been so busy lately, and I'm sorry I couldn't figure out how to end it lmao but I really hope you like this fic!!

Even though your dad knew about you and Eddie dating, he was definitely not as okay with it as you would have hoped, but honestly more than you had expected. 

He had met Eddie a few times since he found out you were in romantic cahoots with the familiar criminal, and despite your fears, they had gotten along quite well despite their history and their differences. But no matter how many things they actually had in common, no father would fully trust Eddie Munson to be alone with his little girl. 

“Door open three inches!” Your dad called from the couch. “You know the rules!”

You rolled your eyes, standing up from the bed to open the door to Hopper’s liking. 

The door was open three inches, and you swore that it was the draft causing the door to move slightly, but you knew your dad would never believe you. 

“Seriously, Dad?” You asked him. 

“Rules are rules.” He confirmed. “If you don’t like it, then the boyfriend can go.”

You let out a heavy, dramatic sigh before returning to your boyfriend, who was currently sketching out a Dungeons and Dragons character based on you for his new campaign. 

Eddie looked up from his paper when you sat back down next to him. “You can do a lot with three inches, you know?”

You put a finger over his mouth—which he playfully tried to bite—and you shushed him while holding back a laugh at his incredibly stupid, albeit funny, joke. 

“He’s gonna hear you, and he’s gonna drag you out of here. Keep drawing.”

He put the finishing touches on his design, then let out a sound of satisfaction over it before turning the notebook so you could see it better. 

“I think I did pretty good.” Your boyfriend proclaimed. “She’s almost as pretty as you.”

Oh, how you lucked out with this mysterious dork. You thanked him by pressing a quick kiss on his cheek before your dad became suspicious of you two once again. 

“You think I should get it as some ink?” Eddie asked you. 

“Like, you want to get it tattooed?”

Eddie nodded, eyes going back and forth between you and the cartoon version of you that he just made. 

“Absolutely not.” You replied. 

“What? Why not? Do you not love me enough to let me tattoo you on me?”

He was ridiculous, staring at you with big, fake puppy dog eyes and a pleading lip. 

“Of course I love you, but as your girlfriend, I also need to stop you from doing stupid things.”

“What if I keep your tattoo separate from the creepy skulls and spiders?”

Well, that was an offer you almost couldn’t refuse. Even though it was tempting, you would never let him know that he can get to you like that, so you played it cool.

“Ask me again in a year.”

His face erupted into a devilish smile and he held his hands to his chest like a cartoon character in love. 

“I’m getting a tramp stamp of my girlfriend in a year!”

Before you could protest his proclamation, he pulled you into his arms in what you hoped was just a teasing gesture rather than a genuine expression of excitement for something you were certainly not going to let happen. 

Just a second later, your dad cleared his throat very pointedly, which practically frightened you out of your boyfriend’s arms. 

“El wants to watch a movie.” He announced. “Come watch with us.”

You sat up and shook your head lightly. “Um, no thanks, Dad. We’ll pass on that.”

Your dad raised an eyebrow and looked at Eddie’s arm around your waist. “You have something better to do?”

It was at that point that you knew him telling you about your sister and the movie was an order, not an invitation. You bit the inside of your cheek and luckily, Eddie spoke up before you could say something snarky. 

“A movie sounds great, chief. Count us in.”

“Good.” Hopper said curtly before turning around to the living room. 

Eddie stood up and started teasingly pulling you off the bed. You laid down and let out an annoyed groan, resisting his attempts to move you. 

“C’mon, babe, movie time.” Eddie encouraged. 

“It’s just gonna be The Wild Bunch. That’s one of their favourite movies and I know El’s been wanting to see it again lately.” You mumbled. “I’d much rather stay here with you.”

“Well, your dad might never let me back in your house if he thinks I’m trying anything with his daughter in the other room, so we have to. Plus, I like The Wild Bunch too.”

Your face formed an exaggerated frown as you finally got up off the bed. 

Eddie smiled and escorted you to the living room. And although you had just started to build up excitement within you for this movie night, it already got worse. 

El was in her favourite recliner—the VHS case for The Wild Bunch was on her lap, you called it—but your dad had plopped himself down in the exact middle of the couch. Not only did you have to watch a movie with your family instead of chilling with your boyfriend, but you couldn’t even sit next to him because your dad hates the idea of you having fun. 

Before you knew it, you were in a full on stare-down with the Hawkins chief of police. 

“Take a seat.” He said passive aggressively. 

“I want to sit next to Eddie, Dad. Could you move over?”

He shook his head. “I’m not falling for any of your tricks. I was a teenager once.”

“Yeah, like a thousand years ago.” You mumbled. 

The comment was quiet but your dad still heard it. 

“Careful, any attitude and I’ll assume it came from the moron and he won’t be allowed back in the house.”

You looked over at Eddie with a defeated expression on your face. He looked back at you, sympathetic and willing to comply—the latter was a complete switch from his normal mood.

Your boyfriend understood completely why your dad was worried about you and Eddie dating, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. Of course, Eddie was willing to do whatever he could to seem like the boyfriend every parent would want for their daughter—he really was, some people just couldn’t look past the exterior shell to see it—so he held his tongue and went along with anything. 

The two of you sat down on opposite sides of the couch, separated by your relentless father. 

“Alright, El, play the movie.” Hopper said. 

He then leaned back and kept his eyes on the television in front of you all. 

Eddie soon caught your gaze from across the couch, and he stretched his arm behind his head, oh so conveniently placing it a few inches from your shoulder.

You grinned at him, keeping it subtle, and took his hand in yours. 

The two of you watched the rest of the film like that, holding hands in that slightly uncomfortable way, and the night wasn’t as insufferable as it seemed like it was going to be. All thanks to Eddie, of course.

[melobin]

જ⁀➴ casting couch 𐙚 wonbin

part of the riize as porn plots series.

summary - as a newbie to the porn industry you go through the same hazing process as everyone else. the casting couch. you were just as nervous as you were excited when you found out famed porn star park wonbin would be conducting your interview.

wc - 4.3k

warnings - experienced porn star!wonbin x amateur female porn star!reader, dom wonbin dom! wonbin, finger sucking, hair pulling, nipple play, oral f and m receiving, face fucking, spitting, manhandling, unprotected sex, rough sex, being recorded.

a/n: sorry for taking so long !!!! i've been sick really sick , don't recommend it. i'm still sick but i've been trying to finish this up for a while!!! i hope you enjoy, not proof read!!

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“all you have to do for the mean time is sit there and look pretty, once the shoot starts we’ll ask you a question or two and then wonbin will come in and talk to you, sound good?” you nodded at the director, trying to not let the bright lights blind you too much as he spoke “try not to worry about the cameras too much, pretend like we’re not even here”

it felt strange to say the least, you’d never been on such a high budget set before, everything you’d done was alone in the space of your own bedroom or filmed on a shitty low quality camera, something to do with amateur porn was that they loved their dark lighting and low resolution cameras. so this was all so new to you, daunting in a way, but nothing was as daunting as working with park wonbin. 

wonbin was one of the most famous porn stars within your generation, he was pushing 22 and had only been active in the industry for around a year but that meant nothing, once people got him in their sights they never let go. you understood the obsession, wonbin was one of the most gorgeous men you’d even seen. big pretty eyes, longish hair, toned body and that gold, glistening necklace that always adorned his pretty neck, he beat everyone else by at least a mile. he also knew how to fuck, every video he had been in he had easily reduced the female start to tears with his cock. he was filthy, messy. rough. the dream.

one thing about wonbin was that he was incredibly difficult to hire, he may have been a porn start but he was still cautious about where he put himself and who he stuck himself inside of. people don’t approach wonbin, he approaches them, so it was a shock to you when his manager contacted you saying wonbin wanted to work with you personally. he was searching for an official partner to work with, so he wouldn’t have to rotate between women, it baffled you when you found out he wanted to do a casting cough interview because he thought you’d be perfect for the job. you accepted the offer immediately, you would’ve been insane to not take it. even if you didn’t get the job in the end, you would’ve been walking out of here having been fucked by park wonbin, that’s enough of an achievement for you.

“wonbin’s here, all we’re gonna do is ask you a few questions, try and act a bit ditsy just for the show, you ready?”

“yes” the female makeup artist crouched in front of you, gently dabbing a brush against your lips before standing up. 

“you’ll do great” you smiled and thanked her. you weren’t wearing much, just a short dress that hugged the top half of your body, pushing your tits together and flowed out a little bit at the bottom, it barely covered your ass but it didn’t matter, you had nothing on underneath the dress anyway.  

the camera man sat in the chair across from the black couch you were perched on, he held the large camera on his shoulders as the director cued for the shoot to begin. it was quiet as you waited for the camera man to talk he spent a few seconds just recording you playing with you hair and smiling to yourself.

“you ever done this before?” you forced a giggle at the camera man’s question.

“i’m not a virgin silly” you twirled your hair around your finger, playing along to any other question he asked before you heard the door handle turn. lord, he was here. you weren’t necessarily nervous about the shoot, but you were nervous about meeting wonbin.

you gulped when he opened the door, shutting it behind him before turning to look at you, a small smile played on his plump lips as he eyed you. he didn’t say anything at first, he let your eyes flick down his body. he wore a lose white shirt with a low neck line, collarbones on show with his necklace sat gently against his skin. he was insanely gorgeous, there was no doubt that he caused a thirst to erupt inside of anyone that looked at him.

“aren’t you just the prettiest little thing” he reached a hand out to hold your jaw, thumb pressing against your bottom lip. he pulled it down causing you to open your mouth before he placed his thumb flat on your tongue, watching as you closed your lips around the digit and sucked on it, tongue slowly lifting to circle around it. the one little action had wonbin hooked already, he had wanted to fuck you from the moment he first laid his eyes on you. he’d stumbled across a video of you fucking yourself with some toy in your bedroom, the way you whined when you first pushed the toy into your sopping cunt had his cock throbbing  and the sight of your abused cunt after you’d finished playing with yourself had him spilling all over his hand. wonbin had to give it to you, not many people could make him cum from a video alone but you had him with your very first one. that’s when he knew he needed to have you.

wonbin was a natural, he didn’t seem phased one bit that there were cameras filming him, it felt as if he actively ignored them and done whatever he wanted, what he would’ve done even if they weren’t there. you admired it but it also turned you on, he was so shameless, as of he knew you’d accept anything he wanted to do, even if it was going as far to humiliate you in front of the millions of people who would inevitably be watching this video. 

“got the perfect lips for sucking cock, don’t you?” you nodded, humming around his thumb whilst looking up at him, not breaking eye contact as you took his thumb deeper into your mouth. he grabbed your hair with his free hand, pulling your mouth off of his thumb before looking down at you. his hand dropped to the front of your dress, fingers hooking over the neckline before pulling it down, exposing your bare tits to him. he squeezed one in his hand, slowly loosening his grip before pinching your nipple, pulling it away from your body before letting it go.

“why don’t you find out?” wonbin pushed his tongue against his cheek, amused at your question. of course he wanted to find out, he’d be an idiot not to. 

“show me, baby”

you stood up from the sofa, falling to your knees and looking up at him as your fingers went to the zipper of his jeans. wonbin parted his lips as he watched you, eyes trained on yours whilst you pulled his cock out of his jeans. he had nothing on underneath the rough fabric, he was ready for whatever you were willing to give him.

you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, pumping him in your hand, thumb brushing over his slick tip each time you reached his head. you brought your other hand up to push up his shirt, nails lightly digging into the skin of his abs as you lifted yourself to press your tongue against them, saliva wetting his skin whilst you traced his abs with your tongue. you felt wonbin shiver slightly under the touch of your tongue. his eyes stayed on your as your tongue got lower until it left his skin, hand still pumping his cock as you stuck your tongue out and pressed it against the side of it. letting his cock rest against your tongue before you closed your lips around the tip. 

wonbin groaned as he felt your tongue press into the slit of his cock, the taste of his precum filled your mouth as you took him a little deeper before taking yourself off of him. you held him in your hand as you collected as much saliva as you could in your mouth, moving your head to spit on the end of his cock before wrapping your lips around him once more. 

park wonbin was the only man you wanted to impress, so that’s what you done. slowly inching your mouth lower on his cock with each bob of your hea, your eyes still on his, you took him until there was no more of his cock to take, gagging around him slightly but no letting it stop you. wonbin loved the sight beneath him, your nose pressed against his abdomen with each push of your head forward, eyes watering and spit falling from your lips. the sounds you were making were downright filthy, you sounded like you were enjoying sucking his cock and that just made wonbin harder. 

he watched cautiously as you pulled your mouth off of his cock, closing your eyes and letting out a few deep breaths as a string of saliva still connected you to him. wonbin’s hand found your hair, brushing it out of your face before gripping it and pulling it back so you had no choice to look at him, he expected you to be surprised by his actions, maybe moan, what he didn’t expect was for you to smile at him and let out what he could only describe as a sadistic laugh. 

“do you want to use my mouth, binnie?” he almost groaned at your words, deciding to hold himself back and laugh back at you instead. 

“you know exactly what i want, doll” you kept the smile on your face as you watched him wrap other hand around his cock, keeping the other in your hair. he could see the excitement in your eyes even when he guided his cock into your mouth, you leaned closer to him and held the backs of his thighs as he pushed his cock deeper into your mouth. you let him use you, his thrusts gradually increasing in speed as he fucked your mouth, fingers tightening their grip on your hair the longer it went on. eventually you had tears falling from your eyes, but the look you had in them urged him to keep going, you were more than happy to let him use your throat until he was filling it with cum but wonbin had other ideas. 

at some point he had to pull his cock out of the warmth of your mouth, if he didn’t he was going to cum and wonbin didn’t want to do that until he had your sweet cunt wrapped around him instead. he pulled you off of him by your hair, watching as you gasped for breath but still smiled up at him. you still looked so pretty with tears falling from your eyes and your lips wet and swollen. wonbin wanted nothing more than to ravage you and make a mess of you, he wanted to see you wrecked because of him, he wanted everyone to see how pretty you’d look all fucked out because of his cock. 

wonbin signalled you to stand up by pulling on your hair slightly, you followed his instructions, finding his lips on yours as soon as you were up. the kiss wasn’t gentle, his tongue pushed into your mouth only seconds after he placed his lips against yours. his felt soft, it was a drastic comparison to how filthy his tongue felt in your mouth. 

“you’re almost too good at sucking cock” his fingers move your head away from his by pulling at your hair “might need to keep that pretty little mouth all to myself” wonbin pressed his thumbs against your bottom lip before laughing, fingers tightening in your hair as he turned your head to look at the camera, hand dropping from your mouth to squeeze your tits again “everyones gonna be so jealous of me when this video comes out, doll”. you shivered as you felt his lips by your ear, lips parting so you could whine at how he was treating you. 

wonbin’s hand fell from your hair to unzip the back of your dress, watching you as the straps fell down your arms and the dress fell to the floor. his fingers trailed down your bare back before reaching your ass, squeezing it in his hand before pulling it back so he could strike it against you. you moaned at the rough contact of his hand hitting your ass, wonbin just laughed. 

“you’re so fun to play with”

“bet i’ll be even more fun to fuck” you turned to look at wonbin with a smile on your face, he groaned as his eyes flicked down your body. your fingers pushed the material of his shirt up, tracing his abs as you pushed it over his head. 

“i can’t wait to find out” once you pushed his jeans down properly you took a proper look at wonbin, he was utterly delicious from head to toe. every inch of him was devourable. 

you weren’t sure what his next actions would be, you let yourself try to be natural in front of the camera whilst his fingers touched your body. it took you by surprise when he curled them around your waist and pushed you down onto the sofa, your back almost sticking to the material immediately due to the layer of sweat that had accumulated on your skin. you watched wonbin carefully as he dropped to knees in front of you, fingers digging into your inner thighs as he held your legs apart. 

“hold them” he gestured for you to hold your legs apart and replace his hands with your own, as soon as you did he was bringing his fingers to your pussy, using both hands to spread apart your lips so he could get a clear look at you. he let the camera see, he let it watch the way you whimpered when he lightly brushed his finger over your swollen nub and he let it watch as he collected as much saliva as he could in his mouth before spitting onto your cunt. you gasped at the filthiness of his action, taken by surprise but incredibly turned on as you felt his spit drip from your cunt.

wonbin pressed his tongue flat against your cunt, licking a direct line from your hole to your clit, sopping up every drop of spit and your slick he could with his tongue before spitting it back onto your clit. wonbin was filthy, you could already tell that he liked it wet and messy, he liked you wet and messy.

something else wonbin really liked was the way you tasted, the taste of your cunt filled his mouth and took over all of his sense, he was obsessed from the first lick. you melted against his tongue, filled his tastebuds with your sweetness whilst digging your fingers into your own skin. the camera stayed next to you both as he continued to lick at your cunt, moving closer to where wonbin’s lips wrapped around your clit and he harshly sucked on the nub before releasing it and flicking his tongue over it, all whilst continuing to hold the lips of your pussy open with his fingers.

the feeling of wonbin’s tongue flicking over your clit was indescribable, it sent shivers through your body as the pleasure over took you. your nails dug deeper into your thighs as you tried to keep them open for him, eyes watching the way he buried himself into your cunt and lapped up every drop of slick that you had. you wanted nothing more than to push your fingers into his hair and pull on the strands but you knew he wanted you completely open for him, it made it easier for him to abuse your clit with his tongue and leave you a wreck because of it.

you weren’t sure if his goal was to make you cum, considering he didn’t let you make him cum you half expected him to do the same to you but he didn’t. once wonbin got a taste of you, he needed to feel your cum fill his mouth, need the taste of it to completely overtake all of his senses. you were the sweetest thing he’d ever had the chance to taste and he wasn’t going to let that go so easily.

so he pressed his face a little closer to you, positioning himself so he could quickly flick his tongue over your clit, he tortured the swollen nub before his lips closed around it once more. he had no plans to let you relax as he sucked on it and pressed his tongue against it, he loved the way he could see your thighs tremble from the corner of his eyes and how your eyes stayed on him despite the fact you were falling apart. he knew part of you was putting on a show for the camera, trying to keep somewhat of a professional front despite the fact he was making you lose your mind. 

wonbin lifted his head for a moment, your slick covered his lips as he looked at you “you’re gonna cum on my tongue” his words were short and to the point, it took it by surprise when his hands pushed away yours and replaced them on your thighs, stretching you by pressing them further apart and diving back into your cunt. tongue licking up your slit, circling your hole and pressing in so he could coat himself in you again before he pressed his tongue flat against you and licked up to your clit.

wonbin groaned against you when he felt your fingers grab and pull at his hair, the vibration of his groan made your back arch, hips bucking forward to be closer to his face. he let you grind yourself into him as you whined, babbling about being close.

“i’m close god wonbin i’m so close” the camera was a little further back now, it captured the entire sight of wonbin holding you down and licking up every last drop that left you. you were sure before going into this that you weren’t going to be as into it due to the cameras and the people around you two but wonbin took that thought away from you. somehow he made the experience more intense, wonbin was definitely talented with his tongue and he was eagerly to make you cum with it.

your words caused wonbin’s lips to close around your clit, he was determined to push you over the edge with his mouth, he needed it to happen before he could even think about fucking you. he knew he was pushing you closer with the way he sucked on your cunt, he could feel the way you was harshly pulling at the strands of his hair and how you cried out his name. your voice was higher in pitch, moans coming out in frequent and desperate tones. he felt your clit throb under his tongue as your orgasm hit you, he kept his lips wrapped around it just to be sure he gave you the most intense orgasm possible.

you were shaking by the time wonbin pulled away and let go of your legs but he didn’t give you time to calm down before he was standing up and grabbing you, he manhandled you in the position he wanted you in. he had you knelt on the sofa, your forearms resting over the back of it as he pressed on your lower back and made your arch your ass out. you felt the tip of his cock press against your overstimulated clit, your thighs shook at the sudden contact.

wonbin looked down at his cock, lips parting to let a string of spit fall onto it. he pumped his spit over his cock whilst dragging the head down to your clenching hole, wonbin groaned at the feeling of your wetness seeping onto his cock, he couldn’t wait to fuck you. he watched carefully as he pressed the tip of his cock inside of you, the camera being close to where the two of you were connected in order to get the perfect shot.

the stretch you felt as he pushed inside of you made your head spin, the groan he let out only caused you to tighten more around him, wonbin was sure that if you squeezed around him anymore he wouldn’t be able to move “you’re so fucking tight around me”. wonbin’s own voice sounded shaky as he spoke to you, a deep husk surrounding his tone as he pressed the rest of his cock inside of you “starting to think no one’s fucking you right, sweet girl”. 

he gave you a few moments to catch your breath but it wasn’t enough, the moment he pulled out of you and pushed back in he was taking your breath away. whilst his movements weren’t exactly rough to start off with, the force behind his thrusts had your thighs shaking, the intensity of your previous orgasm staying with you as he dragged his cock along your walls. 

wonbin had his hands on each cheek of your ass, his nails dug into the skin of them as he pulled them apart to be able to watch himself slide into you, each time his cock left you it came out wetter than before. he was obsessed. he was sure to let the camera see it too, letting it focus on the way his cock stretched your open and wedged itself as deep as it could go inside of you. 

his hands moved, he leaned forward to wrap his hand around your neck whilst his other hand held your jaw, his thrusts speeding up and gaining more power behind them. with how he was holding your jaw you couldn’t close your mouth, moans of his name fell from you because of it, curses following behind. 

“gonna let them see you, pretty girl?” wonbin’s voice hit your ear as he pressed his lips against your neck, the camera found its way in front of you, recording the way his fingers dug into your skin and how you cried out his name “everyone gonna be so jealous of me” his voice was barely a whisper in your ear, as if he didn’t want the camera to pick up on the words he was whispering to you “need everyone to see how well i fuck your perfect little pussy”. 

you could only whine as he spoke to you, his words falling into a groan as you tightened your grip around him and began fucking yourself back against his cock. the camera man walked around the two of you, the camera being focused on the scene of wonbin fucking into you harshly from behind whilst you met his thrusts. you were a wreck as his fingers tightened their grip on your throat, your moans turning broken and your fingers digging a little deeper into the back of the sofa.

“feel so good, binnie” you choked out, wonbin felt as if he was at least four thrusts away from spilling his cum inside of you so he pulled out. his hands left your skin as he stepped backwards before they found you again, fingers digging into your hips as he turned you around, your back was propped up by the arm of the sofa as he knelt against the sofa and spread your legs apart. 

wonbin groaned as he pushed his cock back into you, he kept your legs spread as he began fucking you again. he watched the way your cunt took his cock eagerly, he found himself engrossed in the way your cunt spoke to him with each harsh thrust he made forward, how it let out wet cries and squeezed around him. it was just as pornographic as your moans were, wonbin thought you were perfect. 

“gonna fill you up so well” he was close and he was sure to let you know, he needed to hear you begging him to fill you up with him cum and have it leak out of you.

“please” was all you could whine out, wonbin repositioned your legs, letting one hook over his shoulder whilst the other fell to the floor, he moved his body to cage in yours as he fucked you, hide hands grabbed yours and pinned them down against the arm of the sofa either side of your head. you tried to focus on his face as his hair fell in front of his eyes but you found yourself watching his necklace that hovered over your face, barely grazing the skin of your lips with each sharp thrust. the star that hung off of the chain glistened under the harsh lights of the room, you found yourself mesmerised by it, knowing you’d be lying in bed later that night picturing the way it swung over your face. 

“gonna make me cum so hard, doll” wonbin had a whine in the tone of his voice as you squeezed around him, one of his hands left yours so he could press it against your clit, he used his other hand to run his fingers through his hair as he leaned back on his knees, hair falling back into his eyes as he fucked into you. he was sweaty, his body glistened under your gaze, as did his face. you found it hard to believe you were being fucked by a man who looked that good and wanted to make you cum again “cum around my cock, sweet girl”. 

you were more than happy to listen to his words, your cunt clenching harder around his cock as he drove you to the brink of your orgasm. your moans got louder, your legs shook and your fingers reached out for something, anything to grip onto as your orgasm washed over you. 

then it was wonbin’s turn to cum, his thrusts grew more frantic as his fingers dug into your thighs once more. he was determined to cum, determined to fuck you full of his cum and have everyone watch him claim you as his. and that’s exactly what he done, the after maths of your orgasm had you clenching tightly around him, squeezing his cock for everything he has as he came inside of you, thrusts slowly until he was barely dragging his cock against your walls. wonbin came with a broken moan of a short fuck, he made sure he didn’t pull out of you until every drop was inside of you. 

wonbin’s final show for the camera was by slowly pulling his cock out if you, he was sure to watch the way his cum slowly built up at your entrance and seeped out of you, letting the camera catch every moment of it. 

“i think you’ll be perfect for the job”.

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[finelinevogue]

so proud

summary - the morning after the final show

word count: ~1k

pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader

The next morning was peaceful.

You woke up first and after having forgotten to close the blinds, the light was already streaming inside your bedroom window.

Harry’s Italian house being bought in the countryside meant there was no noise surrounding you. It was just the clattering of guests downstairs making breakfast and morning coffees.

You and Harry were normally early risers, but after last night you both deserved the lay in. Harry more so than you, but Harry can’t sleep without you so it meant you had to stay with him.

“Harry, bub.” You moved your hands over his bare back.

Harry was laying on his front, face smushed into the pillow from such a great nights sleep. After the final show, you’d all gone out for drinks to celebrate and then come back to the house for more celebrations. However, those celebrations mainly included you and Harry having endless rounds of sex until the early hours of the morning.

It was now ten in the morning and you both needed to be up to see some guests off.

You and Harry were staying for another few weeks, but Anne and others had lives and jobs to get back to.

“Mm.” He mumbled, his lips slightly rolled due to his face being engulfed by the pillow.

His hair was very messy and curly this morning. You started picking some piece off of his face, watching as his eyelids fluttered from the disturbance.

The sunshine was glazing over his body so perfectly.

He looked like a summers dream.

“Wake up, m’love.” You moved the covers down over his body to expose him to the morning air, kissing his bare back as you did so.

You kissed all his tiny moles and freckles, before kissing the one part of him that had only been yours and his for so long; his birthmark.

He hummed again as he felt you kiss him on his lower back.

“Kiss me a bit lower.” He mumbled cheekily.

You responded by nipping at his skin with your teeth. You made your way back up his body and kissed his cheek finally, watching his eye open.

“Hey, handsome.” You smiled, cupping his cheek and leaning down to awkwardly kiss him on his lips. It was a difficult position to kiss him in, but you didn’t mind.

“Hey.” He smiled, the pillow creasing slightly from the movement.

“How’s my shining star feeling this morning?” You asked, tucking his hair behind his ear. You mentally reminded yourself to give him a haircut soon.

“Still shining.”

“So proud of you.” You nuzzled your nose against his.

“You might’ve mentioned that last night.” Harry rolled over and snaked an arm around your waist in the process, so he could have a feel of you in the morning.

“I definitely showed it.” You teasingly smiled.

“You did, baby.” Harry smiled as he reminisced the night in his mind. He rubbed his fingers over his eyes with his free hand, waking himself up.

You watched him for a few moments, just watching him soak in the morning sun like he was an expert at it. He glowed so bright.

Last night was so incredible.

He shone so bright last night.

Brighter than the moon he admired so much.

You twisted your body as sat up more, facing the wall on the opposite side to Harry.

You looked to the ceiling as you tried to conceal your tears. You wiped under your eyes as you tried to push the tears back into your eyes, but no matter because the wall became blurry within seconds.

No sounds had to be made for Harry to know you were upset.

He sat up instantly and wrapped one arm around your waist and the other softly cupped your chin to direct your face to his.

“Hey? What’s with the tears?” He asked, frowning because he hated seeing you upset.

“I’m so proud to the point where I can’t stop crying.” You laughed, thinking it was such a silly reason for crying now that you’d said it out loud.

“Baby…” Harry said softly.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. No sorry’s needed. Cry all y’want, love. God knows I did all the crying last night.” Harry tried to lighten the atmosphere with a silly joke.

You laughed again. Harry used his fingers to wipe the tears below your eyes.

“I love you. So much.” You let him know.

“I know. I love you just as much.” He nodded.

“You’re so amazing. You’re so cool. You’re a star. What you did last night… Well done, baby. I’m just so proud.”

[persevereforahappyending]

This isn't Your Fault

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: “Tara,” you said, the calmness of your voice surprising you. “This isn’t you fault.”

Warnings: Violence

Word Count: 3.3k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

“Hey, babe,” you answered the phone cheerfully. “How was the party?” Tara had begged you to go to the frat party, but you declined. As much as you loved the girl, there was no way in hell she was going to get you to go to a frat party. You already hated parties and socializing in general. There was nothing in the world that could convince you to go to something that involved both, especially when all the people involved would be drinking.

“Ugh,” Tara groaned. “It was going great until Sam showed up and tased someone in the balls.”

“I’m sorry?” you weren’t sure you heard her right, it sounded like she said her sister tased someone in the balls. You opened a cabinet, grabbing a glass.

“There was some drunk frat douche who may have been trying to get me to come upstairs with him.”

“Oh my god, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You knew Tara was smiling into her phone just from the way her voice softened, it brought a smile to your face as well.

Tara loved when someone cared about her. She loved when someone cared enough to be there for her and protect her. You knew that, just from the way her eyes always lit up when you’d check in or instantly come over if she was having a bad day. You saw it in the way despite wanting freedom from her sister, she still respected her and wanted her approval. You and Tara had been dating for over six months now and she still refused to introduce you to her sister. You had met her friends but none of them knew you guys were dating. You understood, truly, after what they had all been through you got that they were hesitant to trust strangers. Even though she said she was afraid of how Sam would react, and that she’d scare you off you knew the real reason Tara didn’t want to introduce you yet was because she was afraid Sam wouldn’t approve of you.

You believed your relationship with Tara was stronger than that, that Tara wouldn’t break up with you just because her sister or friends didn’t like you. You knew it would make things difficult though. If they didn’t like you, or really if Sam didn’t like you, you knew Tara would be hurt. She’d be torn between being with you and knowing her sister didn’t approve. Which is why until Tara was ready, you were more than happy to wait to officially meet Sam.

“Chad stopped the guy, getting into a fight in the process,” Tara continued.

You smiled at that; you knew there was always a reason you liked Chad. “Good,” you said instead.

“Then Sam showed up and the tasing happened,” she let out a long sigh. “I just want a normal life.”

“I know,” you whispered sympathetically. “You know she just wants to keep you safe though, right?”

Tara groaned, causing you to laugh. “I know,” she mumbled. “This is just the exact reason why I won’t introduce you.” You could imagine Tara throwing up her hands as she said that. “She wants me to open up and share with her but then when I try to have a life outside of the friend group, she tases someone!”

“Whenever you decide to introduce me, I’m sure it will go fine.” You reached above the island, grabbing one of the pans hanging and set it on the stove. “I’m sure I won’t get tased.” You walked around the island, moving to grab the food you intended to have for dinner before pausing in your tracks. “Right?” you asked hesitantly with an awkward chuckle before you got to moving again.

“Maybe,” Tara mumbled. Your steps paused again, you wanted to meet the most important person in Tara’s life, but Tara was making it incredibly difficult for you to not be terrified of her sister. “Just stand behind me when that eventual meeting happens.”

You let out a nervous chuckle. You were sure it would go fine. You were sure that Sam would probably glare at you and maybe judge you right away, assuming you were out to get them or something. You hoped though that eventually Sam would warm up to you. You were sure Sam could be scary, you’d seen her staring down anyone who so much glanced at her wrong when she followed Tara somewhere, she was certainly one intimidating woman. You knew she was really just incredibly protective over her little sister, a bit overprotective if you asked Tara.

Her friends weren’t much different, at least Mindy and Chad, the ones who survived Woodsboro with them. You had met them in casual settings, at parties, in the library, and even shared a class with Mindy. They were all a tight knit group, they talked with others but letting someone in their friend group was a process apparently. When you eventually officially met them, you were sure you’d be interrogated by Mindy and Chad would probably be like Sam, glaring at you from across the room. Out of the three of them Tara said Mindy was the calmer more reasonable one, but she could get a little intense when she was going over a suspect list or accusing people of murders.

Mindy was the one you were the least worried about. You actually had a couple classes with Anika and worked together on a few papers. You still hadn’t met Mindy enough to walk up and talk to her, but she would give you a nod if she saw you and she was always nice when she came to pick Anika up from a study session. She would also usually squint at you, watching you for anything suspicious but she did that with most people, so you didn’t take it personally.

“My fearless protector,” you said softly.

“Shut up,” Tara said.

You chuckled, shaking your head. Tara was short and everyone underestimated her. The truth was she had just as much fight in her as her sister. Whenever you were out if someone made a rude comment or God forbid hit on you, Tara would shoot them a furious glare that would make anyone on the receiving end wish they were dead. There was even one time when you were out and someone recognized Tara, then the moron decided to make a comment about Sam, and you were lucky to pull Tara out of there before the police could be called. She about launched herself over the table, arms already out and ready to strangle the man.

Your laughter quickly ended when you heard a creak. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. You didn’t take the phone away from your ear as you glanced down the hall. You didn’t see anyone, and the front door was still closed. You were the only one home, your parents being out of town for the week. You swore you heard the floor creak though. Every fiber of your body told you to not go down the hall, the little alarm going off in your head screaming that something wasn’t right.

“You, okay?” Tara asked. You could hear the concern in her voice.

“Yeah,” you answered distractedly. You cleared your throat saying, “Yeah,” again more convincingly. “So, what’s planned for the rest of the night?” you decided to change the subject.

“Sleep,” Tara mumbled. “I’m already starting to feel this hangover. Can I come over tomorrow?”

“Is that a good idea?” You swung around the island, resting your hand on the refrigerator door. “I doubt Sam will want you out of her sight after tonight.”

“Fuck what she wants. I miss you,” she whined.

You glanced up from the floor, catching the reflection of a white mask in the window as you opened the fridge door. You swallowed, preparing yourself for what was about to happen.

“Tara,” you said, the calmness of your voice surprising you. “This isn’t you fault.”

“What?” she asked, confused.

You slammed the refrigerator door closed, spinning around to face your attacker just as he swung his knife, the metal blade clashing against the steel fridge door. You ran towards the stove, letting your phone clatter onto the island as you empty your hands to grab the pan you had intended to use to cook dinner.

You brought the pan up just as Ghostface brought his knife down towards you. The sound of metal against metal filling the air. You moved the pan, blocking every slash and every stab. At one point when he went to stab you instead of blocking you brought the pan up, swinging it down hard on his hand that held the knife. He groaned, dropping the knife in the process. You brought the pan back up, whacking him across the face. He stumbled to the side, catching himself on the counter. You brought the pan down on his head again. While he was down on his knees you turned and ran, reaching over the island to grab your phone again.

You ran down the hall, sliding into the front door, after taking the turn a little too tight. You had your hand on the doorknob when you saw Ghostface already on his feet again, making his way to you. You changed course, running up the stairs to your room instead. You heard the knife impale the front door, cracking the wood as it was yanked out.

You reached your room, slamming the door behind you, knowing it would only buy you a few extra seconds. You jumped on your bed, rolling over the other side as gracefully as you could. You grabbed the baseball bat you always had resting against the wall by your bedside, getting in a swinging position as you stared down the door, waiting for Ghostface to burst through.

You held the phone in your hand, the same one that was gripping the bat. You vaguely heard Tara’s voice coming through the speaker, you knew she must be going out of her mind not knowing what was happening. You wanted to answer her, tell her Ghostface was here and to get out of town as fast as she could. You couldn’t release your grip on the bat though, your eyes were glued to your bedroom door.

The bedroom door shuddered as if someone was pounding on it. With each shake you stepped back, bumping into the wall behind you. You tightened your grip on the bat, your knuckles turning white. When suddenly the shuddering stopped. You held your breath as the doorknob slowly turned, the door squeaking open. Standing in the doorway was Ghostface, knife shining at his side. He tilted his head at you as he stepped into your room, crossing over the invisible threshold.

You and Ghostface watched each other, waiting for the other to make their move. It was so quiet you could swear you heard your own heart beating. In the blink of an eye Ghostface surged forward, launching himself over the bed, he didn’t make it over your bed in one jump though. His feet got caught up in the blankets causing him to stumble down.

You took the opportunity to run around the side of the bed, narrowly missing a swipe of Ghostface’s knife as he swung out at you. You heard a light thud then realized you had a better grip on your bat, you had dropped your phone. You slid to a stop just as you hit the stairs, gripping the railing so you didn’t go flying down them. You quickly recovered, rushing down the steps as quick as possible. Part of you wanted to go back for your phone but you knew doing so would only end in your death.

You got to the front door, turning the knob to unlock it then flung the door open. Ghostface stomped down the steps, jumping when he was halfway, slamming his body into the open door, effectively closing it again. You stumbled back, barely getting out of the way of the door about to crush your arm.

Ghostface pushed himself off the door with a grunt, jumping right at you. He knocked you to the ground, the force of his tackle causing you to let go of your bat.

You looked at your bat, rolling just out of reach. You looked back up, seeing Ghostface hovering over you. He gripped his knife in his right hand, swiftly bringing it down towards your chest.

You caught his wrist just as the knife touched your shirt, pushing back against him so it was now hovering a few inches from your chest. He brought his other hand over, putting more weight on the hand with the knife. It inched closer and closer to your chest. You stared up at the white mask, into the hollow black eyes. You knew there was a person behind the mask, but you couldn’t make out any features.

You kicked your legs, trying to get any leverage on him. You brought your knee up, knowing for sure he was a he by the way he groaned, loosening his grip on the knife. You knocked the knife out of his hand, rolling out from under him in the processes.

He moved slowly, still clearly in pain from your hit. He reached over, stretching out his hand towards his knife. You were closer, reaching up and smacking it across the floor.

You were on your knees about to pull yourself up the rest of the way when you looked up seeing Ghostface standing above you, he had recovered before you. He sent three swift kicks to your stomach, knocking the breath out of you. You rolled over onto your back, looking up at him as you gasped for breath.

You rolled over again, trying to bring yourself back to your feet, there was no way you were going down without a fight. Your hands were spread out, face down on the floor to help push you up. Ghostface walked closer to you, the only thing you saw were his boots stopping before you.

Ghostface lifted his leg high, bringing his heavy combat boot down onto your hand. He gave his boot a final twist, allowing you to hear the crunch of your bones before he took his foot away. You rolled back onto your back, clutching your hand as you screamed in pain. Tears were already streaming down your face as you tried to regain control of your breathing.

Ghostface walked around you, moving towards his knife. You pressed your injured hand to your chest, reaching out towards your bat with the other hand. Ghostface forgot about his knife, kneeling down in front of you, tilting his head as he watched you struggle trying to reach the bat. He picked the bat up just as your fingertips grazed the handle.

He stood above you, tilting his head as he shook the bat back and forth in a taunting manor before raising it above his head.

“No!” you screamed right before Ghostface brought the bat down onto your ribs.

He brought the bat down again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

The force of his swings never letting up. You struggled to catch your breath. Gasping for air as you took short shallow breaths, you couldn’t take a deep breath.

There was what sounded like tires screeching outside. Through bleary vision you could see Ghostface look up and out the window before dropping your bat with a clang and bolting towards the backdoor.

“Y/N!” someone shouted. You blinked your eyes slowly, your eyelids becoming heavy.

The next thing you were aware of was a warm pressure on your shoulder. You turned your head to see a hand resting on your shoulder. Your eyes trailed from the hand, up an arm, and to a face, your girlfriends face, Tara’s face. You saw blurry figures beside her that you couldn’t make out. You could only stare into Tara’s worried eyes. She seemed to be sobbing, her mouth was moving but you couldn’t hear the words coming out before your eyes slowly shut, everything going black.

When you opened your eyes again you were in a dark room, panic instantly shot through you. You tried to sit up, instantly hissing in pain. You sucked in a breath but once again, pained shot through you. You dropped your head back down, taking small breaths. It didn’t feel like you were on the hard wood floor anymore, whatever was behind your head felt soft and fluffy. Your eyes darted all around the room, not recognizing your surroundings, the walls were bare and basic, you didn’t know where you were.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tara whispered softly, her tear-stained face appearing above you. “You’re okay,” she gripped your hand tightly with her own, brushing your hair out of your face with her other hand. “You’re in the hospital.”

“Wh-what are you doing here?” you rasped out, your dry mouth the least of your worries because each word caused pain to shoot through you.

“I needed to make sure you were okay.” You caught movement out of the side of your eye, seeing someone else had been in the room and was slipping out to give you and Tara privacy. You didn’t get a good visual and you’d only ever seen pictures Tara showed you, but it almost looked like Sam.

“You-you need to get out of town.” You gritted your teeth, trying to swallow the pain. “You need to get somewhere safe.”

“No, no, I’m not leaving you,” she shook her head as if she couldn’t believe you said that. “I’m not leaving you,” she repeated, leaving you no more room to argue.

Your eyes drifted to your hand not intertwined with Tara’s, it was wrapped in a cast. The cast covered your entire hand, going up all your fingers, leaving only your pointer one free, then it stretched down just past your wrist so you couldn’t bend it. The only thought that went through your mind oddly was that you were just glad it hadn’t been your dominant hand.

You looked back up at Tara, noticing she was staring at your injured hand as well. “How are you feeling?” she asked, not able to peel her eyes away from the cast.

“If I sit completely still and don’t breathe then the pain is only agonizing,” you answered. “Instead of excruciating.”

“I’m sorry,” Tara whispered, tears already beginning to fill her eyes.

“This wasn’t your fault,” you tried to lean up, instantly wincing in pain as you slowly lowered yourself back down again. “Please don’t cry.” You untangled your hand from hers, reaching up to brush the few stray tears that had begun to fall. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“If it wasn’t for me, you never would have been targeted,” her voice cracked.

You shook your head. “No, no, it’s not your fault a psycho wants to hurt you. This isn’t on you. I love you.” You tilted her chin until she was looking you in the eye. “I love you,” you whispered again.

“I love you too,” she leaned forward, resting her forehead against yours, a few of her tears dripping down onto you.

“This was a hell of a way to meet your sister,” you said, trying to break the tension.

Tara leaned back into her chair, wrapping her hand in yours again. “And you still haven’t even officially met yet,” she chuckled.

“Damn,” you sighed. “I was hoping unconscious me had already done all the work.”

“At least she knows you aren’t potentially a Ghostface,” Tara joked.

You laughed, instantly wincing in pain. “Don’t joke.”

“I’m sorry,” she smiled down at you. “She does want to officially meet you though.”

“Can’t wait,” you whispered. You closed your eyes as Tara stroked her fingers through your hair, allowing you to peacefully to drift off to sleep.

[musaslullaby]

Showing my fears

Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris, George Russell and Carlos Sainz x fem reader

Summary: The drivers face your fears

Warning: nothing only fluff.

Masterlist

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Charles Leclerc

I loved winter; it was probably my favorite season. I adored the frost forming on the windows, staying at home under a wool blanket, watching a TV series with a hot chocolate in my hands, snuggled in Charles' sweet embrace.

But I also love race days, where you’re surrounded by fans who care about you and all your friends. It's a different kind of warmth from what Charles gives me, but I couldn’t give up either.

It seemed like a pretty calm day. As always on race days, my boyfriend accompanied Leo and me to the paddock. There was a light breeze, but no sign of rain or, worse, storms. Or at least, so I thought.

I was nervously biting my nails: Charles was fighting with Piastri for second place. I noticed Leo, curled up in my arms, starting to fidget.

“What’s wrong, darling?” I whispered, petting the little dog to calm him. A loud thunderclap tore through the sky, and the hand stroking his soft fur froze immediately.

My hands began to tremble, and my eyes widened. Adrenaline rushed through me, and soon the shaking spread through my entire body, making Leo even more alert as he began barking insistently.

Arthur quickly turned toward us, and in a swift movement, I felt his warm hand on my shoulder and his body heat surrounding me.

“Y/N, it's okay, I'll take you to the drivers' room,” he whispered softly, trying to calm me down.

I weakly nodded. Walking was difficult; my legs felt heavy, and my heart was pounding. I saw all the journalists' cameras pointed at me, and my vision blurred from panic.

Arthur sat me down on the couch. “I’ll bring you some water; in the meantime, put on the headphones, okay?” he asked, looking me directly in the eyes. With a slight movement, I reached for the headphones and turned on the classical music. By chance, the soft sound of a piano played, one I instantly recognized: I knew those notes by heart. I had heard them so many times at home, they were Charles’ songs.

Leo stretched out beside me on the couch, and I ran my hand through his fur, feeling his warmth reassure me. I closed my eyes and completely lost myself in the music, which drowned out the thunder.

I was immensely grateful for Arthur’s quick thinking; without him, I don’t know what I would have done.

After what felt like an eternity, I felt someone pulling me close, and my cheek pressed against something. When I looked up, I saw Charles gazing at me with his green eyes full of love.

“How are you, mon amour?” he asked, placing a sweet kiss on my forehead.

“B-better,” I whispered faintly, as I buried my face in the crook of his neck.

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Lando Norris

“Hi guys,” Lando greeted with a smile, as the chat filled with comments and hellos. “Today we’ve got this little monster with us,” he joked, poking my poor cheek with his index finger.

Suppressing a sincere laugh, I turned to him and lightly smacked his head with my lemon tea bottle.

“Hey, watch it, don’t flatten my hair!” he whined, running his hands through his curls several times to give them back their volume.

“You’re lucky you still have them, the way you treat them every day!” I said, pretending to be annoyed, turning my full attention to the chat. “Yes, Carlos Sainz is a bad influence on him,” I whispered, answering a comment.

“You’re just jealous of my perfect curls,” the boy laughed, raising an eyebrow. His expression was so funny that I burst into laughter.

Suddenly, Lando went pale, and his face turned incredibly serious. My laughter slowly faded as I asked, “You’re not offended, right? Because if I hurt your feelings, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to—” I couldn’t finish the sentence because Lando pointed behind me. Slowly, I turned, and on the white wall of the room, among his precious helmets, was a giant spider.

A strangled squeak escaped me as I jumped into the boy’s arms.

“You’re going to take it out, right?” I asked anxiously, wrapping my arms around his neck in what was probably a death grip.

“Not a chance,” he whispered, clutching my sides, also visibly terrified of that abnormally large, many-legged spider, black as coal, with those tiny eyes that looked ready to jump on you at any moment.

“Please, do something!” I said, continuing to stare at the creature, which was calmly walking among the helmet collection.

Reluctantly, we stood up from the chair and grabbed pieces of paper and a transparent glass.

“Lando, on my count of three, you trap it, and then we take it to the balcony,” I whispered from behind him, so that if the spider bit or moved, it would be Lando who was at risk. I know, I’m a fantastic girlfriend.

“One.” The boy took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

“Two.” Lando got into position, holding the glass and the piece of paper just right.

“Three.” In one quick motion, Lando trapped the spider and ran towards the balcony, shuddering as if he had a thousand little legs crawling all over him. He quickly opened the sliding door and released the spider outside, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Gross,” he spat with a disgusted face, squirming like he was doing an especially wild dance, still feeling the sensation of tiny legs crawling over him.

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Oscar Piastri

It was a day like any other. Oscar had asked me to meet him in the drivers’ room because he needed some advice. It was probably something related to the race, or maybe he just needed some reassurance.

When I arrived at the door, I knocked, feeling the cold under my knuckles, but there was no answer.

“Oscar, it’s me, can I come in?” I asked, pressing my ear against the surface to catch any sound coming from the other side, but nothing—everything was silent.

Worry started creeping in with a thousand doubts: maybe he wasn’t feeling well, or worse, something had happened.

“Oscar, I’m coming in,” I said, trying to sound firm and decisive, but the only thing that came out was a hesitant whisper.

When I turned the metal handle, the room was partially dark, but I didn’t notice at first. Maybe Oscar hadn’t arrived yet, or perhaps he wanted to surprise me. As soon as I took a few steps into the room, the door clicked shut behind me, eliminating the last source of light.

My breath caught in my throat: I had been afraid of the dark since I was little, and Oscar knew that. Quickly, I walked toward the door and grabbed the handle, pushing and pulling violently, but nothing happened.

I started knocking incessantly on the cold, anonymous surface. “Please, let me out,” I said with a desperate voice, fearing that something or someone might emerge from the darkness surrounding me.

Luckily, after a short while, I heard two male voices talking outside the door, followed by a loud click: the door finally opened again. In front of me were the two McLaren drivers. Without thinking, I threw myself into Oscar’s arms, and he held me tightly.

“I told you it was a terrible idea,” Oscar whispered to his friend while tracing comforting circles on my back.

“You’re both jerks,” I said with a pout, mostly directed at Lando, but without pulling away from the calming, safe warmth of my boyfriend. I could stay in that position forever.

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Carlos Sainz

Today, of all days, was the one that every child dreads: going to the dentist. Only I wasn’t a child anymore; I’m now considered a grown, healthy adult.

I’d love to say this fear is innate, but that would be a lie. It all started when I was seven years old and had to have a baby tooth removed. I had never been to the dentist before, and you could say I was quite curious, like any child. While my parents talked with the doctor, I wandered around the room and found some instruments attached to a strange machine. Naturally, I reached out to touch them, and of course, I cut myself on the metal. The dentist was mortified, and my parents told me to be more careful.

I know what happened was just a pure accident, but that event, combined with the scary stories the other kids told—probably exaggerated—developed into a fear that refuses to go away.

Carlos held my hand tightly as I nervously bit my nails, my leg trembling slightly, unable to stay still from the tension.

“Miss Y/N Y/L/N, please follow me,” said the dentist.

Through clenched teeth, in a whisper, I said, “I don’t want to go.”

Carlos looked at me with a reassuring smile and eyes full of understanding. “I know, mi amor, but it’s just a checkup, nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“Will you come with me?” I asked, pulling him up from the couch with me, and hand in hand, we headed to the “torture chamber.”

Throughout the visit, I couldn’t stop thinking about how the dentist could make a mistake and leave me without teeth, but every time I looked at my boyfriend, my fears eased. Just losing myself in his brown eyes was enough to understand that everything would be fine.

“All done,” the dentist said seriously. I’m always amazed at how this man never smiles.

As soon as I got off the chair, I immediately reached for Carlos’ hand, feeling his warmth.

“So, how did it go?” he asked with a sincere smile as we walked out of the clinic.

“He didn’t smile once,” I said, still a little stunned by the experience.

Carlos laughed at my statement and squeezed my hand even tighter.

[suosgirl]

Keeping It Cute (& Dangerous) - Hayato Suo x Reader | Ch. 5

Word Count: 6197

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nirei, Taiga Tsugeura, Mitsuki Kiryu, Hajime Umemiya, Kotoha Tachibana

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, smut, f!reader, manga spoilers (?), ooc (?), fighting, slowburn, penetrative sex, use of f!bodied language, teasing, creampie, squirting, oral (fem!receiving) praising, pet names, filth, 2 stubborn idiots falling for each other – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: Long ass chapter. There's smut in here. I'm delirious - but happy. Hugs and kisses for all who waited hehe! ♡♡♡

୨ৎ Keeping it Cute (& Dangerous) Masterlist

“You don’t have to be so careful Hayato – I won’t break ~” He hums thoughtfully, before bending down to whisper in your ear. “And if I do? Break you, that is.” That catches you off guard. You laugh, loud and boisterous – “Then I expect you to fix what you break, pretty boy.”

Every couple of months, Bofurin holds a sparring match within their ranks.

It’s meant to be fun, friendly, and maybe just a little competitive. But, the main intention? To see where everyone is strength-wise. No one’s meant to get roughed up so badly that they’re out of commission.

At least, that's what you’d thought when Umemiya had extended the invitation to you. Still, as you stand in the sweltering, stuffy gymnasium room surrounded by the grunts and groans of the skirmishes going around you, you’re not so sure.

Granted, no one’s fighting with malicious intent, but you can feel how serious everyone is, and you’re starting to wonder now if your presence is really as needed as Umemiya made it sound.

“I think it’d be good for you to be there. It’ll be a nice change of pace for everyone!”

And it’s not because you don’t want to fight. Quite the opposite, actually.

You were itching for it – willing, ready, and eager to pounce. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d been able to let loose and enjoy the thrill of a well-matched scrimmage.

No… it’s because you were fully convinced that you’d absolutely obliterate most of them. 

Within just a few minutes of observation, you’d assessed the fighting styles, expertise, and strength levels of almost all of the matches happening throughout the gym.

This wasn’t to say that anyone in the gym was weak. No, they were all incredibly strong – some intimidatingly so. But, you knew how to use their strength against them, how to parry, how to defend – which was so much more dangerous. 

And now, you’re starting to get it – why Umemiya invited you.

Sparring against the same opponents year after year could only permit so much growth, but you, a wild card, could prove to be difficult.

You let out a small smile.

Alright, you were game. 

You were so game.

“Heyyyy! Didn’t know you were coming – I call dibs on your first match!”

Tseguera’s calling for you from where he’s sparring with Kiryu, and you chuckle at the sour look on Kiryu’s face.

“Tsuge-chan, I’m fighting you right now – shouldn’t you be focused on me?”

“Oh! Ha, sorry Kiryu-kun, you’re right! Okay, I’m ready, hit me again!”

Kiryu, exasperated, sends a weary but good-natured smile your way, and you send him your condolences.

“Sure, sure — let me warm up first!”

You nod to everyone who you pass as you make your way to where Nirei’s got a table set up with refreshments and disposable cups. He’s got his notebook in his hand, furiously taking notes as he watches all the fighting unfold.

“Hi Ni,” you greet him with an affectionate pat on his head, and he leans into your touch.

God, just like a puppy. 

“Hi! Happy you’re here! You don’t work today?”

You drop your bag on the floor behind him and gather your hair into a tight ponytail. 

You can feel Suo’s eye on you, but you’re not sure from where – and you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of watching you try to find out.

Besides… what would be the fun in that?

“Nah, Kotoha said she’d cover my shift today so that I could come. What’s in the jugs?”

You stretch out your arms and roll back your shoulders before tilting your head from side to side.

Your little game with Suo was still in full swing, but you had to admit, you were starting to crack just a bit. Every touch lasting a little too long, every whisper cutting a little too short – but you knew, Suo was losing his composure too (if the way he was finding it harder and harder to not follow you into your apartment at the end of every shift was anything to go by).

You were starting to grow restless, but your pride stopped you every time – because you were set on him giving in first, not you. 

“Oh! I’ve got sports drinks and barley tea for optimal hydration! Want some?”

“Ah… I’m okay Ni, thank you though! Have you just been watching everyone?”

Nirei turns to you in excitement, ready to prattle off about all the learning he’s been doing and all the notes he’s been taking, but the words die out as soon as he lays his eyes on you.

Because – you’d taken your sweatpants and jacket off. 

You’d taken your sweatpants and jacket off, and all you had underneath those two bulky layers was a tight long sleeve and even tighter shorts. 

And Nirei is just – well, he’s just caught off guard is all. 

… and you looked very pretty, very cool, very strong.

His (surprising) lack of response has you looking up from where you’re seated on the floor, but you continue stretching out your legs.

“Ni, did you hear me? I asked if you’ve just been watching everyone?”

All Nirei can offer back is a strangled uh-huh, and now you’re starting to get a bit worried. 

Standing up, you repeat his name once more as you press the back of your hand to his forehead.

“Oh… is it too hot in here? Do you have a fever? You feel so warm –”

Adept, familiar fingers are wrapped around your wrist before you can diagnose any further.

“Sorry bunny, it seems like Nire-kun’s a bit overheated right now. How about we let him cool down?”

You turn to Suo with your lips parted in surprise at his sudden appearance, but you let him pull your arm away from Nirei before enveloping your hand in his. 

You peek down at your conjoined hands.

He was totally breaking.

(You are too, but the longer you can deny it, the better.)

“Hayato, did you come over to help me stretch?”

There’s a playful sparkle in your eyes that Suo knows is only reserved for him, and it makes him smile.

He hums in thought while his thumb softly strokes over yours, but you can see it – the hint of mischief on his lips.

“Depends bunny – what part of you needs stretching?”

You bite your lip with a coy flutter of your lashes, even though you and Suo both know that you’re anything but demure.

“All of it – every inch.”

He blinks at your words, but there’s a weight to them – it’s slow, drawn out, and ravenous.

You feel lightheaded just maintaining eye contact with him.

Thankfully (or not, you’re not quite sure yet), Tseguera’s calling out your name before Suo can further double down with an equally suggestive response.

You give him an apologetic smile before balancing on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

“Aw – I was really looking forward to you stretching me out Hayato, but I guess there’s always next time ~” 

Just because he couldn’t double down doesn’t mean you couldn’t. 

All is fair in love and war, you suppose. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

As you make your way to Tseguera, you don’t miss the trailing of eyes that follow you in your wake. 

Eyes full of curiosity with a hint of skepticism. 

Granted, you didn’t know everyone in the gym, but you knew a handful – at least, enough to be invited here. 

The stares don’t phase you – in fact, they add more fuel to the fire. You were going to show them that you were someone to remember. 

Fighting was your bread and butter, and you’d be damned if you let anyone else think differently – because you were your brother’s sister, and you kicked fucking ass.

You bow to Tseguera to show your respect, before assuming your position. 

And then – 

Everything changes. 

You hear the comforting voice of your brother in your ear, and it eases any hints of anxiety that you might’ve had leading up to your first match of the day. 

You breathe in – slow, controlled, and relaxed.

You breathe out – observing, calculating, and strategizing. 

You blink slowly – a menacing glint in your eyes.

And then, you smile. 

Tseguera briefly wonders if he’d bitten off more than he could chew, but he can’t deny the way he’s psyched to fight this version of you.

The real you that he’s heard so much about. 

He’d watched you fight before, sure, but that was against someone who couldn’t even hold a candle to your raw strength. Tseguera on the other hand? Call him optimistic, but he liked to think that he had better odds than the average run-of-the-mill fighter.

So he rushes in, and you’re ready. 

Suo watches, sharp-eyed as ever. He notes the assertiveness in your body language, the fluidity of your moves, and the intensity of your power.

All of Bofurin could see it now – why you were called tiger.

You were patient, cunning, and precise. Never exerting more energy than necessary. Never wasting time on flashy moves. Never giving more than what you’re opponent's worth.

You took your time with your prey until they were in a position that benefitted you – and then you’d strike. 

And, within minutes, Tseguera’s flat on his back, every little bit of air being pushed out of his lungs.

It’s gone quiet, everyone turning their heads just to try and catch a glimpse of what’s just happened, but all they can see is you.

You’re standing over Tseguera’s body, with a hand on your hip and a smirk on your lips.

And they see him shiver under the weight of your stare.

“Come on, Tsuge – don’t tell me you’re tapped out already~”

You give him your hand to help him up (no one could ever say you’re a bad sport), but with the way your hips swish from side to side as you head back to your starting position and the wicked gleam in your eye, Tseguera’s just the tiniest bit distraught.

Umemiya smiles – he was right. 

You were a great change of pace.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

It’s meant to be fun, friendly, and maybe just a little competitive – but with you as an opponent, well… 

You amped up the competitive aspect to a whopping 100% – and you were loving it.

Objectively, you could say that everyone else was too, based on how they were lining up to squabble with you. 

And – it’s not like you won every single fight. But, you had even Hiragi huffing and puffing just trying to keep up with you – and that? That felt good. 

Because fighting was so much more than just winning. To you, it was about learning, communicating, understanding, and most importantly – evolving. 

That was something your brother had taught you. 

You can’t strive towards your fullest potential without the guidance, support, and help of others – and fighting was an extension of that. Every person and every fight was a wonderful new experience to learn from, and you were so happy. 

Suo, on the other hand …

Well, he was happy for you, but he, himself?

Absolutely, tragically vexed.

Because you really had no idea how much of a tease you can be when you’re not even trying. 

Between every fight, you’d stretch out your body in those sinful shorts and that thin little long sleeve – and he wishes he was stronger, really. 

Wishes he was strong enough to look away when you use the bottom hem of your top to wipe away the sweat from your forehead.

Instead, he drinks in the exposed skin of your stomach and lower back. It’s got a sheen to it, no doubt from the exertion that your body has been going through, but vaguely, Suo wonders if it would look similar to a different type of exertion.

One that involves him and only him.

He focuses on his breathing – no need to get worked over this… really. 

He could remain calm and composed, just like how he’s always been.

But when he finds himself next in line to spar with you, well – 

What can he say? He just really wanted to get stronger. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You should’ve known. You should’ve fucking known.

But, feigning ignorance can only go so far.

And with Suo standing in front of you, his hands held loosely behind his back and an amiable grin on his face, you fear that maybe you pushed your luck a little too much. 

Because, in all honesty, Suo’s the first person today to actually make you nervous. 

And it’s not that you don’t think you can put up a good fight. No, it’s not that at all. 

What you’re afraid of is more … personal. 

Because when you’re in a fight, well, your hands will go wherever they need to. 

And with how pumped you are with endorphins right now, you’re not sure if you’d be able to handle Suo’s hands anywhere on your body.

Even his hand on your thigh had you crumbling, but you held up the good fight as long as you could before excusing yourself under the guise of using the restroom.

But now? Here? You couldn’t simply call for a time-out because you’re getting bashful about his hands touching you.

Fighting, to you, could be intimate with the right person – and lo and behold, the right person just happened to be standing right in front of you. 

“Oh? Don’t tell me you’re running out of steam, bunny.”

You purse your lips at his words.

Leave it to Suo to be so insufferable that it brings you back to reality. 

You quickly bow towards him before rolling your shoulders back and raising your fists.

“Hmm, then why don’t you fill me back up, Hayato?”

He smirks at your response, and you feel the air thicken just the tiniest amount. His aura is overwhelming, and the hairs on the back of your neck prickle from the eye contact alone.

You take a deep breath in, before steeling your nerves.

Now was not the time to get shy.

You were on your playground, in your element.

You breathe out, feeling the sparks of your competitive spirit quickly fan out into flames.

And then – 

Nothing happens, at least, not for a couple of seconds.

“Are ya gonna fight or what?”

You flush at Sakura’s words. 

You were slow to realize this, but just like you, Suo (ever the gentleman) was also someone who practiced patience in a fight and let their opponents make the first move – and, you had a sinking feeling that this match was about more than just … fighting.

You shake your head in an attempt to garner back your focus, and once it’s there, you strategize.

Regretfully, you’d only ever seen him in a handful of skirmishes, so you weren’t certain about the exact moves he used, but there was at least one thing that you could go off of – 

Suo was pretty damn strong.

You pause, gathering your thoughts as best you can in the little amount of time that you have. 

You decide, then, that going on the offense is your best bet. If anything, it would allow you to witness firsthand the type of training he’s received. 

So, you move. 

You rush him, aiming for a kick to his midsection, but he grabs your ankle – and pulls you towards him. 

Off balance and unsteady, you grab onto the first thing you can – his shoulders.

Belatedly, you realize his hands slid under your leg to grip the underside of your thigh, holding you flush to his body. 

This … you’d never fought like this before.

As he holds you there, you can’t help the furrow of your brows nor the pout on your lips.

You’d actually wanted to fight, but he …

He was toying with you. 

“... why aren’t you going full out?”

He’s looking down at you, and for the first time today, his face is unreadable.

“Would you like me to use my full strength?”

You sputter at his words, “Hayato, yes? Isn’t that the whole point of this?”

He laughs, and it makes you swoon just the tiniest bit – as if the way he’s holding you right now isn’t already making you feel that way.

“You’re right, I’m sorry bunny. It seems I got ahead of myself.”

He lets you go, and you only let yourself mourn the grip of his hand on your thigh for a second, you swear.

Once you’re properly standing on your own, you look up at him with a playful smile, and he can’t help the endearing furrow of his eyebrows as he awaits whatever amusing remark will fall from your lips next.

“You don’t have to be so careful Hayato – I won’t break ~”

He hums thoughtfully, before bending down to whisper in your ear.

“And if I do? Break you, that is.”

That catches you off guard.

You laugh, loud and boisterous –

“Then I expect you to fix what you break, pretty boy.”

All Suo does in response is smile at you, but you’re much too focused on the sight of him taking his jacket off and expertly folding his sleeves up to his biceps.

Because oh – oh. 

That… that shouldn’t have been stupidly attractive but it was. 

You take in his forearms, his fingers, his swiftness with it all – and you gulp.

And now you’re doing everything you can to desperately grasp onto that flame of competitiveness that you had just a second ago because – 

He stared into your eyes the whole time.

“In that case, I’ll make sure to fix you right up when I’m done, pretty girl.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Watching the fight between you and Suo was almost like watching a tiger and a panther in the heat of battle – and it was mesmerizing. 

In fact, it didn’t even look like fighting – it looked like the two of you were dancing.

It was a flurry of neverending moves, from flying kicks to evasive dodging, and it had everyone enraptured at the sight – because they’d never thought that Suo would be able to fight someone who matched his tempo so well. 

But the best part? You both just couldn’t land a single hit on each other.

And that’s not to say that you both weren’t trying your absolute hardest, but more so, it was a testament to how adaptive you both were.

However, in all honesty, you were getting worn out.

It was easy to ignore it and push through at first, but you could feel the cloud of fatigue starting to infringe on your battle sense. It was showing in your moves and your muscles – that slight delay between your body and your mind. 

And, you didn’t want to admit this, but the forced proximity of it all was starting to make you just the tiniest bit lightheaded – because Suo, despite having been in multiple matches, still managed to smell so good.

Every time you invaded his space, you’d catch a small whiff – and it was intoxicating.

So, when you try to step back from yet another attempt at a palm strike, only to sway just a bit from your lack of balance, well – you don’t blame him for honing in on your error.

What you do blame him for, though, is the position you’re in now. 

He’s got you trapped underneath him, your body pressed against the gymnasium floor, and – 

Whether it was the exhaustion getting to you, or the fact that Suo’s got both your wrists held in one hand above your head and the other latched onto your hip, you’re not sure – but a whimper slips out of you. 

Good news, it’s low enough for only you and Suo to be made aware of it, but the bad news – Suo’s aware of it.

And if his mouth dropping in surprise isn’t a big enough tell, maybe the way his fingers dig deeper into your hips is. 

For a second, one split second, you almost give in. 

You almost wrap your legs around his waist.

You almost break his hold on your wrists.

You almost pull him in for a kiss.

Instead, you do the most sensible thing that you can think of given the circumstances.

You forfeit.

Did it feel good? Absolutely fucking not. Were you ashamed? Partially.

But the only thing that kept you standing on two feet, the only thing that kept you from running away in utter embarrassment and shame?

… the outline of something thick and hard just barely noticeable through his loose black pants when he sat back on his knees to let you go.

Safe to say … you were out of commission for the rest of the sparring event.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

When Suo offers to escort you home afterward, you don’t say no.

When he offers to hold your bag, you don’t say no. 

And, when he drops you off at your door with a lingering look of want in his eye that compels you to invite him inside, Suo doesn’t say no.

You lead him to the living room and offer a seat on the couch to him, but he simply shakes his head, preferring to stand instead. 

“Are you hungry?” you ask over your shoulder as you try to still the incessant beating of your heart. 

You knew he wasn’t ever one to indulge in a meal, but it would … be rude, right? To just part ways after … all of that? That’s what you tell yourself, anyway. Plus, eating is casual. It’s friendly. It’s safe. You could sit across from him and maintain your distance, and there’d be no reason at all for his hands to be on your body. 

And, there’d be no way for him to pull such an embarrassing noise from your mouth again. 

You blush as you recall the chain of events that lead up to right now, and suddenly, you’re restless. To busy yourself, you go to get him a glass of water in your kitchen.

He follows you.

“... Starving,” he rasps out, and your body breaks into goosebumps because he’s right behind you.

Your breath is shaky now, his presence much too overwhelming in the cramped space of your kitchen, but you persist. 

“Oh… w-what would you like to eat? I’ve got noodles and sp–”

“You, only you – bunny.”

You’re so so glad that you’ve got your back to him because you can’t help the way you bite down on your lip at his words to stifle a whine.

It wouldn’t hurt to get one more jab in, you convince yourself. Serves him right for pulling such an embarrassing noise from your mouth earlier.

“Maybe –” your voice breaks, and you let out a small cough to clear out any residual qualms that might’ve been stuck in your throat.

Screw it – the man could suffer in the same way he’d been making you suffer for the past couple of months with his heated touches and lingering words and his stupid little smile.

“Maybe I’ll consider it, Hayato, if you ask nicely on your knees –”

A soft thud cuts you off, and – oh.

Oh.

You’re turned around before you can stop yourself, needing to confirm with your own eyes – 

He’s on the floor, his chest moving rapidly with his breathing, and an absolute disheveled look on his face.

Your lips part and your eyes flutter under his heady stare, and you desperately look away in an attempt to maintain some sort of self-control.

You think – no, you’re sure that you look just as disheveled as he does. 

Because how the fuck did you manage to get Suo, the Hayato Suo, to fall to his knees on his own accord on the floor of your kitchen?

You felt dizzy and needy and powerful – and that was so so dangerous.

“Remember when you did this? The first time we met?”

There’s a smile on his lips as he stares up at you, and your knees buckle at his words. He’s chipping away at your resolve and he knows it – if the mirth in his eye is anything to go off of.

All you can manage is a shaky inhale and a small, pitiful nod in response – and he chuckles. 

“I helped you up off the floor, remember that?”

You nod again, though he can see the slight glimmer of tears in your waterline from just his verbal overstimulation, and he takes pity on you – just a tiny bit, though.

Because although he was on his knees, he wanted you to be the one to finally break first.

Isn’t that how the phrase goes, anyway? Ladies first? And Suo really was a gentleman to the core. 

“So, shouldn’t you return the favor? Don’t you want to help me out, pretty girl?”

You don’t even try to hide it anymore. You don’t hide the shifting of your thighs at his words nor the twitch of your fingers seeking his touch.

You were aching and Suo could see it – and all you wanted, all you needed was right in front of you. 

But he doesn’t touch you. He wants to – no, he needs to know that you want it as bad as he does. 

That the incessant teasing and flirting is affecting you just as badly as it's affecting him. That he’s not the only one filled with desire and desperation and greed.

He knows what to say, knows what to do to make you finally give in and release your inhibitions.

And all it takes, all it takes are 3 words.

Just 3 simple words, dripping with adoration and filth and yearning.

“My pretty bunny.”

You whimper, needy and desperate, and then, you’re on him – and it’s everything you’ve wanted for so long and not enough all at once.

You’re straddling his lap, and his hands feel so good running up and down your body. They’re mapping out every curve – squeezing, pinching, fondling – and you’re grinding down onto him with abandon.

His tongue is hot and heavy on yours, and the noises coming from your mouth are so obscene that you briefly wonder if the walls of your apartment are thick enough to block them out.

You bury your face into his neck as he grabs your hips to grind your body even harder against his, and he revels in the way that you twitch and moan in his ear.

“Please,” you whisper, so softly that you wonder if he even heard you.

He did. Of course, he did, but he wanted more. He wants you to keep begging so pretty for him with your sinful tongue and sweet words and soft body.

“Oh, bunny – I can’t hear you when you’re hiding from me.”

His words make you whine high in your throat – and oh god you might actually cry now.

You still your hips as you look him in the eye, and he’s kind enough to let you try and form some semblance of control with your words.

“Hayato, please – I’m asking you nicely and I don’t know what else you want but –”

Suo holds back a depraved laugh, because rambling out of frustration, and at a time like this? Because you’re just so desperate? He didn’t think you could get even more cute but you keep proving him wrong time and time again.

So, he concedes – you really had no idea how perfect you were, did you?

You lead him to your bed (“Sorry Hayato, but I am not fucking you in my kitchen after the day I’ve had.”), and once every article of clothing has been discarded haphazardly on the floor, does Suo finally eat. 

“Might be a bit rough with you pretty girl, is that alright?”

“Oh my bunny, you’re dripping! Is this all for me?”

He dives in with long, broad strokes of his tongue as he laps up the heat of your cunt, and you writhe so pretty under his tongue. If he every so often dips down to push his tongue past the tight opening of your pussy, well – he was just really hungry. 

“Wider bunny, can you spread your legs wider for me?” 

“So noisy…” 

And god were you the best meal he’d ever had in years. Your pussy was the gift that just kept giving, and he was savoring every little intoxicating drop that it pushed out.

“You’re making all sorts of sounds for me, aren’t you?”

“Won’t you make that sound for me again, bunny?”

But, even after you squirted on his skillful fingers with his tongue lavishly flicking and suckling at your spoiled clit, he still wasn’t full.

No, he needed more – he needed to be inside you.

When he finally slides his throbbing, neglected member into your warm fluttering hole, it takes everything in his willpower and a harsh bite to his bottom lip not to rock his hips into you with wanton – he was so so glad you were on birth control so that he could enjoy this to the rawest extent.

“Wow – ha –- you’re taking me so well –”

And it feels so so good to be stretched out over Suo’s cock. There’s a delicious drag against your walls with every thrust, and he’s so damn big that when he pulls back with just the tip inside, you actually feel empty. 

You’re in such a delirious daze that you aren’t even comprehending the noises he’s pulling from your pretty plump lips, but Suo is. He’s greedily eating up every moan, every gasp, every whine – and it’s insatiable the way that he’s craving more. 

He’s pushing your legs up into a mating press until your knees are pressed right up next to your head, and he’s so so grateful that you’re flexible enough to allow him to do this because now he can thrust into you even deeper, and hit that spot just right.

And now it’s Suo’s turn to feel powerful because you — who could easily break his hold, who had mercilessly crushed a man’s hand — were letting him cage you in his arms like a domesticated house pet.

“You’re being such a good little bunny, aren’t you? My good girl ~ ”

But Suo … he should’ve known better, really. 

Should’ve known based on how long and drawn out this silly little game lasted between the two of you that you were just as filthy as he was.

And, before Suo can react, you’re swatting away his hands and using all your strength to roll him onto his back. It only takes a second for him to adjust to the new position, but the sight of you settled on top of him has his dick twitching and his mouth agape.

“Hayato… don’t you want your pretty little bunny to ride you?”

Your words bring him to ruin, and all he can do is manage a breathless, airy laugh before you plant your feet on both sides of his hips – and when you lift yourself he swears he knows what heaven feels like and it’s nestled right between your perfect plush thighs.

You’ve got just the tip in you now, and he really should take back control now.

He should, but he can’t – you don’t even give him time to think before you’re dragging back down achingly slow and all he can focus on is the agonizing tightness of your wet cunt and the drawn-out squelch of your conjoined bodies.

You’re no better – the feeling of him filling up every inch of you has you reeling from the pleasure and you let out a soft sigh once you’re finally sat and all of his cock is nestled inside you.

And then – you wait.

Because it was unfair, wasn’t it? Letting him be in control for this long, for still maintaining his composure.

You stare down at him with heavily lidded eyes and a coy smile on your face but Suo’s getting, dare he say, desperate. It was all fun and games earlier, sure, but now? He was simply claiming his prize that he’d worked so hard and so long to win and you weren’t letting him. 

He grits out a curt “please”, but you’re not satisfied. 

Instead, you trace a manicured nail all over him, from his tassel earrings to the sharp jut of his jaw to his collarbones to his chest – all the way to where his cock is currently entrapped in the warmth of your pussy.

“Oh, Hayato – I can’t hear you when you’re –”

You’re cut off by a change in gravity, and suddenly, you’re on your back again, with Suo peering down at you with thinly veiled annoyance and a strained smile on his face.

“On your hands and knees, please.”

Your breath hitches at his tone – because he was losing it. He was losing his composure, and that’s all you wanted, really.

And, with one of his hands pressing your head into the mattress and the other holding your hips in place, well, you get what you wanted real quick. 

Because Suo’s thrusting into you hard, fast, and rough – and you love it. Your cunt is squelching with every rock of his hips, and your body’s shaking and twitching with pure pleasure.

“You want me to break you? Is that it? You – ha – need a handler, little bunny?”

When you fail to answer him, he chuckles, before snaking a hand underneath you to rub small, precise circles on your aching clit.

“O-oh my god –”

You’re keening high in your throat, your hands fisting at the sheets underneath you, and all you can do is take it. You press down harder onto his adept fingers and you feel it washing over you – your sweet release.

“Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop,” you whine out, your thighs quivering from the stimulation of it all, and you’re so fucking close.

Suo tuts his tongue at your words, but you can feel his fingers and his hips speed up at your pleas.

“That’s funny, I didn’t hear a please.”

You feel tears start to escape your eyes, all your inhibitions out the window as you try to appease the only person who can grant you the overwhelming satisfaction of coming undone.

“Please please please – Hayato please let me cum on your cock. I’ve been so good for you please –”

Suo doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of your desperate rambling. It’s just too damn hot.

“Then cum, bunny. It’s yours, it’s all yours.”

You scream into your sheets, your body spasming underneath his as you finally, finally allow for the crashing wave of bliss to run all over your body.

Suo coos at the sight, fucking you through it as you clamp down on him with everything in your body, and he’s not very far behind you. 

He’s close, so close, but he wants to see what you look like unraveled and raw and vulnerable.

What he plans on doing is maybe lasting a little bit longer, fending off that incessant urge to let his cum paint your walls as he fucks into you nice and slow and deliberate.

But, despite your euphoric state and the puddle of drool collecting around your mouth and dampening your sheets, you manage to shakily reach your hands back to press your fingers into the lips of your cunt and you spread.

You feel his hips stutter as you present yourself to him, and his lips part open at the sight.

He can see the ring of cream coating the base of his cock, as well as the glistening dots of your juices decorating your lips, and he’s entranced by the sight. 

A soft, obscene groan leaves his mouth as he looks down with his dark-lidded eye – and with the way that your body was still twitching with aftershocks, he couldn’t help but think that you really did look like a bunny right now.

A thoroughly fucked, thoroughly ruined bunny.

And when you open your mouth, well – it’d be rude, right? Not to indulge in your request when you’ve managed to ask it in such a polite and sinful manner?

“I’ve been such a good girl for you, Hayato…. Won’t you cum in your sweet little bunny’s pussy?”

He denies that he came from just your words alone, but you know better. 

You feel his cock twitch, his fingertips dig harder into your lower back, and the jolt of his hips as he tries to bury himself inside of you.

And, when he does come, he lets out the prettiest string of gasps you’ve ever heard, and it makes your body slump with satisfaction.

Because, in your mind, you’d won. Sure, maybe you were the first to break, but as Suo carries you into the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your exhausted body and wipes you down with sweet kisses to your temple, you can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

And when he settles in behind you on your bed as he strokes your head and leaves a trail of kisses down your neck and across your shoulders as he lulls you to sleep, there’s no denying that sense of triumph.

… and when you ask him if he’ll be spending the night and he replies with, “Of course bunny, why wouldn’t I? You’re mine now, right?” – well, you can’t help the drowsy smile you send his way before you’re pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips. 

You’d won – fair and fucking square.

And true to his words, he’d fixed you right up.

୨ৎ Chapter 6 (in progress)

[electragapi]

“why was dreamstat even there he added nothing!!” I CANNOOOTTTT!!!!

i feel like i’m stepping into a different world when my for you tab is showing me posts where ppl are saying that dreamstat was useless

[catcze]

Imagine it's Valentine's day and Wrio's darling gave everyone but him chocolates/candies/goodies and he low-key starts being a whiny, pouting kid up until s/o reveals they made a whole box of candies, cookies, chocolates, and other sweets for him. BUT! Then he makes s/o sit in his lap and feed him.

I’m such a sucker for pouty, needy, huffy Wrio that just wants his sweethearts love and affection, goodness 💕

Like, can you imagine how much he’d anticipate the gift throughout the day? He wouldn’t make it obvious or anything— but every time you come near him, he perks right up because he thinks that you’ll be handing him some chocolates, only to be handed document and papers instead 💀

And he tries not to let it get him down at first, but it’s a bit difficult when wherever in the fortress he goes, he hears everyone singing praises about the chocolates and sweets you’ve been handing out, and he can’t help but being a little pouty and sulky throughout the day. He doesn’t doubt your love for anything like that— he knows that what he feels for you and what you feel for him runs deeper than just a box of chocolates and sweets but… well…

It’s almost the end of the day and Wriothesley is just finishing up some menial paperwork and trying not to think too hard about the chocolates when you come into his office. He tries not to get his hopes up too much time either, even when he gives you a kiss on the cheek in greeting.

But his plans to act like everything is alright just go right out the door when you bashfully produce a pretty tin from behind your back— the chocolates, candies and other treats inside arranged artistically and incredibly pleasing to the eye.

“Sorry it took a while,” you say shyly. When you hand him the tin, he takes it in his hands reverently, eyes still wide in surprise because he’d all but accepted that you didn’t have anything for him today. “It took a few— or, well, a lot of tries to get it tasting just right. Hah, who knew that making good sweets was so difficult?”

You made these? Yourself? The thought does funny things to his heart. It makes it hard for him to think straight. It makes him want to hold you close and hope you can feel even a fraction of the adoration he feels towards you.

“Thank you,” is all Wriothesley can muster out, throat feeling oddly choked. He sets the box of confectionery down safely on his desk, gently tugging you around the furniture and into his lap, plopping you down and absolutely covering your face in fleeting, sweet kisses.

“Wrio!” You laugh, trying half-heartedly to bat away his affection, but he just takes hold of your face and gives you even more kisses.

“Thank you,” he repeats again, once he pulls away. His arms come to wrap around your waist, securing you against him. Wriothesley qonders if you can hear the pounding of his heart— wouldn’t be surprised if you could.

You can’t help the smile on your face, the kiss you peck on his nose. “Of course,” you say. “Anything for you.”

As he leans back into his seat, still holding you against him, you reach back for the collection of sweets you’ve made for him. You pluck one of the chocolates up and hold it to his lips, and Wriothesley obediently tries it.

“Well?” You ask, trying not to sound a little nervous about the taste. You worked practically the whole day on trying to get it just right, after all. “Is it any good?”

Wriothesley chuckles, pressing a kiss to your lips so you can taste the flavor of your hard work, too.

“It’s perfect, sweetheart.”

[housecow]

hiii! i have a few questions, sorry if they’re weird…

1. what’s the most difficult part of gaining?

2. how much can you eat in one sitting?

3. would you ever consider recording the noises of your stomach digesting a meal?

4. noticed you like paleontology/ecology - what’s your favorite fossil?

not weird haha!! 1&2 sorta go together—my appetite isn’t what it used to be and i find it hard to eat a LOT in a normal sitting :(( i can’t force myself like i used to lol, but that’s okay!! i can still manage 1/2 a pizza or more and my massive chick fil a meal!!! i looove shakes for this reason too :3

3. maybe!! the fat on my belly definitely muffles it and unless i have smthn that upsets my tummy (garlic), there aren’t many sounds to record <//3

4. favorite fossil like, a singular something dug up of the ground?? i’ve been in the presence of MANY incredible fossils, but a juvenile t-rex maxilla and the bones quetzalcoatlus northropi was named for really both take the cake!! i’m also a fan of the huge pieces of petrified wood you can find out in the west 🥺

[gemstone-roses]

Make it better

Hannibal x reader

Hurt/ comfort.

no specific plot. I’ve just really needed this.

Thankyou @ajokeformur-ray for reading this over and assuring me it wasn’t utter garbage. ILY ♥️

Warnings: reader is estranged from her family. Female reader, Mentions of death, panic attack, anxiety, stress. OOC Hannibal maybe. Shush. 🤫

A/N: I know I’ve been a bit absent. I’ve had an incredibly difficult few months and it just keeps getting worse. I’m working on all your requests I promise. I wrote this in the hopes it would make me feel a tiny bit better. If anyone needs any comfort I do hope you find a bit in this too.

The ache in your chest that’d settled there the past few weeks was showing little sign of residing. You sat in the worn armchair in your little office flicking through the brown folder making sure your work was correct before handing it to Dr Lecter. You took witness/ surviving victim statements, and passed them onto Dr Lecter to look over at the beginning of any case that came through. Hannibal admired you and your strength, sensing a deep wound buried somewhere in your past.

A few weeks ago, on the way to a crime scene, he’d asked you how your week had been you’d told him you’d had news of an estranged family member who’d passed, and said nothing further. Hannibal could sense there was a struggle of some sort, like you didn’t know what or how to feel, and a stirring of horrid memories you’d hoped long ago to bury. He’d offered sincerely to be a listening ear as a friend, and you’d waved him off, thanking him, assuring him you were fine.

You’re here later than everyone else, a consequence of your unrelenting mind, not wanting to go home just yet.

Every single bone in your body aches, the events in your personal life of the past few months weighing heavily on you.

With a defeated sigh you untangle your legs from beneath you and head to Hannibal’s office. You’re not expecting him to still be in, taken aback slightly when his door is ajar and Bach is sounding softly through the door. You knock, even though he always insists if his door is open you may come in without doing so.

“You’re here late” Hannibal cocks an eyebrow, he’s not at his desk, he sits on the couch that divides the room of his office, his slight curiosity soon turns to concern as he regards you. The bags under your eyes are considerably deeper, your slightly hunched frame, arms wrapped around your middle, folder tucked under your arm, like you’re subconsciously trying to comfort yourself.

“Ah, I just wanted to get this done for you” you say, passing him the file. He notices the slight quiver of your hand as you pass it.

“Thankyou, do you want some tea?” He asks kindly , getting up to get you a mug before you’ve even answered.

“I don’t want to impose” you said a little awkwardly, old insecurities coming to the surface thanks to the past few months.

“You are never an imposition” he says, his voice laced with concern. He’s missed you these past few weeks, you’ve been present, physically, but your sarcastic quips and laugh hadn’t filled the room for weeks. You’d told him in general conversation how you were estranged from your family- they were awful people, who did awful things, and he never pressed you further. Only assuring you that it was their loss, and they were undeserving of a person as lovely and kind as you.

“Sit” he says, gesturing to the seat next to him and handing you the mug, his fingers brush yours as you take it, his hands are warm, at one point you’d wonder how they’d feel holding yours, now, feeling like you’d insulted him by accidentally brushing your fingers against his.

“Sorry” you mumble, Hannibal catches it, his heart aching at your words, wanting nothing more than to take away whatever was hurting you.

Hannibal places his cup on the side, kneels down in front of you. It startles you slightly. You’re glad you have your hands wrapped around the mug, as Hannibal would definitely pick up in your nervous fidgeting.

Hannibal reaches a large hand to cup your face, you turn towards it.

“It’s alright” he says lowly, stroking your cheek.

You bite the inside of your cheek, lest the tears that have been unable to fall finally spill. You shake your head, lip quivering.

“I’ve got you, I’m here, your safe” he soothes as you blow out a shaky breath, chest tightening.

“Y/n, darling” Hannibal speaks, he’s lowered his voice, cupping your chin now forcing you to look at him. His brows furrow, taking in your struggled breathing and your shaking frame. “Can you take a deep breath for me?” You try, unsuccessfully of course, eyes slightly wild with panic. “Okay, Okay, look at me, slowly, yes?” He coaches, splaying his hand on your chest. “Good” he nods, his other hand squeezing your shoulder. “Again” , and you do, Hannibal nods, a reassuring smile on his face. “Good girl” he says, thumb swiping at your tears. He stays holding you, hand on your chest comfortingly until your breathing returned to normal.

“I’m so-

Hannibal cuts you off.

“Ah, no, none of that” he admonishes gently.

He rises from his knees, towering over you on the couch, his arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into him. His hold is strong, Hannibal presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m making your favourite this evening, come home with me” he says. You tense slightly, again not wanting to impose.

“Allow me to make it better for you, even just for a night” he whispers. “Okay” you say.

He insists you sit by the fire as he cooks, refusing any pleas from you about helping. You eat together, and in the night, he holds you. You curl into his open arms as he wraps them around you, encasing you. You feel safe there, Hannibal pressing soft kisses to your forehead and muttering soft compliments as he waits for you to drift off, and you think, perhaps everything will be alright as long as your here with him.

[heavenlyvision]

IT'S GETTING COLD AGAIN

pairing: bi-han/reader

wc: 12.6k

this is part 6 to my 'when hell freezes over' series with bi-han ʚ⁺˖⤷ part one part two part three part four part five

summary: after bi-han says something so incredibly vulnerable you're faced with a choice but how are you meant to reciprocate when you're feeling so confused and how long will he wait for your reply. both action and inaction have consequences.

a/n; it took me a while to get back to my origins but here it is... the boy! for those who were patient during the wait -- thank you very much! i appreciate you all heaps and i hope it was – at the very least – semi-worth the wait <3 (i'm a little unsure about this one so if it's not good i'm really sorry) ૮꒰ o̴̶̷᷄᎔o̴̶̷̥᷅ ꒱ა

warnings: 18+ only, smut, angst, reader cries, comfort(?), swearing, dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v sex, denied orgasms/edging, overstimulation, creampie, mean!bi-han, f!reader, use of she/her pronouns, no y/n used

MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

That night, he doesn’t go to your room and you’re too scared to go to his. you hadn’t been able to say anything in reply, you stood there, dumb and scared. You’re not used to being cared for and you weren’t expecting such an admission from him… not now.

But the longer you stared, the colder his expression grew, it’s like you could see in real time how he was putting his walls back into place, disappointed in your lack of reciprocation but too guarded to confront you about it, he wanted to move on and pretend he hadn’t just said that, pretend he hadn’t just ruined everything…. but he hadn’t ruined anything, you had.

In that moment, you didn’t know if the way you felt was anxiety or excitement, it’s still not clear to you now. It’s been a week since that night in the kitchen and he hasn’t approached you. It hurts but you know you’re the one who’s meant to approach him… you’re scared and the longer you leave it, the more scared you get.

You feel like you’ve left it too long but you don’t want to go to him without having something concrete to offer. Telling him you’re confused feels unfair, you want to be able to tell him exactly how you feel.

Training is difficult, you’re trying so hard to focus but it’s not working and you keep getting your ass thrown on the floor. For the fourth time in a row, Kenshi trips you up and has you on the floor below him, he looks down at you and quirks a brow, “You feeling okay?”

Sighing you take the hand he offers you and let him pull you up, “Yes?”

“You don’t sound certain,” he’s a little amused by your unsure tone.

You groan a bit, disgruntled, “I’m distracted.”

“I’ve noticed,” he tilts his head at you, waiting for you to offer him an answer as to why.

“Don’t worry about it, let’s go again,” you move back into a defensive stance, getting ready for him to come at you first.

He crosses his arms over his chest, not moving, “You have lost the past four rounds and you want to keep going? Isn’t your ass bruised enough?”

“Don’t get cocky just cause I’m off my game,” you glower at him.

He scoffs a bit at that, “You’re not just ‘off your game’, you’re not even in the game right now.”

The words make your stance falter, “Okay…ouch.”

His expression is sheepish, a little sorry for being so harsh, “If I drop you again you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

You perk back up, “Easy, I won’t be dropped again.”

…You’re dropped again. It’s a little embarrassing how easily he manages to get you back onto your ass, he was right… you’re not in the game today. You shouldn’t have made that deal… how are you meant to tell him about what Bi-Han said and what you didn’t say.

Kenshi offers his hand to help you up again and as you take it, you feel Bi-Han’s eyes on you. You falter in getting up, resulting in Kenshi using more force to pull you up, you bump into him slightly.

His hands move to either side of your shoulders and pull you back, “Woah, you good?”

Bi-Han’s eyes on you feel weighted, “Hmm? Yeah, sorry…” You take a step away from him, out of his reach.

You’re fighting the urge to look for Bi-Han, too anxious to meet his eyes. Turning your head in the opposite direction, you wait for the feeling of him watching you to stop. When he walks away, you can feel yourself physically relax and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Ah,” Kenshi speaks after having watched the scene unfold in front of him, “I see what has happened now.”

“Nothing happened,” you insist, not wanting to talk about this with anyone, there isn’t anyone you feel like you could talk to regarding this.

“I’m not an idiot,” he rolls his eyes lightly. “We had a deal… you gonna talk to me?”

You huff, “It’s fine, honestly.”

“If that were true, you wouldn’t have been absent all week,” he argues.

Feeling awkward, you try to keep denying, “I’ve not been that bad…”

He gives you a straight on look, one that says ‘yes, yes you have been that bad’.

You give in, “He said something, I didn’t… and now I feel confused and bad…”

“Do you have something you want to say to him?” He asks, simply.

Tipping your head to the side for a moment, you answer, “I have plenty of things I want to say but I’m not sure about anything and I feel like going to him with anything other than certainty in the words I say is a disservice to him…”

He thinks on your words, “I understand your line of thinking… but don’t you think leaving him in the dark and ignoring him is an even bigger disservice?”

Exasperated, you pose, “What good is talking to him when I have nothing of significance to say?”

“What good is ignoring him?” He shuffles his feet and rolls his head, “Listen, I’m gonna be blunt for a second–”

“–Aren’t you always?”

“Hush,” he squints at you in disapproval but continues on, “Are you ignoring him for his sake or for yours? What I mean to say is… is talking to him harder for him or for you. Because personally, I think you’re scared of what the possible consequences of whatever you say might be. If you cared so much about how he was feeling, you wouldn’t be making him wait a week to hear from you.”

You pout and mumble, “He could also approach me…”

“He said something and you didn’t, isn’t it your turn to talk?” He shrugs.

It’s annoying that you told him so little but he’s inferred a lot from it… you don’t know if he’s completely correct but you know he’s not all wrong. Part of you knew that ignoring Bi-Han wasn’t fair to him but you don’t think you’re wrong about not being able to answer him properly being unfair either.

It comes down to what is less fair right now and annoyingly, Kenshi is right, in that it’s less fair to be ignoring him after he was so vulnerable. You’re just worried you might have waited too long and now he won’t be able to give himself that piece of you that he was willing to a week ago. Though… that’s probably the consequence you’ve been so scared of.

“I can see I’ve given you a lot to think about,” Kenshi’s voice brings you out of your thoughts.

You make eye contact with him, “I don’t know what you mean, we never spoke about this and even if we did… everything you said was so far off base that I couldn’t relate it to anything that has happened to me even if I wanted to…”

He barks a small laugh at your statement, “Alright, I get the message, we never spoke about this, I didn’t hear anything, in fact… I’m not even sure I know you.”

You smile softly, “Thank you, Kenshi.”

He gives you a puzzled look, “I’m sorry? Do I know you?”

You laugh at that, “Come on grandpa, it’s just after midday, nearly dinner time for you.”

“Har har,” he begins walking away from you at your bad joke and you have to jog to keep up with him.

❆˖°

It’s hard to think, it isn’t normally, at least not when you’re here but you have too many thoughts to sort through for the venue to have any impact on them. The rock is as it always is, it’s cold but the view is pretty and the air is clean, nature is humming and the earth is still, and in spite of all these things, in spite of how much comfort the elements grace you with, you are frustrated to the bone.

Are you still in a relationship? You’ve not spoken in over a week now… it’s not even like you’re fighting, you just aren’t talking. The regret you feel is digging straight down into your core and settling deep, you miss him so much, does he miss you?

All at once, you’re too aware of how you’re sabotaging yourself, it’s not that you’re uncertain about how you feel… you know very well how you feel. You’re just not as brave as Bi-Han, because instead of saying aloud how you feel, you fell silent. Is it too late to tell him you’re scared too? That you’re falling for him too?

Gods, you’ve messed everything up, he was so open with you, it was a moment that by all means called for that kind of vulnerability and you dropped it all. Remembering his face hurts more than anything, if he’s blaming himself even a little bit for your mistake, for your inaction, you’re going to jump off a cliff.

Against your will, your eyes well with tears, you try to hold them back but ultimately fail. You decide to let yourself have this quiet moment to cry, folding in on yourself, tucking your head into your knees and wrapping your arms around yourself. You can’t even pretend to ask how it all got this way; you know how it got to be this way; it was by your own hand.

The pair of you had parted that night, going different directions, few words spoken other than goodnights. The last thing you had said to him before you left for your room had been another thank you for dinner, too casual for the words he had spoken.

You need to stop crying, it’s self-pitying at this point, you have literally no one else to blame but yourself. You need to get over this inability to be cared for.

“I’d ask if you were okay but I can clearly see that is not the case,” Liu Kang’s voice from behind shocks you. Hastily, you wipe at your eyes as he comes into your view, “You missed dinner… again.”

You sniffle, “Ah, I didn’t realise, sorry…”

He ignores your lie, he knows you’ve been avoiding group dinners, “He’s worried you know.”

Doubting Liu Kang’s knowledge on this, you ask, “Did he tell you that?”

“He did not have to, it’s quite obvious,” His tone is calm, like it always is.

All you can manage to say is, “I messed up…”

“Can you not fix it?” He hums in thought.

Your hands smooth over your knees, “I don’t think so.”

He immediately follows up with, “Have you tried?”

The question makes you feel embarrassed because, “…No, I haven’t.”

“Then how do you know?” You must look pitiful when you look up at him, eyes wet and round from crying. He places a hand atop your head in a soothing way, it’s warm, “Try.”

Voice breaking, you ask, “What if he doesn’t forgive me?”

“You live with the consequences,” He says it easily, like that wouldn’t be the hardest thing to do.

Hesitating, you add, “I don’t know if I can… Liu, I’m scared…”

“Be scared,” he smiles at you, “And do it anyways.”

“It can’t be as easy as you’re making it sound,” you slump down slightly.

His hand moves to your back, “I did not say it would be easy, I said talk to him… even if it is scary and hard.”

You face away from him, feeling emotional, “You’re annoying.”

He doesn’t take your words to heart, “Only because I am right and you know it,” he removes his hand from you and sits beside you on the rock.

Turning back to him, you rest your head on your knees again, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“You may ask,” he answers, making it clear if he doesn’t like the question he won’t answer.

Watching carefully, you ask him, “Have you ever been in love?”

He looks down, his mind drifting, “I have been, a long time ago now…”

“Was it scary?” You feel small and silly.

“Anything new or grand is scary,” he looks to you, “But it was worth it and I’d do it again.”

You feel compelled to ask for details, “What happened?”

“Far too much, too long ago,” he dismisses.

Wanting more, you press, “Did you get a happy ending?”

“In a way,” he looks solemn but you believe him.

Instead of asking for details, you ask something cliche, “How did you know you were in love? …Did you know you were in love… or did you just think you were?”

“Are they not essentially the same thing?” He looks up and sighs, “Only you will know, it’s not something to be described and it’s different for everyone. There is no one way to love.” He looks at you carefully, “If you are asking me because you think I have some hidden knowledge others don’t, I am sorry to let you down but I think my answer is pretty close to what most people would say.”

“You didn’t let me down… I think you’ve helped me sort some things internally,” you offer him a genuine smile, it’s small but it’s real. Tipping sideways, you lean your head on his shoulder, “Thank you for indulging me.”

He looks up to the stars, “Anytime.”

You think you may have unintentionally gotten him to open up about something he’s not spoken on in a long time and you’re grateful that he did just to answer your silly questions. You wonder if him being able to talk about it helped at all, at the very least, you hope whatever he remembered tonight didn’t hurt too much.

❆˖°

You’ve been given a lot to think about, today has been incredibly overwhelming, the whole week has been but today more so. Both Kenshi and Liu Kang have given you their advice and they both essentially said the same thing, it’s the kind of advice you’d give to anyone in your position – talk to him.

It’s getting late but you leave your room to sneak to the kitchen, just because you haven’t been going to group dinners doesn’t mean you haven’t been eating. You’ve made a habit of lurking in the kitchen after hours to eat whatever you can find; you think Liu noticed pretty early on what you were doing because you’ll frequently find a bowl of whatever they had that night left for you.

The air is cold and you feel stupid, carefully wandering the grounds in your pyjamas and a robe, getting caught wouldn’t really be all that bad, you’d just look like an idiot. The kitchen is warmer though and the indoors welcome you inside, you immediately start looking for something to eat, accidentally knocking into some utensils, the clanging sound startling you, your hands frantically reach out to stop the awful noise.

Bi-Han’s deep voice fills your ears, “Well, at least I know you have been eating.”

It’s late but the chill runs down your spine, you were too busy with the noise you made to notice his presence behind you. You’re stock still, wondering how you’re meant to react, should you apologise now? Should you pretend it’s fine? Like you have no idea what he’s talking about? You feel nervous, heart hammering in your chest, you don’t even know if you can bring yourself to look at him. After everything you feel ashamed, how could you meet his eyes–

He's tired as he sighs out, “Look at me.”

Your eyes stay on the utensils you just ran into, hands limp at you sides, “Uhm… I can’t…”

“Can’t or won’t?” You can hear his frustration growing.

How are you meant to answer that? Pausing awkwardly, you eventually say, “Either? Both?”

He grumbles your name lowly… unhappy with your answer, he moves closer to you, body just to the side of you. You always thought you’d be the kind of person to fight or flee when confronted but instead you’re completely frozen… He’s so close to you, close enough to touch, you’ve missed him so much and now he’s within arm’s reach and you don’t feel like you have the right to touch him.

Before you lose your nerve and all ability to think, you force out, “You’re too close… I can’t… think.”

You wonder what kind of expression he made when you said that, you didn’t mean for it to be unkind. He doesn’t complain though, he silently takes a step away from you. It’s unclear to you if he has nothing to say or if he’s patiently waiting for you to speak first, if you were a gambling man, you’d bet on the latter. Despite his outward behaviours, he usually has something to say.

This is harder than you thought, you haven’t had a chance to think about what exactly you want to say to him. You know you wanted to talk to him the next time you saw him, you just didn’t know it would be so soon. “I thought you were avoiding me.”

He scoffs slightly, “Who’s avoiding whom?”

You thought he had been avoiding you as well but maybe he was giving you space, “What did you come here for?”

He avoids your question with his own, “What else would I come here for, other than you?”

“Bi-Han…”

“I’ve been waiting for you to come to me… In your own time but I’m not a patient man and this is getting annoying.” He hesitates before continuing, “If you don’t feel the same way… then forget I said anything.”

Shaking your head, you cement, “No.”

“No?” His tone is gruff.

You finally look at him, “I don’t want to forget something like that, you were honest and vulnerable… Bi-Han, I don’t want you regretting that.”

His arms are crossed over his chest, his expression unmoving, “Could’ve fooled me–”

“­–I was surprised… I was scared… I don’t know if you’ve noticed this about me but I’m not exactly the best at all of this,” you gesture between the two of you, hoping he understands because you can’t find the right words right now.

He’s frowning, “I didn’t ask you to be the best but when I say something like that, I at least expect something other than ‘thanks for dinner’.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he adds, “You also didn’t need to avoid me after.”

“I didn’t see you trying especially hard to talk to me afterwards,” this is bad, you’re feeling defensive, you’re not ready for this yet.

“You wouldn’t even spare a glance in my direction…” He sighs, “I thought if I gave you space, you would eventually explain things to me.”

Trying to defend yourself, you say, “I was going to!”

 “When?” His voice raises slightly with his question.

You’re frustrated, he’s surprisingly adept at communicating, you’re feeling more ashamed now… how is he able to better express himself than you. “I don’t like this conversation…”

“And you think I do? You think this is fun for me?” He moves closer again, standing in front of you, you’d forgotten how big he was… “The woman I am in a relationship with has been ignoring me for an entire week after I said I was falling for her and you think I’m having the time of my life? Do you realise how tedious and annoying I find talking about my feelings to be?”

Ah, he’s angry and you can’t even blame him, you think you would be angry with yourself too… in fact, you are.

He takes in and releases a deep breath, “Explain it to me, explain what happened.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden, “I got scared… I wasn’t ready to be confronted with my own feelings. I froze up… and then I didn’t come to you because I didn’t have anything concrete to give you and I felt like you deserved… a real response.”

His eyes close in thought for a second, “You’re the only person here whose company I actually enjoy, I’d rather you be confused and talk to me than be certain and avoiding me.”

“Are you mad?” It’s a question with an obvious answer.

He doesn’t hesitate, “I’m furious.”

Yeah, you expected that much, “I’m sorry…”

He ignores your apology, not really looking for you to be sorry, “Did you find your answer?”

“Huh?”

“To what I said.”

“I did,” you shuffle from side to side, “I was going to talk to you… next time I saw you.”

He doesn’t speak but you can tell he’s telling you that time is now.

The mood doesn’t feel right, how can you tell a man that you’re also falling for him when he’s looking at you all angrily, “Well, I don’t really want to answer now… you’re all angry at me.”

“Woman,” his tone is restrained, trying not to yell at you, “You’re torturing me, you know that right?”

You swear you can see the veins in his neck twitching, like he’s a second away from exploding on the spot, “This doesn’t really… there aren’t really… UGH.” You raise your arms in exasperation, “The vibes aren’t especially romantic right now, Bi-Han.”

“And whose fault is that?” His tone is still firm but he’s growing to be somewhat amused, your clear struggle almost making up for being ignored.

“I feel embarrassed,” you know he knows what you want to say now.

He’s being cruel though, he’s punishing you, “Are you breaking up with me?”

“Of course not!–”

“–Then spit it out,” he interjects.

“Bi-Han,” you’re pouting now, “You already know what I want to say, can’t we leave it at that?”

“Absolutely not.”

He is giving you no mercy, not here, not tonight, not after what you did, “I feel the same as you.”

“Not good enough.”

You’d scowl at him but you’ve not earned that right, “This is hard.”

“I know,” he says.

Looking to him, you add, “I’m scared.”

He repeats, “I know.”

“I’m falling for you, Bi-Han,” as hard as it felt to get the words out, when you’re already saying them, they flow past your lips easily.

He looks a little lost at first, like he’s swimming through countless thoughts and feelings, like he’s not quite sure where he’s going to end up but then his eyes glint mischievously, “Thanks.”

You deflate slightly and mumble out, eyes looking down, “You’re welcome.”

He moves closer to you, sighing, “Ahhh,” he’s right in front of you, you can see his feet in front of your own, “Can I be this close to you, or are you still having a hard time thinking?”

You ignore his question, “Are you still mad?”

He considers, “Somewhat.”

“I’m sorry,” you can’t look up at him, you feel like a crybaby because your eyes are welling with tears, feeling incredibly guilty, “I’m really sorry, Bi-Han.”

“Shhh,” He hushes, his hand reaching out and resting on the back of your head, he pulls you forward so you’re leaning on his chest, “I know you are.”

“I don’t want to break up, I missed you a lot,” you don’t wrap your arms around him even though you really want to.

He steps closer again, his arms coming around you fully while yours hang limply at your sides, “Mmm,” he hums in understanding, “We aren’t breaking up, don’t cry over something like that.”

“You’re still mad though,” you sniffle.

“Yeah, I am…” he leans down, his head coming to the side of yours, nuzzling you slightly, “But I get to be, you went off and got all caught up in your own head, left me here worrying about you,” his lips brush against your cheekbone, “So, I’m going to be a little mad while I hold you close and tell you how much I like you.”

He kisses your cheek before moving his head and resting his chin against the top of yours, just holding you like this. “Hug me back or I’m gonna get mad again,” he might be joking but he also might not be.

Your arms wrap around him, tugging him closer, missing him so much. Being able to touch him, having him touch you, it’s making you dizzy, “I missed you a lot.”

He huffs, “You put me through it you know? Didn’t know if you were eating properly… didn’t know if you…” He grunts, “Didn’t know if you still wanted me…”

“I’m–”

“–Don’t apologise again, that’s not what I want… just want you to know that this was awful,” his lips move beside your ear, “Don’t do this to me again, not over something like this.” He pulls back so he can look you in the eyes, free arm still holding you to him, “Next time, talk to me properly.”

The irony is not lost on you, how you had wanted him to talk to you about his feelings properly, only to be unable to do the same. It feels ridiculous, you feel ridiculous and it’s frustrating you.  

You start before trailing off, “Bi-Han…”

He groans, “…If you’re going to apologise again, I don’t want to hear it.”

Pushing on, you insist, “But I am sorry, I just… sometimes I need time to process things and–”

“–Be quiet now.” He cuts you off, he doesn’t need some grand explanation from you, he understands what happened. He had opened his confession for the depth of his feelings by telling you he was frightened, he gets it.

Sulking, you complain, “I feel silly…”

“You are…” He leans in closer to you, “…But I still like you so it’s okay,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours.

It feels like your skin is on fire, his proximity to you feels brand new. His lips grazing yours is electric, you want him to kiss you so badly but you don’t move, not willing to mess it up. He’s managed to fully distract you from the comment he made, snarking back at him not even a passing thought in your head, the only thing you want is for him to kiss you.

Bi-Han can’t help the small and amused smile on his lips at how you look incredibly desperate for him to do something as simple as kiss you. He considers not kissing you, just for moment, just to see the way your face would fall and how you’d pout all pathetically at him. But like he said, he’s not a patient man and he has missed you.

Closing the almost non-existent gap, he kisses you fully, his lips on yours reverent, he really had missed you. He pulls back too soon for your liking, if the sad whine you let out is anything to go off of. The sound you make has him almost caving but he thinks that punishing you by depriving you of physical contact will result in you doing something much more interesting.

“You should eat something,” he breathes against you.

Ignoring him, you move in to press your lips onto his again, he’s so close, but he’s a dick and he moves back at the last second. It feels taunting, cruel, you hate this about him, mostly you hate that you like this about him.

Why is he choosing now to be mean? “Didn’t you miss kissing me?”

He huffs, “Oh, that’s a harsh thing to say, of course I did.”

Exasperated, you complain, “Then­–”

Raising a single brow at you he encourages you to keep going, but you stop. You aren’t even really sure what you want to say, plus you feel a little at a disadvantage with your usual back and forth. You normally are but especially right now.

He shakes his head slightly, “No, go on, finish what you were saying.” You stand silently in front of him and he continues, “Feeling guilty?”

“A little…” It’s not lost on you how he’s not used the pet name he has for you a single time tonight.

“Don’t,” he’s moving in close and planting a full kiss on your mouth before you can fully register it. He doesn’t linger for long, his lips on yours for a mere moment before he’s pulling away and walking through the kitchen.

You’re stood stunned, stuck to your spot, mind reeling over his kiss. How he manages to kiss you in a way that affects you so deeply, even when it’s just a fleeting moment, you have no idea.

His words from behind you catch your attention, “You hungry or not?”

“Yes,” Control of your body comes back to you as your brain reboots at his question.

Bi-Han complains to himself mostly, voice unimpressed, “Dinner wasn’t that good tonight…”

You laugh a little, “Whatever was left is fine.”

Grumbling slightly, he reheats your food for you and doesn’t leave while you eat, you have a feeling his reluctance to leave your side is due heavily to you avoiding him for as long as you did and you feel really bad about it. You wonder if this overwhelming guilt will ever leave you, looking at him and how doting he is on you even after you were an asshole makes your chest squeeze.

After you’ve eaten, he walks you back to your room, his side brushing yours the whole way back. He’s so close to you and you want to hold his hand but you’re not sure you’re allowed to. It’s dumb, holding his hand would’ve been something you’d do without any hesitation previously but now everything you want to do has you thinking hard about whether or not you’re allowed to.

In the end, he grabs your hand himself, frustrated with how you kept glancing down at his. He was wondering how long it would take for you to reach out to him but as your room was getting closer and closer, he was growing more and more annoyed with how you had yet to even try and move your hand to his.

Your hand feels cold even to him, “Why are you out in so little?”

Shrugging, you answer, “I was only going to eat quickly and rush back to my room…”

His tone is unamused, “You need to wear more at night.”

“Noted,” your reply is unconcerned, you feel fine, a little chilly but it’s not like it’s going to kill you.

At your door, you aren’t sure what you expected but it certainly wasn’t him refusing to come inside. You had walked into the room easily, tugging him behind you mindlessly, only to be met with resistance. He’d pulled back slightly, not moving from the threshold.

Now, his large frame stands in front of you, imposing. Face unreadable, you have no way of knowing what he’s thinking, you liked to think you had gotten pretty good at understanding him but right now, you’re at a complete and utter lost.

Feeling sheepish, you stumble over your words, embarrassed, “Oh… sorry, I don’t know why I assumed… you would want to come inside…”

He still doesn’t make any obvious show of emotion, “I do.”

Your expression shifts to one of confusion, “Come inside then?”

“I can’t.”

What is wrong with him? “I’m not understanding.”

“You should go to bed,” he pulls you to him, “I’ll see you tomorrow…” His voice is low as he hold you close, his lips pressing to yours softly, a goodnight kiss.

You sigh into him, “Bi-Han…”

“Good night,” his hands leave you.

You repeat his words, though it comes out more like a question, “…Good night?”

He walks off in the direction you came, trailing back to his own room. He was always somewhat of an odd character but this was an absurd interaction. Flopping into bed, you get comfortable under the covers and drift. Sleeping okay for the first time in a while, mood feeling slightly better after being able to see and talk to him.

❆˖°

The room is cold and it’s early in the morning, you can’t bring yourself to even try and leave the warmth of your covers. Someone will come for you if you don’t get up soon but you’re so warm and so comfy and it’s hard getting up in the morning, especially lately.

Memories of last night and talking to Bi-Han are swarming your mind, it’s too early to think about it all. He didn’t say he forgave you, he seemed like he was okay but the idea of him never really forgiving you hurts you deeply. He said he was still somewhat mad… what does that even mean? How do you make it up to him? Does he just need time?

There are so many questions you still have and you would’ve asked them last night if you hadn’t gotten distracted by how guilty you felt. You want to see Bi-Han again but you’re so unsure of yourself and how you should behave with him. He didn’t hesitate to reach out to you but every time you want to reach for him, you hesitate and it’s making you restless.

An abrupt knock on the door startles you but you tuck back in under your covers and pretend to still be asleep, not wanting to get up yet. They seem to wait a moment before a few more knocks tap at your door, a bit more forceful this time. You consider getting up and letting them in this time but you ultimately can’t bring yourself to get up and your head ends up under the covers as well.

The door sliding open surprises you, having thought they would just walk away when you didn’t reply. Other than the door opening and closing, it’s silent, you can’t even hear their footsteps on the floorboards. Are they even walking into the room? You’re confused but you keep your head tucked under the covers.

A few moments go by in the quiet room and if you couldn’t feel an overwhelming presence, you’d assume they had just looked in for a moment before leaving. You don’t know what you should do next, revealing yourself just proves you were awake the whole time and you’re unwilling to give up that easy.

While considering your next move, Bi-Han’s voice cuts through the quiet, “You and I both know you’re awake under there.”

You don’t speak and you certainly don’t move, you aren’t really quite sure why you don’t just get up but enough time has gone by now that you’re a little embarrassed and the longer you wait to get up the more stupid it all feels, so you think it might just be best if you stay under the blanket.

His voice comes again, unamused, “Are you really going to make me pull you out of the bed by your ankles?” Impatient taps of his foot hitting the floor reach your ears, the only sound you’ve heard from him other than his words.

Now, if you were smart and not just coming out of sleep, you’d recognise this as the threat it is but for some reason you had assumed he was only joking… something Bi-Han doesn’t do often. In one swift moment, the blanket is ripped from you and you are abruptly pulled halfway down the bed by your ankles. A small, shocked sound leaves you at the speed of which it all happens, the cold tickling your skin in a way that would have you complaining if you weren’t distracted.

Still, you make no move to roll over and give away that you are awake, and again, you have no idea why you’re committing to this so hard. Bi-Han grunts at you, “There is no way you’re asleep after that.” You don’t hear him but you feel his hand on your hip, “And don’t think I didn’t hear you just now.” The hand he has on you flips you onto your back easily.

He’s standing back and looking down at you, exasperated look on his face, his eyes boring into yours, he’s at a complete loss for why you did all this. Smiling sheepishly, you chirp up at him, “Good morning…”

He continues to look at you, sighing slightly. He looks good from this angle, the way he’s looking down at you, his chest, your thoughts are quickly heading in a suggestive direction.

The cold reminds you of its presence, pursing your lips, you ask him, “…Could I have my blanket back?”

His reply is monosyllabic, “No.”

“Well, that’s just not nice.” You go to lean up while grumbling about his unkindness but he pushes you back down, “Hey! What was that for? You’re the one who wanted me to get up.”

His head tilts to the side, “Yes but now I can’t help but enjoy this view.”

Raising a brow, you ask, “So, am I just meant to lay here while you get an eyeful?”

“Yes.”

You huff slightly as you move to get up again, “Bi-Han, don’t be…” your words trail off as he leans down at the same time as you get up, his face in front of your own.

He moves in more, asking, “‘Don’t be’ what?”

You can’t help but stumble over your words as you look up at him, “I… uhh… I don’t… know…”

He hums at you, amused, his eyes flick to your lips and for a brief moment you think he might kiss you. His lips close to yours “You need to get up,” he says it as he pulls away which makes you deflate.

You go to flop back onto the bed but he grabs both your arms and pulls you up until you’re standing on your feet, he sighs at you, “You really made me pull you out of bed.”

“Let me get back in it,” you struggle against his grip.

“Stop being dramatic,” he doesn’t let you go, knowing your first move would be to grab your blanket and curl back up in bed.

Lamenting, you whinge, “Why are you the one who had to come get me.”

“Oh?” he gives you a look, “Would you prefer someone else come get you?”

“No…” you deny, before adding “…But if I did… maybe someone who would be nicer to me…”

“Hmmm,” he considers you for a moment more, moving in closer to eye you carefully, “That’s too bad,” he murmurs before planting a soft, single kiss on your lips, “Since it’s just me who’s willing to enter your room this early,” his lips brush against yours with his words.

You want him to kiss you again but he doesn’t, “Now get ready for the day,” he pulls away completely and pats your head once, “And don’t get back in bed.” Then he walks away and out the door.

Today sucks, you don’t want to train, you don’t want to meditate, you don’t want to talk to people, you want to lay in bed and be warm and dramatic. Things have been stressful lately and you haven’t had time to just stop. Every day is the same thing and it’s exhausting, plus your brain is like mush at the moment.

This thing with Bi-Han… what happens after all of this? What are you expecting to happen… See? This is why you just want to get back into bed, none of your thoughts lately have been particularly inviting. You don’t want to think.

❆˖°

They fucking sidelined you, you were right, today sucks. You didn’t want to think… so, you didn’t. Instead going all in on training, focusing on nothing but pushing yourself and you guess, you freaked everyone out and got told to sit out for a bit.

Watching is boring and maybe you’re pouting as you watch the guys spar and maybe you’re sighing loudly every few minutes so they can hear you. If you weren’t an adult you’d maybe kick your feet about it all, you’ve been restless and not wanting to think and you get sidelined, now?

Honestly, you’re surprised they didn’t sideline you before yesterday, though you were just sucking then, now you seem like an insane person. This is worse than when you sprained your ankle, at least you couldn’t spar then, you can now and you’re still forced to just sit here and watch.

As you let out another melodramatic sigh, Johnny groans back at you with as much energy, exasperated by you, “What is wrong with you today?”

“Nothing,” you bristle, not appreciating the way he phrased that question.

“Yeah, that’s why you were on the verge of actually training yourself to death,” he leaves Kenshi and flops down onto his ass beside you, “Spill.”

Kenshi stands in front of you both, looking down at you with a single raised brow, you know what he’s asking.

Johnny verbalises what Kenshi was silently asking though, “You and Bi-Han make up yet?”

You side eye him, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Come on, everyone knows you two are on the outs, hell, you stopped coming to group meals,” Johnny doesn’t even let you try and lie, clearly not interested in hearing what you’d come up with.

Grimacing, you note, “You’re all too interested in my personal life.”

Johnny shrugs, “Your own fault, you’re sleeping with the scariest brother and you also let your feelings overwhelm your actions.”

“Have more sympathy, Cage,” Kenshi kicks Johnny’s foot.

Johnny scoffs, “Don’t kick me.”

You interrupt before their argument can get too out of hand, “Okay, well you two have been very helpful, you can leave me alone now.”

“Hey, I am trying to help,” Johnny places his hand on your shoulder.

You place your hand over his, “You really wanna help?” He nods at you, and you continue, “Let me train.”

Both Kenshi and Johnny answer simultaneously, “No.” Look at that, they both agreed on something.

You groan loudly and dramatically, head tipping back with it, very unhappy. How are you meant to go through today if you can’t distract yourself? It gets a boring around here. A shadow looms over you as your head is tipped back and when you squint your eyes open, you see it’s Bi-Han.

Looking down at you, he asks, “What’s wrong with you?”

“They won’t let me train,” you immediately accuse.

He glances at Johnny and Kenshi and Johnny pokes your side, unhappy, “Nobody likes a snitch.” He looks at Bi-Han, “It’s for her own good, she was gonna hurt herself.”

Leaning over to Johnny, you repeat his words, “Nobody likes a snitch.” Ultimately though, you get up and face Bi-Han.

His expression is unreadable, his tone even, “Come with me.” It’s all he says before he’s walking off, expecting you to follow him.

You glance back at the guys, blaming them with your eyes. Johnny raises his arms in defence, “Your own fault.”

First, you flip him off before jogging to keep up with Bi-Han. He leads you to a private area of the grounds, you have a feeling you know what he’s going to say.

He turns back to you, his eyes looking you over carefully, “Are you okay?”

Okay… not quite what you were expecting. You were expecting him to scold you about taking care of yourself or something, not check in on you. “I’m fine,” you shrug dismissively.

His expression displays his doubt, knowing better, “You didn’t even want to get out of bed this morning and now you’re training so hard you’re worrying your friends. Something is wrong.”

“I’m just…” you sigh, annoyed with yourself, “I’m just having a bad day Bi-Han… I have so many questions I want to ask you, I have so many concerns over the future, I have so many thoughts and feelings and they’re frustrating me all, so I just wanted to… not think… for a little bit.”

He doesn’t move, “Ask.”

“What?”

He clarifies, “Ask your questions, I will do my best to answer and that should help, right?”

You intake a deep breath and begin asking your questions, “When you said you’re somewhat mad, how mad? Do you need time? Should I try and make it up to you? If so, how do I do that? Also, am I allowed to touch you? Or do I have to ask first? Are you going to resent me later? After everything here is finished and things go back to normal… are we just not going to see each other anymore? Would–”

“–Calm down.” His hands reach out to you, one soothes over your head, the other pulling you towards him, “You’re working yourself up,” he observes, forehead resting against yours, “Take some deep breaths.”

You listen to him and try to calm your breathing, not realising how worked up you had got yourself. Your rapid-fire questions making you anxious and fidgety.

“Now,” he pulls his head back but grabs hold of your hand, letting you know he’s still nearby, “I am still somewhat mad because it’s still fresh but I don’t resent you and I’m not going to. You don’t have to do anything to make it up to me and I don’t need time. I’ve had enough time; I just want you.”

You’re still trying to calm down, heart pounding in your chest though you have a feeling that’s starting to have more to do with him answering your questions. He continues replying to what he remembers, “You don’t have to ask to touch me, though watching you struggle has been mildly amusing.”

You scowl at him for that and he smiles tenderly at it, his hand moving to cradle your face. Opening your mouth, you go to scold him but he shushes you, “Quiet, I’m not done answering yet.”

He continues, “I don’t know what normal is to you, but this is not abnormal to me, I don’t know what will happen and nothing is guaranteed.” It’s not lost on you that those last few words are your own mirrored back at you, “But don’t be ridiculous, of course we’re still going to see each other, sweet girl.”

And maybe it’s his assurances or maybe it’s the fact he finally used that term of endearment on you again but your eyes well with tears and you tuck your head into his chest. Seeking comfort in his embrace, not for the first time and certainly not for the last either. He holds you close to him, to his heart, feeling more like himself than he has in a while.

He holds you until you stop crying, his hands soothing over you. When you’ve finally calmed down, you reach up and pull his face to yours, kissing him gently, lips brushing his, “Will you stay with me tonight… please?”

He laughs airily against you, “How can I say no to that?”

He can feel the way you smile before you pull back, “Good.” You linger a moment more, “I should get back… but, thank you… for being patient.”

You jog back off towards where you were training, feeling a touch lighter. Maybe things are still a little uncertain and maybe you’re still a little scared about how much you’re feeling but you’re not alone and remembering that helps.

❆˖°

Waiting is hard, it shouldn’t be, in fact most people would probably find waiting easy but it’s frustrating to you. While waiting for Bi-Han, you have tidied your room and made your bed, you had left it this morning. Now you’re just stuck waiting for Bi-Han to come by but this is getting old fast, you can’t relax enough to read or do any other kind of activity to distract yourself. So, you do the most reasonable thing… and put on your robe and leave your room to wander around aimlessly.

You don’t get very far before spotting Bi-Han while you’re out, he gives you a look that lets you know you’ve been caught but you turn tail and run back for your room in hopes you can get there before him and play it off like it wasn’t you he just saw.

When you’re back in your room, you grab the book off your nightstand and sit on the bed, trying to look as casual as possible. Opening the book to the place you left off; you pretend to be very interested in what’s happening. You jump when Bi-Han slides your room door open and closed behind him but you don’t look to him.

He’s stoic, still, arms crossed and waiting for you to acknowledge him. You pretend to finish your page and flick to the next, he lets out an amused exhale through his nose and takes the book from you.

“I was reading that,” you complain.

He takes your bookmark from you as well and places it inside the book, but not before flicking back a page, “Maybe… but not just now you weren’t.” He puts the book down on the table.

Frowning, you lie, “Yeah I was.”

“Really,” he raises a brow at you, “Then who was the sexy, little thing I saw running around outside in your robe?” He looks pointedly at the robe you didn’t take off before getting on the bed.

You squint at him, “I think it’s messed up that you would ask me that.”

“So, it wasn’t you? Should I go and try and find out who that was then?” His thumb points back over his shoulder, gesturing at the outside.

Grumbling, you admit all too easily, “It was me.”

“Obviously,” he rolls his eyes, “What did I tell you about going out in so little?”

You look upwards in thought, “Uhh… that it’s a great idea and I should do it more to embrace the beauty of the cold?”

“I remember saying something entirely different,” he hums, “Something more along the lines of – don’t do it.”

“Our signals must’ve gotten crossed, it happens,” you shake your head.

His hands flick at you, asking to give him room. “I’m so sure,” he mumbles as you move over to make space for him, “What were you even going out for?” He asks as he sits down beside you.

You sit up properly and face him, “I was bored of waiting… was gonna wander around for a bit.”

His back is resting on the headboard, arms forever crossed, “And your plan if you ran into me was to run away? Even though you knew I was staying with you tonight.”

Rubbing at the back of your head, you give a flimsy excuse, “Okay well, I wasn’t really sure when to expect you and I feel like I waited a respectable amount of time before… wandering.”

He scratches at the side of his cheek, “You’re not very capable of just sitting still.”

“I am too,” you pout at him.

Shaking his head, he says, “I wasn’t asking, I was making an observation.”

You only frown at him in response.

He sighs at you, “Ah, don’t sulk about it–”

“–I sit still for hours at a time meditating,” you remind. “I can sit still.”

“Then next time, just wait for me.” His hands reach out for you, “Instead of walking around in the cold.”

You let yourself be pulled into him, falling easily against his chest. “Next time, you should be quicker,” your words are mumbled against him. Both your hands press against his chest to push yourself back, “I feel weird Bi-Han.”

He hums at you in acknowledgement, “Weird how?”

“I can’t help but still feel a little unsure of us now…” Your eyebrows must be scrunching because he does the same move to you that you do to him and smooths between them with his thumb, “…I think it might be guilt.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” he looks you over carefully, “I want you to be the same as you always are. Stubborn and sure.”

You chuckle, “That’s what you think of me?”

“I think many things of you, I very seldom am not thinking something of you,” his hand cups your cheek, “I think you are brilliant and I want to be witness to it,” his thumb brushes over your lip, “So, stop feeling guilty, I can’t witness your brilliance if you’re hiding it from me.”

He manoeuvres you to straddle him properly and then kisses you deeply, his tongue licking into your mouth. His hand angling you so he can kiss you how he likes, it’s hot and messy, and you’re getting lost in it. When he separates the kiss, he trails his lips down your cheek, to your neck, kissing and nibbling at your skin.

He speaks against you, voice low, “Conversely, I could always fuck the guilt out of you.”

You gasp at his words, not entirely expecting them, “Not sure that would work.”

“I could always try,” he latches onto your neck, where it meets your shoulder and sucks hard. Leaving a dark mark behind, “Shouldn’t have avoided me for so long, all my marks have faded.”

Huffing, your hands reach for his shoulders, fisting his clothing, “You can’t possibly expect me to always be covered in hickeys.”

He questions, “No?”

“No,” you confirm, head slipping back, offering him more room to work.

His voice vibrates through your skin, “Maybe you shouldn’t be so willing to receive them then.”

“M-maybe you’re right,” your words falter when he nips at a particularly tender part of your neck, knowing you too well.

His hands slip under your shirt, caressing your skin, big hands splayed under your breasts, resting on your ribcage. He’s kissing you again, desperately, properly, no longer interested in teasing you with fleeting and soft kisses. He wants it all and he wants it now.

Your tongue meets his and your heart stutters in your chest, he groans against you when you grind down into him. Mind half gone and attention on his mouth, on his hands, barely registering your own movements.

His hands on you round to your back, tugging you into him, your chest meeting his. Your arms loop around his neck, holding him close, your breaths huffed and lips rushed on his. Your lips part and he holds you as he moves up, laying you gently against the mattress and hovering over you, your heads at the wrong end of the bed.

Untangling from you, he grabs at your hips and pulls your pants and underwear off in one motion. They’re chucked unceremoniously on the floor somewhere, not of any concern to you or Bi-Han. Right now, Bi-Han looks beautiful like this, eyes glazing slightly, focused on a million things at once but arriving at the same conclusion.

He’s back at your neck and trailing down, shoving your shirt up your body, lips moving to your exposed skin and continuing his descent. It’s making you nervous, “Bi-Han, you don’t have to…”

His forehead rests on your ribcage, stopping at your hesitance, “‘I don’t have to’, what?” When you don’t respond to him, he pulls back to look you in the eyes, “I’ve not had you in a week and now you’re telling me I don’t have to put my mouth on you? This isn’t just for you, sweet girl.”

You feel shy, “I just thought…”

He’s not entertaining your line of thinking, telling you like it is, “You thought wrong.” He leans back into your skin, kissing you softly, continuing downwards, “Can I lick your pussy now? Or are you going to make me say please.”

God, you bristle at his words, his deep voice, it’s making your pulse thump deliciously, “Ahh,” you can’t stop the gasp you let out when he kisses the top of your thigh, “A p-please would be nice.”

His stupid eyebrow raises at you, “Would it now?”

“Mhm,” you nod your head warily.

He clicks his tongue, “You want me to beg to taste you, to put my mouth on you?”

He’s flustering you, he’s so close to your cunt, he could lean in and easily put his mouth on you like this and you wouldn’t even be mad.

Before you can reply, he speaks again, “Please let me tongue fuck you.” His words are gruff, unamused.

You’re so shocked, all you can manage is a meek, “Okay.”

“Hope you know, you’ll be paying for that later…” You don’t even really register his threat because he immediately follows it up with, “Look at you,” his thumb swipes through your folds, collecting your slick and spreading it even more, “All worked up, you like when I ask please, when I’m nice?”

“Bi-Han,” your stomach does flips when he rests the pad of his thumb against your clit.

“Missed this sight,” he ignores the call of his name, distracted by how wet you are for him, how you clench pathetically around nothing.

You go to call out to him again, get him to move his thumb, touch you properly, something but he’s beaten you to the punch and is licking up the length of your cunt. The moan you let out is not one you expected and your hand moves to cover your mouth, the sound shocking you. It was far too desperate for how little he’s touched you. He hums appreciatively though, relishing in the sound made.

If he were willing to part from you, he’d tell you to move that fucking hand but his mouth is somewhat indisposed at the moment. He can manage however, a sharp glare at you and your hand, a wordless interaction you understand, uncovering your mouth tentatively, like you’re scared you might make that same noise again.

It’s wet and sloppy and he’s making an obscene mess of you, his mouth moving from sucking on your clit to fucking his tongue inside you. Taking his time to practically make out with your cunt, leaning into it more so his nose rubs against your clit. Your back arches off the bed and your thighs try to close around his head.

Surprisingly, he lets you, his hands hold the outside of your thighs, resting there. His face pushing down to continue to get at you like this but he lets you smother him with your thighs. He moves his thumbs to keep your folds parted, needing more access. The obscene clicking noises of his tongue in your slick pussy would make the devil blush.

The moans and whimpers you’re letting out are no better, fingers scrabbling to find purchase somewhere. Settling for the sheets in the end, not wanting to move Bi-Han, not when he’s hitting all the right places, you’re getting close embarrassingly quick.

Something he’s completely aware of, not stopping for a moment, he’s feasting on you like he might never again and after this week he’d say that was a genuine concern for a moment. As much as he loves having your thighs either side his head, he really needs better access. His hands force your legs apart again, pinning them apart and up.

The sound you let out is wrecked and he can’t help but groan alongside it, enjoying your reactions immensely. Some things never change and one of those things seems to be just how fucking reactive you are to him. Always so sensitive, so easy to rile up, so messy. If he weren’t slurping at your cunt he’d definitely say something about it to you.

Two of his fingers prod at your entrance, slipping inside you carefully, stretching you open. The way your pussy greedily sucks his fingers in has him moaning brokenly into you, muffled. If he were a weaker man, this might kill him. He can feel the way you’re pulsing around his fingers, your hips frantically trying to rut down against him, getting close.

Nails claw at the sheets, you’re not sure if you want to rut down into him and chase your high or pull away. Feeling completely overwhelmed by everything he’s doing right now. His lips suck at your clit, his fingers large inside you, curling just right. Your stomach flips and your cunt clenches down on him.

It startles you, how quickly you cum, you hadn’t even realised it until it was too late, not able to give a warning. The only sign given is the harsh grip your pussy has on his fingers and your moan as your thighs shake. Cum leaking from you and coating Bi-Han’s fingers, he doesn’t let up. Fucking you through your high, flicking at your clit just to watch you twitch.

It’s too much, you whine and try to wiggle away from him, that’s when he relents. Slipping his fingers from you and into his mouth, sucking them clean before wiping them on your inner thigh. He plants sloppy kisses up your body, stopping and hovering at your cheek, your head turned to the side.

You feel lazy when you pull your head back to face him, eyes wet and unfocused, completely docile for him after only one orgasm. He huffs an amused breath against your lips, “You good, sweetie? Or–”

“–Mhm, I’m good, I can keep going… I can take it.”

“I know you can,” he presses a light kiss to your temple, “Take this off,” he pulls at your shirt and robe.

He leaves you on the bed. Absently, you can hear him rustling just to the side of you and you’d stare at him shamelessly if undressing completely didn’t require your full attention right now. You shirk your robe off your shoulders and toss it somewhere, your shirt promptly follows, though embarrassingly, it’s harder to get off.

You flop back onto your spot on the bed, the thought to move so you’re on the bed the right way crosses in the back of your mind but you don’t really see the point. The bed dips with Bi-Han’s weight and your hands instinctually reach out for him.

He lets you pull him down into you, your legs wrapping around his waist to tug all of him close, he breathes against your neck when you’ve successfully got him pressed up against you completely.

“You just want to cuddle?” He’s being genuine, nosing at the high point of your cheek.

You make a noise of disagreement, “Just want you close.”

His words are crude, “So, I can stick my dick inside you?”

You whine at him, “Is there not a nicer way to say that?”

“I’ve found,” he presses his hips into you so his cock spreads your folds, grinding into you, getting his dick wet, “It’s quicker to be straightforward.”

Your mouth drops open when he grazes your sensitive clit, “You –hah– You sure you don’t just like embarrassing me?”

Humming, he muses, “I won’t lie, that’s a big bonus.”

“Can –ngh– you just–” You’re cut off by a sharp gasp, lungs shuddering at the glide of his heavy cock against your cunt.

“Mmm?” He’s teasing, “I’m sure I could but you need to use your words.”

Your head tips slightly, feeling like a moan is going to leave you at any second, “Bi-Han, fffuck me, please.”

“Yeah, yeah I can do that,” his tone is full of humour.

Parting from you, he puts enough space between you to guide his cock to your entrance. Careful as he begins pushing into you, the stretch makes you hiss through your teeth. He’s somehow bigger than you remember, he’s going to split you in half.

“Breathe,” his voice reminds, “You’ve taken it before.”

You let go of the breath you didn’t realise you were holding, focusing on relaxing for him, “I don’t –hah– I forgot howw big–” He slides into you more while you’re talking and your sentence is cut off with a moan.

“Only a week and you’re already forgetting how well you take me?” He’s starting to sound strained, “Feel a little offended.”

“Just,” the stretch is less painful and more delicious, he’s filling you so well and you need, “More, Bi-Han.”

He’s taking it slow, always so careful, “Changed your tune pretty quick there.”

“Don’t –mmph– don’t tease,” you whinge.

He groans as he sinks deeper, “But you look so –hah– cute when I do.”

You feel full, the pressure increasing, tip of his cock grazing all the right spots. You feel like you could melt into the mattress, your legs are tangled at the bottom of his back and you use them to tug him down to you. He falters and almost falls onto you, hand coming out to balance his weight above you.

“You want it that –mph– fuckin bad?” His words are bitten back, “Take it then,” he grunts before slamming the rest of his dick inside you all at once.

Oh, how your eyes roll, choked noise clawing up your throat at the sudden feeling of having every inch of him weighing heavy inside you. Reaching up, your nails claw desperately at his back.

“Oh my– oh– ah– I can’t– ffffuck,” you’re not making sense, not really, overwhelmed by how good it feels, how deep he sits.

He chuckles darkly at your state, staying still for a moment, giving you a second to just feel all of him. And then, when he thinks you’re adjusting and coming to some sense of normalcy, he draws back and fucks his cock back inside you. The shift has more stupid series of words slipping from you, which he finds as amusing and endearing as he did the first time he managed to reduce you to this state.

He leans down into you again, acquiescing when your hands keep pulling and tugging at him, wanting to feel his skin on yours. He’s so large and so safe and feels so–

His hips are slow, slow for him anyways, thrusts even and measured but not relentlessly fucking you into the mattress. There is a weight behind them though, the kind that has pressure sitting heavy in your lungs. Every time he bottoms out, you can’t help the pitiful sounds you make, you tuck your head into his neck, hoping to hide from the noises you’re making but they don’t go anywhere.

If anything, this is worse, Bi-Han’s lips are right at your ear, brushing the shell of it, “You hear that?” He asks, pausing so you can hear the lewd, sloppy noises your pussy makes as he fucks into you, “The wet fucking sounds of you taking me so well.”

You’re so embarrassed, “Bi-Han–”

A particularly harsh thrust cuts off what would’ve been a complaint and turns it into a weak moan, the pace he set is maddening, “I’m being gentle with you, sweetie, what you wanted.”

Is it what you wanted? Did you ask for gentle, you think distantly you remember a conversation about him being gentle with you but you’re pretty sure you had said you didn’t want that in fear of this very situation. He’s being ‘gentle’ but he’s getting you so close to the edge and just – not pushing you off it, holding you there. It’s torture, it’s punishment, he’s mad at you, you could swear by it.

You ask as much, “Ah– are you mad at mme?”

“How could I be mad when you feel this good?” He grinds down into you, as if to emphasise his point.

You’re a dream to him, fucked and whimpering, tight as sin, and stumbling over yourself to say something only to end up calling his name and worthless pleas. He’ll give you what you want, when he’s ready. For now, he’s going to tease you and hold you right on the edge of finishing before taking it away from you. Maybe because he’s mean, maybe because he likes the glassy look in your eyes that makes it look like you might cry.

His hips speed up slightly and it’s just what you need, getting so so close to cumming. You’re clinging to him for dear life but just when you think you might get to cum, he pins you to the bed with his hips, stilling inside you. He can feel the way you throb around him, so close for him before he ripped it away from you.

You try grinding up into him, “Why– Why– Why stop?”

He looks you in the eyes, hand soft on your cheek, tilting you to look at him properly, your eyes are so out of focus, “Wanted to see your reaction.”

“Please.”

He knows what you want but he asks anyway, “Please, what?”

“Please, fuck me,” you were so close, so close.

“I am,” he reminds, hips pulling back to fuck into you again.

You bite back a moan as best as you can, “Ah– Then– then don’t stoppp –mmph–”

“Maybe,” he makes no promises, pressing a kiss to your lips.

The pace drags, every inch of him, pulled from you slowly, before he’s shoving himself right back inside your wet heat. It takes an amazing amount of control on Bi-Han’s behalf, to fuck you like this, torturing you. Building up your orgasm slowly, crafting it carefully.

Mostly, he’s just lost, lost in your pussy, maybe he’s pussy drunk, but then if he were, would he be holding onto this much control still? In love with how you grip him, with how you twitch and spasm and whine and claw at him but not enough to fuck you into the mattress with reckless abandon.

He’s so cruel, just so mean, oh but when he gets you this close to cumming again he doesn’t feel mean, he feels good and nice and you just need him to not stop, “Bi-Han, please, I–” “–Already?” He hums but his hips stop again, pinning you again, taking away your high again.

“No no no nonono,” you squirm slightly, “You said you wouldn’t stop again,” you’re looking at him through your lashes, they’re wet, have you been crying?

He shakes his head, denying it, “I said maybe.”

“Bi-Han, this time, please, you need to let me cum,” you’re looking at him so seriously.

He nods his head this time, as if understanding suddenly, “Oh, I need to, well why didn’t you say so?”

You pout at him, “I will do anything, please.”

He asks, “Anything?” You nod vehemently at him and he leans closer to you, “All you need to do is take it.”

You want to tell him how mean he is, how unkind he’s being but you don’t want to motivate him to be any meaner to you, “I might die.”

“Hmm, interesting, let’s see,” and then he’s drawing back and setting that same maddening rhythm again, the one that makes your skin itch and your pussy ache.

He does this to you, a handful of times more, getting you close to the edge, dragging you there slowly, meticulously, only to stop and let you twitch and squirm and cry under him. Every time you beg him to just let you cum, let you finish, but he’s taking sick pleasure in how fucked out and pathetic you’re getting.

All gooey eyed and messy for him, fuck so messy, he tells you as much, “Making such a wet mess, sweet girl, listen to that,” he pauses his word and fucks into you quickly just so you can hear how your cunt squelches around him and you’re going to pass out.

You’re only really capable of broken syllables of his name and weak whimpers, you’re getting close again but you’re so sure he’s going to stop, you’re ready for him to stop. He doesn’t, he picks up speed, fucking you quicker, harder, the obscene noises of him fucking you almost drowning out your moans.

He groans at how impossibly tight you get, he’s not going to stop, not this time, not when he’s so fucking close too. Getting sick of this game, he’s got the patience to play with you for long enough that you’ll go crazy but after that all bets are off.

Your back arches up into him and your nails scratch at his biceps and down his back, your head tucking back into his neck. You’re clenching down on him so tight, pressure in your stomach tightening, and a particularly sharp thrust where his pelvis hits your clit just right has you cumming apart under him, around him.

You’re trying to milk his cock and it’s setting his skin on fire; he bites into your neck as he cums at the same time as you. Not able to hold back his noises but able to at least muffle them into your skin. You’re shuddering under him, panting harshly, pussy jumping around his dick.

He’s cum so much it leaks out around the base of him and down from where he’s still seated deep inside you. He detaches from your neck and lathes over the bite mark he left behind with his tongue, feeling bad for how prominent it’s going to be. Though, not feeling all that bad about how long it will linger for.

“Thank you, thank you,” you’re murmuring it over and over into his skin and he doesn’t know if you realise it or not. He presses kisses to your lips, stopping you from talking.

You could almost swear that you’re not in your body, you’re floating somewhere above it, feeling like you came so hard you might’ve blacked out for a couple seconds. Suddenly, you’re spinning, Bi-Han has flipped you both so he’s on his back and you’re on top of him.

Neither of you are willing to move for the moment, so you just lay pressed up again him, relishing in the skin-to-skin contact. Always enjoying when he’s this close to you, you’re not even sure you’re capable of a coherent thought right now that doesn’t start and end with Bi-Han.

Eventually, you regain enough awareness to say, “I need a shower.”

“Give me ten more minutes and we can shower,” his hand runs down your back.

“Mmkay,” your lips ghost his neck and he shudders.

For those ten minutes he has asked for, he kisses you, deeply, sweetly, reverently. He holds you tenderly and kisses you like he worships the ground you walk on, like you’re incapable of doing anything wrong ever. And you kiss him back in kind, feeling like you don’t mind how scary it is to watch yourself fall in love with someone.

When he does get up, he’s careful with you, carrying you to the shower and washing your body, his fingers digging into some muscles as he goes, massaging you. Of course, he’s a little too focused on how his cum leaks from you when you’re standing upright, hesitant to wash it away but knowing you’d chew him out if he didn’t.

While standing in front of the bed, you feel heavy, achy, he’s washed and dried you, even helping you redress in clean pyjamas. He always takes such good care of you after he fucks you within an inch of your life.

Your eyes look at the wet stain left on the bed and you feel icky, “That’s so embarrassing…”

Bi-Han tracks your eyeline, also clean and redressed beside you, “Really? I’m quite proud.”

You hide your head in your hands, “You say… the worst things.”

Ignoring your words, he asks, “Want me to change the sheets?”

Peaking at him through your fingers, you smile at him, “Okay, sometimes you say really great things.”

He huffs, amused, but changes the sheets for you and when it’s fresh and clean, he pulls you into the bed and holds you close. You feel so warm and fuzzy and light and you want to stay with him forever, you want to stay just like this forever.

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