#X female reader

[writingoddess1125]

The Impenetrable

TF 141 x G/N Reader

No warnings Mainly Just Funny Shit and slight suggestive themes

Was watching a movie while finishing up some Kofi Request and wrote this really fast for shits and giggles. Hope you all enjoy!

• Everyone has been trying to get into your pants since you had joined-

• It seemed like everyone job was second nature to the ongoing project to get you in their bed. The snappy Mechanic that had fire on their tongue and a ass everyone wanted a peice of.

• However everyone at the base had their dreams crushed by you that they knew better then to take another swing, that was till Task Froce 141 landed on the Base.

• Having been stationed for the time being they had caught wind of the hot mechanic that everyone wanted a peice of-

• Soap of course was the first to take a crack at it- Especially when he saw you for the first time digging in the engine of your latest project with your backside for all to see- No military pants could hide that thing

• Soap leans against the side of a tank you’ve been working on, arms crossed and a smug grin on his face.

"So, how abou' you let me take you out? You and me, nice dinner, maybe some dancing. I promise, I clean up well."

• Without looking up from the engine you whefe in, you scoff.

"Sorry I don't date dirty minded pervs"

• Soap flutters his eyelashes in surprise- Having never been curved so fast in his life.

• He gives a fake gasp, playing up his humor "I'm a good church boy! I'm not dirty minded" He says giving a wink in your direction

• "Mhmmm, Right- So that half chub you got there is result of being a good boy?"

• He freezes for a second glancing down as he shifts his legs crossed- flustered clearly as Soap is ranking though his brain for some comeback. "Oh, come on, cant help a fellow when youre bent over like that- Normally im way more charming then this"

• You finally glance at him, smirking. "If you were a good boy your friend wouldny be a problem- and you’re about as charming as a car alarm at 3 a.m."

• Soap clutches his chest dramatically. "Ach, Damn right to the heart here."

• You roll up and throw the grease covered towel at his crotch which he caught and clearly immediately regretted by the grimace of oil on his hands.

"You’ll live-"

• Seeing Soap return, his ego ever so effortlessly kicked like a soft puppy-

• Gaz decides to give it a go next, Waiting till you're getting back from the showers and clearly heading to your bunk.

• "Hey, I know you probably hear it all the time but-"

• "If you know I hear it all the time why bother saying it?" You cut in. Gaz almost tripping as he clearly hadn't expected that

• Rubbing the back of his neck as he smiled

"Yeah you are right- But Still, Wanna grab maybe some coffee?"

• "No-" You say flately Stepping into the barreks with the man hot on your trail.

• "Come on (Y/N), Just 1 cup of coffee?" He says, almost whining with a playful smile.

• You gave a heavy sigh, looking to him before reaching to the side and handing him a tube of the powdered coffee mix and a cup.

"Now would you look at that! A cup of coffee and here I am, a true win for ya"

• Gaz looked to the empty paper cup and the packet of powdered coffee before he chuckles, shaking his head. "Alright, you got me. But c’mon, you’ve got to admit, there’s a bit of chemistry here."

• "Yeah, like oil and water," you say flatly. "Doesn’t mix, no matter how hard you shake it Big guy" You say and pat his shoulder.

• He winces with a smile, backing off with his hands up. "Alright, message received."

• When Gaz returned he was just as battered, Soap laughing at the man till he got a packet of coffee thrown at him in relation-

• Now Ghost was curious.. how 1 mechanic had taken down half is team so effortlessly

Yeah.. Curious

• He'd made his way to you during breakfast, having brought his tray over and sitting infront of you as you ate.

• A few moments of silence pass as you eat, Not even bothering to look up to him.

• "How long are you gonna sit there haunting my plate?-"

• "Rather dramatic isn't it?"

• You glance up at him finally, a half chuckle leaving. "Says the guy who wears a skull mask to breakfast."

• Ghost tilts his head slightly. "Hm.. I want to ask you on a date"

• You look to him calmly, setting your plastic fork down. "Ghost, I appreciate the effort, but I prefer relationships where my date doesn’t look like he’s about to read my last rites before dessert."

• He actually chewed over your words for a second before giving a faint nod. "Fair point."

• Ghost chuckles, shaking his head as he picks up his tray, knowing he wasn't gonna win this one. "Your loss, handsome mug under here-"

• You wave him off "Handsome or not- Ive got something called- Surival Instincts."

• Ghost returned, Seemingly taking the rejection on the chin and clearly now more interested then when he went in.

•Price had finally heard about the utter failure of his team and decided to show them how it was done-

• You were in the office handing over reports to your superior when the Captian made his appearance.

• Price leans in the doorway, arms crossed, that knowing smirk on his face. "Alright, I’ve seen the other lads fail. But surely you’d make an exception for me to let me take ya to get a drink?"

• "I don't date senior citizens" You cut short and straight to the point.

• The poor Captian looked like he got punched in the gut, chuckling through his teeth. "That’s cold, love and you know im not old like that-"

• "Oh? Was it the fishing hat or the mutton chops that told me otherwise?" You chime as you walked past him as he leaned off the doorway enough to do that

• "Brutal, But I respect that"

• You provide a thin smile back to him "Wonderful, and I take it you'll respect me saying no?"

• Price shakes his head with a laugh, tipping his hat. "Fair enough. But if you ever change your mind-"

"I won’t."

"Didn’t think so..."

• It would go down as a legend of how you had managed to beat team 141 so brutally like no one else had.

• However now each man trying to formulate their next move on you like it was the greatest mission at hand-

Bonus!

You laid in your bunk, Smirking to yourself as your bunk mate and best friend leaned over to look down at you as you smiled to yourself.

"How long till the bet is up?" They chimed down at you, Watching how you smirk and look at your phone.

"Looks like 4 more days and then I'll win the pot-"

"Damn- Really in it to win it hm?"

"Keeping my legs closed for 3 years and winning 225k? Hell yeah"

It had started out as a funny little wager with your graduating team, Whoever could keep their legs closed the longest would win the money pool, It had started off as a few hundred dollars- Then turned into a few thousand dollars and it just grew every month till it had hit a astronomical amount. Each member trying their hardest to keep in the running-

Some lost to love, others to barrack bunnies, some to drunken nights- However the number of those chipped away lower and lower as the money grew.

Now It had been between you and one other person- who was set to get married in 4 days time and would lose on their honeymoon.

"Well it's almost over? Who are you gonna knock boots with first?"

You smile to yourself, thinking over the last few days and specifically the four members of team 141- Did you want the Skilled Joker, The Energetic Charmer, The Brooding Powerhouse, or The Seasoned Dilf?

"Who indeed~.."

[societyfolklore]

Sweet as Sin

Title: Sweet as Sin

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary:  Bucky surprises you with a night in- except it’s not just any night. He has a jar of honey, melted chocolate, and a bottle of champagne, all laid out for you to enjoy… in the filthiest way possible.

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: /Explicit Content / 18+, Minors DNI Established Relationship, Sugar Play, Food, Dominant Bucky, Valentine's Day Smut, Oral Receiving (F), Fingering - No Beta just... wrote filth a bit..

A/N: Just something for V-day Valentine’s Day was never really your thing- too many cheesy Hallmark cards, overpriced roses, and restaurants packed with couples forcing out romantic gestures. You had stayed back at work late, after all, you had told him not to make plans. 'Too much fuss.' 'It’s not like we need a day.' He showed you all the time you mattered. Flowers, dinners out, dirty weekends where you both left your phones off. No hero business, just you two. Why did you need something as cheesy as Valentine's Day? Bucky knew that, which is why he had something else planned.

Getting home, you take off your shoes, stretching out the lingering stiffness from your long day. Why was the apartment so dark? The only light seems to come from one in the kitchen and the bedroom. Had Bucky gone to bed early?

When you walk further inside, the first thing you notice is the dim lighting, a warm golden glow from the candles scattered across the bedroom. The second thing? Bucky, standing at the foot of the bed, shirtless, his metal arm glinting under the soft light. A slow, knowing smirk plays at his lips.

“Evening, doll.” His voice is all silk and sin, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes drift past him to the bed- plush pillows, silk sheets slightly rumpled, and a tray laid out beside them with a jar of honey, a bowl of melted chocolate, and a bottle of champagne already uncorked. There’s even a small silver spoon, and beside it, a feather. Your stomach tightens in anticipation.

Your mouth goes dry.

“What’s all this?”

Bucky tilts his head, stepping forward until he’s right in front of you. He cups your chin between his fingers, thumb stroking over your lower lip. “You trust me, don’t you?”

The question sends warmth pooling between your legs. You nod.

“That's m'girl,” he murmurs. “Because I’m gonna take my time with you tonight. Gonna make you my dessert.”

Your breath hitches as he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that starts slow, teasing, before turning into something deeper- possessive. His hands roam your body, unbuttoning your blouse, sliding it down your shoulders, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. When he pulls away, his blue eyes are dark with hunger.

“Get on the bed, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, anticipation thrumming through you. He follows, reaching for the silk blindfold on the nightstand. “Gonna take one of your senses away,” he murmurs, slipping it over your eyes. “That way, you feel everything else more.”

Your breath is already shaky when you hear the clink of metal, feel the gentle but firm press of leather cuffs around your wrists as he ties them to the headboard. “Too tight?” he asks.

You shake your head, aching for him, for whatever he has planned.

Then comes the first drop of something warm and thick drizzled across your collarbone. You gasp, body arching as the sensation sends a shiver through you.

“Fuck,” Bucky groans. “Look at you. So pretty like this.”

He leans down, his tongue tracing the path of honey he just laid, licking it off your skin with slow, deliberate strokes. A needy whimper escapes you. The feeling of his mouth, the wet heat of it, the slight scrape of stubble- it’s too much and not enough all at once.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs against your skin. “Taste so sweet.”

The next drizzle lands lower, over the swell of your breast. Then comes the warm press of his lips, his tongue swirling, sucking, making sure not a drop goes to waste. By the time he moves lower- melting chocolate painted in sinful patterns down your stomach- you’re trembling, panting, wrists tugging against the restraints.

“Bucky,” you plead.

He chuckles, the sound dark and wicked. “Its ok, sweetheart. I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”

There’s a clink of glass, the unmistakable pop of a champagne cork. A moment later, the cool fizz of the bubbly liquid trickles down your heated skin, pooling in the valley of your breasts. Bucky hums in approval before dipping his mouth down, drinking it straight from your body.

The contrast of heat and cold, of his tongue and the ticklish sensation of the bubbles, has you whimpering, thighs squeezing together. He notices, of course. Smirks against your skin.

“You desperate for me, doll?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please- ”

“Good,” he purrs, fingers tracing slow, teasing circles over your hips. “Because I’m just getting started.”

You hear the scrape of something against the tray. A moment later, something soft glides along your thigh- the feather. It teases along the inside of your legs, making your muscles clench involuntarily. He follows its path with his mouth, lips ghosting over your sensitive skin, licking away any remnants of chocolate and honey, the combination of textures driving you wild.

And then his mouth moves lower, his tongue tracing every inch of your skin, licking, tasting, devouring you like you really are the best dessert he’s ever had. 

Settling between your legs, Bucky flips his hair back before lowering his mouth, his tongue teasing, warm and deliberate along that bare seam between your legs. He presses where you need him most, just enough to make you gasp, before pulling back, letting the absence of touch send a fresh wave of arousal through you. Then, slowly, he drizzles warm honey onto your clit, the golden liquid pooling and dripping in lazy trails, running along you and the metal fingers holding you open for him. The sensation has you arching, hands straining against the cuffs. "B-Buck.. please." 

A deep, satisfied hum vibrates against your skin as his tongue sweeps over you, licking up every drop, savouring the taste of honey and you combined. The slow, sensual flicks of his tongue quickly turn into something more demanding, more consuming, his mouth working you into a delirious haze. Every stroke, every firm suck, every slow circle has you gasping, writhing beneath him, begging for more as he devours you with an insatiable hunger. "Oh God- Fuck." You struggled against the binds, writhing for him as his mouth continues to devour you. Bucky's hums of pleasure vibrate against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Mmm, you taste like heaven," he whispers, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. "So sweet and delicious. Especially on Valentine's Day, when everyone's supposed to be loving and romantic." He pauses to lick a slow circle around your clit, making you gasp. "But not you, of course. You're the anti-Valentine's Day girl."

You feel a flush rise to your cheeks as he teases you about your disdain for the holiday. "Shut up," you whisper, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.

Bucky chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Oh, I love how grumpy you get about all the sappy romance," he says, his tongue tracing a lazy path along your folds. "It's adorable." He pauses his tongue licking all the way up making you moan. Your hips arch off the table as he finds a particularly sensitive spot with his tongue tip.

"Buck...oh God..." You trail off into incoherent moans as he sucks hard on your clit.

"Come on," he whispers between licks and sucks. "Admit it. You love Valentine's Day just a little bit." His words are laced with amusement as he adds another layer of sensation by slipping two fingers inside of you.

"Come on doll?" He lifts an eyebrow even though his gaze never wavers from yours adding yet another finger stretching out those inner walls that ache so pleasantly under assault.

"So your not having fun?" His fingers curled forward finding the spot making you moan loudly. Bucky's grin is triumphant. "I knew it," he says, his fingers moving faster inside you. "You're a closet romantic." Bucky's already won this round and thoughts of protest left as as he started to suckled on your clit again.  You couldn't hold back the feeling anymore, the movement of his fingers that way his tongue felt. It's all too much as you broke apart. The waves crash over you, Bucky there, guiding you through it, until hey lifted his head, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Happy Valentine's Day," he whispers, his eyes glinting with amusement.

You can't help but laugh - or at least try to - as the aftershocks of pleasure still rock through your body. Maybe this Valentine's Day thing isn't so bad after all...as long as Bucky is involved

[mintyys-blog]

NO REGRETS— bucky barnes

WARNINGS: Implied sex, post-intimacy regret, self-doubt.

You wake up before the sun rises, the faint glow of dawn barely seeping through the curtains. Bucky’s arm is draped across your waist, his warmth seeping into your skin. His breathing is steady, peaceful. For a moment, you let yourself enjoy it—the solid weight of him beside you, the safety of his presence.

Then, reality crashes down.

Oh, God. What did you do?

One date. One amazing, laughter-filled, electric first date, and you ended up in bed with him. You weren’t that kind of person—at least, you didn’t think you were. You barely knew him. What if he thought less of you? What if this was just another night for him?

Your stomach churns, and you carefully start to move, peeling his arm off you inch by inch. If you could just slip away quietly, maybe you could forget this ever happened. Maybe—

“Where are you going, doll?”

His voice is thick with sleep, rough but gentle, and it stops you cold. His grip tightens just slightly, like he can feel you slipping away.

“I—I should go,” you whisper, not looking at him.

Bucky shifts beside you, propping himself up on one elbow. His metal fingers brush a strand of hair away from your face, and you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to meet his gaze.

“Talk to me,” he murmurs. “What’s wrong?”

You swallow hard. “I just… I shouldn’t have done this. We barely know each other. It was stupid.”

Bucky is quiet for a moment, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he sighs softly, his thumb stroking the back of your hand.

“You think I’m the kinda guy who’d just leave you after this?” His voice is steady, careful. “That I don’t care?”

You finally look at him, expecting to see disappointment or even amusement at your naivety. But there’s none of that. Just concern.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I don’t know you well enough yet.”

He nods, taking that in. “That’s fair,” he says. “But let me tell you what I do know—I don’t do casual. Not with you. I asked you out because I like you, not because I was looking for a one-night stand.”

Your throat tightens. “But what if this was too fast?”

“Then we slow down,” Bucky says easily. “We do this at your pace, however you need. But don’t regret this, doll. Not if it meant something to you, because it sure as hell meant something to me.”

The sincerity in his voice knocks the air from your lungs.

“You mean that?” you whisper.

Bucky lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I mean that.”

Tears prick at your eyes, but this time, they’re not from shame. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close, like you’re something precious—like he’s not planning to let go anytime soon.

And for the first time since waking up, you smiled. The guilt washing away.

Maybe this wasn’t a mistake after all.

[pinksugarscrub]

My Punny Valentine

Jason Todd x fem! Reader

There's nothing better than movie nights with Jason but with Valentine's approaching, tonight is...a special occasion.

( @hyperfix-wip again, my beautiful apricot tart beta reader❣️)

Word count: 1,027

Warnings: cursing, sugar rush

~

The kitchen is…not necessarily in ruins. All of the ingredients have been responsibly returned to the pantry and fridge. It’s the bowls and whisks in the sink that are effectively killing the vibe of cute and demure.

Wiping away the sugar and flour from the counter you’re preparing a space for yourself and most importantly Jason.

Your lovable boyfriend is across the room. Flipping to the first movie on your list, Pride and Prejudice. Freshly showered and smelling like the expensive products you had gifted him on your anniversary.

When he returns to your side he’s quick to wrap his arms around your waist and bury his nose into the crook of your neck. He smells even more amazing up close; it almost makes your head spin.

“Almost ready babe? Looks delicious.”

You snort, refraining from making a less than innocent comment as you nod. “The cakes are chilling in the fridge. Will you get them for me?”

Jason chuckles, planting a kiss on your temple. “Course princess.”

You swoon because no matter how many times Jason has talked to you so sweetly, he still manages to make you giddy. Shameless or not, he could be the judge of that, you follow him with your eyes. Admiring the loose shirt and wonder woman themed sweats he had chosen to wear.

Seeing him so relaxed was what you lived for. There’s only so much you understand about his work as Red Hood along with his family (who are lovely by the way). Just the two of you for the second night in a row is making you crave this domestic life every night.

“You gonna keep undressing me with those pretty eyes or are we gonna decorate these?”

Jason laughs as your face contorts into embarrassment. Both of his hands are occupied with small heart shaped cakes.

Occupying yourself with grabbing Jason an apron so you don’t have to answer, you promptly walk past him. He only laughs harder as he sets the cakes down.

Your apron is already caked with flour, batter, and icing. So you’re careful not to smear any on him when he ducks down so you can adjust his apron.

Your fingers trace down his neck to reach the strings at his waist when he stops you. He takes your momentary confusion as the opportunity to kiss your lips. Tasting the sugar you most definitely ate while you were making the frosting.

“What was that for?” You ask in a daze. Certainly not complaining but definitely not expecting to feel weak at the knees.

“Do I need a reason?”

“No,” you slowly grin, “I guess not.”

Jason returns your grin while tying his apron expertly.

A wheeze leaves your lips once you’ve noticed the lettering on his chest. You hadn’t realized you had grabbed that one.

“What? Oh no,” he groans. Rolling his eyes at the ridiculous gift Dick had gotten him.

“No no!” You exclaim while putting your hands on his chest when he prepares to rip it off. Struggling to breathe through your words. “It’s fine Jace. Really.”

“Fine my ass.”

“Yes it is.”

“...not now babe.”

Raising your hands in mock defeat you walk over to the counter. Wiping away the tears that had collected in the corner of your eye. “Alright, alright. Cake first.”

Jason sighs but keeps the gag worthy, burn-it-in-a-sewer thing on. “And Austen.”

“You mean Keira Knightley,” you correct.

“She is pretty attractive.”

“Right!? I don’t know about Mr. Darcy though…couldn’t they have picked I don’t know-”

“So you know Elizabeth’s actress but not Darcy’s?” Jason raises a brow. Bumping your hip with his as he slides comfortably beside you.

“It’s Keira Knightly!” You protest. Reaching for a piping bag of red icing to hand to him.

“Name one other movie she’s been in.”

You open your mouth but your mind has drawn a blank. After a moment of silence you finally speak up. “I don’t like this game anymore.”

“It wasn’t a game to begin with sweetheart.”

Sticking your tongue out childishly you reach for your own bag of icing. “Ok ok, ready?”

Jason hums as he smiles. “Teach away.”

Sure, Jason is proficient in the kitchen.

If he really wanted to, he could figure out the intricacies of cake decorating. But when you brought the idea of having a Jane Austen themed movie night, especially so close to Valentine’s day, he couldn’t say no. When did he ever say no to spending time with you when he was finally off patrol?

Jason knows how hard it is. While he’s gaining bruises you’re here, in your apartment, worried. He’s also quite sure that despite the brave face you put on, you've missed him. Especially in these last few months.

Rejoining his family has created caseload after caseload and awkward meetings with Bruce (Which you graciously listen to him rant about when he comes home to you).

Oh you were perfect.

Put up with his shit and took care of him when he couldn’t do it himself. He never was one to think he’d take on a partner. Dating “coworkers” was too hectic and his life wasn’t anywhere near normal but you made it easy. You added to his life.

As you started explaining the different borders you could create with a variety of star tips he leans in closer. Letting you take his hand and slowly squeeze the piping bag together to show him the consistency.

There were times where he purposefully kissed along your shoulder when you were explaining. It was his absolute favorite thing to do. Watch you squirm and try to focus.

The movie played quietly in the background and rain soon accompanied it. That was another thing.

Rain didn’t make him feel gloomy anymore. Instead his memories were filled with you. Curled up with a book. In his lap as you switched between reading for Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy while the rain came down.

By the time you’re both finished there are several puns iced along your cake and frosting on both of your noses.

Overall the night was perfect and yes, Jason accepted your request of being your punny valentine.

-

Taglist: @insideoutjulie

[w2soneshots]

Valentine -W2S

words: 1.0k+

warnings: none, just fluff!

summary: you and Harry spend a wholesome valentines day together.

notes: hello my loves! I’m single af so here’s a cute little fic I wrote with my fav British boy to make me feel better😌🫶🏼. Enjoy!!✨

Liked by wroetoshaw, taliamar and others

y/username: happy Valentine's Day💌

-comments-

wroetoshaw: sneaky

-> y/username: took my chance while you were distracted by the sweets🤗

faithloisak: gorgeous as always

-> y/username: I 💗 U

y/nfanpage21: balloons AND flowers! my girls living the dream🥹🤍

user: ugh, they're disgustingly cute

I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was red heart shaped balloons. I looked around for Harry but he was nowhere to be found. I was extremely confused for a second before I remembered that it was valentine's day.

Just a few minutes later Harry walked into our bedroom holding a tray. "Good morning love," he greeted with a bright smile before placing it in my lap. The tray had pancakes covered in fresh fruit, a coffee and a card tucked into the side.

I looked up at him. "Thank you. Happy valentines day baby." Harry smiled then leaned down and we shared a quick kiss.

After eating the food, which was delicious, I opened the card. On the front it read, "you're a bit of a twat, but you're my twat." with read hearts surrounding the letters. "Very funny," I mumbled through laughter.

Inside the card was a different story. He wrote, "to y/n. I love you so much I don't think I could live without you (so you better not leave me!)," I giggled as he sat patiently waiting for me to read. I continued, "we have a special dinner at 7 so be ready to get your hands dirty. Love Harry."

"That was so sweet." I set the card on my nightstand and moved over to hug him. "Okay, wait there. Lemme go get your card from me!" I called as I cheerfully made my way into our wardrobe where I'd hidden everything.

I returned just a minute later with a gift bag. "Ooo, what's this...?" Harry inquired as I plonked myself down next to him and passed him the bag. "Open it and see!"

Harry was quick to fling the tissue paper across the room and look inside. "Ah! This is sick!" He looked at me with the cutest and brightest smile. He pulled out the special addition supreme jumper that he's had his eye on.

It wasn't super cute or wholesome like most valentines gifts but he's impossible to buy for so I didn't have many options.

"How the fuck did you manage to get this?" He asked, "it's been sold out everywhere!" I chuckled as he admired it. "I have my ways..."

A few hours later we decided it'd be fun to go and see the movie we've been wanting to watch in the cinema. We both got dressed into some comfy clothes and headed out.

On our way we stopped off at a shop to get some snacks since they're always extremely overpriced in the cinema and Harry loves a bargain. "Which one do you want? Actually... I'll just get all of 'em," he said as he looked at the selection of sweets. I giggled when he stood up with an excessive amount of them in the basket.

After watching the movie we stopped off for some lunch and then spontaneously decided to go bowling since we walked past the place on our way home.

wroetoshaw posted a new story!

"Beat ya!" I smiled when the final scores registered on the board. "By like... two points," Harry huffed. "Don't be a sore loser baby," I teased with a smirk then leaned into him to press a kiss to his lips. "Alright alright," he chuckled, "let's go home."

We walked back to our apartment building, hand in hand. The sun was setting and the air was surprisingly warm for February, in London. I breathed out a content sigh and leaned my head on his shoulder when we finally got into the lift.

"Hungry?" Harry asked me a little while later, while we sat on our couch with a random show playing on the tv, that we definitely weren't paying attention to.

"Mhm," I hummed. He jumped up. "Well, we're makin' pizza!" he said excitedly, "you coming petal?" I cocked my head to the side in surprise. "Oh, Haz. How romantic," I replied with a smile and followed him into the kitchen.

He took his time making the dough while I prepared the sauce and grated the cheese. Just as I was pouring the sauce into a pot I felt a puff of flour cover my shirt.

"Ah! Absolutely not!" I giggled before quickly gathering some in the palm of my hand and blowing it straight into his face. He coughed out a laugh. "Jesus Christ woman!"

He rolled out his pizza into a misshapen circle while I made mine into a cute little heart. We then covered it in tomato sauce, sprinkled on the cheese and added any last toppings.

y/username posted a new story!

After popping our masterpieces into the oven we sat back on the sofa with our drinks of choice and waited patiently for them to finish cooking.

"Mmm... this was one of the best ideas you've ever had," I murmured happily with a mouth full of pizza. "I know. I'm a genius, what can I say." I shook my head as I giggled at his sarcastic cockiness.

"You ready for bed love?" He asked as I yawned. I nodded slowly. I closed my eyes for just a second and before I could even process what was happening I was being lifted into the air, fireman style.

I leaned into my boyfriend's chest and exhaled deeply. He set me down on our bed gently. "I'm just gonna go take a shower. I'll be back in a minute to get into bed with you. Good night, I love you and happy Valentine's Day," he whispered with a kiss to my forehead before I drifted off with a soft smile on my lips.

[angelltheninth]

A public confession with Dr. Ratio, Moze, Anaxa, Mr. Reca and Luka?

I would blush so much my head would explode.

Pairing: Anaxa, Luka, Moze, Mr. Reca, Veritas Ratio x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, love confession, public display of affection, blushing, embarrassment, kisses

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: One time a guy in my class gave me a love note and I felt like I was gonna faint cause my face was red. He did it in front of EVERYONE.

Anaxa confesses just to make a statement to others that you're off limits. He does have some feelings for you, but he would call them more possession rather than true love. Regardless of that fact he will make sure that no one other than him comes near you with romantic intentions. When he chose you as his target, he didn't just mean because of his work.

Luka will declare his love for you in his victory speech. He's up there in the ring, everyone looking at him but the only one he's looking at is you as he shouts his feelings for you at the top of his lungs. Suddenly their eyes turn to you, everyone is waiting to hear your response. It's not nearly as loud as his, it's very quiet, your face red with embarrassment, but yes, you do love him back.

Moze only confesses in public if it's important to keep you safe by him doing so. The reputation he has is great, so if people were under the impression that you're not just the person he's guarding but also the one he's dating it could help protect you. In addition to that it will make it easier for him to behave like a proper boyfriend should. He's had more than enough of hiding your relationship.

Mr. Reca declares his love with you on a set of his newest romance film. If anyone looks at the movie closely then they will be able to recognize the similarities between his romance with you and the romance plot of the movie. The movie is his confession to you, out there for everyone to see. And just like the main protagonist kisses his love interest after the confession, he kisses you.

Veritas Ratio tried to keep his feelings hidden for a while longer while he thinks of the perfect way to confess. Wouldn't you know it, he overheard you trying to beat him to it. There's no way he's gonna let you steal his thunder, by the time his declaration of love is over he will ensure that you are a blushing mess. And then he will swoop in and sweep you off your feet and into a kiss so you can't be mad at him.

[lazyjellyfish300]

I mean 👀👀🥵🥵

CANDY SHOP

horny and inexperienced, choso stumbles across a sex shop nearby. little did he know his purchase of a toy would include more than stellar customer service.

FEATURING: choso kamo x fem! sex store worker

CONTENTS: 18+ content, MDNI. non canon compliant/au, smut, use of a toy, sorta kinda public, orgasm denial, submissive choso, use of mistress

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i love pathetic men (ᵔᴥᵔ)

“welcome to arousal zone.”

you stood behind the counter with a playboy magazine in hand, chewing cherry flavored gum while haphazardly flipping through a couple of the pages. anything that helped pass the slow shift faster.

working at a sex store on the outskirts of tokyo hadn’t been exactly what you’d wrote down on your five year plan—but it paid the bills. once you removed the occasional frat boy that stumbled in buying an anal plug as a gag, the job wasn’t too bad.

you looked over to see the pale man stepping foot into the store—immediately looking out of his element. he gawked at the selection available at the front like a zoo exhibit, staring at anything and everything that he could take in before making his way further into the shop.

choso roamed the halls of the store like a lost puppy—staring at all the different toys outlining the shelves. cock rings. fluffy handcuffs. pocket puss- choso nearly cracked his neck with how fast he did a double take, eagerly placing the box in his hands. he began reading through it, sticking it under his arm when he finished.

along with a waterproof vibrator. until he realized.. he had no idea how any of this shit worked.

“excuse me,” he walked up to the counter with the two items in tow, meeting your bored expression when you looked up from the magazine.

“do you have any tips for any toys… or how they work?” he rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish expression on his face at the question. you raised a brow, leaning across the counter. not missing the way his gaze went down to your chest.

“well it usually depends on what you’re into, but i can give you a hands-on demonstration if you’d like.”

which is how you found yourself locked in the cramped fitting room, rubbing your palm across the stranger’s hardening cock. “lemme see the toys you picked out,” you snagged the boxes up before eyeing each piece, deciding to unbox the vibrator.

“so this one has four modes—each one more intense than the last,” you explained, your fingers tracing the outline of his cock. you looked up from the manual to see him gulp, a devilish smile appearing on your lips. “don’t worry, i’ll take care of you.”

you flipped the switch on, the wand vibrating in your hand, “though i gotta say, you’re desperate. letting me do this and i don’t even know your name.” his cock visibly twitched the moment you pressed the tip against the tent in his pants.

“d’ya want to know my name?” the man asked through shaky breaths, his chest starting to heave. he unzipped his pants, lowering them down to his thighs before speaking up again, his cock leaking onto the patch of hair going up his stomach.

before you had the chance to respond, he quickly spoke up, “choso, my name’s choso.”

“choso,” you tested the name on your tongue, a moan leaving his lips when you did. you slowly started to move the vibrator against his hard cock, watching the man grow even more and more sensitive.

“more,” he looked over at you with big, pleading eyes that almost made you want to agree.

“try that again,” you clicked your tongue, pulling the vibrator away completely. you dragged your manicured nail down his happy trail, pulling away before you reached the trimmed patch of hair at the base.

choso racked his brain as he tried to figure out what you wanted to hear, deciding to go with the next best option, “give me more, please. i’ll do whatever you want me to do, accept whatever. just give me more.”

“that’s it, there you go,” you placed the vibrator against his shaft yet again, moving to the second level of intensity. your hands moved down to his sac, holding them in your palm before starting to gently move them in your hold.

“ngh-fuck!” choso was reduced to a puddled mess, gripping onto the ends of the dressing room bench. you switched over to the last level without much of a warning, feeling his thighs quiver underneath you.

he tried—he really did. try to think of anything else other than the impending orgasm. thought about the wretched smell wafting off his brother’s back. thought about the questionable things he’d encountered during his late night wanks. but to no avail.

it was shameful how quickly just a couple of your words and the vibrator had him this close.

"lemme cum," choso whined, his cock twitching with every buzz of the vibrator that jolted against his shaft. drop after drop of precum fell onto your hand as he approached his climax, his balls growing heavy.

"i don't know, you were being a little impatient there, baby. we talked about this," you cooed, cruelly pulling the vibrator away just right before he had the chance to cum. a loud whine left his lips, bucking his hips to try to get any friction. to try to get anything.

“p-please mistress. make me c-cum,” choso’s voice cracked, quickly correcting his mistake. you pressed the vibrator two times, lowering the intensity before pressing it against his sensitive cock. rubbing his own pre with the wand like lube.

“see what happens when you ask nicely,” you mused, leaning in and pressing an open-mouthed kiss on the side of his neck that had him shivering. gently suctioning the skin between your lips, leaving him with a purple-red reminder of your time together. “but fine, i promised to take care of you after all.”

choso came within seconds of you increasing the vibration against him again, a pathetic and desperate moan leaving his lips, “right there, mistress. right there, please please don’t stop.” rope after rope of cum landed over his pants and thighs, a couple droplets managing to land on your fingers.

his eyes were locked on the way you stuck your pointer in between your lips, watching intently as you swirled your tongue around it to collect every drop. it had him wondering what you’d do to his cock if given enough time. “leave a couple seconds after,” you broke his fantasy, getting up from your spot and setting the vibrator down.

discreetly leaving the dressing room like it was all a dirty secret. and as the post nut clarity started to hit—hard (almost nearly as hard as him after that sinful imagery), he started to feel like a dirty secret.

choso took a couple seconds to gather his breath, pulling his pants up and stuffing the vibrator back in its box before making his way over to the register.

"come again soon," he didn’t miss your innuendo, scrambling to pick up his bag as soon as the receipt printed. he left the store with his cheeks slightly flushed and his zipper down, a couple white stains marking the black material of his jeans.

about as subtle as a bull in a china shop.

you turned to look at the next customer in line, a balding middle aged man with a gold ring sparkling on his finger, “can i help you?”

"can i get the same service that he got?"

[the-californicationist]

The Fifth Element [Masterlist]

COD/Fallout TF141/F!Reader Polyamory Chapterlist

You always knew Vault-Tec was planning this. Their war began in a terrible flash right in front of your eyes. As the bombs exploded in the city around you, you had no choice but to crawl into a cryotank and hope for the best. You'd wait for the reinforcements. For someone. Anyone. But, no one came. Centuries passed by in an awful, infinite blackness, and you were suspended somewhere between life and death. Until one day… you woke up.

Chapter 01: Hydrogen

Chapter 02: Helium

Chapter 03: Lithium

Chapter 04: Beryllium

Chapter 05: Boron

[sakur4ii]

Code Name: Rabbit

Chapter 2: The Rescue

←previus next→

English is not my first language!!

Warning: kidnapping, death, mention of corpse, mention of prostitution.

January 18, 22:00 PM

You're furious right now, and your heavy footsteps give it away. As soon as you finished watching the footage from all the cameras at that specific moment, you got up from the couch, changed into black, comfortable clothes, and put on your mask.

You're armed—one gun on each side of your belt and knives tucked under your pants in case of an emergency. You enter the building practically fuming, but even with your heavy steps, you're silent due to your lack of footwear—a signature trait of Rabbit that Lyara always found amusing.

You climb the stairs, noting the deafening silence, the cold beneath your feet as you ascend each step. You try to control yourself, reminding yourself not to kill anyone the moment you reach your destination. As you arrive at the base of the stairs leading to the third floor, you glance at the camera Lyara installed—when it recognizes someone, the live feed is displayed on a screen on the third floor. Good. They know you're here, and you want them to.

You start climbing the stairs, your brow furrowed—it's been that way since you left your apartment. You reach the door, which only opens when you place your hand on a touchscreen, identifying you as one of the few people with access to this floor. The door slides open, and pastel colors flood your vision—a bunch of sofas, a mini kitchen, a giant TV, and the bathroom door, all visible from the entrance. Everything except what lies behind the curtain against the back wall.

Seated on the couches in the center are the girls Lyara asked to gather, Omar, and the one person you’d shoot on sight if you could.

Judging by their worried expressions and the fact that no one greeted you, they’ve already noticed your bad mood. So you decide to keep this short and walk toward the center.

"Dan, come to my office, please." You manage to keep your tone calm.

You don’t see it, but Dan swallows hard.

You move to the curtain and push it aside, revealing a door. You open it and step into your office without looking back, walking toward your desk and pulling out one of the guest chairs.

Dan—the guard or bodyguard responsible for securing the stairs leading to "The Forbidden Garden"—enters your office, shutting the door behind him. Smart choice. You offer him a seat, and with poorly concealed anxiety, he decides to take it.

Without him noticing, you draw one of the guns from your belt, step behind him, and press the barrel against the back of his head. His face twists in absolute horror.

"I think you know why we're in this situation right now, so start talking, or I’ll blow your brains out." Your voice remains eerily calm, though inside, you’re itching to pull the trigger.

Dan starts stammering.

"They blackmailed me! I swear!"

"Who?" You press the gun harder against his head, urging him to keep talking.

"A man—from the Garden! He was wearing one of those white escort masks..."

You shove the gun against his head again, and he stammers once more.

"He asked for information about you and her. I told him the little I knew, then he gave me his phone number and told me to call him the moment she was alone in the building. Please, don’t kill me."

The man looks like he's about to burst into tears, sweating like a pig. There's something he’s not telling you, and that only deepens your frown.

"What did he blackmail you with?" You push the gun harder against his skull, and his reaction confirms you hit the right question.

Before speaking, he swallows loudly.

"I already told you everything. Please, don’t kill me."

You lean in close to his ear, tilting your head so he can't see you, but he can catch a terrifying glimpse of your mask.

"With. What. Did. He. Blackmail. You?"

"He offered me a million dollars."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he squeezes his eyes shut, expecting you to shoot him.

"Please, please, please..."

You almost pity him. Almost.

Your jaw tightens. This idiot can’t be serious. You knew something was off about him when Lyara hired him, but his record was spotless—too perfect for someone wanting to work in one of the darkest corners of Gotham. Lyara convinced you it was just paranoia. And now, this man has betrayed you both for money. Fantastic.

"Give me the phone number and get out. You have one week to find another job. You're fired."

Dan pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, sets it on your desk, and bolts out of your office as fast as he can.

You start pacing the room, replaying the traitor’s words in your head.

Then, you slam your fist into the nearest wall, ignoring the dull pain in your knuckles and the fresh hole in the concrete.

---

January 18, 23:45 PM

The night is dark; you can hear the crickets and the cars. Hidden in the bushes, you watch the kidnapper’s house, ignoring the cold and staying as concealed as possible. A drone hovers near one of the house’s windows, and even from a distance, you recognize it as one of Oracle’s drones. Fuck. You need to find a way inside without Barbara detecting you, and you must be careful—there’s a chance one of the Bats is already inside.

The house is registered under Marcel Gravois. Unfortunately, the man is dead, so you dug deeper, discovering that Elliot Gravois, Marcel’s grandson, inherited this house and several other properties. You have to thank Lyara for teaching you her hacking tricks, and also thank Elliot for being an idiot—it was as easy as tracking his number and pulling his IP. It didn’t give you an exact address, but this is the only house under a Gravois in the area.

Elliot Gravois seems to be involved in illegal activities beyond kidnapping; otherwise, Oracle wouldn’t be here. But you’ll investigate that later—right now, your priority is finding Lyara.

Silently, you step out of the bushes, feeling the cold grass beneath your feet. Near the house, you hear sounds of a fight coming from the top floor. You move in the opposite direction from where you saw the drone.

There are several windows. You approach the nearest one and pull up with all your strength—nothing, it’s stuck. You move to the next, but it has wooden planks nailed across it, so you don’t even try. The third is also locked. Frustrated, you approach the wooden door—also locked.

You sigh in resignation. Kicking the door down feels like a bad idea, so that leaves you with one option—the window near the drone. You walk toward it, and of course, it’s open. The drone turns toward you. You wave and make a shushing gesture, hoping it gives you the benefit of the doubt—or that you don’t end up in a cell within seconds.

"Alright, here we go," you think. You jump onto the window frame and, as quietly as possible, slip inside the house. The first thing you notice is the intense fight happening upstairs—walls shaking, furniture crashing, like they’re having a good time.

You reach for your belt and draw one of your pistols. Keeping controlled steps and maintaining a Low Ready stance, you begin clearing the perimeter.

The living room is surprisingly neat. No photos, no television. You check the kitchen—it looks used, but not much. Moving into the hallway, you notice a smaller drone following you. You turn—it’s another of Barbara’s drones. You ignore it. She was going to keep an eye on you anyway.

The hallway is empty—no paintings, no pictures, just closed doors. You scan each one. A bedroom with a bathroom—empty. A guest room—empty. A bathroom—empty. At the end of the hall, a different door. You press your ear against it—silence.

You glance at the drone, then press yourself against the wall, keeping your gun close to your shoulder with the barrel pointed upward. Your free hand grips the doorknob, turning it slowly and silently. As you open the door, you peek inside—a staircase leading down. A basement.

Your free hand returns to your gun, still aiming at the ceiling. Moving sideways, you descend carefully, step by step. The dust and dirt beneath your feet make you wince, and the creaking wood makes you tense. The drone behind you is getting on your nerves.

It’s pitch dark. If it weren’t for your rabbit mask, the dust would have you sneezing. Halfway down, the fight upstairs is no longer audible. If something happens to you down here and it’s not worth it, you’ll blame Barbara for the rest of your life.

A faint light catches your eye as the staircase takes a sharp turn. More steps lead further down. You crouch slightly, spotting the light illuminating a chair at the end of the basement. But it’s not empty—you see sock-covered feet.

Another step down—you see knees. Another—you see a lap. Step by step, until you finally see the unconscious figure.

As soon as you recognize the hair color, you holster your weapon and rush forward, heart pounding with anxiety and fear. You reach her and check her pulse.

Thump, thump, thump. Steady. You exhale in relief.

You bring a finger under her nose—she’s breathing evenly. Just unconscious, with some bruises.

Kneeling, you begin untying the rope binding her feet to the chair. That’s when you notice her dislocated knee. That bastard.

You start planning how to get Lyara to the hospital without revealing your identity. You pull the knife from beneath your pant leg and cut the ropes. But just as you finish freeing her, you notice the drone rotating between you and a whiteboard you hadn’t seen before.

Annoyed, you step away from Lyara and approach the board, noticing the photos pinned to it and the desk cluttered with papers beneath.

As soon as you see the images, your stomach churns.

Each picture shows a different woman. Some are naked, others clothed. Some are badly injured, while others show no physical wounds but wear expressions of despair, horror, fear—even rage. None of them were okay.

One of the photos is of Bea. Taken in this same basement.

You scan the papers on the desk, fury building inside you. Careful not to leave fingerprints, you sift through them. They’re reports—each woman listed like cargo. Names, ages, details. Some pages even have sticky notes—probably from Elliot Gravois.

Then you reach Bea’s file, and your heart sinks.

Name: Beatriz Sullivan

Age: 26

Sex: Female

Accepted or Rejected: Rejected

Reason: Not a requested woman. Clients do not want transgender women.

Post-it: January 18, The Burrow

Hands trembling, you pull out your phone and take pictures of everything—papers, images. You’re going to get to the bottom of this. You’re going to find out why Elliot Gravois made this personal.

Stowing your phone, you return to Lyara. Carefully, as if she were made of glass, you lift her bridal style and prepare to leave.

The drone follows, but this time, it moves ahead—leading the way. Good.

You ascend quickly, squeezing through the doorway without jostling the blue-eyed girl. The fight upstairs still rages. Practically sprinting through the hall, you hear a loud crash above—then silence. The fight is over. Shit.

Reaching the window, the smaller drone peels away, leaving you with the larger one, still stationed outside. You sit on the windowsill, swinging one leg out, then the other, making sure Lyara’s head doesn’t hit the frame.

You start moving quickly—but freeze. A shadow stretches from a nearby building.

You look up—and there it is.

Gotham’s most feared and admired silhouette.

You feel his eyes piercing into your soul. But you don’t have time for this.

You start walking again.

You don’t care if he follows. You’re heading straight to the hospital. You already have a plan.

---

You leave Lyara with the doctors and run out of the hospital—you need to get to your apartment as soon as possible, and luckily, it’s close. You sprint through the streets of Gotham, staying within the shadows. Your bare feet press against the cold pavement, adrenaline surging through your body, but all you can think about is Lyara.

Once you reach your apartment, you pull off your mask and rush to your bedroom. You change into something comfortable but not the clothes you usually wear as Rabbit. You get rid of your weapons, keeping only the knife hidden in your boot. Then, you head to the bathroom, wash your feet, and put on your shoes. Taking a moment, you run your fingers through your hair, throw on your signature cap, and leave your apartment. As you descend the building’s staircase, your phone rings—it’s a call.

You don’t stop walking. You keep moving down the stairs, exiting the building as you answer the phone.

—"Hello, good evening. Am I speaking with [Name] [Last Name]?" A woman’s voice comes from the other end of the line.

—"Yes. Who is this?" You respond, masking your breathlessness, pretending you weren’t waiting for this call or running through the streets.

—"I’m calling to inform you that Lyara Valtieri has been admitted to Mercy Hospital. Your number is listed as her only emergency contact. Could you come in to fill out some paperwork and discuss her condition?"

—"Of course. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes."

The woman hangs up after telling you they’ll be expecting you. You shove your phone into your pocket and start running even faster, this time with the wind at your back.

The night is surprisingly calm for Gotham, and you reach the hospital without any distractions or obstacles.

Inside, the stark white lighting is blinding compared to the dark streets. You approach the reception desk. The receptionist immediately recognizes your voice and hands you some forms to fill out. After completing them, she gives you directions to Lyara’s room. You thank her and head toward the elevator.

As you press the button for the third floor, you think about what the receptionist told you. Lyara is stable—some bruises, but the only serious injury is her dislocated knee. A couple of months in a cast, followed by rehab, and she’ll be good as new. Now, all that’s left is to wait for the drugs in her system to wear off. After some final tests, she’ll be discharged.

You step out of the elevator, making a few turns—right, then left—until you find room 407. Your hand grips the doorknob. You take a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, and exhale slowly. Carefully, you crack the door open and peek inside.

Lyara lies unconscious on the hospital bed. The receptionist mentioned that she had woken up briefly, given her name, begged for you, and then passed out again.

You step inside and close the door behind you. Dragging the stool from the corner of the room, you place it beside her bed and sit down, gently taking her hand in yours.

Guilt settles in your chest. If you looked in the mirror right now, you'd probably have the expression of a kicked puppy. You truly feel awful. Both of you knew what you were getting into when you turned The Burrow into a place where information is sold—a meeting spot for the rich and the criminals, a refuge for women desperate for money.

You still remember how recruitment worked at the beginning—wandering through Gotham’s red-light districts, handing out business cards with the club’s address and a wad of cash to women who needed an escape. How difficult it was to earn the respect of the criminals in the area. And thank god it was Lyara who handled the rich clientele, because you can’t stand them.

At some point, exhaustion takes over. you don't even notice when you fall asleep.

---

As soon as Barbara saw a person wearing a black bunny mask with bulging red eyes, she should have alerted Tim, who was inside the house fighting with Elliot Gravois, informing him of an unwanted company and a possible threat. However, it was the gesture for silence that made her hesitate, because who sees a drone and asks for silence? So she decided to stay quiet and follow this mysterious person, there was no need to distract Red Robin for now.

What Barbara didn’t expect was to find a poor girl kidnapped in Gravois' basement, nor did she expect the mysterious person to come just to save her. She imagined her surprise when she saw the amount of information in that basement. She watched as you took pictures but decided to let it go, preferring to focus on helping you protect the girl, guiding you through the house.

—Who is that?— A rough voice asked over the communicator.

—Not a threat, let them go, the girl in their arms needs a hospital.— Oracle responded without room for debate, earning a grunt from Batman.

—Try to find the girl, maybe she can give us useful information.

—Of course.

Red Robin captured Elliot Gravois and decided to be the one to interrogate him. He didn’t touch the evidence, it wasn’t necessary; Barbara had scanned it with the drone, and the physical evidence could be handed over to Commissioner Gordon. While Red Robin interrogated Elliot, Batman called Nightwing. As soon as Oracle found the kidnapped girl’s name and the hospital she was admitted to, she sent the information to both of them so they could investigate together.

Barbara continued to delve deeper into the girl’s life. Her name was Lyara Valtieri, there was scarce information on her besides living in an apartment in the Upper East Side and owning a nightclub in The Narrows, nothing particularly important. There was barely any information about her parents, but it seemed she came from a wealthy family. This only made it more puzzling that she had been kidnapped, as up until now, the kidnapped women were prostitutes or homeless women without families—women who wouldn’t be missed. This made her furrow her brow in confusion.

She reviewed the information again—wealthy family, apartment in an affluent area, nightclub in The Narrows... Where was this nightclub located? Her hands quickly typed, finding the address and the name of the nightclub. "The Burrow" sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it... oh wait, of course! It was the nightclub her father mentioned at lunch, where they found a murdered woman... She typed again. Beatriz Sullivan, 26 years old.

A hunch led her to search through the reports she had scanned with the drone. She went through a lot of names of different ages and found what she was looking for. One of the women kidnapped by Elliot Gravois was that girl, Beatriz. Why did he leave the body at that nightclub? Why did he kidnap the owner? How could the two women be connected?

The night was going to be long.

Mercy Hospital; January 19, 4:57 AM

Your consciousness slowly awakens. You begin to hear muffled voices that become clearer as you start to stir. You feel a tight grip on your hand, which is strange because the grip seems like a pattern. You don’t open your eyes, even though your back hurts and you want to stretch, a voice in the back of your mind tells you to pretend to sleep. The voices are now clearer in your head, a man is speaking to Lyara.

—Did you know the man who kidnapped you?— The voice is serious but kind, with a tone of understanding, as if not trying to pressure her. You’ve heard that voice somewhere before.

—No, I’m sure I’ve never seen him before.— Lyara responds, she’s lying, but that’s something only you can tell. And even if the man notices, it could go unnoticed, as if she wasn’t sure she hadn’t seen him, as if she had forgotten, but the man doesn’t press.

A second voice surprises you, and this is when you’re grateful to have your face hidden between your arms because your eyes widen in surprise. Now you understand that the grips were Morse code "don’t move" was what Lyara wanted to tell you.

—Do you know the person who saved you? The girl with the bunny mask?— The voice is rough and intimidating, dry but direct, it’s impossible not to recognize it, because it’s Batman’s voice, and now you know who the other man was—Nightwing is in the room too.

You close your eyes again and try to focus on your other senses, especially touch and hearing.

Lyara tightens her grip on your hand, she’s good at acting but is too tired, afraid of slipping up if she hasn’t already. Two years ago, you both created an entire story for situations like this. You repeated the lie so many times that you almost started to believe it yourselves. But should she really? She could just say she didn’t know what they were talking about, she was unconscious anyway. Now she would appreciate having woken you up when she woke up.

—I’m not sure what are you talking about, Mr. Batman.— She opts to say.

Now, Batman is no fool, he’s been observing, scrutinizing her gestures and micro-expressions, but from his position at the door of the room, he can’t see the person who is sleeping next to her very well. He can’t see the grip on their hands because she made sure to hide them away from the bed, hoping Nightwing noticed that.

This interrogation isn’t helping them, they’re not getting any useful information, Batman grumbles. Nightwing looks at him over his shoulder and catches the message “let’s go,” so as soon as the younger one says goodbye, they both leave the room.

Once they leave, Lyara starts breathing normally again; she didn’t even know she had been holding her breath. You lift your head and stretch your back. The pain you had been ignoring starts to become unbearable, and the crack of your bones from stretching doesn’t surprise you. You let out a yawn.

—Oh my god, my heart almost fell out of my chest.— Lyara says, putting a hand on her chest and letting out a long sigh.

—How long have you been here?— You raise an inquisitive eyebrow that doesn’t last long, then rub your eyes to clear away the sleep.

—About five minutes before you woke up, when I noticed your breathing change, I almost freaked out.— She laughs and takes your hand when you place it back on the bed.

You can’t help but look at her with a mixture of concern and admiration. Even with the bruises on her face, even with a cast on her leg, she still finds a way to laugh.

—We’re going to have to talk about a lot of things, Lya.— You tighten your grip, and she gives you a sheepish smile.

—I know.— She whispers.

🩷🩷🩷

Tag list!!

@anamiranda7383 @crystal-freak24 @serlazvi @regloml @jscrawls @cxcilla @heartjwonie @pix-stuff @hjgdhghoe @ritzes28 @zlovesreading @astrelz @omnivirgo @onlybe-satanonce

[jakedustry]

𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 - 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘𝐔

IN WHICH Kim Mingyu has a plan for everything. Even you. But there are still things he can’t predict, no matter how smart he is, leading his “brilliant plan” to a disaster as his best friend falls for you — his girl.

pairing– Kim Mingyu x fem!reader ㅤㅤㅤ mentions of Wonwoo x reader

featuring– lot of seventeen members, user @adel222 as Adel, oc Hanni as Soonyoung's gf

genre– Angst, Fluff, Smut

contains– auctions, interior designer!reader, cook!Mingyu, kinda asshole!Mingyu, oh no they can't stop flirting even though they are supposed to be rivals!, rivals to lovers, loverboy!Wonwoo, Mingyu is plotting, love triangle, lots of lying, the greatest bsf!Seokmin, mentions of burn out, lots of flirting, use of pet names, lots of cursing, arguing, alcohol, two smut scenes

word count– 31k (I'm sorry)

smut warnings– breast play + worship lowk, unprotected sex, fingering, missionary, oral (f. and m. receiving), hair pulling (Mingyu's hair), praise, handjob, cum swallowing

playlist

↪ izzy adds... okay, it's safe to say this was a journey. I had this idea back in September and have been developing it ever since, and honestly, it's only thanks to the lovely people I have around me that I didn't drop this back when I was at 2k. I'm so thankful to everyone who listened to me yap about this fic and even more to my beta reader who always has my back <3

There were only three men you knew the names of when it came to your most significant and expensive hobby. Jussi Pylkkänen, Tobias Meyer, and Kim Mingyu. While Kim Mingyu wasn’t anyhow famous in the auction world outside of South Korea, he was undoubtedly one to remember. 

Whenever you sat in the auction room, bidding everything you could on your favorite art pieces, it felt monotonous. It felt as if you were sitting in the room with amateurs. Others were scared to bid high, you realized during your first two weeks. They feared coming home to their families with a piece of art instead of the billions of won they had in their bank account before they left the house. 

You didn’t have those problems. Unlike other millionaires and billionaires, you weren’t born with such money. You had counted your every penny since you were fifteen, working your ass off so you could live the life you always wanted. You spent every minute of your free time building this life for yourself to be able to spend millions on art that you could sell for double the price later if you wanted to.

That was the reason you got to where you are right now. You knew your way around with money. You studied how to make the most out of things. You understood how to talk well and influence people. But most importantly, what might have been your most substantial advantage in this industry, was that you were a woman. 

And men were naive. 

It only took a glance, maybe a little smile, to have whoever you wanted wrapped around your finger. When you did find a suitable opponent who wasn’t scared of bidding some money on what he wanted, he’d let you have whatever you asked for the moment you just so slightly leaned forward in your place, revealing a bit of your chest. 

Yet, there was still one man you didn’t get to toy around with. Kim Mingyu. Why? You were asking yourself the same question. Even though, deep down, you knew the answer.

He was the same as you. 

He toyed with people. And he enjoyed it. 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

It was your third auction when you heard his name for the first time. 

“Fuck, he decided to join too?” You turn around as you hear the chatters behind you, sipping on the glass of wine you have been holding for the past ten minutes. “Oh hell no, I am out. I heard Mr. Yang had spent over 200 million ₩ last month because they had some deal together, and then he took everything! Yang hasn’t shown up at any auctions since! I heard he had lost everything!” 

Your ears perk up as you listen to their conversation, slowly heading toward the two males you’ve been watching. “Mind me joining you, boys?” You bat your eyes at them with a smile, making it almost impossible for them to refuse. 

“Kim Mingyu. That’s his name,” the taller of them explains, and you notice how he straightens his back when your eyes shift to his figure. You smile at him, tugging the right side of your hair behind your ear. Something you’ve learned over the years. For a reason unknown to you, men found it attractive. “So, this Kim Mingyu… What’s his deal?” 

Such a simple question, and yet, no one seems to know the answer. 

“I heard he wants to dominate the auction industry.” — “His deal… don’t you want to know my deal instead?” — “No one knows how he does it!” — “Oh, I wish I knew. I’ve been trying to find out what he does to screw around with these people too. Let me know if you have any luck.” 

You sigh, leaving from another group of guys. You’d started at least twelve conversations by now, hoping to find out more about The Legend, as they all called him, but all you got from it were guys trying to flirt with you or tell you you were too young to be at auctions. 

“Care for a drink?” 

“I’m sorry, but if you excuse me, the auction is about to begin,” you try to decline his offer politely but stop when you turn around to face the male behind you. A face you don’t recognize. His tall figure leans over you, and you watch as dark strands of his hair fall in front of his eyes. “And what better way is to start an auction if not with a fine glass of wine?” He smiles. Only a half-genuine smile, you figure. Still, you nod to him, placing your hand on his arm when he offers. 

You didn’t know who you were messing with back then. You saw a pretty face to toy around with and thought that was your win. 

You thought you could wrap Kim Mingyu, the Legend Kim Mingyu, around your finger. 

You smile as he hands you the glass of white wine, commenting on the fact that it goes well with your dress. “I am not quite sure I caught your name, by the way,” he says casually once you hold his arm again, making your way towards the bidding room. It sounded rehearsed, as if he had said it a thousand times in the same spot. But you knew that wasn’t the case because, excluding you, there were only five other women, all of whom he was avoiding eye contact with. 

Maybe it was his personality then, you think. 

Your name slips past your lips in a heartbeat before you can even rethink it or come up with a pen name. “Well,” your name sounds better on his lips, more elegant. “What are you looking for tonight?” Now that was cheap, you tell yourself. A chuckle escapes your lips as you shake your head slightly, looking up at him to see his face. His eyes don’t tell you he wishes your answer to be him, though. “Well, I bet you’re aware of the pieces in the auction tonight. They are all beautiful, but…” 

“But there is one that has your attention,” he adds before you can continue, making you nod. “Number six,” you inform him, your eyes shifting to the empty seats in the room.

“Number six is what I am taking home tonight.” 

You don’t turn to look at him again, not until his arm escapes your grip and he stands in front of you. “We’ll see about who it will come home with. Seems like we have a similar taste,” he smiles again, excusing himself as he walks away without another word. He doesn’t share his name with you, but you don’t mind. You don’t plan on seeing him again after this auction. 

You take a seat around the middle row. Not too far back, but also not in the very front. You notice the black-haired boy three rows ahead, calmly watching the front. The few chairs beside him are empty, and no one seems to be thrilled with having to sit next to him. You scoff, shaking your head at the loser you thought you found, and look at the moderator instead. 

Number six was yours. 

You sit silently throughout most of the bidding, only trying twice at the very beginning when prices weren’t high yet, but stop eventually, leaving others to take it. You didn’t care much about other art pieces. And, the less you bought before the painting you want turned up, the more money you would have to spend on it. 

You look down onto your lap, where your phone is, sighing upon seeing the black screen with no new notifications. “4 million.” You glance up again as you hear the bid, your eyes shifting from the taller boy from before to the painting on the podium. Your eyes widen, and you immediately raise your number card. “4.5 million.” The moderator doesn’t even have a chance to speak before the male raises his number again, doubling your amount. Another number, a new one, raises his hand, the words ten million leaving his lips. You grit your teeth, raising your number card to bid again, but before you can offer your price, the dark-haired male is talking again, increasing the bid on his own. 

“Alright then,” you mumble, raising your number greater so the moderator would notice you. You take a deep breath, ignoring the enthusiastic smile on the male’s face as he watches you. “20 million.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, praying no one would raise the bid again. 20 million won was already way over what you planned to spend when you arrived. The painting’s worth was 40 million, 43 at best. It would be irrational to spend any more than what you paid. It would be dumb to spend more than fifty percent of the painting’s worth. 

Still, you hear a voice again, and it isn’t the moderator. For fucks sake. “I’ll take it for 30.” 

You couldn’t. You didn’t have that kind of money to spend on a painting. Even though you’d love to have it home, hanging over your bed or in your living room, knowing it could get you money if you ever got into a crisis, you just couldn’t. 

And so, you watch the dark scenery turn white as the staff comes on the podium, hiding the painting with a white sheet. The dim gray mountains disappear right before you, making you shut your eyes immediately so you wouldn’t have to watch them carry it away, knowing you’d never see it again. Whisper of Hope. You scoff at the name. Right. That was hardly true when your hope disappears in the blink of an eye. 

But as you close your eyes, the painting comes back to you. The light that pierced through the murky clouds and the mountains covered in snow, you see it all. It helps you remember why you wanted it in the first place. There was always a feeling in that painting, a quiet sense of peace that made you feel like everything would be alright, even if it never really was.

You snap out of your thoughts as you hear the moderator speak up again. “Number six sold out to Kim Mingyu, number 89.” Your eyes widen, and you immediately redirect your attention to the dark-haired male three roads ahead. His eyes are already on you, a smirk spread across his lips as he bows his head slightly, as if his manners only came back to him now. 

You scoff, realizing this was his “Nice to meet you.” You have finally met Kim Mingyu in all his glory. 

And you hated him.

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

“Aren’t auctions just another form of gambling?” You raise your eyebrow as you face your best friend—Seokmin. He shrugs when he notices the look on your face, glancing around the room for some help from your other friends. “I get where he is coming from,” Soonyoung nods, making you roll your eyes. Of course, he knows where he’s coming from. 

“Care to give me a proper explanation as to why then?” You encourage the two of them, making Jihoon turn around on your computer chair so he could face the rest of you, interested in what you all could possibly have to say. 

“I mean,” Seokmin starts, clearing his throat. “You have to pay even to be able to join the auction, and you can’t possibly know if you will walk away with something or not.” – “And you can also pay a ton of money for something just to find out its value is way lower than you thought,” Soonyoung adds, nodding to prove Min’s point. 

“Okay, so it can be a bit risky,” you agree whilst rolling your eyes. “But really, you would be an idiot not to do proper research about the value of things before buying anything.” 

“I’ve seen people,” Jihoon shrugs. “Remember Mr. Lee? I spoke to his wife a few weeks ago. They got divorced when he lost all of their money because he believed a stranger and invested in some company that went bankrupt.” Seokmin’s eyes widen, and his jaw practically hits the floor, making you scoff. “As in my favorite convenience store owner…ever?!” Jihoon nods, and the youngest boy whines. “You’re kidding me!” 

“Swear on Soonyoung’s girlfriend.” The boy immediately looks up, “Hey!” You laugh, as you always do when you’re around them. “Don’t talk about my girlfriend. We are fighting right now…” he mumbles, looking down at his lap again. 

Your smile slowly fades away, exchanging a look with Jihoon. “About?” You ask, raising your eyebrow. They never fought. All their arguments were about the stupidest things ever. You doubted it was anything serious this time. “She thinks I’m not spending as much time with her as I used to. We also fought about this one girl from work. It’s been a bit hectic,” he answers shortly. “But I know you guys don’t care about that. How’s your recent project been doing?” He tries to brush it off with a smile—a painfully fake one. 

“No, rewind. We do care,” Seokmin assures him, anxious at the sudden mood change. You can’t help but pity your friend. They never fight. That’s right. They never went through anything huge, so he never had to deal with something like this. “Hoshi,” you call out softly by his favorite nickname ever, making him look up. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No, not really,” he admits. “Thanks, though.” You nod, telling him there’s nothing to thank you for. 

It’s quiet for a bit after that. It feels as if you were all scared to break the silence. Too afraid to say something stupid when your friend’s eyes look so painful.

But Hoshi didn’t see it like that. “Oh my god!” He exclaims all of a sudden, catching you off guard. “I completely forgot to tell you! Hansol is throwing a party at his house next month. He’s finally planning to ask the girl he has had a crush on for months out,” he explains as if nothing ever happened. A part of you feels relieved. After all, this was the chaotic Soonyoung you were worried about. The same guy that jumped into your pool fully naked last winter because of a stupid bet. It wouldn’t be like him to stay down for the rest of the day. 

The conversation only flows after that, and you know not even Jihoon, who has been trying to ignore you all and work on his new project can focus on anything when Soonyoung and Seokmin laugh so much over a joke Hoshi said ten minutes ago. You smile as you watch the three people closest to you. Every time you sit with them like this you feel grateful to have them by your side. 

Jihoon chuckles, shaking his head at them. When your eyes meet his, you know he feels the same way. Happy, thankful, and delighted. It all shows in his eyes, no matter how nonchalant or unimpressed he wants to look. 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

The following morning, you find yourself waiting for Soonyoung to pick you up at your place. He reached out to you soon after getting home the day before, asking to grab a coffee in the morning before work and talk. You couldn’t say no to him even if you wanted to. Waking up a bit earlier to go grab a cup of coffee with your friend wasn’t something you would hate to do anyway. 

You sit on your couch, your leg bouncing on its own as you intensely stare at the project in progress in front of you. The sketch is barely started, and you need to turn in the finished design in three days. You sigh, running your fingers through your hair. No matter how long you stare at it, nothing comes to you. It’s as if there was some wall in front of you, preventing you from being able to see anything. 

You give up, spreading on the couch and grabbing your phone instead. As you’re about to text your friend and ask where he is, you hear the doorbell ring, announcing his arrival. “Coming!” You yell back, quickly shoving your phone in your pocket and getting up. You glance at the papers on your coffee table once more before grabbing your bag and leaving it behind for later. That was a problem for the future you. 

“Hey,” The older boy greets you as soon as you open the door. You smile at him, quickly taking your keys and hiding them in your bag. “Ready to go?” He asks, and you nod.

“So I obviously told her there was nothing between us and that she doesn’t need to worry, but for some reason she just doesn’t believe me,” Soonyoung whined, ranting about the fight he and his girlfriend are going through. “I tried to talk to her and explain everything she worries about, but she doesn’t want to listen to me. It’s as if she wants us to fall apart. I don’t know what to do anymore,” he mumbles, creating a pitiful frown on your face. You can’t help but feel sorry for him. 

“It’s hard if she doesn’t want to listen to you…” you comment, trying to think of a way to help him. “I mean, I don’t know what’s going through her head, right, but maybe, next time, just don’t mention anything about why you guys are fighting. Take her on a date instead. Do something nice for her. Show her how much you love her, and I’m sure she’ll stop doubting you.” 

Soonyoung falls silent, thinking about what you said. When was the last time he gave his girlfriend flowers without a reason? How long has it been since they had time for a proper date? Honestly, he wasn’t sure. 

“God, you’re right. I need to have a date with her,” he breathes out, disappointed in himself. “Thanks,” he smiles again. “For reminding me,” he adds as his smile turns into a laugh, putting you at ease. You felt like that whenever you heard him laugh, especially in situations like this. He always made you remember that you have to enjoy the moment you’re in and not overthink everything. “I’ll pay for your coffee for that.” 

“I can’t pass on that, can I?” 

The café is right behind the corner, so it takes you almost no time to reach your destination. You’re laughing when you enter the small shop, not paying much attention to the people around you. “Maybe if he actually made an effort,” you roll your eyes. “Well, maybe if someone didn’t block him after the first date, he could have,” Soonyoung laughs even harder, walking over to the register to order your and his drinks. 

“As if,” you scoff, turning around to find a place to sit, but as you do, you stumble over a foot. Foot that isn’t yours. You don’t get a chance to react, your eyes widening as gravity fails you, taking you down. Thankfully, before you can reach the floor, you feel someone’s arms wrapping around your waist tightly, ensuring you won’t fall. You blink a few times, your eyes meeting the tall guy. “Hello,” you pipe, swallowing a lump in your throat. 

“Hi,” he smiles, clearing his throat awkwardly and helping you stand straight again. “I’m sorry, that was completely my fault,” he apologizes, his eyes landing on the dark stain on your blouse. He must have spilled his drink on you while catching you. “It’s okay,” you assure him, noticing where he was looking. “Shit,” you curse quietly, quickly searching for a bathroom with your eyes. “If you excuse me,” you apologize when you find your target, meeting his eyes again. “Wait, let me help you,” the black-haired male offers. His hair is neat, his forehead exposed, and he is dressed in a dark blue suit. He looks flawless. A part of you feels annoyed by how perfect he looks. Even the glasses fit him perfectly. “No need,” you shake your head. “Thank you for offering, though,” you smile politely, quickly getting to the bathroom. 

“Well, that was embarrassing,” you sigh as you join Soonyoung at a table for two he picked out. “It was funny,” he laughs. “I watched you from the counter. You had sparks in your eyes!” He slides your cup with caramel macchiato forward, a teasing smirk on his face as he sips at his cup of coffee. “I did not,” you roll your eyes. 

Honestly, you might have. You can’t remember much about the situation. You only see the boy and his stupid smile when you close your eyes, unable to think about anything else. 

“And now you’re blushing,” he comments with a chuckle. “Isn’t this what Seokmin would call love at first sight? I hope you got his name, if nothing else.” You shake your head, sipping on your iced drink. “You’re overreacting. It’s not love, admiration, or even a tiny crush. If anything, he is just someone who ruined my favorite blouse,” you point out the stain, trying to sound annoyed. You’re sure Soonyoung can see right through your bullshit, though. Because a big part of you wishes you had asked for his name. 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

“How’s the project been going, by the way?” Soonyoung asks, walking beside you toward your company. “Last week you mentioned something about being stuck,” he mumbles, the empty plastic cup still in his hands. “Still the same,” you sigh. “I guess I finally know what it feels like to have an artist block,” you laugh it off. “I might end up passing the project onto someone else. It’s not like I need the money right now anyway.” 

“No need to rub it in my face,” he rolls his eyes. “Just retire at this point and draw the paintings you buy yourself. Isn’t that what you always wanted to do, anyway?” You fall silent, staring at the ground under your feet. “No,” you disagree, but you can’t look him in the eyes. “Ah, I thought–” You quickly shake your head, stopping him before he couldn’t dig too deep into it. “No, you thought wrong. I like designing, and I like where I am now. If I became an artist, I might not even have a place to live now.” 

Hoshi is caught off guard, shutting his mouth when he finally notices your facial expression. He didn’t even realize it at first, but it seemed like he had found a weak spot. “Okay,” he mumbles, nodding confusedly. “If you’re happy, then that’s all that matters.” 

Soonyoung is quick to change the conversation, talking about anything and everything that comes to his mind at the moment to keep you distracted, but it doesn’t work out like he would want to. All you can think about are his words. If you’re happy, then that’s all that matters. You’d like to think you are happy right now. You have amazing friends, a great job, and most importantly—freedom. You live like many people wish for. You would be stupid not to be happy. 

So why do you keep thinking about what-ifs? Why do you always wonder how your life would look if you chose to continue painting back in high school? 

“Okay, I’m going to leave you to it now,” he smiles, stopping in front of your company. “Good luck. With everything.” You smile back at him, opening your arms so he can hug you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders while he squeezes your waist, making you laugh. “Thank you, once again,” he adds, slowly letting you go. “No need to,” you shake your head. “I should be the one thanking you for my coffee.” 

You wave him goodbye with a smile, sighing as you look at the front door. I’m happy, you remind yourself. There’s nothing more you would need in your life. Nothing was missing in your life. 

You take a deep breath, walking in with a smile as you greet the lady at the reception.

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

You sit in your office, trying to develop the idea for the Millers’ project on your laptop. It’s not until the loud ring of your phone gives you an excuse to think about something else. “Yes, Chan?” You hum, accepting the call from your assistant. “Ah,” you nod, looking at the clock on your wall. “You can send him in. I’ll hear him out and see,” you agree, hanging up again. Maybe a new project is just what you need at the moment. 

“Good morning,” you smile, reaching out your hand for the man opposite you to shake. “Morning, and nice to meet you,” he smiles back, shaking your hand. Your assistant stands behind him, giving a faint smile toward you, too. “This is Mr. Xu. He asked specifically for you to design his new house,” he explains, batting his eyes at you, almost making you laugh. He looks proud. “Alright, let’s look at it,” you agree, showing him the way to your table. 

“Can I get you something? A cup of coffee, tea, or water?” You offer, sitting down on your chair. You move your laptop to the side, along with some of your documents for the Millers’ project. “Tea would be nice, thank you.” You nod, glancing toward your assistant. Chan nods, turning on his heel and heading to the cafeteria to prepare everything. 

“So, do you have the house plans with you?” You ask, and he immediately pulls out his phone, looking for something. You mentally sigh, glad he came somehow prepared. If only all of your clients were like this. “It’s a two-story house. We were thinking of making this room the guest bedroom, then the bathroom, and then the living room and kitchen,” he says, pointing at each of the rooms as he shows you the main floor plans on his phone. He switches to the second floor with a simple click when he sees you nod, pointing out at the room in the left top corner, right next to the stairs. “This should be another bathroom, and here, right next to the balcony, I’d like to have our bedroom,” he explains. 

“What about these two rooms?” You ask, pointing at the room next to the bathroom and the second room leading to the balcony. “This will be my studio. And this will be a joint office for me and my fiance, ” he clears out. “Studio?” You wonder, looking at the house plans on his phone. “An art studio. I do art for a living,” he answers casually. He can see the sparks in your eyes almost right away, scoffing. He might have just won you over. 

“I’ll design the house for you,” you agree without another second of hesitation. “Are you looking for all the rooms or…?” You question, glancing at him again. He’s smiling at you, and it causes you to frown for a second. “Everything, if possible. I’m not sure how much experience you have with studios, but I would still appreciate it if you tried.” 

Chan comes back soon after, placing two cups of green tea on the table. “I’m sorry for interrupting,” your assistant clears his throat. You look up at him, questioning what he needs with your eyes. “The Millers called. They want to see how their project is doing,” he informs you, and you try your best to stay professional and not break down right in front of your client. “Come here when I’m done talking to Mr. Xu, and we’ll talk about it,” you decide, intuitively glancing at the empty draft on your laptop. Chan doesn’t push you anymore and nods, sending you a good-luck smile before leaving your office. 

“So, you were saying,” you turn to your client again, encouraging him to continue and tell you his ideas for the design. 

“Mind if I ask how you found me?” You ask, rising from your chair as the conversation with Mr. Xu comes to an end. “Through a friend’s recommendation,” he replies casually. You nod, then reach for a business card from the stack on your desk, handing it to him with a slight smile. “I’m glad your friend was satisfied with my work, then,” you say. “If you have any new ideas or want to discuss the project further, don’t hesitate to reach out. I might not always be available for a call, but my assistant’s number is right below mine.” He nods, offering a brief but polite goodbye before exiting your office. 

You sigh as you close the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment with your eyes closed. The thought of meeting Chan makes your stomach turn, but the idea of facing the Millers is even worse. You can not meet them. How could you? After two months of working for them, how do you tell them you’re done, that you don’t want to design their house anymore? The thought of it makes you sick. Not only would it be awkward, but it could cost you everything. Your career. All the work you’ve put in to get your name out there. You can’t afford that, not after everything. 

Your breath shakes, but you try to pay little to no attention to it. You need to figure it out somehow and collect yourself again. Otherwise, the tiniest next problem will be your breaking point. You fix your hair as if that was supposed to fix everything and return to your desk. Your assistant is just a call away, but you don’t dial the phone. Not immediately at least. Instead, you move your laptop back before you, forcing yourself to come up with something first. 

Minutes turn into an hour, and you never grab the phone to call your assistant. It’s as if you’re in a daze, finally getting the ideas you’ve been searching for. You only managed to finish the living room, but you're grateful for even as much. As you save the folder, leaning back in your chair to relax, the sound of the office door opening makes you groan.

“I hope you’ve been working and not lazing around until now.” You meet eyes with your assistant, rolling your eyes. “I didn’t call you, did I, Chan?” You raise an eyebrow, but it doesn’t budge him a bit. “We seriously need to talk about the Millers’ project,” he glares at you to let you know he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “You haven’t submitted a single draft since we accepted the deal. Mr. Miller is worried, and he wants results soon.” You sigh, unable to say anything in your defense. “I talked to him and asked for more time, but you have to show him at least somehow finished design during the next month.” 

“Thank you, oh my god!” You jump up, running around the table to get to him. “I love you, Chan. Oh my god!” You yell again, making him scoff as he wraps his arms around your waist. “Sure, sure,” he shakes his head. “You seriously have to do something, though. Got it? I can’t keep defending you every time.” You nod, promising to get it done soon. 

“Also,” he clears his throat, averting his gaze. “Don’t mention any of this in front of the guys. They’d tease me until I die.” You laugh, squeezing him once more before you let him go, stepping back. “I promise I won’t tell them anything. I’ll stay the only one knowing you can actually be useful sometimes,” you grin, making him roll his eyes. “I hate you.”

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

You’re unsure why, but the following day you find yourself in the same café as yesterday. 7.45 am, just like the day before when you stopped by with Soonyoung. 

“So? Was it worth it?” Lee Chan asks as you’re about to order your coffee. “An iced caramel macchiato, to-go please,” you tell the younger lady behind the counter, ignoring your assistant’s question. You take out one of your earphones to hear her when she talks back to you, doing your best to ignore Chan’s continuous bugging. “That will be 4 750₩.” You pay with your phone, stepping aside so the next customer can order. 

“Okay, yeah, it wasn’t worth it,” you finally mutter, picking at the skin on your fingers. You still don’t know why you came back here. For some guy whose name you didn’t even know? You couldn’t have been that foolish, could you? You wouldn’t have sunk that low, right? 

It’s been a while since you’ve been in a relationship—or just gone out on a date with someone honestly. That must have been it, you convince yourself. Why else would you act so desperate? He was just a handsome guy who caught your attention due to the lack of gentlemen in your life. After your friends, who would use every chance they got to make fun of you and make your life a bit harder, he was a nice change. That’s all. 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

Yet, you step into the café the next day too. 

“Iced caramel macchiato?” The barista tries to remember your order when she sees you. You smile, nodding. You unlock your phone to pay, but before the lady can tell you your total, male’s voice interrupts you, his arm brushing against your own as he stops beside you.. “Make it two, please. I’ll pay.” Your eyes widen when you look up to see his face, holding back your smile when you notice the same boy with glasses you did two days ago. “Hi,” he greets you softly, smiling before he turns to the barista again to pay. 

“What did we get again? I was so caught up in getting to the counter I barely listened to what you ordered,” he says with a light chuckle, eyeing the drink in his hands. “Caramel Macchiato. It’s my favorite,” you reply, leading the way to one of the tables. “I see,” he nods, taking a sip as he follows you. 

When you sit down, he asks for your name, settling into the chair opposite you. He smiles, repeating your name to make sure he remembers it. “I’m Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo,” he says, extending his hand across the table for you to shake. “Nice to meet you, Wonwoo,” you say, giggling a little as you shake his hand. Immediately you cringe, a giggle? Really? What are you, a middle schooler?

You pull your hand back awkwardly, holding onto the cold drink to distract yourself. You try to steal subtle glances at his face, averting your gaze back to your coffee whenever you thought he might catch you in the act. With his hair down, brushing the top of his glasses, and that pretty smile, he makes it hard to focus on anything else. 

Today, he’s dressed casually—a simple black shirt that clings to his figure perfectly, making his muscles more visible. He might as well be asking you to fall for him when he looks like that. 

You quickly shake your head, snapping out of your thoughts. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve somehow turned into a middle schooler after all. Then your eyes fall to his side, noticing the camera case flung over his shoulder. “Are you a photographer?” You ask, lifting your eyes to meet his. “Ah, this?” He chuckles, shaking his head as he sets the case on the table and takes out his camera. “It’s just a hobby, not a profession,” he clarifies. 

“Can I still see some of your photos?” You ask, hopeful. Wonwoo agrees, nodding as he hands you his camera. He can’t say no to you, not when you look so excited. For a brief moment, he could almost see stars in your eyes as you took the camera from him. 

Your head tells you to ignore the feeling, but your body has a different idea. Your stomach twists in a (weird) way you’d prefer not to address—refusing to admit it could be anything like those so-called butterflies people talk about, and you swallow hard when your fingers brush against his, the soft touch sending shivers through your body. 

“You’re really talented!” you exclaim, flipping through his most recent pictures. A few are of an elderly couple—what you can only assume to be a part of his family—some are shots of nature or stray cats, and others are self-portraits of him.

You smile, finding him cute until you come across one that makes your stomach lurch: he’s shirtless, his hair wet, probably just out of the pool. A flush creeps up your neck as you quickly close the gallery, trying to shake off the image. You bring the camera up to your eyes to focus on something else, adjusting the lighting before snapping a picture of the man in front of you. 

“What was that for?” He smiles, sipping on his coffee. “Not sure,” you admit, handing him the camera back so he could take a look at the picture you took. “Actually, I could ask the same,” you proclaim, getting his attention. “You paid for me. You ran from the door to get to me on time. What was that for?” You question him, watching as his smile grows wider. He looks at his camera again, smiling at the picture of him as he shrugs, repeating your words, “Not sure.” 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

The saying “When you know, you know” was always stupid in your opinion. You weren’t sure what it meant in the first place. Logically, it didn’t make any sense. 

And as you walk through your company’s building, heading to your office with Margaret by Lana Del Rey playing in your earphones, you feel like you will never understand it. Because you don’t just know. 

But it doesn’t stop you from being happy. You don’t have to “know” in order to enjoy your time. 

“What’s that smile for?” Chan stops when he notices you in the hallway, a teasing grin on his face you’d recognize from miles away. You roll your eyes at him, taking out your earphones and turning the music off. “Nothin’” you try to brush him off, but you know your eyes give you away. “It’s about the coffee guy, isn’t it? Don’t tell me you went to the café again,” he sighs, sounding almost disappointed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You frown. He doesn’t answer anymore. Instead he shrugs, accompanying you to your office. 

“Wonwoo,” you mumble as you step into your office. Chan raises an eyebrow, looking at you with confusion, mentally running through your list of clients to see if the name rings a bell. “That’s the coffee guy. His name is Wonwoo,” you explain with a smile. “I ran into him again today.” Your assistant freezes for a moment as if weighing his words carefully. “I’m guessing you didn’t hate him, then?” he asks, settling onto the couch in the room. 

You sit in your chair, opening your laptop, and immediately flashing yourself with the image of the Millers’ project. “He’s nice,” you answer casually. “And has a nice smile.” Chan frowns. “That’s all he needed to charm you?” You roll your eyes, zooming in on the room that was supposed to be for the Millers’ youngest. Thanks to your assistant’s relentless nagging, there are only two rooms left to complete. “Some people go for men just because they have money. So I don’t think I’m that bad.” 

“Yeah, because you have the money.” You glare at him, giving him a warning look and letting him know that if he continues, you’re kicking him out. “Okay, sorry,” he raises his hands in surrender, shaking his head. “I’m just worried. I haven’t seen you obsess over a guy like this…ever.” — “Honestly, that also freaks me out,” you admit, sighing. “He’s just got this aura that pulls me in. I’m not sure why.” Chan hums as a sign of understatement. “Maybe you found a soul to your non-existent one,” he jokes, but you don’t find it funny. “Out.” 

“I didn’t do anything!” He protests. “I need to focus. Out.” You repeat yourself firmly and watch him get up from the couch. “I’m expecting a finished project by tonight, then,” he says, not waiting for your answer and leaving the office. 

Your head hits the back of your chair, watching his back as he leaves. Then your eyes drift to your phone, lighting up due to a new message. Your eyes widen, and you immediately reach for it, smiling at the simple “Hi” Wonwoo left you when you gave him your number. Then another text pops up, and you know you won’t get him out of your head anytime soon as you tell him the time you’re ending today. 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

Chan’s head hurts. 

“Tomorrow. I’m serious,” he hisses, and you shut your eyes closed, feeling bad. You got so caught up in playing with Mr. Xu’s project and texts with your new acquaintance that you barely did anything on the Millers’ project even though you knew the deadline was close. “I will get it done tonight,” you promise. “I’ll work on it overnight, and you’ll have it on your desk first thing in the morning so you can show it to them.” 

Your assistant shakes his head, and you know he is disappointed. “Do whatever you want, but get your priorities straight,” your name leaves past his lips, and you gulp down. It’s been long since you’ve been scolded like this, and Chan might be the last person you would expect it from, but a part of you knows you needed to hear it. 

He opens his mouth to speak again, but before he can, the office door swings open, and someone steps into the room. Your gaze immediately lands on the man standing behind Chan, and you can already feel the atmosphere growing awkward. Your assistant turns around to see who just walked in, his confusion evident as he locks eyes with a man he’s never seen. “I apologize, but consultation hours are over. If you’d like a session, you’ll have to come back tomorrow morning.” 

“Oh, I’m not here for–” He tries to explain, but you quickly stand up, grabbing your laptop and jacket as you make your way to the door. “Okay, that’s enough talk for today. I promise I’ll finish the project tonight,” you promise one more time, waving at Chan before grabbing Wonwoo’s arm and leading the way out. You don’t need Chan to know you are hanging out with the same guy who’s been distracting you all day. You wouldn’t hear the end of it then. 

“What was that for?” Wonwoo laughs, following you out of the building. “Long story,” you brush it off. “If that was your boyfriend, then maybe…” — “I don’t have a boyfriend,” you stop him before he can finish his sentence and silently scoff when you see the smile on his face. “Good,” he mumbles. You have to bite your bottom lip to constrain your smile, averting your gaze and pretending you are looking at the interior plans on the walls. 

“Alright, should we go?” He interrupts your thoughts, slightly moving his arm–which you are still holding–to get your attention. You look up at him, nodding. “Where exactly are we going, anyway?” You wonder, but you don’t get an answer to your question. 

“You have a nice car,” you comment when you sit in the passenger’s seat after he opens the door for you. You look around, smiling. It’s been a long time since you last went on a night stroll, and you missed it. The silence, the calmness, the moon, and even the street lights that added a somewhat serene atmosphere. “Do I?” He chuckles. You’re not sure, actually. You never knew much about cars, and all of your previous relationships always made fun of you for it. “That’s funny because Min–” he clears his throat. “My friend,” he corrects himself. “He made a whole joke about it.” — “I was annoyed at first, but now it’s slowly starting to be funny.” 

“Are you close with your friends?” The question might sound lame, and you are aware of it. But after meeting so many people who would have answered with a flat “no,” you can’t help but ask. “Some of them,” he agrees. “I usually keep my circle small.” You smile, “So do I. Well– I know people. But not many of them know a lot about me,” you clarify. “I get what you mean,” he nods. “It’s better that way,” he mumbles, driving off the parking lot. 

A part of you thinks you have found your ideal man when he parks his car again, and you step out. Your eyes widen at the scenery in front of you, and you immediately glance at the man beside you. “This is insane,” you breathe out, and a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you take a few eager steps forward. You’re drawn to the railing at the edge of the mountain you’re standing on, where you can finally take in the full scope of the view. 

The landscape stretches far below, the trees barely reaching your height. The air feels lighter up here, and everything around you seems more vivid. This place would be beautiful to watch the sunrise. You can already picture it—the golden light slipping between the mountains, creating shadows on the trees below. It’s like a canvas, a moment you want to paint. 

It reminds you of the painting you lost for a second. You shake your head, snapping out of your thoughts as you turn around to face Wonwoo. At the same moment, you hear the sound of a picture being snapped, smiling when you see him with a camera in front of his eyes, taking pictures of you. “A memory,” he justifies. “And if you let me take you on a second date, too, then I’ll put the picture beside my bed,” he teases you, walking forward to join you. “So this is a first date?” You ask, chuckling when you see him averting his gaze. “If you want to call it that,” he shrugs, trying to be casual about it. 

“I can think of this as a first date, yeah.” 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

“Missed me?” 

You turn around when you hear the familiar voice and scoff. “Not really, no.” You turn your back to him again, thanking the waiter as you take a drink from his plate, trying to ignore the presence of another human being right behind you. “Oh, come on,” you can hear the smirk in his voice as he follows you, just like a puppy. You shake your head, glancing his way as he catches up to you, managing to get a drink for himself along the way. “I’m sure you keep thinking about me.” 

“You wish,” you retort. “Then maybe... you keep thinking about my painting, then.” You stop, staring him up and down. “Kim Mingyu, was it?” You ask as if you weren’t aware of who he was. “I’m not sure what experience you have with women, but I can assure you—just because you managed to steal one painting from me doesn’t mean you get a place in my mind. And definitely not my heart,” you fake a smile, and he chuckles, nodding. “I see. But it was enough for you to remember my name, huh?” 

He is unbelievable. Every bit of your body feels triggered when you speak to him, but still, you stay near him for some reason, unable to tell him to stop bothering you and leave. “It was a guess.” — “Yeah, right,” your name leaves his lips, and you have to gulp down. It still sounds as elegant as it did the first time he said your name out loud. 

“Well, m’lady, what are you looking for tonight?” Mingyu asks, following you to the auction hall. “I’d rather not disclose,” you turn him down casually, making his lips turn up into a smile. “Scared I’d go for the same art piece?” You stay quiet because you know he is right. You don’t want to go against him again. “Don’t worry, m’lady, I’m here just to observe tonight,” he leans down to your ear, assuring you. It makes a shiver run down your spine. “Good for you,” you try to sound calm, but you’re currently everything but that. 

As you sit down at one of the chairs, and he takes a place beside you, you rethink your whole conversation. Where did the nickname come from? And why did you have such mixed feelings about it? You felt confused. You were stunned when you felt the tickling in your stomach as he called you m’lady, but you also felt weird about it. You and Wonwoo have been going out now, and he had taken you out on some great dates, so you felt bad for him. You felt wrong about another man calling you nicknames like that.Obviously, you couldn’t say you have spent a lot of time with Wonwoo, or got to know him on a deeper level, but you had a feeling. Your intuition was telling you to go for it. 

“So? Which piece is it?” Mingyu nudges your shoulder, bringing you back to Earth. “What?” You ask confusedly, frowning. “What are you looking to get tonight,” he explains, glancing at the podium with all the things in today’s auction. “I think the vase looks quite nice, but I think you’ll like the flower painting more,” he comments, making you look towards the podium, too. “They are both nice,” you agree. “But in fact, I was thinking of a different painting. The abstract one on the right side. It’s mostly because of the colors.” He hums, and it feels like he’s zoning out, thinking about something. You don’t pay much attention to it, though. You didn’t come here to care about what’s going on through a man’s head. 

Throughout the rest of the auction, Mingyu stays quiet most of the time. He has stuff on his mind. Even a blind would notice that, but you don’t point it out. You’re too focused on the auction happening at the moment to be bothered with him. As long as he doesn’t annoy you, you don’t care what he does. 

“Yes!” You cheer quietly, making him look your way. “I got it,” you smile. “And for cheap.” He chuckles, shaking his head at you. “Good job,” he teases you, and you know he doesn’t mean it literally, but his words still get stuck in your head. 

Is Kim Mingyu trying to flirt with you, or are you just imagining things? 

“So, can we leave now?” 

“We?” You raise your eyebrows confusedly, but before he gets to answer, your phone goes off, causing everyone in the room to look in your direction. “Shit,” you mumble, pressing the decline button as fast as you can. Still, Mingyu catches the caller ID and frowns. Coffee guy <3 ?? Why would anyone name someone like that on their phone? “Tell me no one is looking at me right now,” you whine, staring down onto your lap. “I think everyone is staring,” he proclaims, making you slowly look up. You sigh when you notice everyone is busy with their own things and put your phone on do-not-disturb. 

“Was that your boyfriend?” He wonders. “None of your business,” you shut him down. You don’t intend to be Kim Mingyu’s friend. He’s weird, problematic, self-centered, tall, with tanned skin– No. You shake your head to interrupt your thoughts before they get the chance to go in the wrong direction. Kim Mingyu is problematic and self-centered. You repeat, looking back at the podium to keep your thoughts still. 

“Whatever you say, m’lady.” 

And you fail miserably. He throws you off with just one sentence, and you hate yourself for it. 

You run out before Mingyu can strike up a conversation with you again. You don’t know what his problem is, but you are certain you don’t want to deal with him now. So, instead, you pick up your phone and decide to call your coffee guy. 

“Hi,” you smile when he accepts your call immediately. “I’m sorry for hanging up on you earlier. I was busy,” you explain, but he only tells you not to worry about it. “It wasn’t something that couldn’t wait, don’t worry,” he assures you. “I was wondering if you don’t want to go out tomorrow, that’s all.” You pull the phone away from your ear for a second, checking today’s date as you head toward the taxi you ordered earlier. “Sorry, Wonwoo, I already got plans. And I’m working in the morning,” you apologize, sitting down in the backseat. 

“Actually,” you start, switching your phone from one hand to another so you can fasten your seatbelt. “Maybe you could come with me. My friend is having this party at his house to impress a girl or something. You could meet everyone I talk to when I don’t talk to you,” you chuckle awkwardly, greeting the taxi driver when your eyes meet in his rearview mirror. 

“Get to know your friends?” You notice the hesitation in his voice and panic. “You don’t have to, obviously! It was just a suggestion! If you don’t feel like socializing, it’s all good!” You assure him, shutting your eyes closed when you finish, regretting ever mentioning anything. “No, I’ll– I’ll come with you. I’m sorry if it sounded like I didn’t want to. I was just startled.” You breathe out in relief, opening your eyes again. “Of course, I’d love to meet your friends.” 

At the moment, you don’t pay any attention to his tone of voice anymore, but maybe you should have. It might have been for the better if you didn’t bring him with you, after all. 

Because while you smile on your way back home, Wonwoo, on the other side of the phone, is freaking out. He never intended for things to get this far—he shouldn’t be meeting your friends. That wasn’t the plan. 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

Wonwoo tenses when the loud music reaches his ears. He didn’t think people his age threw parties anymore, but he was dead wrong.

As he follows you inside, all he can think of is how bad of an idea this was. Befriending your friends was a terrible idea. What would be next? Hanging out with them in his free time? Talking about you with them? Being your plus-one at their birthday parties? He was fucked. 

He doesn’t even get a chance to think about what he was going to do when you drag him to a group of guys you notice immediately after stepping inside, insisting on wanting to greet them first. 

“You’re all early!” You grin, going in for a hug with your best friend. Seokmin wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tightly before his eyes land on the taller male behind you, a smile creeping up his lips as he lets you go. “And who might this be?” He asks even though he already knows. There wasn’t a conversation he had with you where Wonwoo hadn’t been brought up since you had gone on your first date with him. 

“Ah, I’m Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo. I guess I’m her…” he glances at you for some help, but you don’t know what to say either. He isn’t your boyfriend, but a friend sounds wrong, too. “Uhm, yeah,” he looks back at the three guys in front of him, nodding awkwardly as a small laugh leaves his lips. You’re cute. The helpless but excited look on your face you give him when your eyes locked with his is unforgettable. 

“I’m Seokmin, and I guess I’m her best friend,” Seokmin laughs with him, offering Wonwoo his hand. Soonyoung and Jihoon introduce themself shortly after, sending you teasing smiles immediately. You shake your head at them, wrapping your arm around Wonwoo’s to get his attention. “I’m going to find Hansol and get us something to drink. Wait here with them?” Your eyebrows raise in question, mostly asking him if he was okay with spending some time alone with the boys. 

In fact, he isn’t. He doesn’t want to give them a chance to see that there is something off about him, but he still nods for the sake of it all, letting you leave. 

You wander around the house, greeting people here and there that you recognize as Hansol’s friends until you reach the kitchen, where, to your luck, you find the man himself. “Vernon,” you smile, catching his attention. “How have you been?” You ask, walking over to pull him into a hug. “Hey,” he smiles, softly patting your back. “I’m good, except for the fact I haven’t seen Adel around yet,” he answers your question, taking a step back. “I’m sure she’ll come soon,” you smile back at him, leaning on his kitchen island. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” He asks and you nod, looking around to try and see what he has. “I’ve got your favorite champagne. What do you think?” He offers, and you can’t refuse. “Can I also get a beer?” — Hansol frowns, grabbing the bottle of champagne. “I wouldn’t drink both,” he advises. “I’m not stupid,” you remind him, thanking him as you take the champagne from him. “The beer is for Wonwoo. I don’t think he’d appreciate this much,” you laugh, grabbing a glass from his cabinet, along with one for Wonwoo. “Wonwoo?” Hansol raises his eyebrow teasingly, pointing towards the pipe with beer so you can pour it yourself. “You’re not the only one planning to get a partner tonight,” you answer simply, laughing as you walk away. 

Wonwoo, on the other hand, is finally relaxing as he engages in a conversation with your friends. “You make her happy, I’m glad,” Seokmin smiles, looking around to assure himself you aren’t anywhere near them. “She cannot stop talking about you. It gets to the point where it’s annoying,” he complains, and Soonyoung immediately agrees. Wonwoo laughs, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Hopefully, they are all good things.” 

“Some of them are nice, yeah,” Soonyoung nods, then glares at the older male. “But some…” — “Don’t pay attention to him,” Jihoon interrupts him. “He’s just teasing you,” he shakes his head at his friend. “Yeah, but if you do one bad thing,” Seokmin warns him, staring him down. Wonwoo swallows a lump in his throat. It’s not like he was scared of them. Heck, he could lean on Jihoon’s head if he wanted to, but he feels awful. Because honestly, you don’t deserve anything bad in your life. 

“I don’t want to hurt her,” he proclaims, catching both Seokmin and Soonyoung off guard. Jihoon, though, doesn’t seem much shaken by his statement. He’s smiling at Wonwoo as if he was proud. “I mean– that’s good. You shouldn’t hurt her,” Seokmin nods, glancing at his friends as he tries to find the words he wants. “Well, in that case, what are you still waiting for?” Soonyoung asks, making Wonwoo frown. “I’m sorry?” 

“When are you going to ask her to be your girlfriend? We’ve all been waiting. I don’t think she will shut up about you otherwise,” he explains, prompting him. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“That’s–” A great question, actually. Something he should have definitely expected to come from them. Of course they wanted to know what his intentions with their friend were. But the truth was, he didn’t know if he could ask you to be his girlfriend. It would only get things messy. It would be for the best if he just did his part as quickly as possible and then disappeared from your life before he could hurt you any more than he already has. 

“You look like you’re about to faint.” — Wonwoo sighs when he hears the female voice behind him, coming to save him. “Are these guys giving you trouble?” This time, it’s a different tone. There are two of them, he realizes. He turns around to see who is behind him, but before he can question the girls’ identities, Soonyoung pulls the slightly taller one into a hug while the other girl greets Seokmin and Jihoon. 

“We are nice to him, don’t worry, Adel,” Seokmin laughs, but her frown makes it obvious that she doesn’t believe him. “Just making sure he knows whose side we’re on,” he grins. “And who exactly is this lovely guy whose life you are making so much harder?” The taller girl asks when she steps back from her boyfriend and greets his two friends. “Jeon Wonwoo,” he introduces himself, sending a soft smile toward the two girls. 

“Ah, I see,” she laughs. “I’m Hanni. Soonyoung’s girlfriend.” — “And I’m Adel,” the shorter one introduces herself, too, before glancing around the room. “Have you guys seen Hansol anywhere? I promised him I’ll come meet him right when I arrive.” 

“I’ll help you find him,” Wonwoo offers, immediately taking his chance for an escape. He just needs to find you and get away from any more of the guys’ questions, and it will be all okay again. “Alright, I’ll see you guys later.” Jihoon nods toward her, sending a smile toward Wonwoo too, to let him know it was okay. He could sense the tension in him, the need for an escape. He couldn’t blame him, honestly. 

Eventually, it’s you who finds the two of them. “Hansol is in the kitchen,” you inform Adel, and she thanks you, leaving the two of you alone and going to find him. “I hope you’re okay with a beer,” you say, handing Wonwoo the drink you got him. “Definitely,” he assures you. “What did you get?” He wonders, glancing at the glass in your hand. “Champagne,” you smile, offering him a sip. “I’m good, thanks,” he shakes his head, smiling back at you. “Hansol said he’ll hide the whole bottle for me, so I have tonight’s drinks secured,” you grin, making him chuckle. “How about we get you that bottle then and go somewhere quieter? There’s too many people for my taste,” he suggests, looking around the room to prove his point. People were everywhere. 

“Yeah…Yeah, of course!” You nod, trying to think of a place to go. “Come with me for the bottle then. If we catch Hansol, I can ask him if we can chill out in his room for a bit.” — “Thank you,” he whispers, still smiling. You shake your head, saying it’s not a big deal. 

Vernon doesn’t seem to have any objections, but you are certain that’s only because he is too busy talking to the girl he likes. Still, you don’t waste your opportunity and grab the champagne bottle before leading Wonwoo to the bedroom. 

Wonwoo sits down on the bed, placing the glass of beer on the floor beside his leg while you close the door, making him immediately sigh in relief when the music damps. He watches your every movement as you place the bottle of champagne along with your glass on the closest table you see before turning your attention to him again. You bite your bottom lip, hesitating as you look him up and down. You take careful steps forward until you reach him, stopping right in front of him. He breathes out your name, and it sends shivers down your spine. “Is it…okay for me to sit down?” Wonwoo frowns in confusion at first, but when he notices your eyes on his lap, he gulps down hard, hesitantly nodding. 

You sit yourself on him, fixing his hair as you gaze into his eyes. At the moment, Wonwoo forgets about everything he promised himself before he met you, unable to resist you when you’re this close to him. His body moves before he can think of anything else, pulling you closer by the waist so he can press his lips on yours. One of his hands grips your waist while he takes off his glasses with the other, trying to think of the beer next to his leg so he doesn’t accidentally kick it down. 

You gently push him down onto the bed, your fingers wandering over his clothed chest while your mouths explore one another, and for a second, you think life couldn’t be any better. That’s only until his phone rings though. “Mhm, wait,” he whines into the kiss, searching for his phone in his pocket. You place a kiss on his jaw instead, glancing at his phone to see who is calling. 

Wonwoo turns his phone off before you can see anything, throwing it to the side as his hands cup your face and he brings your lips back to his. “Who was that?” You ask between kisses. “Friend,” he mumbles back. “I’ll call him in a bit.” You can’t have any complaints when he kisses you so nicely, so you don’t say anything else and let yourself enjoy the moment. 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

“Good night,” Wonwoo smiles, and it melts your heart. “Good night, Wonwoo,” you smile back at him, letting go of his hand as you step inside your apartment. There’s nothing but love in your eyes, and it makes his heart ache. “I’ll text you later,” he assures you. He hesitates for a second but eventually steps closer to you again, pulling you into a warm embrace. You wrap your hands around his waist, burying your head in his chest. “Get home safe.” 

When you close the door behind yourself, Wonwoo sighs and takes out his phone, dialing his friend’s number. 

“Where have you been?” He asks impatiently, and Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “Hello to you too, Mingyu,” he greets him, putting his empty hand in the pocket of his jacket as he leaves the apartment building. “I was with her until now, sorry. She took me to her friend’s party,” he explains, making Mingyu frown. It was obvious what girl he was talking about. “You met up with her friends?” He questions, and Wonwoo can already guess what direction this conversation will take. “Okay, look. I don’t think I can continue,” Wonwoo admits, and Mingyu falls silent. “What?” 

“I just…” he starts, but before he can think of the right words, Mingyu speaks up again. “You actually fell for her, didn’t you?” Mingyu scoffs. “You’re unbelievable.” — “Look, it’s not as simple as you think it is. It’s only normal to like someone you’ve been forced to spend so much time with,” Wonwoo argues. “You are the one who got me into this situation.” 

“I got you into this situation?” Mingyu repeats his words with nothing but disgust. “I’ve asked you to get to know her and find her weaknesses, not to go on fucking dates with her and fall for her!” — “I’m hanging up if you want to yell at me,” Wonwoo states, the grip he has on his phone only tightening as he starts getting angry. 

“Sorry,” Mingyu mumbles, leaning back in his chair as he tries to think of what to do next. “So you really won’t do it?” Wonwoo sighs. “I can’t.” What was so good about you? Mingyu wonders. His best friend wasn’t one to fall for just anyone, so there must be something about you. He just couldn’t figure out what it was. Sure, you were pretty and smart. That was something he couldn’t take away from you, but that couldn’t be it, right? “Alright, I’ll do it on my own,” Mingyu sighs, glancing at his opened laptop. “Can you disappear off the scene for a bit?” 

Wonwoo hesitates. He wants to take a step back and calm himself because he knows he can’t actually be with you, but giving Mingyu a free hand scares him. He doesn’t want to see you break apart because of his friend. “What are you planning?” 

“I’m going to befriend her. See if she lets me get closer, and then I’ll figure out something else.” — “Two weeks,” Wonwoo proclaims. “Two weeks, what?” Mingyu asks confusedly. “I’ll leave for two weeks and let you do whatever, but… when I come back, I don’t want to play your game anymore, Gyu. If she wants to be with me, then I want to go for it. Right now, that’s more important to me than any money or stupid art pieces you want.” 

Two weeks. That’s all he gets. Wonwoo won’t give him any more than that.

But two weeks is something Kim Mingyu can work with. 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

It was shortly after your third auction when Mingyu sat in his bedroom, trying his hardest not to yell at his girlfriend. 

“Listen, you might think she is just some cheap chick that doesn’t know a shit about money, but I’m telling you, you’re wrong,” he repeats himself. “She knows what’s up.” 

“Oh, come on! No woman is as good as you!” Mingyu frowns when those words leave his girlfriend’s mouth. He always knew she wanted to kiss his ass whenever she got the chance, but now a part of him just felt disgusted. “We don’t have to go through any extra work just because of some slut, right?” You are a slut. The words stop at the tip of his tongue and he has to close his eyes for a second to calm himself. 

It felt funny hearing that from someone as his girlfriend. If it wasn’t for her ability to get into any man’s pants, he wouldn’t be keeping her around anymore. “We do,” he states simply, getting up from his bed with a sigh. She wasn’t there so she wouldn’t know but he saw it, the way you talked, and how all the men around were falling to their knees for you. One wrong move on his side and you could have all his opponents wrapped around your finger. He couldn’t let that happen. 

“Yeah, and what do you want me to do, huh?” Her voice gets louder, and it makes him annoyed. It wasn’t anything new, her voice always bothered him, but for her to have the audacity to raise her voice at him now? She must have gone mad. 

“I don’t fucking know. Eat her out for all I care. Just do what you always do. I’m not buying you expensive shit for you to just sit around and do nothing,” Mingyu tries to stay calm, refusing to fall so low and yell at a woman even though the girl in front of him makes him want to rip out his hair. 

“I can’t play with a woman!” She complains, making Mingyu groan. “For fucks sake, you just can’t do anything, huh?” He runs his fingers through his black hair, trying to think of a plan. “Well, then, it’s great you can do so much!” His girlfriend yells back at him, and Mingyu finally snaps. “Out.” His voice is strong, sending shivers down her spine. “What?” She blinks a few times, suddenly falling quiet. “Get the fuck out of my house. I’m done with you.” 

“Wait– What–What do you mean?” Her voice shakes, and she has to gulp down when she notices his stare. His eyes are full of hate, more than they were ever before. She would be stupid to think Mingyu ever loved her—or even felt anything romantic toward her—but she liked being around him nonetheless and knew Mingyu appreciated her company from time to time, too. Now, though, there wasn’t anything that could convince her Kim Mingyu didn’t hate her with his whole body. 

“You finally hit the final string. I’m done with you,” he explains, not bothering with saying anything else as his head tilts towards the door, telling her to leave. 

Mingyu sighed when he was alone again, lying down on his bed. The sudden silence was new to him, but it helped his thoughts to get running so he didn’t mind. He knew he couldn’t just track you down and try to get closer to you to do the job on his own. You would be an idiot to let him in. So, what else could he do? 

Then it hit him. He quickly sat up, searching for his phone with his eyes. When he finally found it, it took him less than a few seconds to dial his friend’s number. “Hey, Wonwoo, do you think you could come over today?” 

And that was how it all started in the first place. The plotting, the tracking down, all the effort Mingyu put in to figure out the things you like so he could give his best friend the perfect info. Even Minghao. Mingyu thought of it all. While one of his friends got closer to you in your free time, his other friend interrogated your workspace. 

It was perfect. He’s got it all covered. There was no way his plan could fail. He was taking you down. 

Until Wonwoo hit him with the call, and everything fell apart again. 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

The following morning, the first thing you did was reach for your phone so you could text Wonwoo. 

You rub your eyes, trying to get them to focus properly as you open the chat with him, your eyes widening when you notice you have a new message. You smile when you see the text, but it fades away again when you read what it says. “What the fuck are you sorry for so early in the morning?” You sit up, hoping this is still just a part of your dream. “You’re kidding me,” you breathe out, pressing the call button and bringing your phone up to your ear. 

“Good morning,” Wonwoo greets you nervously, and you can almost see the way he rubs the back of his neck. “Not exactly a good morning,” you proclaim, waiting for a further explanation. “I’m sorry,” he breathes out. “I forgot about it, and the guys texted me yesterday asking if I was already packed. I couldn’t tell them I am not going.” 

“Don’t you think the timing is a bit insane?” You call him out, scoffing when he can’t say anything in his defense. “And what the fuck is with the message in the first place? I’m sorry. I won’t be able to see you in the next two weeks?” You recite to him what he said. “That’s all I get after everything?” 

“I swear it has nothing to do with what happened yesterday. I– I like you a lot. And I don’t want to leave, not now, but I have to.” 

“What if I don’t believe you?” — “Sweetheart…” he starts, and it makes your heart ache. “Don’t sweetheart me when you left me a fucking message about leaving without any further explanation right after we kissed for the first time.” Wonwoo sighs. He knows he is wrong for doing this, but it’s better than cooperating with Mingyu on his plan to take you down. He can’t do that to you. So he chose the safer choice, even if it might hurt you a bit. 

You sigh as well. “You wouldn’t have called me if I didn’t, would you? You would just leave after one text and not speak to me after, right?” — “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, and it hits you even more when you know you’re right. “Alright,” you nod. “Have fun with your friends.” 

“Wait, no, don’t leave just like that,” he tries to stop you. “Are you kidding me now? You are the one trying to leave just like that! If you don’t want anything to do with me, just say it. No need to hide behind your friends for it.” He wants to explain everything to you, say that he is doing it for your own good, but he can’t. So he stays silent, trying to figure out a different excuse. You don’t give him the benefit of the doubt anymore, though, and when he doesn’t say anything to prove you wrong, you hang up on him. 

You receive a few more texts from him afterward but decide to ignore them. You need space, and the two weeks he decided to take off from you sound like a perfect idea now. 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that,” Seokmin tries to assure you as he walks down the stairs from your loft. “And I am certain he did,” you retort, waiting for him. “Remember how I disappeared for a week when we had that argument?” He reminds you, and you frown. “That’s different.” 

“I don’t think it is,” he shakes his head. “You can’t just stop talking to him because he forgot he planned a trip with his friends.” — “It’s not about the trip,” you argue. “We kissed the night before,” you admit, making Seokmin’s eyes widen. “You what?!” He yells, following you to the door. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I wanted to let it sit for a bit, figure out if it’s what I want,” you answer, sighing as you put on your shoes. “I thought I did, but now I’m hesitating again.” Seokmin leans against the wall as he puts his boots on, trying to find the right words. “Do you like being with him?” — “Yeah,” you nod, sighing when you meet your best friend’s eyes. “And do you want to be with him?” That question is when you hesitate. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I like him and spending time with him, but I’m not sure if what I felt when we kissed was right.” 

You thought kissing him was right, that you were meant to be, but the more you think about the night, the more unsure you feel. In the heat of the moment, you didn’t notice it, but you doubt you felt anything at all. You missed the touch of another human being, and you loved the kiss, but you couldn’t say it would make any difference if it was someone else that night. 

“There’s something good that comes from this trip of his, though,” you say as you walk out of your apartment, Seokmin following you immediately. “I have two weeks now to figure out what I feel. We’ll see if I miss him.” You want to miss him. You want to feel something for him, but a part of you knows you won’t. He had lost you the moment he thought a simple text was all he needed. 

“Can we stop talking about him now? I just want to get breakfast with my best friend and then get to work. Maybe I’ll feel better when Chan yells at me,” You laugh, but Seokmin doesn’t find it funny at all. “Let’s get something good,” he smiles anyway, hoping to make you feel better. “It’s on me today.” 

You and your best friend end up in the same café you’ve been going to for the past month. When the barista asks you if you want your usual, it makes you wonder if you’ve been spending too much on coffee lately. “Can we also get two of those sandwiches, please?” The lady opposite you nods, clicking on a few things on the digital cash register before her before she moves to grab those for you. 

“The handsome guy isn’t with you today?” She wonders as she hands you the two sandwiches along with the two cups of coffee you ordered. Before you can answer her, Seokmin is nudging you out of the way so he can talk instead. “I don’t think he is all that. Honestly, I’m way prettier.” The barista chuckles, nodding. “Of course you are,” she encourages him before telling him the total so he could pay. “Oh god,” you shake your head at him, laughing as you leave the counter and try to find a table. 

“I hope she didn’t think I’m your new date,” Seokmin frowns, sitting at the table in the furthest corner of the café. “Oh, that would be terrible,” you nod, but it’s obvious you’re making fun of him. He rolls his eyes at you, taking his coffee and sandwich from you. “Yeah, it would! You would block my chance of getting any girl, ever.” 

“You’re being dramatic,” you scoff. “And don’t tell me you couldn’t get any girl you want.” — “You’d be surprised,” he mumbles, and all of a sudden, you feel bad for him. “Are we starting an operation ‘get Seokmin a date’?” You suggest, making him laugh as he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll shoot my shot once I find someone I like,” he assures you. “You should worry about yourself now. You were so close to finally getting laid, and now–” You glare at him before he can finish his sentence, making him close his mouth. The teasing look he gives you makes it impossible for you to keep a straight face though, so you end up laughing again. 

“I love you, Min,” you smile. “Sorry—I don’t feel the same way,” he apologizes, with the fakest sad face possible to prove his point, and you know you will never find a better best friend than him. “I love you too, kiddo,” he teases you again, making it sound as if he was years older than you. You shake your head, sipping on your coffee. 

When you get into your office, and Chan isn’t already waiting for you, you feel something is off. For a minute, you wonder if Seokmin didn’t call your assistant and say something to him, but he proves you wrong when your phone rings, flashing you with your assistant’s ID. 

“Yeah?” You ask when you pick up the phone. “Good morning,” he greets you first, glancing at the male in front of him. “I know you have a lot on your plate right now, but do you think you could take on another project?” Another one? At this point, you might go crazy. You already feel behind on everything. You shouldn’t take on anything else. “What kind of project?” You ask anyway, relaxing in your chair as you open your laptop to see all the deadlines you have for now. Chan covers the phone’s microphone for a second, but you can still hear muffled voices as he repeats your question to the new (possible) client. 

“Apparently, he wants you to design the interior for his parents’ living room and kitchen. As a present,” Chan answers, already knowing you won’t refuse that. “Alright,” you sigh. “Send him up, and I’ll see what I can do.” 

“You’re kidding me,” you mumble when you see no one else but Kim Mingyu himself walk through your office door, your assistant right behind him. “Good morning to you, too,” he grins. “I can sit down here, right?” He points at the chair opposite you, not waiting for your reply as he pulls it away from the table to take a seat. Chan’s eyes flicker between the two of you, trying his hardest to figure out what’s going on. “You two…know each other?” He guesses, raising his eyebrows in confusion when you send him a glare. He quickly raises his hands into the air, unsure of what the tension in the room is supposed to mean. He wasn’t one of your exes or something, was he? 

“You could say we do,” Mingyu nods, glancing at your assistant and sending him a smile. “I’m just gonna…yeah,” Chan runs away before he can get himself into any trouble, leaving you alone. You sigh, taking a deep breath before you smile at the black-haired male opposite you. “I heard you want me to design two rooms for your parents?” 

“Well, of course!” He chuckles. “Could I get a paper?” You frown in confusion, reaching for a blank paper on your table and passing it to him. “And a pen,” he adds when you hand him a paper alone. “Thought that was obvious.” — You roll your eyes at him, grabbing your pen and giving it to him. “Look, if you are just here to make me waste my time, you can leave now,” you sigh, watching him doodle something on the paper. “I’m not here to waste your time. I really want you to do this,” he proclaims, sparing you a mare glance before he stares down at the paper again, continuing his drawing. 

You sit in silence for a few minutes, shaking your head at how unbelievable he is while he continues drawing something without saying anything. You consider working on one of your projects while he sits there, but push the thought aside when your eyes land on him again. You just can’t comprehend what he’s doing. Why would he come into your office, saying he has work for you, and then just sit there and do nothing? 

“Okay, I’m done,” Mingyu proclaims, making you look up. “What?” You ask confusedly, blinking a few times to comprehend what he is trying to show you. “The house plans,” he explains, placing the piece of paper in front of you. “I don’t have the original house plans on me since this is supposed to be a surprise. So, I drew it.” 

You think your mind might have frozen for a second. Your eyes widen when you glance down and see what he drew. It looked just like any other house plan. And the fact he just whipped that out as if it was nothing? “Are you an architect? No one is this good without a ruler or anything but paper and pen,” you really try to understand how he did it, but it’s impossible. You are certain none of the architects you know could do this. “I’m not,” he shrugs. “Just an ordinary cook, m’lady,” he smirks, excited that he could impress you. 

“You are not an ordinary cook, I can tell you that.” Mingyu laughs, shaking his head at you. “I did have an interest in engineering before, though.” — “Ah,” you breathe out, nodding. “That’s why you’re insane,” you proclaim, excusing his behavior as if it explained everything. “I’m not insane,” he frowns. You glance at him again, raising your eyebrows to show him you disagree with his statement. “Do you want me to be insane, though? I could.” You sigh when he ruins the moment, just like he always does when he talks to you. “Shut up, and rather tell me what you want me to do.” Mingyu chuckles, his head falling down as he shakes his head. “You’re no fun, sweetheart.” 

You don’t say anything to that, refusing to play this game with him. You know what he wants to hear, but you won’t give it to him. “Alright, alright,” he starts, trying to get serious again, but the smile on his face makes you doubt if he can. “I’m thinking of something cozy. Right now, I feel like my mom is going to bump into something every time she turns around in the kitchen, so something more open would be great,” he gets into a zone as he starts explaining to you how his parents’ house looks, pulling out his phone to show you some pictures. You’re not sure if he didn’t want to just flex though when you see the pictures of him in nothing but grey sweatpants and an apron. 

He tells you everything about what he has in mind, giving you a perfect idea of how the finished project should look by the time he finishes. “Okay, I can do that,” you nod, officially accepting his deal. “With this much information, it shouldn’t take long.” — “Take your time,” he shakes his head. “How much do you charge for consultation and the project itself?” 

“It varies. I can’t tell you the exact price yet,” you answer, writing down a few notes under Mingyu’s drawing of the house, making sure you remember everything the two of you talked about. “Alright, in that case, once you know the final price, just double it and send me the check, okay?” You frown, looking up at him. “What are you talking about?” 

“I guess you could say I’m giving you a hundred percent tip,” he shrugs as if it wasn’t a big deal. “But if you want a different tip, don’t hesitate to ask,” he smirks. You decide to ignore his comment. “I don’t need your money,” you remind him, but that doesn’t seem to budge with him even a bit. “You do,” he argues. “I’m giving you an advantage.” 

 “A what?” You raise your eyebrow confusedly. What was up with Kim Mingyu and his skill of confusing you? “So that the next time we go against each other in an auction, you have enough money to play a little longer,” he smirks, making you scoff. “Thanks, but no thanks,” you retort, annoyed. He shakes his head at you with a smile, standing up. You feel small all of a sudden when he does. It’s not only his height but also the way he stares at you—he makes you feel small. 

You stand up too but it doesn’t help much. Screw you, Kim Mingyu, and your tall ass. “Before I leave, can I get your number?” He asks, chuckling when he notices the look you give him. Honestly, you are cute when you try to stare him down as if he wasn’t towering over you. “I need a way to contact you about the project, you know,” he explains the reasoning behind his question, and you can’t say anything to that. “Don’t you have it already? I wouldn’t be surprised since you tracked down my office so well.” 

“I was just lucky,” he shrugs. “It’s not my fault my friend keeps going on and on about how great you did when designing his house.” A friend of his? “Minghao really likes what you did for his studio,” he praises you, and you finally connect the dots. Mr. Xu. “I–I see,” you stutter, feeling embarrassed immediately. Why on Earth would you stutter in front of him of all people? “You can tell him that I also enjoyed working with him.” Mingyu nods. “I will. Hopefully, you’ll say the same about me when we’re done,” he teases you with a playful wink. “I don’t think I will,” you grin, making him laugh. 

“Alright, my number is on the card,” you proclaim, handing him your business card. “But don’t use it for your personal enjoyment,” you warn him, but it’s as if you didn’t say anything when you wake up to five new messages the following morning from no one else but your new client Mingyu. 

“He’s kidding me,” you whine, rolling to the other side of your bed. You stare at your phone, debating if it’s better to answer or ignore him. Eventually, you decide on the latter. 

“You look…” Chan starts, trying to find the right words so he wouldn’t make you even angrier than you already were. “Annoyed?” He settled for the least offensive adjective that came to his mind, placing your coffee in front of you as you gazed into your laptop, too occupied with work to even look at him. You shake your head, blinking a few times when you sense his presence, questioning what he was doing. “I’m sorry, did you say something?” 

“Are you okay?” He asks simply, making you sigh. “Do you want to talk about it?” You think for a second, eventually moving your laptop aside and pulling the cup of coffee he brought you closer. “Okay, yeah, I’ll take my break now if you actually want to hear about it.” — “Of course I want to,” he assures you. “I’m not only your assistant but also your friend.” 

You love your friends a tiny bit more every time you speak to them. A part of you always thinks you don’t deserve them when they are this nice to you. 

“I didn’t tell you about Wonwoo, did I?” You make sure you start with the right thing, figuring out the answer is no when he gives you a confused look. “Well, you know we’ve been going out, right? A few days ago, we kissed for the first time,” you explain, and his eyes widen in surprise as he leans back onto the couch. “And I thought it was great! We were good and all, but then he texted me while I was asleep,” you sigh, getting irritated again just thinking of the message. “All he said was that he is sorry, but he won’t see me for the next two weeks. No explanation, no nothing. He couldn’t even bother with calling me or something! Instead, I woke up to that.” 

“That sucks,” Chan says, his tone understanding. “I get why you’d be upset. He could’ve told you earlier. And if he really forgot about it, he still could have at least called or stopped by when he was leaving.”

“Exactly!” You exclaim, feeling relieved that he gets it. “Thank you.”

“So, I called him,” you continue, “just to ask what the hell was going on.” Chan nods, following along. “And he couldn’t even explain himself. I asked him straight up if he even wanted to be with me, and he couldn’t answer. So, I hung up, and we haven’t spoken since,” you shake your head with a sigh. “He texted me a few times after that, but it was just him repeating how sorry he was, so I ignored it. Seokmin thinks I should call him, and see what he’s up to, but honestly, I feel like that would just make me look pathetic.”

“You wouldn’t be pathetic,” he assures you. “But I get what you mean. I think you shouldn’t be the one putting in the effort again when he doesn’t give you the same in return. Leave it up to him and see if he reaches out.” 

“What if we never talk again then, though?” You bit the inside of your cheek, your voice merely above whisper, almost as if you didn’t want him to hear. “Then it wasn’t meant to be,” Chan answers honestly, and even though you know he is right, it feels like someone stabbed you in the back. 

“When did this happen?” He carefully asks when you don’t say anything after. “He left two days ago,” you answer, sighing. You’re tired of it all, honestly. “I thought I could work to make my mind get off things, but it’s not working like I would want it to. I feel so much pressure, and it puts a block in my head or something.” 

“How about you relax tonight?” Chan suggests. “Should I take you out? Call everyone and see if they can hang out?” You think about it, eventually agreeing with him. When you are about to open your mouth again and thank him, your phone buzzes, and you grit your teeth as you take a deep breath when you notice who it is from. “And as if all of this wasn’t enough, I have this guy on my back all the time,” you whine, turning your phone around so you wouldn’t have to look at it. 

“Who is that?” He wonders, trying to think of a way to make you feel better.  “Mingyu,” you state, watching your assistant as he tries to keep track of all the names in his head. It’s obvious what he is thinking about when you look at him, and you admire him for his ability to have most of your clients’ names remembered. It was partly why you hired him in the first place. He has a good memory for names and can almost immediately connect people to projects when you talk about it. 

“He also attends auctions, so we met a few times,” you explain. “And then, apparently, since Mr. Xu talked about me so much, he thought it would be nice to ask me to design his parents’ house for him, too.” — “I’m not sure what his deal is, though,” you add, making Chan raise his brows in anticipation. “I don’t know, he just keeps trying to be around me, you know. It’s as if he is trying to get closer to me for some reason. He’s taking every chance he gets to talk to me. He is like a puppy.” 

“Before you say anything,” you warn him, making him laugh as he shuts his mouth again. “I know I usually find that attractive, but that’s when I’m interested. I can’t say that about him. Plus, in his case, I doubt he even means it in that way,” you explain, making sure he doesn’t get the wrong idea. “I mean, sure,” you start again, and Chan scoffs, knowing you are about to refute exactly what you just said. “He does call me by nicknames, but that doesn’t mean he wants me. He just wants to annoy me.” — “Mhm,” Chan hums, laughing. “I’m serious!” You complain. “Let’s just stop talking about it,” you stop him before he can say anything. “About tonight, should I call the guys?” 

“So we are in for it?” He asks, and you nod, smiling at him. “Yeah, it’ll be fun.”

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

He just can’t leave you alone, can he? 

You sigh when you see Mingyu’s phone number flash on your screen again, this time with a call. You wish you could just decline the call and block his number, but since you are now working for him, you can’t just do that. You hate not being able to win this battle. 

There might be something you hate even more, though. You are not sure anymore if it’s even him you have such a problem with. Maybe, possibly, it’s actually the fact he does everything you wish Wonwoo did. You want him to call you, text you, ask you how you are, just talk to you somehow, but he doesn’t do any of it, and you hate it. You hate Wonwoo, you hate Kim Mingyu, but mostly, you hate yourself for thinking about Wonwoo so much when he doesn’t even care. 

You don’t need him to chase after you—you wouldn’t want that even. But you want to see some effort. You want to know he likes you as much as you like him so you can feel secure. But instead, you feel scared. Scared that he is just going to disappear from your life without a word. 

Maybe he already has. 

Maybe your kiss was actually a goodbye. 

“Yes?” You ask, and Mingyu laughs into your ear. “You don’t have to sound so frustrated because I’m calling you,” he says, leaning back in his chair to make himself comfortable. “Alright, Mingyu, care to tell me what you need before I hang up on you?” 

“Calm down, sweetheart, no need to go that far now.” The snicker that leaves his lips makes you roll your eyes. You just can’t figure out what his deal is. “You didn’t answer any of my messages. I waited for you in the café, but you never showed up.” — “I had work,” you lie. “No, you didn’t. You don’t start work at 7,” he argues, so you try to come up with another excuse. “I don’t, you’re right. I was asleep at 7, and then when I woke up, I went to work right away.” 

“Why are you trying to lie to me? It’s not working,” he proclaims, enjoying the situation a little too much to your liking. He sounds like a stalker. “And why do you care so much? Isn’t it my thing when and what I do? Also, I told you not to call me for your personal stuff, so what are you doing?” — “Well, I had to know if you are okay, obviously. Since you weren’t answering my messages, there was no other way. What if something happened to you and I would have to find a new interior designer?” 

He has an excuse for everything, doesn’t he? 

“Okay, so, let’s say I start answering your texts sometimes. Will you not call me anymore then?” You ask, and Mingyu doesn’t hesitate at all as he agrees, holding onto the chance you gave him once again. 

Always. 

He always finds a way. 

“Then I’m hanging up now,” you proclaim, already taking the phone away from your ear when he yells at you to wait. “If it’s another–” He doesn’t let you finish when he hits you with another question, “What are you doing tonight? Do you want to grab dinner with me since you ditched me for breakfast?” He offers, making your eyes widen. Are you crazy, or is Kim Mingyu actually hitting on you? “I’m busy,” you brush him off. “With?” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath before you speak again. “That is none of your business,” you state. You know as much isn’t enough for him, though, so you continue. “I’m going out with friends.” 

“I could tag along,” he offers, even though he knows he is overdoing it with it. He just needs to use up the time he has in the best way possible. “Definitely not,” you reject him, quickly hanging up before he can say anything else. If he continues like this, the only thing that might help you is going to be a restraining order. 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

Your laugh fills the room as Hansol hits his head on your ceiling. Adel, next to you, laughs along, covering her mouth as a snort leaves her lips, her eyes widening in embarrassment as she laughs even harder. “Oh, shut up!” He complains, holding his head as he sits back on your bed, glaring at everyone laughing. “Happened to me the first time I was over, too,” Soonyoung cackles. “Can’t relate to that,” Jihoon says, and in that moment, Hanni can’t hold herself back anymore either, bursting out into laughter as well. 

“I’ll go for the drinks instead,” you shake your head, still laughing as you get up from your bed, walking past everyone and then down the stairs to your kitchen. “I’ll help,” Seokmin joins you, sending one more snicker in Hansol’s way before he runs down to you. 

“Are you okay?” Your best friend asks, opening your fridge to take out more cokes while you grab a bag of chips and whiskey. “Yeah,” you nod, smiling. “I’m having fun. And Mingyu hasn’t texted me since I refused to go to dinner with him. Maybe he decided to leave me alone,” you laugh, but you know it’s only funny to you because you know that’s definitely not the case. “Mingyu as in the Mingyu?” — “Yes. The Kim Mingyu,” you answer, but it sounds like a mockery in your voice unlike when Seokmin said it. “I’m designing something for him, and since he got my number, he keeps bombarding my phone with messages,” you explain. 

“I…see,” he nods confusedly, the grimace on his face giving it away that he is thinking about something. “What is it?” You ask, leaning on your kitchen counter, knowing your friends won’t see you up as quickly as you thought. “I’m just…didn’t you say he looked like he was playing some mind game with you when you first met him?” Right. The first auction where you faced him. It was so long ago—still, you hate that he stole your painting from you. “What if he is doing the same now?” You shake your head, stopping him before he can say more. “It’s fine if he is,” you assure him. “I don’t care what he does. If he wants to flirt with me, then be it, but he isn’t going to get me to do the same. So, he can play whatever games he wants because I’m not going to get hurt by him.” 

“If you say so,” Seokmin nods, his uncertain tone of voice giving away that he doesn’t exactly believe what you said. “Let’s go back up before Hansol decides to go find us and hits himself again,” he laughs, making it impossible for you to keep a straight face. “Hey! I can hear you!” You laugh even harder when you hear Hansol’s voice, falling into Seokmin’s chest to calm yourself down. He pats your back when you do, the coldness of the drinks in his hands making you straighten your back immediately, a whine leaving your lips as you send a glare toward him. He chuckles, shaking his head as he walks out of your kitchen corner, going up into your bedroom again.

“So,” Jihoon clears his throat, exchanging a look with the others before turning his head toward you again, making you raise an eyebrow in question as you place the bottle of whiskey on your bedside table. “Mingyu, we’ve heard?” He asks, and you immediately glare Chan’s way, knowing it must have been him who told them about him. “No,” you shut down the conversation before it can even start. “For the hundredth time, whatever the fuck goes through his mind, isn’t my problem, and I do not care about him in the slightest,” you assure them, but you know Soonyoung doesn’t believe you a bit when he hums as he shares a glance with Adel. 

“I’m sure she would tell us if there was anything,” Hanni takes your side, sending you a warm smile. “But since I do not care about what he does, there is nothing to tell,” you nod, taking a seat on your bed again. “Enough about guys, though. They suck anyway,” you proclaim as if your group of friends didn’t consist mostly of guys. 

You’re happy with how things are, though. You can’t imagine your friend group anyhow differently. They make you laugh and are there for you all the time. What more could you want? 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

You wake up to your phone lighting up with new notifications. You roll over to the order side of your bed, slowly forcing your eyes open as you look at your phone. You groan, opening the chat with one of your clients. You debate on blocking him. Maybe you should. It would make your life a lot easier. But as you try to click on the three dots next to his name, you accidentally miss, and press the call button instead. You sigh when he picks up the phone immediately, bringing it to your ear. 

“Why exactly do you want to grab breakfast with me?” You ask, and he chuckles at how tired you sound. “Do I need a reason?” 

“Yes. Yes, you do.” 

“In that case, I want to talk about how the project has been doing,” he reasons. You rub your eyes, glancing at the time on your phone. “That can wait until my working hours,” you argue. “Can’t I just see you then? Why do I need a reason?” 

“You’re unbelievable, Kim Mingyu.” 

“Thank you,” your name rolls off his tongue, the echoing sound shaking in your ears. 

“Okay, when and where?” You finally give in, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he tells you the location of the same café you’ve been a regular in. “Give me fifty minutes,” you tell him, hanging up right after and closing your eyes again. Maybe if you just give him what he wants, he’ll leave you alone. 

“Good morning,” you smile at the barista, looking around the café to see if Mingyu is already there. When you lock eyes with him, he doesn’t hesitate to get up from his place and join you at the front of the line. You scoff quietly, asking the lady opposite you for a cup of iced coffee, as always. “Run it on my card,” he says, handing you his card. “I can pay for myself,” you remind him, but he just brushes you off. 

“And don’t forget to tip the nice lady,” he sends a wink toward the barista, making you cringe. “Don’t mind him,” you shake your head, sincerely sorry for what she has to deal with. “He’s the one I’m the least worried about,” the barista chuckles, running Mingyu’s card through her system. “But you will have to tell me where you get all these handsome guys from later,” she giggles, and it makes you smile, too. “I’ll see you another time,” you say your goodbyes softly, following Mingyu back to his table. 

“I’m not interested, Mingyu,” you proclaim as you take a seat opposite him. He looks up at you, his eyebrows raised with a smug smile on his face. “In?” He asks playfully, making you scoff. “In you. I’m not interested in you,” you state firmly, watching him nod. You hate how unbothered he seems. After trying his all to get a breakfast with you, he doesn’t even care? 

You shake your head, pushing those thoughts aside. You don’t care about it either. You couldn’t care less about what he thinks or if your words hurt him. 

But you are a liar. 

Because deep down, you care more than he does. 

“Yet, you are here with me.” 

“Because you wouldn’t leave me alone.” 

“Or maybe because you want to be here with me.” 

You don’t answer him and just take a sip of your drink. He smirks, reaching for his own drink. “I’m not all that bad, you know. I also have a heart inside my hot body.” 

“And you’ve ruined it,” you sigh, but a chuckle manages to escape your lips. “What? I’m just saying,” he shrugs, laughing. 

As you walk to your company, you look around properly to make sure no building looks weird. 

With Kim Mingyu on your side, making you laugh with his lame attempts at jokes, you feel like this has to be some twisted dream of yours and not reality. But all the buildings look fine, and there isn’t anything out of the ordinary. 

“If you decide to try the new sushi restaurant after all, let me know,” he proclaims, and you end up nodding. Why not? You swore to all of your friends you wouldn’t fall for Kim Mingyu’s charm, but you enjoyed hanging out with him today, so why not go out with him again? “I might,” you agree. His head falls down as he tries to hide his smile, but you notice it. 

“You can go now,” you stop in front of your company, biting back your smile as you look at him. “Thank you for the coffee and waffles.” 

“No problem,” he shakes his head, taking the empty cup of coffee from you so he can throw it away. “I’ll text you again later,” he assures you, but that’s something you’re counting on. 

“Have a good day, Mingyu.” 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

On Wednesday, you wake up to Mingyu asking you if you have slept well. 

On Thursday, your phone lights up with messages around lunch time when he asks you if you’ve eaten yet and if you want to grab a bite with him. 

On Friday, you find yourself smiling as you chat about your day with him over the phone in the comfort of your bed. 

On Saturday, you decide to grab breakfast with him again, and laugh loudly when you watch him trip on a flat ground, refusing to look you in the eyes after. 

On Sunday, you spend your day off with your closest friends, but your mind keeps drifting to him every chance you get, wondering what he is up to. 

On Sunday night, you decide to call him. 

Before you can realize it, it’s Monday, and Mingyu is asleep on your call. You listen to the sound of his breath—it’s calm and peaceful, and it makes you feel at home. 

On Tuesday, you forget your phone at home and think about him again as you stare into your laptop, trying to figure out something, anything for the project in front of you. But you just can’t focus. You keep wondering what he is up to. 

On the same night, he insists on having to see you the next day when he couldn’t reach you today. So you plan a meeting, offering that he could come to your office since you need to discuss the project with him anyway. Mingyu agrees immediately.

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

It’d be crazy to say you understand the saying, “When you know, you know.” 

The saying is illogical and never made any sense to you. But as you walk through your company building with Margaret by Lana Del Rey playing in your earphones, this time, you feel like you know. Like it makes sense. 

“You are smiling, m’lady.” And your smile grows even wider when you see the man standing in front of your office with a coffee in his hands. “And you, sir, are early,” you tell him as if he wasn’t already aware of that. 

“Couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking of you.” — You roll your eyes at how cheesy he sounds, taking out your keys to unlock your office door. “You got so excited because I called you to discuss your project?” You tease him, walking in first when he holds the door for you. “I didn’t expect you to be so into interior designs, Mingyu.” 

“I’m not,” he shakes his head, following you. “I’m into interior designers, and I’m just trying to see if you end up liking me.” 

It’s been a while since you started talking to him, so you got used to his presence. To his constant reaching out to you, to the incoming calls from him, and even to all the flirting. You knew he was pursuing you, and you stopped minding. He wasn’t ugly, and as you figured out over the time you got to hang out with him, he really wasn’t all that bad. 

Maybe you wouldn’t mind liking him. 

“Keep dreaming,” you respond, taking a seat in your chair. “Only if you dream of me as well.” You shake your head at him, looking through your folders until you find his project, showing him the few ideas you got over the past few days, trying to see what he thinks of them. 

When you hide your draft again, Mingyu doesn’t seem to be planning to leave anytime soon. “You got a little too comfortable there, don’t you think so?” You ask, watching him lying on the sofa in your office. “Yeah, I’m going to sleep here for a bit,” he states. “No, you’re not.” 

“Why not?” He whines, pulling himself up again to see you. “Alright, I’ll go,” he proclaims when he sees your face, refusing to mess it up with you now. “But let me take you out for dinner tonight. My place. I’ll cook.” 

“This is how you’re asking me out on a date?” You raise your eyebrow. 

Mingyu smiles, slightly nodding. “Yeah, I’m asking you out on an official date.” 

“Okay,” you also nod, biting back your smile. “I’ll come.” 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

“You agreed to go on a date with him?!” Seokmin almost chokes up on his drink as he watches you stand in front of your closet, trying to pick what to wear. You don’t want to try too much but don’t want to show up in sweatpants, either. 

“Yeah…” you admit, turning around to face your best friend. “Is it a crazy idea?” 

Seokmin hesitates. “I mean, I don’t know. If you want to go with him, then you should. But…” 

“But?” 

“Isn’t Wonwoo coming back soon?” He questions, making you freeze. You forgot about that. You were so busy trying to shake Mingyu off your back and then playing along with his game that you forgot about the man you thought was going to be in your future. 

“Me and Wonwoo aren’t dating,” you remind, not only him but also yourself. “And he doesn’t want me either. If he did, he would have texted me or something.” 

“Alright,” Seokmin smiles, and it makes you even more confused. You never know what goes through his head. “If you want to go on a date with him, I’ll support you all the way.” 

“Thank you.” 

“No problem,” he shakes his head, walking closer to you and looking at the mess in your closet from behind your shoulder. “I get that you are worried,” you start, turning around to face your best friend again. “I don’t know what his intentions are, and I know I haven’t been hanging out with him long, but he makes me feel nice. I’m drawn to him for some reason. More than I ever was to Wonwoo.” 

“That’s all that matters,” he nods, making you smile. You’ve cared for Seokmin with your entire heart, and you knew it was the same for him. “Alright, get ready already so you’re not late,” he chuckles, turning you around and gently pushing you closer to your closet. You laugh, balancing yourself on your feet so you won’t fall. 

While you are getting ready, Mingyu, on the other side of the town, is currently running around his kitchen, making sure he has prepared everything. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what had gotten into him. Preparing a dinner for you was the last thing he thought he’d be doing when he decided on this whole plan. 

“What is it, Hao? I don’t exactly have the time right now,” he asks, putting his phone on speaker while finishing up the main dish. “Fuck, I’m not even dressed, and she is going to be here soon,” he curses, catching his friend’s attention. “Who is going to be there?” Your name falls off Mingyu’s lips before he can even think about it as he grabs his phone and runs to his room to grab a shirt. 

“You two…are hanging out?” Minghao asks after a moment of silence, trying to figure out what is going on. “Yeah, we’ve got a date,” Mingyu replies, unbothered as he quickly scans his closet to find his lucky button-up. Then he stops. Why on Earth does he care so much? Why does he need his lucky button-up when he has a date with you? “A date?” Hao exclaims, and Mingyu doesn’t need to see him to know he is shocked. “I’ll…explain later. Why did you call?” 

Minghao clears his throat, confusedly looking around as if he was trying to remember what he wanted to say. “Coups and Jeonghan took us out to play basketball, but I guess I don’t need to ask you if you want to join anymore since you have plans.” 

“Shit, tell Cheol that I’ll make it up to him later. We can grab beer next week. Have a get-together or something,” Mingyu suggests, his eyes finally landing on the piece of clothing he was looking for. “I’ll let them know,” his friend agrees. “If anything, I’m just a call away.” Mingyu smiles, nodding before he says his goodbyes. He throws his phone on his bed and runs to his bathroom to get his perfume. 

He might have gone crazy, honestly. He couldn’t comprehend how his best friend could fall for you days ago, and now, he was trying to be perfect for a date with you. For all he knows, you might have cast a spell on him or something. He went into this thinking he had nothing to worry about, that he would wrap you around his finger with ease and do whatever he wanted with you, but now it seemed more like it might be the other way around. For the past week, he couldn’t get you out of his head. No matter what he was doing at the moment, if he was at work or home watching the TV, you were always on his mind. 

“What the fuck,” Mingyu breathes out as he stops in front of the mirror in his bathroom, looking at his reflection. “You aren’t falling for her, are you?” He asks himself. He stays quiet after that, taking a deep breath. “You fucking idiot, this isn’t what you planned. You aren’t supposed to like her!” He wants to yell at himself more, get himself back in his place, and not do anything stupid, but before he can even try to do something about his feelings, his doorbell rings, announcing your presence. He closes his eyes for a second, calming himself down before turning on his heel and heading to the door. 

“Hi,” Mingyu smiles at you, completely forgetting what he was yelling at himself for when he locks eyes with you. “Hey,” you greet him, the words barely making it past your lips as your eyes land on his body. His dark blue button-up wraps around his muscles, his black pants staying up thanks to his belt, and his hair fluffy. He’s hot. 

You hardly get the chance to breathe when you step inside before he is behind you, helping you out of your jacket. You don’t expect it. Anyone could guess that from your expression, but you can’t say you would mind. “It smells great here,” you comment, smiling as you turn around to face him. “I told you I’m just a cook,” a chuckle escapes his lips as he points towards the kitchen, letting you walk first. 

You keep looking around the house as you walk, admiring his choices of decoration. He definitely doesn’t have bad taste. “This is nice,” you nod, your fingers softly brushing over the paint on his wall. “I didn’t expect your house to be so…” 

“So what?” 

“Clean? Fancy? All of those above?” 

“What? Just because I’m a guy, my house can’t be clean?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” you shake your head, but deep down, you know he is right. He might be the first guy you’ve seen to have such a nice place. All of your ex-boyfriends looked like they never cared about how messy their places were, and it was always your biggest deal-breaker. So, seeing a change for once felt nice. 

“I also play sports, you know.” You scoff when you hear him, knowing very well what he is trying for. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, turning around. Mingyu doesn’t notice your turn in time and bumps into you, swallowing the lump in his throat as he steps back again. What does he mean? He isn’t sure. All he is certain about is that being this close to you doesn’t do him anything good. “You want me to tell you just how perfect you are?” Your words reach his ears only barely. He hears you, and the tone of your voice gets stuck in his head, but he isn’t able to comprehend any words. 

“I– I should get the champagne bottles I bought earlier! Make yourself at home in the meantime,” he quickly changes the topic, running off before you can say anything. You laugh at him, grinning at the thought of the blush you saw creep up his cheeks. You shake your head at him softly, turning around again to finally reach the kitchen. 

“I asked your assistant earlier—by the way, for some reason, I think he hates me—but he said you liked this one, so I’m hoping he didn’t just play with me.” You look up when you hear Mingyu’s voice again, smiling when you notice the bottle in his hands. “Don’t worry, he didn’t play you. That’s my favorite,” you assure him and chuckle when you see his shoulders relax. “Okay, good,” he exhales. 

“And he doesn’t hate you.” 

“I’m sure he does,” he argues with you. “He sounded more annoyed than you ever had when he picked up the phone and realized it was me.” 

“Do you want me to put in a good word for you? It’s true that I might have done the opposite before, and now he is…wary about you.” 

“You’ve spoken badly of me?” Mingyu’s eyes widen as he places two plates with the dish he made before on the table, two glasses and the bottle of champagne following right after. “Careful, m’lady. My feelings will get hurt.” 

You scoff. “That was before.” 

“Before?” The curiosity in his voice makes you gulp down. It feels pure. You are unable to find any bad intentions in his behavior, and it scares you. “Before…you’ve won me over,” you admit, looking down at your plate as you take the first bite, hoping he won’t dig much into it. 

“I’ve won you over?” He tries to bite back his smile but fails. “Don’t flatter yourself too much now, though,” you warn him. “Doesn’t mean you can’t lose me again.” 

The time seems to flow faster when you’re with him. You finish dinner and stay at the table, slowly sipping on champagne while talking. You barely register how time goes, and before you can realize it, the night turns into another day. 

“Shit,” you mumble, looking at the time on your phone. 1:27. “What’s up?” He wonders, slowly getting up to clean up the plates. “The time! Seokmin is definitely asleep by now, so I can’t call him to pick me up,” you complain. “Oh god, I should have been paying more attention,” you whine, closing your eyes and turning your phone off again. “You know, you can sleep here if you want to.” Your eyes widen at his offer, and a part of you is glad he has turned around at the moment and can’t see your face. “I don’t wanna–” 

“You can’t bother me,” he stops you before you can finish. “I can sleep on the couch and leave you the bed. It’s fine.” 

So you end up in his shirt and boxers, lying under his blanket while he lays next to you, telling you a story from his past. It makes you smile. “It’s late,” he comments quietly, sitting up. “I’m going to go to the living room.” You hesitate, but when he turns to get up, you reach for his hand, your fingers wrapping around the muscles on his arm. “I– what if you stay?” 

“You…want me to…” You nod, and that’s all he needs to lay back down. He’s also in his pajamas now, which, for some reason, only consists of pants. He pulls the other side of the blanket over himself, not taking his eyes off you as he does so. You can’t look away either, trying to read everything that hides behind his eyes. 

The moment is quiet, needy, and intimate as you reach your hand up to his face, your fingers brushing over his cheek. He leans into your hand, his eyes closed as he gets comfortable. You can feel your heart in your throat as you watch him, too scared that if you blink, he’ll disappear. 

When Mingyu opens his eyes again, it feels like his heart skips a beat. Being so close to you, looking you in the eyes, he knows exactly why Wonwoo fell for you in the first place. “Can I kiss you?” He asks carefully, and it feels almost vulnerable. As if he would break if you said no to him. “Please do,” you nod, and his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to himself before his lips land on yours. The kiss isn’t rushed or harsh. It’s deep, full of all the emotions neither of you are able to say out loud. 

His hand slides down your thigh, glazing over your—his—boxers. His other hand slides up your shirt, stopping right under your breasts. Your gasp upon feeling his cold fingers on your skin gets muffled in the kiss, making him groan. “You can–” your sentence gets swallowed when his lips crash with yours again, this time with more need, almost desperate. His hand finally moves up again, squeezing your breast. He rolls you on your back, one of his hands reaching for yours while the other massages your boob, still unable to leave your lips alone. 

“I can?” He taunts, his lips moving to your jaw, slowly making their way to your neck and then collarbone. “Tell me, what can I do?” Your moan comes out shaky, your free hand sliding up his back, tracing his naked skin. “Anything– everything– God, Mingyu,” you gasp when he presses his knee against your core, your hand squeezing his. “Everything?” He hums against your skin, his kisses lowering to your chest. “So, can I take this off?” You nod impatiently, every inch of your body needing him in a way you couldn’t quite understand. “Please, hurry,” your plea sends shivers down his spine, but one part of him, in particular, feels it the most, and his cock twitches in his pants. Fuck. 

Mingyu slides your shirt off with ease, his eyes landing on your perky nipples immediately. “We shouldn’t,” he mumbles, but his actions don’t align with his words as his tongue licks your right nipple, his left hand taking care of the other one. “Definitely,” you agree, your head thrown back and moans leaving your lips. You’re not even sure what you agreed to at the moment. He could have told you he was the president of the United States for all you knew, and you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. “But god, you are so hot.” 

“Mingyu, please–” He hums against your skin, his pants becoming tight as he feels the boxers you’re wearing getting soaked under his knee. “What do you need, princess?” — “Need you,” you admit, moving your hips up and down. It’s embarrassing how wet you are when you are still clothed, and he is barely touching your pussy. He’s spent all the time playing with your boobs as if they were the greatest he’s ever seen, and even though he was incredible at worshiping your breast, the lack of attention on the bottom part of your body was starting to make you crazy. “Need your cock, so bad.” 

He groans, cursing under his breath as he sits up. “I don’t think I have a–” Before he can finish his sentence, you’re grabbing onto his hand, stopping him. “Go in raw. I’ll take the pill in the morning,” you assure him. “Please.” You sound desperate, and it’s safe to say Mingyu’s head spins because of you. If your needs contained his raw cock he couldn’t tell you no. Not that he would want to, anyway. 

He throws away your boxers without a second thought, the piece of clothing ending up somewhere on the floor where he’d have to find it in the morning. “Fuck,” he curses, freeing his dick right after when he sees just how wet you are for him. His fingers slide up your folds, collecting as much of your wetness as possible. “Shit, do you know how desperate you look for this?” He asks, bringing his fingers up again for you to see. “Maybe you are as desperate, actually, aren’t I right?” 

You feel embarrassed but nod despite it, unable to say anything as he slowly pushes his two fingers into you, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit. Your hand squeezes the bed sheets under you, your legs closing themself on their own, which only makes him hold them open. “It’s only my fingers for now, princess. You can’t lose your mind yet,” he coos, adding a third finger as his movements quicken, indeed making you lose your mind. 

“‘S too much! Too–” your voice breaks in the middle, and the only sound that leaves your lips after is a mixture of whines and moans, signaling just how good he makes you feel. “‘S okay, baby,” he coos. “I’m going to give you what you want in a second.” He pulls out his fingers, bringing them to his lips. “You taste so fucking good.” You feel like a drug. Every time he looks at you, he wants more. He needs you. In every way possible, and he will do anything to have you, no matter what anyone else says. 

Mingyu groans as he pushes the tip inside, reaching for your hand. You squeeze his hand immediately, wrapping your legs around his waist and trying to pull him closer. It works, somehow, and you feel another inch in you. The moment is like an impulse for him, a sign that you are ready, making him thrust his entire length into you. “My cock fits in your pussy so perfectly, fuck.” 

You are a drug. He is so confident in it when he slams his hips against you, filling the room with his groans while you moan his name, begging him to slow down. He can’t, though. You make it impossible for him. With the way you squeeze him inside, it feels like you don’t want him to pull out of you in the first place. “Mingyu! Wait, I’m–” His curses reach your ear as he leans down, pressing his lips on yours and squeezing your hand tighter. “I’m close too,” he groans, stealing another kiss from you. “Do you want me to–” 

“Inside,” you mumble before he can finish and he nods. 

His thrusts slow down, becoming sloppy as he reaches his orgasm, releasing inside your tight hole. He feels you cum right after, making sure to thrust a few more times to let you ride out your orgasm before he pulls out, watching as the mixture of his and your cum slides out. “You’re so fucking hot,” he praises, falling beside you. You chuckle, trying to catch your breath. His hand wraps around your waist, keeping you as close as possible as he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath along with you. “I can’t believe I ever convinced myself to hate you,” he mumbles, and you hear him slowly falling asleep. You close your eyes, your fingers tiredly tracing his arm as you think of what you just did. 

You had the best sex of your life. That’s what you did. 

As you glance at Mingyu’s sleeping figure, his sweaty hair falling in his face, you know you can’t let him go. 

But that only applies if he doesn’t do anything stupid.

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

You sit in your office with so many tabs opened on your laptop that you’re surprised it hasn’t crashed yet. It’s like any other day. You’re busy with work, barely having time to take a break and drink. But this time, it’s different after all. 

Because, on the other side of your office, Kim Mingyu is lying on your couch, a sketchbook in one of his hands and a pen in the other. You smile when your eyes wander to him. “Do you want to get out of here?” You ask, and he immediately turns to you. “Please, I’m so hungry.” You laugh, saving everything before closing your laptop and getting up. “Will you cook for us again if I let you sleep in my apartment tonight?” His eyes light up, and he nods instantly, jumping up from his place. He’s next to you before you can blink, making you giggle as he wraps his arms around you and places a kiss on your shoulder. “You know I’d do anything for you.” Yes, you do. Still, you don’t mind finding yourself an excuse to ask him to sleep over. 

“Let’s go,” you smile, offering him your hand. Mingyu intertwines his fingers with yours without hesitation, leading the way out of your office. 

Your laugh fills the hallway as you walk towards your apartment, hand in hand with your lover. Your laugh rings loud and clear in his ears, bringing a smile to his face as well. At least until he takes his eyes away from you and sees the man sitting by your front door. 

“Wonwoo?” You call out to him, making him look up immediately. Shit. Mingyu couldn’t be more fucked. Your name leaves Wonwoo’s lips without hesitation, and he quickly gets up from the floor. His suitcase is right next to him, meaning the first thing he did was stop by your apartment. “What are you doing here?” 

“Wha– Why are you with him?” Wonwoo doesn’t answer your question and gives you one instead. You blink quickly to make sure you heard him right, trying to figure out why he cares in the first place. You open your mouth to answer him, but no words leave your lips as your attention shifts to the man beside you when he lets go of your hand. You raise an eyebrow at him in confusion, looking up to meet his eyes. “You didn’t actually– He didn’t– Are you that stupid?” Wonwoo spits out, the disappointment in his voice hitting you hard. “What?” 

“Wonwoo, don’t.” Mingyu tries to stop him, his eyes desperate. “Is this how he played you? With his fucking puppy eyes?” 

“What are you talking about?” You ask, now even more confused, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. “Wonwoo, we ended that morning. I don’t know what you think you can get from this, but it won’t work. I’m happy now.” Your words dig right into his heart, and you notice him swallow hard as if he had a lump in his throat. “Happy?” Wonwoo mocks your words, scoffing. “Because Mingyu told you some stories? Because he pushed me aside to play with you as if you were just his little toy–” 

“Wonwoo, that’s enough,” Mingyu interrupts him, his fist clenched, and he has to hold himself back to not hit his best friend right then and there in front of you. “No, it’s not enough at all!” He argues. “This was never supposed to happen! I never should have fucking left!” 

“But you did! And it’s not my fault she found out just how much better I am.” 

Wonwoo grits his teeth, his fist clenching just as Mingyu’s is. “Are you fucking–” 

“What the fuck are you two talking about?” You stop them, your eyes flicking between the two men. “How do you know each other?” 

“Baby, let me explain,” Mingyu starts immediately, making Wonwoo frown over the nickname. “It’s complicated, but– just don’t listen to him,” he tries to think of a way he can explain everything to you, but everything he thinks of only puts him into worse shit than he already is. 

You ignore him, feeling your heart slowly breaking apart as you glance at Wonwoo. “What the hell are you talking about?” Wonwoo sighs, opening his hand again when his eyes land on you. He hates seeing you this hurt, but he is sick of Mingyu and his toying with everyone around him. He might be his best friend, but that doesn’t give him an excuse to keep putting himself in front of the needs of others. He won’t stand that anymore. Not when you’re involved. 

He hesitates, glancing at Mingyu before he looks at you again, taking a deep breath. “I’m not going to be the one to break your heart,” he shakes his head, refusing to answer your question. “Let him explain everything. You made it pretty clear I’m done here,” he says, grabbing his suitcase. His eyes linger on you a bit more before he closes them, opening them again when he turns toward Mingyu. “Sometimes, being your best friend hurts.” 

Mingyu’s eyes soften, his heart breaking just as much as Wonwoo’s when those words leave his lips. “Wonwoo…” he starts, but the man is already on his way out, refusing to hear him out. “Fuck.” 

“This is a fucking bullshit,” he whines, hitting the ground as he squads down. You flinch, kneeling down to him and taking his hand to see if he was okay. “I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, and you already know whatever he is going to tell you will break you. “What was this all about?” You ask, even though deep down you don’t want to know. A part of you would rather live in the illusion of how perfect Kim Mingyu is than get hurt by him. 

“I–” he hesitates, looking up to see your face before he continues. He sighs, squeezing your hand in his as if it was supposed to ease the situation. “Uhm, back when you met Wonwoo in the café…that was my doing,” he explains, making your ears ring. The words only flow from his mouth after that, continuous apologies leaving his lips as he tries to excuse his behavior, tell you that it all changed when he actually met you, that it’s all in the past. But it isn’t. You’re only finding out about it now. It’s in your present, and you can’t ignore it. You move your hand back away from him, your look broken when he gazes into your eyes again. It breaks him, maybe even more than it breaks you. 

“Wait,” he tries to stop you, saying something about making it up to you, but you barely register any of his words as you get up, running away from him. You don’t know where you’re going or what you’re going to do. You just need to get away. Run from everything he just told you, from all the lies and games you have been a part of. 

You let your feet take you to the safest place you can think of at the moment—the person who was also your home. 

“What happened?” You don’t answer. Instead, you run into his arms, closing your eyes shut and trying your best not to cry. “Shh,” your best friend coos, rubbing circles on your back. He doesn’t need to know what happened, not now when you’re in this state, but he’ll make sure to ruin someone’s life when he finds out. 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

It feels like you still have the knife stuck in your back when you sit on your best friend’s couch, a blanket wrapped around you as you wait for him to finish cooking lunch. You stare into nothing, your vision getting blurry as you think back to yesterday. His words ring in your ears again, and you feel like throwing up. 

I just wanted to find out more about you. I thought I needed to get you out of the picture to keep my title as the legend. I was scared of you. But then I met you—and I couldn’t– I can’t hurt you. I like you–

You shake your head, getting him out of your thoughts and turning around to see your best friend. He’s humming a song as he watches the oven to make sure he doesn’t burn anything, and it makes you smile. Who cares that your love life is terrible—you still have the greatest friends. Screw Kim Mingyu and Jeon Wonwoo, you can live without them. 

But your body says something else. You don’t feel like eating or even standing up to go out. All you want to do is lay in your bed and sleep. For as long as you can. 

“Hey,” Seokmin’s voice makes you snap out of your thoughts, questioning with your eyes what he needs. “At least drink some water,” he says, pushing a full glass in front of you. “It’ll be alright. This isn’t the end of the world,” he reminds you, and you hum. You know that. Of course you know that, but you can’t help it. You’re all over the place, and you hate that it was Mingyu who got you into this state. 

“Should I invite the others over? Maybe that could cheer–” 

“God, no,” you interrupt him. “I don’t want them to see me like this.” Your best friend nods, thinking over it. “What about Chan? Should I give him a call? Say you won’t come to work?” You hum again. It feels like a burden even to speak up. “Should I also explain what happened?” He hesitates as he asks you, and you hesitate as much when you answer. “You can,” you nod. “He’d call me anyway to ask about it if you wouldn’t give him a reason, so at least that gives me a call less,” you joke, but somehow, it only makes you feel worse. “I should go home,” you sigh. 

“Hey, relax,” he shakes his head. “You don’t bother me here, you know that. You can stay here for as long as you need,” he assures you. “I know,” you mumble, playing with the food on your plate. “Still, though. I need to work even if I won’t come to the office.” 

Seokmin sighs, trying to think of a solution. However, he gives up when he sees your expression. Maybe it would be better to leave you alone for a bit, let you rest, and figure out whatever you need. So he agrees in the end. “I’ll drive you later.” 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

As you lay in your bed, staring at the ceiling, your mind drifts off to him again. It makes you feel sick. 

You’ve never felt like this over anyone. In the past, when you had your heart broken, sometimes worse than this time, you cried about it for a bit and then collected yourself again, but this time, you can’t even cry. Everything about this feels wrong. Everything about Mingyu feels wrong. 

Yet, you never wanted to be closer to him. 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

You have a missed call from Seokmin and Chan when you wake up the next morning. You decide to ignore it and roll over to the other side of the bed. You don’t have the energy to deal with them or anyone else. 

As you sit in your bed later that day, with plans of the Kims’ house, something in you breaks completely, and you don’t think anyone will be able to fix it again. 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝ 

“Come on, open the door, please.” You groan when you hear your best friend’s voice from behind the door. “You know I have the keys!” He reminds you. You glance at the door, sighing as you get up from the couch, and open the door for him. Your eyes land on the three guys behind him, and you regret it immediately, glancing down at your pajamas. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath before you cross your arms over your chest, mostly to cover your hardening nipples from the cold air. “Why are you all here?” 

“Because we care about you,” Soonyoung speaks up, the sadness in his voice painfully obvious. You stand there for a second, rethinking your options before you step aside, letting them walk inside. “Wait here, I’m…going to change,” you inform them, not forgetting to send Seokmin a glare before you run upstairs, ignoring their chatter as you get to your closet. 

You glance over your back to what they are doing, closing your eyes as you already regret the question you’re about to ask. “Can you guys turn around?” For some reason, you feel embarrassed, and you guess Chan does too when you notice his ears turning slightly pink. Having a loft apartment was nice—until you had people over and couldn’t change without having to worry about them looking up and seeing you naked. Neither one of them protests and immediately listens to you. 

“Okay,” you sigh, walking down the stairs. “So, again, why are you here?” You ask, and the four boys face you again. “We were worried,” Jihoon comments. “You haven’t been picking up any of our calls,” Seokmin complains. “Sorry,” you mumble, taking a seat on your couch again. “I wasn’t feeling like it,” you say, but you know it doesn’t excuse anything. “That’s fine,” Soonyoung assures you, sitting beside you. “But a text would still be nice. To know you’re alive.” 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again and catch the four boys exchanging a glance. “I’m feeling a lot better now,” you lie. You have barely gotten out of bed for the past week, only going down to your kitchen when your stomach was being annoying about wanting food. You weren’t sure why you were feeling like this—so messed up and incapable of anything. 

Actually, you knew why. You just didn’t want to admit it. 

You couldn’t bear the thought of Mingyu, the man you felt so close to, using you as if you were his toy. 

“We brought you sushi,” Chan holds up a bag in his hands, making you smile. At least you knew these men weren’t here just to toy with you. 

“He’s been calling me,” you mumble between your bites, making all of them look up at you. You notice Soonyoung mouthing “Who?” toward Seokmin, and your eyes widen. He hasn’t told them anything. A part of you feels thankful, but you also feel bad for leaving them out of it and not mentioning anything when they are here now, doing their best to make you feel better without even knowing what got you into this state. 

“Uhm,” you clear your throat, getting the attention back to yourself to explain it. “Wonwoo came back, and when he saw me with Mingyu, they started arguing,” you start, scrunching your eyebrows at the memory of it. “Turns out they are best friends—or were at least,” you correct yourself, unsure of what happened to them after Wonwoo dropped the bomb on him. 

“And also, Mingyu has been playing a fucking game with me from the start.” You spit the words out. But as angry as you are at him, your eyes soften when you remember him kneeling there in front of you, apologizing. You hate that, partly because you think he actually meant it. “Like…” Soonyoung starts hesitantly, but before he can finish his question, you continue. “Ever since we were in the café and bumped into Wonwoo. Mingyu was the one who sent him there to get closer to me.” 

It’s quiet after that, and the pity in their eyes makes you feel sick. You don’t want that from them. It makes you feel even worse when they look at you like that. 

“And now he is blowing up my phone. He said–” your voice breaks, and you stop to take a breath. “He said that was before he fell for me. That he likes me and wishes to take everything back.” — “Wonwoo also texted me. He apologized for ever being with Mingyu on the plan and for leading me on at first.” 

“Assholes,” Soonyoung sighs, receiving a look from Chan immediately. “What? I know damn well you guys are thinking it too!” He protests, not understanding why he’d glare at him like that for voicing his opinion. You chuckle, watching Chan’s freaked-out expression as he tries to shut him down. “It’s fine,” you shake your head. “I don’t want you guys to just sit here in silence while I talk.” Chan inhales but doesn’t say anything to that. 

“He also asked to meet up,” you add. 

“Who?” 

You roll your eyes, a chuckle leaving your lips. Does he have to make it sound like you have been seeing a handful of people at once? 

“Wonwoo,” you explain. 

“Do you think you’ll go?” Jihoon asks, finally speaking up too. He’s been trying to stay silent, listening to what you have to say without having comments that might make you feel even worse. You think about it for a bit, eventually nodding. “Yeah, probably. I…want to hear him out.” He nods to you, agreeing. 

However, Chan seems to have a different view of the situation. “Seriously? After everything, you want to see him and hear him out?” You know he doesn’t mean it like that, but it sounds like a laugh in your face. 

“Chan–” Jihoon tries to stop him before he can say something stupid, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint. “Both of them have been assholes to you, and that’s the nicest way to put it, and you still want to have anything to do with them?” He means well, you convince yourself, but can’t get over the fact of how mockery he sounds. “Come on, don’t be stup–” 

“Enough,” Seokmin interrupts, his voice strong. Your eyes wince, and you glance at him. “It’s okay, Min,” you assure him, surprised at his sudden reaction. “He can have his opinion.” 

“But he doesn’t need to be rude with it.” 

“I’m…sorry?” Chan’s eyes widen, looking at Soonyoung for some sort of help. “I just– It feels weird seeing you so out of place,” he glances back at you. “I’m not used to it, and it makes me worried. I don’t want it to get any worse, so I’m looking out for you.” Your eyes soften, and you send a smile his way. “I know, Chan,” you assure him. “But I’ll be okay. I promise.” 

And you’re confident you will because Wonwoo isn’t a bad person. You know you don’t have to worry about meeting him, which sadly isn’t something you can say about Mingyu. You know that if you were to meet him, you’d probably fall into an even worse place than you already are. 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝  

As you walk through the door, the smell of baked cookies hits you immediately, and a smile curls up your lips. The cozy place makes you feel at home. Without you realizing it, the coffee shop turned into your comfort place over time. And so did the sweet lady behind the cash register, who always greets you with a smile. 

“Good morning,” she smiles warmly. “Good morning,” you greet her back, smiling just as much. “Caramel macchiato?” She wonders, and you nod. “Add extra sugar, please.” She chuckles, nodding as she makes a note of your order before passing it to her colleague. “He’s sitting over there,” she informs you, trying not to be obvious as she points toward the table of two you usually occupied when you came here with Wonwoo. “Thank you,” you whisper back. “I hope you have a nice day.” 

“Hi,” you greet the boy with glasses as you take a seat opposite him, placing your cup of coffee on the table. “Hey,” he looks up with an awkward smile. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it again right after. “What is it?” You raise your eyebrows confusedly. He shakes his head, and it’s supposed to be a sign for you to drop it, but your expression doesn’t change, so he sighs. “You look good,” he admits so quietly you almost don’t hear him. Almost. 

His comment gets stuck in your ears, the words echoing in your head. You look down at the table, hating what goes through your mind at the moment. Wonwoo is sweet, and you know the last moments you spent with him were real—probably more real than anything you ever had with Mingyu was, but you just can’t bring yourself to him anymore. Not because of the situation he got you in or because of what he did, but because no matter how much you want to protest, your heart belongs to his best friend now. And it will for a while. 

“Thank you,” you mumble, hiding yourself behind your cup as you take a sip of your iced drink. “I know you didn’t come here because you’d want to hear those words from me, but that doesn’t change the fact I mean it.” You smile, gazing into his eyes for a brief second. “I know you do, Wonwoo,” you nod slightly. “But just as I know that, you know I can’t.” The rest of the sentence hangs in the air. It’s something you tell each other with your eyes, and it’s enough. He understands. That, you are sure of. 

Wonwoo nods. “Did he…What did he tell you?” The hesitation in his voice is obvious, but you take it as a sign of nervousness since he has an idea of how badly the conversation must have gone. You take a deep breath, staring into your cup of coffee as you repeat Mingyu’s words. They are still as vivid as they were that day, way too real. 

“We haven’t spoken since,” he admits suddenly, taking in everything you told him. To his surprise, Mingyu hasn’t changed anything to his advantage to seem like the nice guy in the end. You only hum in response. “I feel bad,” he sighs. 

“About?” 

“Everything. About everything I did in the past two months.” 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“But it is,” he argues. You breathe out, not having enough energy to argue with him. Especially since you know he is right. He wasn’t innocent. It was just easier to blame Mingyu and hope that might make you hate him. Even just slightly. 

“I should have never agreed to do this. I should have talked him out of it and told him how bad of an idea that was. I wish I could go back.” You frown at that. “You can’t go back.” 

“I know.” He sounds exhausted now that you pay closer attention to it. Your eyes flick up to meet his, and you notice the dark circles under his eyes. Suddenly, his skin wasn’t as flawless as when you met him for the first time. You feel bad for him somehow. You know that should be the last thing you’re thinking of, but you can’t help it. 

“I’m aware it might not look like that now, but he isn’t a bad guy. He’s just sometimes…putting himself before others in a way he shouldn’t.” 

You sigh, feeling the exhaustion hit you as well. 

“I don’t know what is so important to him about the painting or why he thought he needed to do this in order to buy it for himself, but I’m sorry. For ever being a part of this and doing things I normally wouldn’t.” 

“What painting?” You ask confusedly, and Wonwoo’s eyes widen when he realizes you don’t know everything after all. “I’m not– I think it goes up next week,” he answers, trying to remember what Mingyu told him about it. Honestly, it wasn’t much. Wonwoo wasn’t exactly oriented when it came to art. That was more of Mingyu and Minghao’s thing. 

“Is it this one?” You quickly unlock your phone, going through the upcoming list of auctions to find what you have in mind. You show him the phone, and he nods. You scoff. Of course. “It’s part of a collection,” you mumble, turning the phone toward yourself again. “I completely forgot it was going up for sale.” 

“It all makes sense now,” you sigh, looking at the picture on your phone. It’s a part of the Shadows and Glimmers collection, the same one your Whisper of Hope belongs to. It only makes sense he wants the painting. You would have too if he hadn’t outbid you back then. 

The painting shows a calm autumn scene. There’s a water path in the middle, small rocks lining the side, along with trees covered in orange and yellow leaves. Just like Whisper of Hope, it’s supposed to signal warmth and peace in nature. As far as you’re aware, it’s supposed to be from the other side of the mountains, showing that even cold places like these have another side to them. 

“Does it make sense? Because I can’t see what’s so good about it.” — You chuckle, shaking your head. “I think it has a deeper meaning to the both of us,” you mumble as you stare into your phone. You catch Wonwoo raising an eyebrow at that, but you don’t say anything. Not when you realize what you had just said. 

It does have a deeper meaning to both of you, something Wonwoo or your friends couldn’t understand. But you understand, and you know Mingyu does too. 

You close your eyes, trying to push the thought aside and not do anything you’ll regret later, but your heart takes over at the moment, and there’s nothing you can do now that you’ve decided. 

You’re going to the auction. 

And you will fight for what’s yours. 

If your thoughts drift to the painting or the man himself at the moment is something you’d rather not pay attention to. 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝  

“Sometimes, whatever is going on through your head scares me,” Jihoon comments, making you chuckle. “Why? I don’t see anything weird about this.” He raises an eyebrow at you, Seokmin copying his movement. “Alright, yeah, maybe it is a stupid idea,” you admit with a defended sigh. “And I might regret it. But I’m not going there for him.” 

“Right,” Seokmin hums, exchanging a look with Jihoon. You roll your eyes at them, fixing your dress. “I’m only going because I want the painting. He might have gotten the first one in the collection, but I’m taking this one,” you say confidently. “I’m going to have my fun, maybe find a cute enough guy to leave with, and not pay any attention to Mingyu. That’s tonight’s plan.” 

“Well, good luck with that.” The tone in Jihoon’s voice makes you doubt yourself for a second. If they don’t believe you when you say you won’t break down the moment you see the handsome, tanned man, how are you supposed to believe in yourself? 

Honestly, you can’t blame them, though. Because you don’t believe in yourself either. 

As you step into the familiar building, you feel anxiety rush through you. Your eyes keep wandering around the room without you being able to control them, searching for the man himself. 

You only get to snap out of your thoughts when you hear your name from behind yourself, turning around to see who was calling you. You sigh, every sign of hope that was previously in your eyes disappearing as your eyes land on the man behind you. “Joshua,” you greet him politely, looking around once more, this time to find an escape route. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” he comments, offering you the glass of wine in his hands. You decline with a slight head shake. “I was busy,” you excuse. “So busy you couldn’t call again?” 

Joshua Hong. One of the finest men you got to play with in your past. He wasn’t anyhow bad as he was, and you probably would have called him if you had met under different circumstances, but it wouldn’t have been you if you had done that to him. It was already enough that you had used him before to get some extra money for an art piece you wanted. 

“I’m sorry, but you know how it goes.” 

“Do I?” He chuckles, looking down at his wine. “I guess I know how one-night stands go, yeah,” he nods, his eyes meeting yours again. “But what if I say I don’t care about the past? That we could start again and pretend you never toyed with me?” A part of you pities him. You open your mouth to apologize, say just how sorry you are, but you realize it wouldn’t change anything. 

“We could leave tonight acting like nothing happened,” he offers. “And get to know each other again.” You know everything about what he just said was meant sexually, and it makes you feel gross. “Uhm…” You start, trying to find an excuse for yourself. 

“I don’t think she wants to explore you in any way.” You freeze when the familiar voice reaches your ears. It’s loud, deep, and strong. The sound echoes in your ears, making you look up to see him immediately. His arm wraps around your shoulder, holding you close to himself, and you feel like your heart stops for a moment. “So why don’t you get lost?” He hisses at Joshua. The shorter man glances at you, but you just send him an apologetic look, not saying anything else. You feel like even just opening your mouth might cause him to leave. 

You barely register Joshua walking away as Mingyu turns you to face him, his eyes soft when he sees your face. “Sorry,” he swallows nervously, bringing his arms back to his side. “I just–” he swallows the rest of his sentence when you take a step back. It feels like he can’t breathe. He hates being this close to you and yet being so far. What happened in front of your apartment back then might have hurt him more than it did you. 

“Thank you for that but…I will take my leave now,” you mumble, barely looking him in the eyes as you quickly turn around, running off to the bidding room as fast as you can without looking awkward. 

It’s only then that Mingyu exhales, closing his eyes in regret. There was so much he needed to tell you. And now that he knew you were here, he wasn’t sure if he could focus on the whole auction. But he has to. He has to do this no matter what. 

Mingyu takes a seat on the other side of the room from you, trying his best to keep his eyes off you. But it feels impossible. With the way your dress hugs your body and how you try to be inconspicuous when your eyes search around the room, he is sure to go crazy soon. He isn’t sure if you’re looking for the guy he pushed away from you earlier or him, but he hopes for the latter. 

The bidding starts soon after, making him snap out of his thoughts and focus on what’s happening on the podium. One painting goes after another, but Mingyu doesn’t care enough to try for any of them. He knows that if he wanted them, he would have had no problem getting them, but there is no reason for him to do so. He is here for the star of the show. 

There is a wave of fear that rushes through him when his eyes land on you again and he realizes you haven’t tried for any of the paintings so far either. This was exactly the situation he wanted to prevent. He isn’t so confident now, knowing you could go for the same painting he wants. 

With anyone else, he didn’t have to worry about a thing. Thanks to his reputation, the moment he’d raise his number, all other interested parties would give in, and it’d be like a walk in the park for him. But with you in the game, that isn’t going to work. He inhales through his nose, ignoring the stares from people around him as his grip on his number plate tightens. 

“2 millions.” He hears the familiar voice and looks your way, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head as he raises his number. “5,” is all he says, trying his best not to meet your eyes. If he did, he’d have to give up the whole auction. He wouldn’t be able to go against you. 

It’s a fight against the two of you the whole time. If anyone else raised their number plate and called out a number, Mingyu didn’t even notice it. All he can hear is your voice. It echoes in his ears, the soft, clear sound making his heart ache every time he has to bid higher than you again. 

“For fucks sake,” he mumbles. “I’m not letting you pay for it,” he says, squeezing his number plate even more, to a point he knows it will break if he doesn’t let go immediately. “I’ll take it for 32,” Mingyu calls out and watches you stare into your lap. Your shoulders tremble in regret, and he hates seeing you like this. All he wishes to do is run to you right away and pull you into a hug. 

But as the moderator announces he has won the painting and he sees you standing up from your place, excusing yourself as you pass the people around you to get to the nearest exit, he can’t even be happy about getting the painting. 

You’re not sure what you feel as you walk out of the building. Resent, anger, shame, or maybe you don’t feel anything at all, actually. One thing. It was the one thing you wanted to take away from him after everything, and you failed again. “Screw you, Kim Mingyu,” you mutter, taking out your phone to call yourself a taxi. You freeze when, at the same time, your screen lights up with an incoming call, and his name pops up. No. No, you can’t give in. Not now. 

It takes everything in you to turn off your phone, closing your eyes so you won’t be able to see it anymore. But he just can’t leave you alone. 

You hear your name behind yourself, his voice desperate, pleading. “Go away,” you whisper, unable to say it out loud. Because deep down, you don’t want him to leave you alone. You want to be close to him just like you were before everything. 

He doesn’t answer anything, and it makes you go insane. He messes with your head no matter what he does, no matter if he says anything or stays silent. You hate what power he has over you. 

You feel the warmth of his hand on you, and it makes you flinch. Before you can pull your hand away from him, he reaches for it again, turning you around with one easy pull so you would face him. 

His eyes are soft, apologies written all over them. His lips are slightly parted as if he were about to say something, and his wavy hair reaches under his eyes. It has grown since you last saw him. 

“Look me in the eyes, tell me you want me to leave, break my heart however much you want, and I’ll go, but please, hear me out first.” 

He takes a step forward, closing the space between you, and you feel like you can’t breathe. With him this close, you can’t avert your eyes or protect yourself from him. “You took another painting from me.” Your complaint sounds more broken than you’d want it to. His eyes soften as he exhales, squeezing your hand in his while his empty hand reaches to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes over your skin, and your breath shakes. When your eyes lock with his, you know you can’t escape him again. Not now, not ever. 

“I didn’t,” he shakes his head, his thumb moving up to your eye to stop the tears falling from your eyes. “Did this for you.” — “No,” you shake your head rapidly, trying to build a wall between you again so he wouldn’t be able to hurt you. “You don’t do anything for anyone else.” 

“I’d do anything for you,” he argues. 

“Stop lying.” 

“I mean it.” You gaze into his eyes, and you hate that you can’t find a single sign of this being another one of his games. There’s nothing but honesty in his eyes, and it breaks you even more. Your head falls on his chest, and you raise your hand, weakly hitting him. “No,” you’re desperate. Desperate to find a reason to hate him, to turn around and run from him. 

You break in his arms, tears rolling down your cheeks as he wraps his arms around you, rubbing circles on your back to calm you down. He keeps you close, not saying anything as you hit his chest over and over again. “I hate you,” you mumble, but you both know you don’t mean it. 

You look up to meet his eyes, biting the inside of your cheek. “I’ve never regretted anything in my life as I regret ever hurting you,” he whispers, his hand moving from your back to your waist. “I’ve never thought of anyone as much as I’ve thought of you. Never chased someone like this, never needed anyone as much as I need you.” 

“Mingyu,” you say his name with the last bit of strength in you, but your poor attempts at keeping him away go to waste as you feel his lips press against yours. The kiss is urgent, fragile, and conveys all the emotions Mingyu is unable to say out loud. 

“I hate you,” you cry again, trying to convince yourself more than him. “And I love you,” he responds, chasing after your lips again. You give up at that moment, allowing yourself to kiss him back. You don’t want to fight it anymore. You can’t. 

“The painting is for you,” he breathes out. “What?” Your eyes widen, but he doesn’t answer your question anymore. Instead, you find yourself wrapping your legs around his hips and tightly holding onto his shoulders as he picks you up, not caring about anyone around. “I came here just to buy it for you,” he proclaims, trying to search with his eyes for his car while his lips stay on yours. He is unable to keep his mouth away, needing you as close as possible. 

“But you–” He interrupts you with another kiss, making you yelp as he walks towards his car. “I don’t care about the painting anymore, nor the collection. I’d give it up anytime for you.” His words ring in your ears, playing on repeat until your back hits his car, and he finally places you down. The hunger in his eyes is obvious, a whine leaving his lips in protest when you slide inside his car and close the door behind yourself. He just can’t get enough. 

The car ride is blurry in your eyes. You’re not sure what was said, which road he took, or how long it took him to park in front of his house. All you can think of is his hand on your thighs, squeezing the flesh every chance he got, stealing a kiss from you every time he stopped at a red light. 

“Wa–wait,” you stop him as your back pressed on his front door, his lips on your neck. You regret it immediately when you see the puppy eyes he gives you. “We shouldn’t,” you say, but your body does something completely different as your hands wander over his stomach under his shirt. “We– I–” 

“Let me make it up to you,” he mumbles against your skin as he places another kiss on your collarbone. “Apologize for everything I did. And the things I didn’t do.” Your head hits his door, and a moan escapes your lips, your breath heavy. “Okay,” you nod in the end, unable to resist him much longer as you feel a wet patch creating between your legs. 

And that’s how you get to his bed again, your dress thrown to the floor, long forgotten along with Mingyu’s shirt. “So pretty,” he coos, his tongue tracing your inner thigh, making its way up to your needy pussy. His thumb rubs slow circles on your clit through your panties, groaning when he sees how wet the piece of clothing gets when he touches you. “I missed you. Missed you so bad,” he mumbles, pushing your panties to the side. “Kept thinking about you. All the time.” You’re unsure if his words are just needy blabs or if he means them, but you definitely aren’t in the right mind to figure that out now. 

“Min–” you swallow the rest of his name as you feel his tongue slide between your folds. You gasp when he tears your panties apart with ease, throwing them on the floor. His fingers part your folds, and he takes a minute to watch you as you try to thrust your hips up. “Patience, baby,” he coos, leaning down again to kiss your clit. His kisses slowly turn into sucking, his two fingers pushing inside to stimulate you more. “Oh, God,” you moan out, throwing your head back while your fingers find his locks, pulling on his hair. 

“That isn’t my name,” he says, pinching your clit as he looks up to see your face. Your whines fill the whole room, and it’s like pleasure to his ears. “Mingyu! Mingyu, Min,” his name leaves your lips repeatedly until he goes back to sucking on your clit and his fingers thrust into you again. 

The whines and groans that leave his lips as he presses his nose against your clit and licks your slick make your head spin. You’d let him do anything if it meant hearing him like this. If you had known he could get so pussy-drunk, you might have ignored the whole situation in the first place. 

“I’m– so close,” your moan comes out broken as he sucks harder. “Mhm,” he hums against your pussy. It doesn’t take much longer, and as Mingyu makes out with your cunt, you cum on his lips. Your breath grows heavy as you ride out your orgasm on his face, trying not to feel embarrassed as he starts blabbing again. 

You look at him, your heart beating faster as you lock eyes with him. There really is nothing but pure love behind them. You hesitate before you slowly sit up, his eyes watching you confusedly. “Come here,” you speak softly, and he doesn’t question you and does as you say. You tug on his belt, getting it off along with his pants while keeping eye contact. The change in his eyes when you do so is something you could watch forever. 

“What are you–” 

“Returning the favor since you’ve been so good,” you mumble, his mind going blank. He’s been good? The words repeat in his head, his mind wandering to fantasies he’d rather not tell you about yet. 

He helps you pull his boxers down, his already hard cock leaking with pre-cum. You look up at him one more time before you focus on his trembling cock, kneeling down in front of him and lightly squeezing him in your hand. 

Mingyu groans as you slowly move your palm up and down, your fingers quickly becoming coated in the shiny layer of his arousal. Rolling your wrist over his tip, you swallow hard as you feel his cock twitch under your hands. You squeeze harder, your movements becoming faster. “You– f-fuck. How much have you been training for this?” He breathes out, and had it been a different situation, you might think he’s calling you a slut. But you know he isn’t in his right mind at the moment. He hasn’t been since he kissed you for the first time after the auction. 

He tugs your hair behind your ear, his fingers softly brushing over your cheek. You look up at him, nodding to yourself when you see him biting his bottom lip. His hips buck up against your hand, and he lets out a strangled noise. “Slow–Slow down. Gon–Gonna cum soon.” That’s what he says, but when you let go of his cock, the disagreeing whine he lets out tells you all you need to know. 

You switch your hand with your mouth, giving his leaking tip a kitty-lick before you take as much of him as you can, his cock twitching in your mouth. He doesn’t hesitate after, his hands holding onto your face as he fucks into you, his tip hitting the back of your throat. “Shit– you’re too good, baby,” the praise leaves his lips before he can even realize what he’s saying, too lost in the moment as he watches his cock disappear in your mouth. You gag when he pushes into you with full force, but don’t pull away, ignoring the tears creating in your eyes and sucking on him harshly. 

Mingyu doesn’t bother telling you as he gets closer to his climax, releasing in your mouth without any notice. You gag again at that but make sure there isn’t a single drop of cum leaving your lips as he pulls out with a groan. “Fuck,” he breathes out, his dick twitching again when he watches you swallow. He’s never been this obsessed with a blowjob before. 

You straighten your back again, placing your hand behind his neck and pulling him closer until your lips meet. The bitter taste of his cum makes him frown for a second before your tongue meets his, and it becomes the last thing he is worried about. He pushes you back onto the bed, deepening the kiss as his hands wander over your body, squeezing your breast, his fingers brushing over your tummy, his hands harshly gripping your waist, and lastly, his fingers reaching your clit again. You moan at the touch, trying to tug on his hair again, but it’s no help. He needs to make you cum again, no matter if you’re already feeling overstimulated or not. 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝  

As the smell of freshly done eggs reaches your nose, you groan and turn around on the bed. Slowly opening your eyes, you blink a few times when you see the mess on the nightstand. Your place definitely doesn’t look like that. 

Then it hits you. A wave of realization runs through you and you sit up, looking around the room to see if he was there. You breathe out and close your eyes when you don’t see anyone, collecting your memories of last night. Seokmin is going to kill you when he finds out. 

You run your fingers through your hair as you try to figure out your next move, but all your thoughts disappear when the door opens and your eyes land on the man you have so much history with. He is shirtless, his sweatpants hung low, and he is holding a plate in his hands. Your eyes soften at the sight. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he smiles, and you melt immediately. You can’t even be mad at him. 

You know you should regret it, collect your things, run away as fast as you can and never see him again, but it’s impossible when he looks at you like this. 

“Sleeping beauty?” You raise your eyebrow at the nickname, watching him as he walks over to you and sits at the edge of his bed. “I have a feeling you’d kick me in the balls if I called you a princess,” he chuckles, offering you the food in his hands. “And you are a beauty, so why wouldn’t I call you that?” 

“Come here,” you whisper, putting the plate aside. Mingyu’s eyes follow you confusedly, but he listens, moving closer to you. His hand runs up your covered leg, holding eye contact to see your reaction. He isn’t sure what he can and cannot do at this point. You hesitate, looking into his puppy eyes before you lean closer to him, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Let’s start again and better,” you mumble, and the way his eyes lit up makes your heart skip a beat. Only he could have this kind of power over you. 

“I’d love that more than anything.” 

♡⸝⸝ ♡⸝⸝  

“I don’t trust you.” 

Mingyu chuckles awkwardly, looking around the room for some help. However, all he is met with are killing stares from your friends, who haven’t grown to like him yet so much. 

You laugh as you put your hand around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder. “They are just teasing you,” you assure him, but he isn’t so sure about it as Soonyoung narrows his eyes at him, not breaking their eye contact as he holds his girlfriend beside him. “Right…” 

“Okay, who wants a drink?” Adel stands up to ease the awkward situation. Hansol—her now boyfriend—gets up with her, counting the raised hands so they could get everything. “Please, don’t kill him while we are gone,” she adds, purposely sending a glance at Seokmin and Soonyoung. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to miss it,” Hansol laughs, and she smacks his arm immediately. “Just go.” 

You shake your head at them. “Come on, guys. We talked about this,” you sigh when their stares don’t stop. It’s been a month since you decided to forgive Mingyu and left the whole thing behind you and three weeks since he officially asked you to be his girlfriend. Yet, the guys couldn’t seem to find their way to him. For some reason, they made it seem like he had hurt them more than you. 

“You guys are making it look like he killed your moms or something.” You turn your head to the side, smiling. “See? Even Wonwoo thinks it’s stupid.” 

Jeon Wonwoo, your past lover and Mingyu’s best friend. Chan said it was weird for you to still talk after everything, but when he and Mingyu made up, and he reached out to you to offer a friendship, you couldn’t just send him away. If he didn’t mind seeing you with his best friend, you didn’t have a problem with it either. 

The quiet tsk that leaves Seoonyoung’s lips makes you roll your eyes. They were holding a grudge against him for no reason. “Look, if you have such a problem with him, then we are leaving,” you proclaim, making sure they know you are a package deal. “Baby,” Mingyu stops you before you can stand and prove your point, shaking his head as he strokes your arm lightly. “It’s fine, I get them.” 

“It’s not fine,” you disagree. “Seokmin and Soonyoung need to pull their heads out of their ass and realize I couldn’t care less if they approve of you or not.” 

Your best friend gulps down as he watches you. You’re mad and not just a little annoyed with him mad like you always are. You’re pissed. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Seokmin apologizes, encouraging Soonyoung to do the same. “I admit I took this little too far.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Soonyoung mumbles, Hanni beside him shaking her head at him. “Sorry.” 

You sigh. Mingyu wraps his hand around your shoulders to put you at ease, and you turn your head to him with a smile. He returns your smile, leaning closer to place his lips on yours. There’s a grin on your face as you kiss him, ignoring the presence of all your friends. Because when you are with him, you forget about everything and everyone else. 

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips, a secret for you and him only. You bite the inside of your cheek to constrain your own smile. Otherwise, you might look like a middle schooler who has just got together with her first crush. 

“I love you too,” you whisper back, and as if to seal the secret, you place another kiss on his lips. 

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[multific]

Caught in the Fire

Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: After you are kidnapped by a group of villains who intend to use you against the Fantastic Four, Johnny Storm races against time to save you.

A/N: This story was inspired after I saw Joseph as Johnny Storm. I will write more once the movie is out, but for now, here's something to enjoy.

It started with a quiet evening.

The moon hung low over the city, as you walked home after a long day at work. You felt tired and all you could think about was a nice bath and a quiet night with your boyfriend.

But in an instant, everything changed.

A dark van came to a halt beside you, and before you could react, a group of masked figures jumped out, grabbing you by the arms and pulling you inside the vehicle.

You struggled, but there were too many of them, and they were too strong.

"Johnny!" you cried, but the van doors shut, and something hit your head, causing you to black out.

Back at the Baxter Building, Johnny was getting ready to call it a night, he knew you would be back soon, and he was so ready for a shared bath.

But then, his phone rang. It was a number he didn’t recognize. His heart skipped.

“Hello?” His voice was casual at first, but there was an edge of concern in it when no one immediately responded.

A distorted voice on the other end sent a cold chill down his spine. "We have her, Johnny Storm. You can thank your ego for that. She's going to be a bargaining chip- unless, of course, you'd prefer to never see her again."

Johnny’s stomach twisted with dread. "Who is this? Where is she?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” the voice taunted before hanging up.

Johnny stood frozen, his mind racing.

They had taken you. Because of him.

Because of the fact that he was Johnny Storm, the Human Torch, and they knew that as long as they had you, they could hurt him.

They could hurt everyone.

Panic clawed at his chest.

His mind was screaming, but he knew he couldn’t act recklessly. Not if he wanted to get you back. He had to be smart and think this through.

Johnny bolted from the room, throwing on his jacket and storming toward the elevator. He knew exactly what he had to do.

It took him hours but Johnny finally found the hideout. His thoughts were a whirlwind of fear and fury.

He had never felt panic like this before, never felt so completely out of control. Every inch of him burned with the need to get you back, to make sure you were okay. He had never felt this helpless in his life, and he couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you.

He finally spotted the building from a distance, tucked away in an abandoned industrial part of the city.

Johnny was already in the air, flames erupting from his body as he sped toward the building.

Inside, you were tied to a chair, bruised but unharmed. Your heart raced, your breathing shallow as you tried to fight the panic clawing at your chest.

The villains had made it clear what they wanted. They had threatened to hurt you if Johnny didn’t surrender to them, if he didn’t stop being a hero.

You had faith in him, though. He would come for you. He always did. You just had to hold on.

Soon, voices outside then a crash and what sounded like a table being thrown or a chair.

You glanced up at the sound of the door slamming open, and your heart jumped in your chest when you saw him.

Johnny, his eyes wild with panic, flames trailing from his body, burning brighter than ever before.

“Johnny!” you cried, relief flooding your chest.

“Hang on!” he shouted, his voice shaking with emotion. “I’m getting you out of here.”

Johnny’s hands were shaking as he burned through the ropes that bound you, his powers melting them away with ease. He could barely focus, his heart thundering in his ears as he worked to free you. You were safe, you were okay... and yet, all he could think about was how close he had come to losing you.

Finally, the ropes were gone, and Johnny’s hands gently cupped your face, his forehead pressed against yours. His breath was ragged, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked urgently, his voice soft but full of fear.

You nodded, though you were still trembling. “I’m okay, Johnny. I’m okay because you came for me.”

Johnny shook his head, guilt gnawing at him. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there sooner. I should’ve—”

“Johnny,” you whispered your hands gently holding his. “You found me. That’s all that matters. You saved me.”

Johnny closed his eyes, the weight of relief and love washing over him. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You didn’t lose me. You’re not going to.”

Johnny leaned in and kissed you, gently at first, but then with more urgency as his fear gave way to overwhelming affection.

He didn’t know how he had survived those hours of not knowing where you were, of fearing the worst. But now, with you in his arms, everything felt right again.

“I love you,” Johnny whispered, pulling away just enough to look into your eyes. “I love you so damn much.”

“I love you, too,” you said softly, your hands resting on his chest. “You’re my hero.”

Johnny chuckled, though there was still a tremor in his voice. “I’m just a guy with fire powers who got lucky.”

You shook your head, smiling at him. “You’re my everything.”

The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you.

Johnny held you close, the warmth of his embrace comforting you as the last remnants of panic ebbed away. Nothing else mattered, not the villains, not the danger. Because as long as you had each other, everything would be okay.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[mintyys-blog]

VICTORIAS SECRET— steve rogers

WARNINGS: smut

Steve Rogers was used to surprises. Time travel? Sure. Aliens? No problem. But the one thing he never saw coming was his girlfriend keeping a secret this big.

You had been dating for a few months now, and while Steve was perceptive, he was also a gentleman—meaning he never pried too much into your career. You had told him you worked in fashion, and he had taken it at face value, picturing you behind the scenes: maybe as a stylist or a designer. Never once had he imagined you were the one on the runway.

So when you invited him to your latest fashion event, he accepted with a smile, completely unaware of what was in store.

“Just a little show,” you had said nonchalantly. “It would mean a lot if you came.”

Of course, he had agreed instantly. Supporting you was a given.

That’s how Steve Rogers—former Captain America, super soldier, Brooklyn’s own—found himself sitting front row at a Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show, surrounded by flashing cameras, celebrities, and a sea of impossibly gorgeous women strutting down the catwalk in delicate lace and silk.

To say he was stunned would be an understatement.

His blue eyes widened as the realization hit him like a freight train. You were a model. And not just any model—a Victoria’s Secret Angel.

A hush fell over the crowd as the lights dimmed for the next set. Music pulsed through the venue, and suddenly, there you were.

Steve swore his heart stopped.

Dressed in a sultry, lace ensemble, your wings framing you like something ethereal, you walked with effortless grace. Confidence radiated off you, your expression poised yet alluring.

And then—your eyes locked onto his.

Steve felt his throat go dry. He was certain his ears were burning, but he couldn’t look away. The little smirk playing on your lips told him everything.

You knew exactly what you were doing.

As you reached the edge of the runway, you gave him the briefest wink before pivoting and walking back, leaving him reeling.

Bucky, who had somehow ended up in the seat beside him, leaned in with an amused chuckle. “You good, pal? You look like you just walked into battle without a shield.”

Steve blinked, exhaling sharply as he raked a hand through his hair. “She—she never told me.”

“That she’s a model?”

“That she’s this kind of model.” His voice was hoarse, filled with a mix of awe, admiration, and something else entirely.

Bucky smirked, patting his shoulder. “Well, Rogers, looks like you’ve been dating an Angel and didn’t even know it.”

Steve barely heard him. His focus was entirely on you.

And the second this show was over—he and you were going to have a very interesting conversation.

The second the show ended, Steve was already on his feet.

He maneuvered through the crowd with practiced ease, ignoring the lingering flashes of cameras and the murmurs of models and celebrities. He had only one thing on his mind—you.

Backstage was a whirlwind of chaos. Makeup artists, designers, and models fluttered about in silk robes, celebrating the success of the night. But the moment you spotted Steve, standing rigid with those piercing blue eyes locked onto you, a thrill shot down your spine.

You had expected surprise. You had even expected mild disbelief. But what you hadn’t expected was this particular look—half awe, half something darker.

“Steve,” you greeted smoothly, pulling the tie of your robe a little tighter. “Enjoy the show?”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. “That depends. Are we gonna talk about the fact that my girlfriend is a Victoria’s Secret Angel, and I had no damn clue?”

You chuckled, stepping closer. “I don’t know, Rogers. You handled finding out about aliens and time travel just fine. But this?” You gestured down at yourself. “This one got you, huh?”

His jaw tightened, and you swore you saw his Adam’s apple bob as his gaze flickered down, just for a second. “You could’ve told me.”

“Would you have come if I had?”

Steve hesitated. You had him there.

“You always thought I worked in fashion,” you continued, tilting your head. “I just never corrected you.”

His arms crossed over his broad chest, his stance unwavering. “That’s called lying by omission, sweetheart.”

You grinned, stepping even closer until you were toe-to-toe with him. The backstage chaos faded into white noise as the tension crackled between you.

“You mad?” you murmured, trailing a finger down the buttons of his shirt.

His breath hitched.

“No,” he admitted, voice rough. “Just—” He exhaled, his large hands landing firmly on your waist, fingers pressing into the soft silk of your robe. “Jesus, doll. You nearly gave me a heart attack out there.”

You smirked, looping your arms around his neck. “I think you handled it just fine. Although…” Your lips brushed the shell of his ear as you whispered, “You should’ve seen your face when I winked at you.”

Steve groaned, his grip on you tightening. “You did that on purpose.”

“Of course I did.”

His fingers skimmed your lower back, pulling you just a fraction closer. His voice dropped to something that sent heat straight to your core. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe.” You brushed a slow kiss to his jaw. “But so are you.”

His sharp inhale told you all you needed to know.

Bucky’s voice suddenly cut through the haze. “Alright, lovebirds. Get a room. Preferably not this one, because half of New York is watching.”

You laughed softly against Steve’s skin, but he just turned, leveling Bucky with a glare. “You got somewhere else to be, Barnes?”

Bucky smirked. “Nah, I think I’ll stick around. Watching Cap get flustered is gold.”

Steve sighed, turning back to you. “We’re leaving.”

His fingers laced with yours, firm and possessive, as he all but guided you toward the exit.

As you followed, you leaned in, voice sultry and teasing. “And where exactly are we going, Captain?”

Steve’s smirk was slow, his voice laced with promise. “Home. Where you and I are really gonna talk about this.”

Your stomach flipped at the look in his eyes.

Maybe—just maybe—keeping this little secret had been entirely worth it.

The car ride home was charged.

Steve hadn’t said much since pulling you out of the venue. He sat beside you in the backseat, one arm slung casually over the seat, the other resting on his thigh. But there was nothing casual about the way his fingers tapped against his knee or the way his jaw remained clenched, as if he were forcing himself to keep his thoughts in check.

You, on the other hand, were thriving on the tension.

With a playful smirk, you turned to him. “You’ve been quiet.”

Steve flicked his eyes toward you. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

His fingers twitched. “About how my girlfriend walked in front of a few million people in nothing but lace and a pair of wings—without telling me first.”

You bit back a grin. “Ah. That.”

“Yes. That.”

You tilted your head. “Let me guess—you didn’t like it?”

His blue eyes darkened. “That’s not the problem.”

Your pulse jumped.

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair before finally looking at you fully. “You’re… you. Of course, you looked incredible. That’s not what got me.”

You arched a brow. “Then what did?”

He leaned in, his voice low. “Every single guy in that room was looking at you like that.”

Your smirk grew. “That?”

His jaw ticked. “Like they wanted you.”

You hummed, tilting your body slightly toward him. “But they don’t have me.”

Steve’s nostrils flared.

The car slowed as the driver pulled up to your apartment. Steve was out first, rounding the car before you even reached for the handle. He opened the door for you, his hand immediately settling against the small of your back as he guided you toward the building.

His touch was warm. Firm.

Possessive.

The second you stepped inside your apartment, he closed the door behind you, locking it with a soft click.

You barely had a second to turn before Steve was on you.

He pressed you gently but firmly against the door, his hands bracing on either side of you. His scent—clean, masculine, laced with a hint of cologne—wrapped around you as his broad frame towered over yours.

Your breath hitched.

His voice was low, steady. “You enjoy driving me insane, don’t you?”

Your fingers trailed up his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath. “A little bit.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, but his eyes burned with something deeper. “You’re impossible.”

You grinned. “And yet, here you are.”

Steve’s hand brushed down your arm, his fingers skimming the silk of your robe. His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles on your wrist, the feather-light touch sending a shiver up your spine.

“Do you have any idea what you did to me tonight?” he murmured.

Your pulse pounded. “Why don’t you tell me, Captain?”

His breath fanned against your cheek as he leaned in, lips just shy of yours. “Oh, sweetheart…” His voice was a promise. A warning.

And then—his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, teasing. But when you sighed against his mouth, melting into him, something in him snapped.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing you further into the door.

You gasped when his lips trailed down, skimming your jaw, your throat. “Steve—”

“Hmm?” His lips hovered over your pulse point.

You shivered. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

He chuckled against your skin. “No, sweetheart.” His fingers traced the silk of your robe, toying with the belt. “But you are in trouble.”

Heat pooled in your stomach. “Oh?”

His lips ghosted over yours once more, his blue eyes dark and smoldering.

“Oh.”

Your breath hitched as Steve’s fingers toyed with the knot of your silk robe, his touch feather-light yet deliberate. His lips barely brushed against yours—teasing, waiting.

Your heart pounded. “What kind of trouble are we talking about?”

Steve’s smirk was slow, wicked. “The kind where you make me lose my mind in public and I return the favor in private.”

Your stomach flipped.

His hand traced down your side, dragging along the soft silk, his fingertips igniting heat beneath your skin. “You knew exactly what you were doing tonight, didn’t you?”

You grinned. “I might’ve had an idea.”

His other hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to him. “Watching you up there, knowing everyone was looking at you…” His voice was rough, laced with something darker. “I won’t lie, sweetheart. It got to me.”

You bit your lip, eyes dancing with mischief. “You jealous, Captain?”

His fingers tightened ever so slightly on your waist. “Not jealous.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he murmured, “Possessive.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

His hands slid to your hips, gripping just enough to make you gasp. “You walked that runway like you owned the world,” he murmured, his nose skimming your jaw. “Like you knew every man in that room wanted you.”

Your lips curled. “Maybe I was thinking about someone specific.”

His breath hitched. “Yeah?”

You nodded, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. “Maybe I was wondering how fast my boyfriend would drag me home the second the show ended.”

Steve groaned, his forehead pressing against yours for a beat. His control was slipping, and you loved it.

“I should make you pay for that,” he muttered.

You grinned. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

His blue eyes darkened, a slow smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh, sweetheart…” His fingers curled around the belt of your robe, giving it a slow, deliberate tug.

“I’ll show you.”

Steve’s eyes were dark with desire as he scooped you up effortlessly, his arms strong as he carried you toward the bedroom. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively, feeling the heat between you escalate. He kicked the door open with his foot and gently lowered you onto the bed. His gaze never left you, a quiet, burning intensity in his eyes as he followed you down.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip and rise, as if he were savoring the moment. He took his time, undressing you slowly, deliberately—piece by piece—like he was uncovering a masterpiece. Every inch of skin revealed made his touch more reverent, more eager.

“You’re perfect,” he muttered, eyes tracing the lines of your body. His fingers lingered on your skin, worshiping every contour, every soft curve. “You’re more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”

You shivered under his touch, biting your lip as his hands slid lower, brushing against your chest. His thumb brushed over your nipple, sending a shockwave of pleasure straight to your core. A loud moan escaped you, your back arching involuntarily.

“Steve… please…” Your voice was breathless, needy.

His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’ve got you, baby. Just relax.” His hand moved lower, tracing your body as though he couldn’t get enough.

He paused, pulling away just long enough to reach into his pocket, pulling out a condom and tearing the wrapper with practiced ease. His eyes never left yours as he prepared, his expression filled with something feral. You could feel your pulse racing in anticipation.

When he finally positioned himself above you, he slid inside slowly, filling you completely. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever experienced—stretching you, filling you in ways that made your breath catch. You gasped, your nails digging into his back as you adjusted to the fullness of him.

Steve groaned, his voice low and strained. “God, you feel so good.” He moved slowly at first, savoring every inch of connection. But as you urged him on, your body begging for more, he picked up the pace, the rhythm between you growing frantic, desperate.

Every thrust hit spots you didn’t even know existed, sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. It was overwhelming, the waves of ecstasy crashing down on you, filling you with a sensation that made your entire body tremble.

“Steve… don’t stop. Please,” you gasped, your voice shaky. “I need you. Now.”

His name tumbled from your lips in a desperate cry, louder with each passing second, and when he finally brought you over the edge, your body tensed as the pleasure consumed you. The connection between you two felt like the very air around you was crackling with electricity.

Steve’s pace faltered, his body shuddering as he reached his own release. He collapsed beside you, pulling you close, his breath ragged, his forehead pressed against yours.

“That… was beyond anything I ever thought possible,” he breathed, his hands still running over your skin as if to remind himself that you were real, right there with him.

You smiled softly, still catching your breath. “I don’t think I’ll be walking straight for days,” you teased, though your heart was still racing from the intensity of it all.

Steve chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because I don’t think I’ll be letting you go anytime soon.”

You snuggled into his chest, feeling the warmth of his embrace, both of you savoring the stillness that followed the storm.

[societyfolklore]

Dangerous Notes – Part 5

Title: Dangerous Notes – Part 5

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Singer!Female Reader

Fic Summary: Reluctantly agreeing to fill in for her sick friend at a prestigious jazz club, The Armoury, Reader finds herself thrust into a world of old- world glamour and unknown danger. The club’s enigmatic owner, Bucky Barnes, has set his sights on making her a permanent fixture on his stage- and in his life.

Chapter Summary:  Bucky gets answers from Nat and decides to speak directly to you. But life still goes on, and its Monday and you have teaching to do.

Word Count:  4.8k

Fic Warnings: // Explicit Content // Mature Themes.18+, Minors DNI,Dark Romance, Slow Burn, Possessive/Obsessive behaviour, Violence, Smut (eventually)  Chapter Warnings:  None…just people being jerks.. a little..

A/N: Updates Thursday bi Weekly 

Bucky flexed his bruised knuckles, his fingers curling into a loose fist before he pressed the ice pack back against them. The swelling was minor, but the ache throbbed, a dull reminder of the night before. The air in his office was thick with the scent of whiskey and leather, the dim morning light filtering through the blinds casting sharp shadows across the room. The rhythmic ticking of the antique clock on the wall only added to the heaviness of the silence.

His mind, however, wasn’t on the fight that had left his hands sore- it was on the lingering tension in his gut. The Stark situation wasn’t adding up. The timing of their movements. The pressure on his docks. And now, her. The moment his eyes had locked onto her on that stage, something in his chest had tightened. Suspicion? Interest? He wasn’t sure. She didn’t seem like a threat, yet there was something about her that gnawed at him, like a splinter in his hand. No more like a song stuck in his head.

Natasha strolled into his office without knocking, the quiet click of her heels on the polished wood floor the only sound before she tossed a slim file onto his desk.

“That was fast.” Bucky’s voice was low, rough from lack of sleep. He barely looked up, keeping the ice pressed against his knuckles.

“You’re welcome,” Natasha replied dryly, dropping into the seat across from him with effortless grace. “Nothing out of place. She’s a teacher. Lives alone. No criminal record. Mother passed away not long ago. She’s clean, Barnes. Just a friend of Kara’s, exactly like she says.”

Bucky thumbed through the file, no wonder it hadn’t taken Natasha long. Skimming over the details he already knew- until his gaze landed on the financials. Debt. Medical expenses. The reason she gave up singing. And, most interestingly, her school’s location.

“Queens,” he murmured, fingers tapping against the desk in a slow rhythm, his mind already working through possibilities.

Natasha arched a brow. “That’s what this is about? You think Stark’s got his hooks in some broke music teacher?” Her voice carried a healthy dose of scepticism. The woman had no connections, no history that tied her to anything remotely suspicious- not that Natasha had been able to find.

Bucky didn’t answer immediately. He flipped the file shut and leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping idly against the cover. “It’s just a feeling.”

Natasha’s lips curled into a smirk as she folded her arms. “Are you sure you know what that feeling that actually is?”

Bucky shot her a glare, but she only grinned, clearly enjoying herself. “Come on, Barnes. You’re acting like you’ve never been thrown off by someone before.”

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw, tension still pulling at his frame. “It’s not that,” he muttered. “Something’s off." He didn’t feel like this around people- especially not someone with a clean record and a boring day job.

Natasha let out a low chuckle. “Maybe your 'feeling'." She threw up air quotes. "Isn't what you think it is." 

Bucky didn’t answer, just shifted in his chair, his eyes dark with thought. Natasha tilted her head, observing him. “You joke now, but wait till this turns out to be something,” he murmured.

Natasha sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes as she moved toward the door. “Sure, Buck. Like I don’t have a nose for these things.”

She paused just before leaving, glancing back at him. “Maybe you’re not jumping at shadows. But maybe you just don’t like that she’s getting under your skin. We've got bigger things on the horizon than a stand in singer. Just remember that." 

With that, she strode out, leaving Bucky alone in the heavy silence of his office.

As soon as she was gone, he turned back to the file, flipping it open again. He scanned the details, his jaw tightening as he tried to pinpoint exactly what was making him feel this way. There was nothing- nothing concrete, at least. No reason for this level of scrutiny. But he knew better than to ignore his gut. She noticed too much, and she seemed to at home on his stage with* his* people. 

Bucky gut was telling him she was a problem. Wasn't it? He didn't like the way looking at her had him tided up in knots. How that damn voice of hers stayed in his head. Natasha was right, he had bigger things to worry about. He needed to sort this mess with her sooner rather then later. 

Bucky picked up the phone, dialling downstairs. The line rang twice before Yelena picked up.

“Make sure our new singer doesn’t leave tonight until I’ve spoken with her,” he ordered, his voice smooth but firm.

Yelena chuckled on the other end. “A little early to be obsessed, no?”

“Just do it.” He hung up before she could needle him further, he didn’t need it from both sisters.

The air in Bucky’s office was thick with something unspoken. The dim glow of the desk lamp cast elongated shadows across the room, adding an almost cinematic weight to the moment. You sat opposite him, feeling the weight of his gaze as he leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him like he was carefully piecing together an answer to a question he hadn't yet voiced.

You swallowed, shifting slightly under the intensity of his stare. The room felt too quiet, each tick of the antique clock on the wall stretching the moment further. You hadn’t seen him on the floor tonight- not like you had on Friday or Saturday. The absence had gnawed at you, making you wonder if he was disappointed, if he’d decided you weren’t worth his time. Or maybe that was just your nerves making too much of everything. Still, there was something in his posture, the way his shoulders were tenser, his jaw set harder, that made you feel like you’d been summoned to the principal’s office rather than a meeting with your temporary employer.

Yelena hadn’t given you much to go on before sending you up. Just a casual, "Boss wants a word." No explanation. No hint of what was coming next. That had done little to calm the unease already simmering in your gut.

Bucky’s gaze didn’t waver, and you wondered if he was deliberately making you wait, testing how well you handled the silence. You sat up straighter, determined not to squirm under his scrutiny. Kara had stuck her neck out to bring you in. Yes, it was a favour, but if this went sideways, it wasn’t just your reputation on the line- it was hers, too.

“You like teaching?” His question was unexpected, his tone deceptively casual, but there was something else beneath it- something weighted. His gaze, piercing and unreadable, bore into you, making your pulse spike.

You hesitated, fingers curling slightly against the armrests of the chair. The room felt smaller under the intensity of his scrutiny. “It’s an income,” you answered carefully, shifting in your seat as the leather creaked beneath you. “And I like my students.”

Bucky tilted his head just slightly, as if considering your words too carefully. “Why North Queens Community High?”

Your stomach twisted into a knot. The question felt off, too precise. You swallowed, struggling to ignore the way the silence pressed down on you. “They were the first to hire me.” Your voice was steady, but you could hear the slight edge creeping in. Then, narrowing your eyes, you asked, “How do you know that?”

Bucky didn’t answer immediately, but his expression didn’t shift either. It was an expression you’d seen before in people who held power, people who knew more than they should and weren’t about to explain why.

Bucky ignored the question. "Anyone ever ask you for a favor?"

You blinked, caught off guard. The shift in the conversation was so sudden, so unexpected, that it took a moment for you to find your words. "A favor? Like a parent asking me to change a grade?"

His gaze sharpened, the intensity behind his eyes sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. "Something like that."

Your fingers gripped the armrest of the chair, knuckles paling as you tried to steady yourself. He was studying you too closely, watching for every flinch, every micro- expression, as if he already knew the answer but wanted to hear you say it. There was something else in his eyes too- something calculating, dangerous, like he was playing a game you didn’t know the rules to.

You exhaled, your frustration rising to the surface. "No," you said, more firmly this time. "I don’t.. I'm not... I do my job. That’s it."

Bucky’s lips twitched, a flicker of something between amusement and scepticism flashing across his face before he leaned back, drumming his fingers lightly against the desk.

“Teaching doesn’t pay well.” He tilted his head slightly, studying your reaction. “Can't tell me you wouldn't be tempted."  Maybe to him it was, you bet he bribed people all the time.  Your spine straightened at the implication. “No.”

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, something unreadable flickering behind his expression.

“Do you look into all your fill- ins this hard?” Your tone showed your annoyance and you wanted to take it back. 

“It’s my business to know.” His voice was smooth, controlled, but beneath it, there was something sharper. Something that made your stomach twist. “Can’t have a fox in the henhouse.”

You huffed, trying to suppress the irritation rising in your chest. Your patience was wearing thin, but you knew better than to overstep. Kara had stuck her neck out for you. Yes, she’d asked you for a favor, but if this went wrong, she’d be the one paying for it in the long run. Still, you couldn't ignore the way Bucky was watching you- like he was testing you, waiting to see if you’d break.

“Do I look like a fox to you?" His finger tapped the arm of his chair, a smug eyebrow raised at your question. "I’m just a teacher,” you shot back, your voice tight. “I’m helping out a friend. If you have such a problem with me, then tell me not to come back and put someone else on.”

Bucky nodded slightly, his smirk shifting into something slower, more deliberate, as if he were weighing your words. His sharp blue eyes flickered with something unreadable- enjoyment, challenge, intrigue. He drummed his fingers lazily against the desk, the sound deliberate, slow, like a ticking clock counting down to something you couldn’t quite place.

Then, in one smooth motion, he rose to his feet. The movement was unhurried, calculated, as he stepped around the desk, his presence swallowing the space between you. He leaned against the front of his desk, arms crossed over his broad chest, the tailored fabric of his suit shifting with the motion. His posture was deceptively relaxed, but you weren’t fooled- there was a weight to his stance, a tension that hummed beneath the surface like a coiled spring, ready to snap.

“Not very loyal to Kara, are you?”

Your stomach tightened, heat creeping up your neck. “Excuse me?” The words left your lips before you could stop them, sharper than you intended. Who the hell was he to question that? You were here because of loyalty. You swallowed, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact, even as your pulse thrummed against your ribs.

Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying you with a look that sent something uneasy curling in your stomach. “Seem awfully keen for me to tell you not to come back,” he mused, his voice calm, but there was an edge beneath it, something teasing and perceptive. “Practically begging me to run you off.”

Your jaw clenched as you forced yourself to breathe evenly, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing how much that jab had gotten under your skin. “It’s not running when you’re being pushed.”

Silence stretched between you, taut and electric. Bucky’s smirk deepened, with the same measured ease, he leaned forward just slightly, closing the space between you even further.

“You don’t strike me as someone who run off when pushed.” He said, voice dropping lower, quieter, as if sharing something meant just for you. A challenge woven into the words, laced with curiosity. His fingers tapped against the edge of the desk again, slow and deliberate.

It felt like standing on a knife’s edge, the tension so taut you weren’t sure which way it would snap. Bucky’s expression didn’t shift, but something in his gaze darkened, like he was cataloguing everything about you, filing it away for later.

His eyes flicked to the file on his desk behind him. “Let’s see how long that spine lasts."

Your breath hitched, and you hated that he noticed. His lips quirked, just the faintest trace of a smirk, as if he enjoyed the way his words unsettled you. "We’ll see you Tuesday. We’re not open tomorrow.”

You lifted your chin, refusing to let him see you waver. Finally, after a beat too long, you stood, your heart pounding. You weren’t sure if it was from anger or something else entirely.

“Fine. Tuesday." 

As you turned to leave, you could feel his gaze still on you, lingering, pressing into your back like a weight you couldn’t shake.

Dragging yourself out of bed felt like a battle. The weight of the weekend still clung to your limbs, a dull, residual exhaustion making even the simplest tasks feel overwhelming. You rubbed your eyes, staring at your phone on the nightstand. Five missed alarms. A deep sigh left your lips as you swung your legs over the bed, feeling the protest of muscles still sore from late nights at the club.

Brooklyn was already alive outside your window, the hum of traffic and distant honking filtering through the thin walls. You made your way into the kitchen, the tiles cold against your feet as you fumbled with the kettle. Instant coffee again. You grimaced, scooping the powder into a mug as you scrolled through your messages. A part of you still wasn’t sure how you were supposed to juggle two lives, even for a week. Teaching during the day, performing at night- it was already pulling at the seams of your routine, stretching you thinner than you liked.

By the time you made it to school, the fluorescent hallway lights felt like daggers. You clutched your travel mug, already half- empty, as students brushed past in hurried chaos. Their voices were louder than usual, or maybe you were just too tired. Even the students seemed to notice your weariness, their glances lingering a little too long, testing limits they wouldn’t usually dare.

“Miss, can we move the assignment due date?” one asked, feigning innocence.

You exhaled slowly, leveling them with a look. “Nice try.”

A chorus of groans followed as they shuffled to their seats.

By lunchtime, you collapsed into the staff lounge chair, letting out a quiet sigh as you took a long sip of the terrible instant coffee. The bitterness did little to shake the exhaustion clinging to you, but it was better than nothing. Your calves throbbed, the dull ache spreading up to your knees as you shifted, reaching down to rub at them absently. You weren’t used to spending hours of your nights in high heels anymore. Maybe at one time, but not now- not with your days spent on your feet teaching, only to spend your nights standing under the stage lights. You’d have to get used to it again. At least you hadn’t gotten blisters this time. Small victories.

Maybe tomorrow you'd wear sneakers to work, see if anyone really noticed. Not that you had the energy to care.

"Hey." Frank Adler dropped into the seat across from you, unwrapping his sandwich with practiced ease. He placed a small stack of math papers beside his lunch, the red pen already tucked between his fingers, ready to mark between bites.

“You look like hell,” he commented, barely glancing up as he took a bite of his sandwich.

You let out a small, humorless laugh, shifting again to ease the tightness in your legs. “Thanks, Frank. Always a charmer.”

“Just calling it like I see it.” He smirked, taking another bite before nodding toward your untouched food. “You planning on eating that, or is it just for show?”

You glanced down at your lunch, realizing you’d barely touched it. Your appetite wasn’t quite there, but you picked up your fork anyway, stabbing at the food as if to prove a point. “Yeah, yeah. I’m eating.”

Frank hummed, unconvinced. “Rough weekend?”

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the mug. Your own food still sat mostly untouched. “No, just Mondays in the public school system.” It wasn’t technically a lie.

Frank tilted his head slightly, studying you with the same quiet scrutiny that made him such a good teacher. “You just look like you didn’t sleep much.”

Of course, Frank noticed. Frank always seemed to notice when you were off. He was that kind of friend. He’d been able to tell, without you saying a word, when your mother had taken her last turn for the worse. Just by the look on your face.

You forced a smile, waving a hand dismissively. “Didn’t really do much. Just stayed home, worked on some new arrangements. Class outlines.” The lie came easily enough, but the slight rise in your voice betrayed you.

Frank hummed again, still not buying it, but didn’t push. Instead, you switched gears. “How’s Mary?” latching onto the safest topic you could think of.

Frank’s face softened slightly, his shoulders relaxing. “Enjoying MIT,” he said, running a hand through his hair dirty blonde hair. “We had our phone call on Saturday. She’s doing fine. Loving it.”

“Bet you miss her.” You finally took a bite of your lunch, chewing slowly as he spoke.

“Course I do,” Frank admitted with a small smile. “But I’m just glad she’s getting the experience. College, independence, all of it.”

You admired his attitude. The way he had raised his niece, the way he had done everything to make sure she had the future she deserved, no matter the sacrifices. You understood that kind of love, that kind of need to protect something innocent.

“Must be weird having all that free time again now that she’s gone,” you mused, nudging his foot lightly under the table. “You doing okay with that?”

Frank let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, well. It was going to happen eventually.”

You both sat in comfortable silence for a little while before Frank’s brow furrowed, like he was debating something. “Hey, did you- ”

He was cut off as the front office staff entered, carrying a large bouquet of flowers. The room quieted slightly, the sight unexpected. It wasn’t every day something like that happened. Your stomach dropped the moment they approached your table.

“These are for you,” she said, setting them down in front of you with a wink.

Your pulse spiked as you swallowed hard. The neatly folded card nestled between the stems read: See you Tuesday. B.B.

Frank raised an eyebrow. “So, what’s the real reason you’re tired?”

You forced yourself to keep your face neutral, but you knew you’d been caught in your lie. “Just a gig.”

“Gig?” He leaned back, studying you more closely. “Didn’t know you were performing again.”

You attempted a smile, but it felt tight. “Just helping out a friend.”

Frank let it go, returning to his grading, but the tension in the air remained, thick and unspoken. The bell rang shortly after, signaling the end of lunch. You grabbed the flowers "I'll see you tomorrow Frank." He just nodded before you left. You ignored the looks from a few lingering staff members as you carried them back to your classroom.

One thought looped in your mind as you walked: You don’t strike me as someone who runs when pushed. 

You walked through the door, kicking it shut with your foot as you adjusted the heavy grocery bags in your arms. The weight pulled at your muscles, and a dull ache settled between your shoulders, exhaustion creeping into your bones. You let out a slow breath, setting the bags onto the counter with a quiet thud. Your handbag, heavier than usual from a day of running errands, slipped from your shoulder and slumped against one of the chairs. You rolled your shoulders, trying to shake the stiffness before reaching for the small stack of mail you had grabbed on your way in.

Bills. Grocery flyers. Another pre- approved credit offer you knew better than to entertain. You flipped through them absently, the paper rough against your fingers, before setting them aside with little more than a sigh. It was already late, but you needed to meal prep. With everything you had a head this week between school and the Armory you'd want premade meal. Last thing you could afford right now was having to buy your lunch. 

The neon glow of a streetlamp bled through the blinds. The fluorescent light above the sink flickered as you began unpacking the groceries, casting a dim, uneven glow over the counter. You pulled out a pack of ground beef, a bag of rice, and some canned beans, canned corn debating if you had the energy to meal prep. "Have you, can’t waste what you bought..”  You mumbled voice tired, at least burrito bowls were-  cheap, easy, and could stretch through the week. Something you were very used too. 

As you reached for the next item, your gaze landed on the bouquet sitting on the counter, its petals still fresh but out of place among the clutter of everyday necessities. You hesitated, fingers tightening slightly on the plastic bag in your grip. The flowers weren’t something you’d ever expect to see in your apartment, and yet here they were, a quiet reminder of something you weren’t sure how to feel about. A gesture, or a warning?

You exhaled, setting the bag down beside the vase and brushing a fingertip along the edge of one of the petals. The note had been simple, but its meaning still felt like a puzzle you hadn’t figured out yet. Was it acknowledgment? Approval? Apology? A way to make sure you understood just who he was, that he knew where you worked?

Shaking off the thought, you turned back to the groceries, pushing the unease aside. The meal prep still had to get done. The flowers, for now, would stay where they were.

Your fingers hovered over a slightly bruised bell pepper before setting it aside with the others. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough. The cheese, though- that had been a splurge, one you had justified at the time, but now it felt like a luxury you maybe shouldn’t have allowed. Even as you tucked it into the fridge, a quiet sigh slipped past your lips.

You rubbed at your temples, staring at the half- unpacked groceries. There was still more to do. Always more to do.

You put your phone out you started getting everything chopped, and laid out, looking at the clock. You couldn't postpone you check in with Kara any longer. You owed her that much. Taking a breath, you tapped her name and lifted the phone to your ear, waiting.

It rang. Once. Twice. Five times.

Then nothing.

Your stomach twisted. Kara always answered, even if she couldn’t talk. A simple ‘can’t chat, later?’ at the very least.

You set the phone down, chewing on the inside of your cheek again. Maybe she was sleeping, or maybe you were reading too much into it. Still, unease settled in your gut as you turned back to cooking. 

As you pulled vegetables from the bag, the weight of your financial reality settled over you like an old, familiar blanket. You had gotten used to pinching every penny, carefully budgeting out meals and making sure every dollar was stretched as far as possible. Even now, you hesitated before placing a pack of shredded cheese in the fridge, wondering if it had been a splurge you shouldn’t have allowed.

Thankfully your little pity party was cut short by the ding of your phone. 

'Can’t talk. Voice is shot.'

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your throat instinctively, a flicker of sympathy tightening your chest. You knew what it felt like to lose your voice, the frustration of needing rest but still wanting to push through. You could almost feel the phantom soreness, the strain of too many late nights singing without proper recovery.

'Just checking in. Wanted to know how you are, and to let you know the sets went well- just like you said..'

'Told you! Everyone being nice?'

'Yeah. Pietro said I could add to the set- if that’s okay?' 

'YES! Just send me anything new I love your arrangements, they're always so cool.' Kara words made your tummy feel warm. She was such a hype girl, your couldn't help smiling as you put rice into the cooker and turned on the stove. 'Make it yours! Just don’t steal my job LOL.' 

Your eyes flickered back to the bouquet on the counter. The scent of them was faint but persistent, weaving through the smell of cooking beef. The sight of them still unsettled you, a reminder of a moment you couldn’t quite place into the right category- gesture, warning, or something else entirely. You hesitated before adding, 'Bucky sent flowers.'

Kara’s response was quick. 'Good sign.'

You scoffed, stirring the beef with the edge of your wooden spoon, adding seasoning with a slightly heavier hand than necessary. 'Not sure about that.' Your grip on the spoon tightened as the unease in your chest curled into something sharper, something resentful.

You leaned against the counter, staring at the flowers like they might suddenly explain themselves. You wanted to tell Kara everything- the interrogation, no, the 'discussion' Bucky had cornered you into the night before. The way he had leaned back in his chair, looking so at ease while prying into your life, asking questions that felt invasive, inappropriate, unnecessary. How he knew where you worked. How he made you feel small, like your morals were something to be measured, judged. But then he sent flowers?

It didn't make sense. It was almost insulting. The contrast of it was what unsettled you the most- how someone could be so cold, so demanding, and then follow it up with something so... delicate. If it had been a veiled warning, it would have been easier to stomach. But a gift? A sign of approval? It felt more like a taunt. And yet, Yelena hadn’t even flinched when she told you Barnes wanted to see you. Hadn’t reacted at all, like this was just another night, another inevitable meeting. Was this just typical of him? Was this what Kara had been dealing with this whole time?

You exhaled sharply, turning the heat down on the stove. Maybe Kara was right. Maybe you were reading too much into it. But honestly, you felt like you weren’t reading enough. Like there was an entire chapter missing in a book you hadn’t been given access to. Your brain was too tired for this, too tangled between paranoia and exhaustion to make sense of any of it. And it was only Monday.

'Do you think you’ll be better by Thursday?'

'Seeing a doctor tomorrow. Maybe?'

Your stomach twisted. You had only agreed to a week. But it was Kara. And you’d promised. Bucky’s words echoed in your head: You don’t strike me as someone who runs when pushed.

'If I need you to cover for longer, you're going to right?'

You sighed, staring at the bills on the counter- ones that sat right next to those damn flowers. It wasn’t like you could say no. That wasn’t who you were. You were the reliably friend who showed up, the one who didn’t flinch under pressure. Kara needed you, just like your mother had.

Even if your stomach churned at the thought of more nights at The Armory, of being on stage with Bucky Barnes’ sharp gaze pinning you in place. His scrutiny, the way he had spoken to your like you was a problem to solve, a variable in an equation he was working out in real- time.

Your fingers drummed against the counter,  thoughts racing. This wasn’t just about a job. It was about loyalty, about trust- about Kara having a job to come back to. And if that meant keeping Barnes happy, well you'd grit your teeth and handle it. Like she always did.

'Totally. I got you.'

If you just avoided being alone with Barnes again, you’d be fine. You were always fine. 

[kaces-graham-crackers]

You Wrote This for Me? - Valentine's Special

Jenna Ortega x Writer Reader

Summary: The journal shouldn’t have been there. She shouldn’t have seen it. But the words are inked, the confessions buried in scribbled margins. Unfinished. She turns the page. The door opens. And now, there’s no taking it back.

Word Count: 1.5k

“Okay, but hear me out—unicorns are terrifying.” You scoffed as you stirred the pasta, glancing over your shoulder at Jenna, who sat comfortably at your kitchen table, script in hand. “Unicorns?” you repeated, unimpressed. “You mean the glittery, rainbow kind?”

Jenna smirked, flipping a page. “No. Think The Thing meets The Last Unicorn—except instead of spreading magic and joy, it hunts people. Horns like spears, glowing red eyes, and it camouflages itself as a stuffed toy when it needs to hide.”

You paused, setting the wooden spoon down. “... Okay. I’m listening.” Jenna grinned, pushing the script aside to grab her water. “It’s an indie horror project. The director wants something totally absurd but terrifying.” “And they chose you?” you teased, arching a brow. Jenna took a slow sip of water, leveling you with a look. “Yes. Because I embody fear itself.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You embody five foot nothing and need a ladder to reach my top shelf.” She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she reached for her script again, flipping to a heavily annotated page.

“So, in this scene, the unicorn—”

Before she could continue, you realized you were missing ingredients. “Shit,” you muttered, glancing at the counter. “I forgot a few things for dinner. And we need drinks.” Jenna raised a brow. “You say that like we’re not just having pasta.” “I was gonna open a bottle of wine, if that’s alright with you, Ortega.” She smirked. “Ah. Fancy.”

You grabbed your jacket. “Bodega’s just a block away. Liquor store’s right after. Be back in fifteen.” Jenna waved a dismissive hand, already distracted by the script. “Bring me something good.”

You smirked. You had a plan for that.

Jenna spent two minutes flipping through her script, highlighting a line, trying to focus. But her eyes kept drifting back to the leather-bound journal sat just a few inches away, dark and worn, standing out against the otherwise neat surface of your kitchen table. It didn’t belong there.

And that’s what made it off. She ignored it. Then, as if possessed by something beyond her willpower, she reached for it. Just a peek.

She flipped past the first few pages—dates, random notes, the kind of scribbles people made when they were half-asleep. But then, a page caught her eye. And suddenly, breathing felt harder, and there it was. Her name. And below it, crossed-out lines, footnotes scrawled in the margins—like you had written and rewritten them too many times, unable to get them right.

Jenna’s lips parted slightly as she read. “She looks at the world like she’s memorizing it. Like every moment is something worth keeping.” A quiet exhale left her as her fingers traced the ink. The way she spoke. The way she carried herself. The way she laughed—not her polished, camera-ready chuckle, but the real one.

Below it, one line that wasn’t crossed out: “I love the way she exists.” Jenna blinked, pulse hammering. This wasn’t just writing. This was her. Her hands tightened around the journal, a war raging in her head. She should put it down. She should pretend she never saw it iInstead, she turned the page. And that’s when she saw the poem.

Short, unfinished, scribbled like you had tried to ignore it:

"If I were braver, I’d tell her." "If I were braver, I’d say it plain." "If I were braver—"

A key in the door.

Jenna’s head snapped up.

You stepped inside, a bag of groceries and a bouquet of flowers in one hand. Jenna barely noticed; your eyes flicked to the table, to the open journal in her hands, and in that moment—she saw the exact second you realized what had just happened.

A beat of silence. Then, softly— “…You read it.”

Jenna swallowed, gripping the pages a little tighter. She could lie. She could say it was an accident. She could pretend she hadn’t just read the one thing she had no business knowing, but instead, she lifted her gaze to yours. “…You wrote this for me.” And for the first time all night—

You didn’t have any words left.

Which was ironic, considering you had spent weeks—months— spilling them into that journal. Hiding them in half-sentences, crossing them out, leaving them unfinished like that would somehow make them less real. But now? Now Jenna was sitting at your kitchen table, holding your secrets in her hands.

You gripped the bag of groceries a little too tightly, your fingers flexing around the bouquet of flowers, still wrapped in plastic.

“I—”

You what? Didn’t mean for her to see? Weren’t ready? Meant to tell her after you worked up the courage with a glass of wine? None of that mattered now. Jenna’s eyes stayed locked on yours, dark and unreadable. “You wrote this for me,” she said again, softer this time. Like she was still processing it herself. Your throat went dry. “Jenna—” She glanced down at the open page. Her fingers ghosted over the words again, a quiet intensity settling in her features. “…How long?” she asked. You blinked. “What?” Jenna tilted the journal slightly. “How long have you felt like this?” Your stomach flipped.

“I—” You exhaled sharply, setting the groceries down before you dropped them. “Jenna, can we—can we not do this like this?” She didn’t move. Didn’t look away. And that’s when you realized: She wasn’t going to let you dodge this. Not now. Not after everything she just read.You swallowed, fingers flexing at your sides. “…A while.”

Jenna’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t say anything.

So you kept going. “A long while...” A beat of silence stretched between you, thick with something you couldn’t name. Jenna closed the journal slowly, resting her hand on top of it. And then, she stood.Your breath caught.

She stepped around the table, each movement deliberate. By the time she was standing in front of you, you had completely forgotten how to breathe. Jenna tilted her head, studying you. You had seen this look before. On set, when she was locked into character. In interviews, when she was asked something she actually cared about. That sharp focus, that quiet intensity.Only now—Now, it was entirely on you.

“You were going to tell me tonight,” she murmured. It wasn’t a question. Your gaze flickered to the bouquet of flowers on the counter, then back to her. You gave a small, breathless laugh. “Yeah. I, uh… thought I’d have a little more control over the reveal, though.” Jenna’s lips twitched. “You should’ve hidden it better.” You huffed. “I didn’t think you’d go through my things, Ortega.” “I didn’t. It was just… there.” She hesitated, a quiet edge creeping into her voice. “Like it was meant to be found.” Your heart slammed against your ribs.

For a second, you didn’t know what to say. But then—Jenna took another step closer, and your brain completely short-circuited. Suddenly, she was standing right there, barely a breath between you, her gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips and back. And holy shit.“You’re freaking out,” she murmured, amusement creeping into her tone. “I am not—” You cleared your throat. “—freaking out.” Jenna smirked. “You’re standing completely still.” You blinked. “That’s called being normal, Jenna.” “No,” she said simply, eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s called being scared.” Your jaw clenched. “I’m not—”

Jenna reached up, gently tugging on the front of your shirt. Not pulling, not forcing. Just holding. And suddenly, the air shifted. Your pulse roared in your ears as her thumb brushed absently against the fabric, the warmth of her hand spreading through you like wildfire. “…You don’t have to be,” she said softly. Your breath hitched. And that was it. That was all it took for every single thought in your head to vanish.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, before your doubts could catch up to you, before anything else could get in the way—You leaned in. And finally—You kissed her. Soft. Slow. Tentative at first, but then—Jenna exhaled against your lips like she had been holding back just as much as you had, and then her hands were sliding up, one curling around the back of your neck, the other gripping your shirt just a little tighter.

And holy shit.

It was so much better than you had imagined. Your journal hadn’t been able to capture this. The way she sighed against your mouth, the way her lips moved like she had been waiting for this just as long as you had, the way her body fit so perfectly against yours like she had always belonged there. By the time you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. Jenna’s eyes flickered open slowly, dazed but smug. “…So,” she murmured, voice lower than before.

You swallowed. “So?” She smirked. “Was that how you were going to end your confession?” You gave a breathless laugh, shaking your head. “Honestly? The journal kinda did that for me.”

Jenna hummed, pleased. “Good.”

Then, before you could say anything else, she grabbed the front of your shirt and pulled you in again. Honestly? This ending was way better.

[anystalker707]

have me all you want

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x [gender-neutral] Reader Summary: Anakin needs to release some stress, and you have exactly what he needs Tags: face fucking / oral / cock sucking / making out

based on this link that anon sent me

MASTER LIST

          Whether it was successful or not, Anakin was annoyed by whatever happened in that mission. Stress came from him in waves, in a way he didn’t need to say or do anything specific for you to notice how strongly the annoyance thrummed in his veins. It was probably related to his opinions being ignored or being scolded by the Council—or even Obi-Wan himself—for something he deemed important or irrelevant.

Actually, the silence itself when Anakin walked into your apartment was enough of a sign of his humor. Heavy footsteps sounded through the living room, coming to a pause in the kitchen’s doorway, and he looked at you as if you were the one with something to share, those intense blue eyes sharper than usual.

“Hello?” You offered, filling a glass with water for him. He nodded, taking it, and the water was gone within seconds. “Want to talk about it?” You covered the food containers for later, deciding dinner wasn’t a priority at the moment.

Anakin opened and closed his mouth a few times, but nothing ever came, only a shake of his head as he put the glass on the counter, stepping close enough for the scent of ozone, cologne, and sweat to reach you. The hurricane of thoughts was almost visible hovering over his head, and Anakin had to put effort into organizing them and stopping the thoughtless words stuck in his throat before he could process everything properly.

Actions would work better with him right now.

Anakin’s cheek was warm under your palm when you cupped it, his hurried breath not allowing the kiss to be as soft and gentle as you planned, though still very well received by him. His hands found your hips to tug you closer and allow the kiss to deepen—his lips sought yours with the same intensity his stress carried, fingers sinking into your skin through your clothes. He clutched onto the first outlet for the turmoil inside him. Was it bad, though? Fuck… No.

Anakin pulled you even closer as he leaned in, nipping on your bottom lip before his tongue slipped into your mouth, meeting little resistance. Your breath hitched, and you wrapped your arms around his neck for leverage, since he was tugging you so close that you almost stumbled. Nonetheless, the complaint was easily swallowed by Anakin within the kisses, his tongue pressing to yours and suppressing the words and thoughts.

“Thought about you all day long,” Anakin said with a groan before his lips met your neck hungrily, and you'd be surprised if he didn't eat you up at some point tonight. Pleasure sparkled down your spine when he nipped on that sensitive spot below your ear, almost making you melt on the spot, knees trembling. Fuck…

“A-Ani…” Your hands clenched around his robes to pull him closer. “No, fuck, I…” The words escaped your grasp, thoughts clouded by arousal, but you eventually got yourself back together, gathering enough strength to push Anakin back against the wall. He immediately paused, eyes widening as he looked back at you, about to say something, but it was your time to steal the words away from him with a deep kiss. You'd help him release all that stress.

Your hands pressed against the bulge that strained Anakin’s pants, running along the outline, and it throbbed under a squeeze, snatching a moan from him, and only more came from him as your hand slipped into his pants. Only a look was enough to have Anakin compliant, leaning back against the wall to watch you lower to your knees with a hungry gaze.

“Love,” Anakin mumbled, feeling his cock leak already just at the sight of you lowering his pants, and he had to hold himself from cumming when your hand wrapped around his length, warm, applying just the right pressure when you squeezed it, testing its weight on your palm.

“So hard,” you moaned, nuzzling Anakin’s crotch to inhale his scent deeply before you mouthed along the side of his cock. It pulsed, hot, pleading for more.

“I need you,” Anakin confessed. His hands found your shoulders for leverage, also wordlessly urging you.

“And you can have me all you want,” you said as if it were obvious—because it was.

A loud groan escaped Anakin’s throat when your lips finally wrapped around his cock, enveloping his tip and tasting the tangy pre-cum. His fingers tightened around your shoulders, and he didn't even have to say anything before you started actually sucking him off, a hand on his hip and another around the base while the thick length of his cock disappeared inside the wet warmth of your mouth.

A long moan came from Anakin, relief lacing it. His head tilted back at the same time his eyes fluttered shut, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed—it took considerable effort to control himself, to process that wave of pleasure that made him shudder.

“Yeah,” Anakin breathed, “just like that.” His hand moved from your shoulder to grasp the hair on the back of your head, so you quickly held onto both his hips and relaxed your throat before he started thrusting into your mouth.

Anakin’s cock throbbed, heavy on your tongue as you could feel every pulse of it as the pre-cum filled your mouth, making it messy and sloppy, creating a mixture of saliva and pre that gathered in the corners of your lips that'd soon start dripping down your chin. His tip bullied the back of your throat with the heavy thrusts that chased the pleasure he'd spent all day long craving, finally given to him.

Hungry blue eyes met yours, holding your gaze firmly even after he pulled back, taking in the sight of your glazed, swollen lips as you inhaled deeply. “So pretty…” he breathed, hand going from your shoulder to the base of his cock to guide the tip along your lips, letting a pearl of pre-cum glaze your lips like lip gloss. He was losing control faster than expected, but none of you seemed to mind, so his cock was quickly back inside your skillful mouth.

The pain of Anakin’s grip on the back of your head mingled with pleasure as you allowed him to keep using your mouth as he pleased.

“Fuck… Just like that, baby… Damn–” Anakin’s loud moans filled the room along with the squelching sound of his cock slipping into your mouth. “‘M almost there…”

ᯓ★