#and WOW why the fuck would you turn peoples' peers against them like that

[pinolitas]

I'm having such a spiraling night about how middle school/elementary made me feel.

like I had such blind hatred for every troublemaker and loud kid but the reason there was so many of those was clearly because they're in a low income community and going through shit at home and even without knowing that myself as a kid I never reacted beyond daydreaming ripping those kids' heads off. so then why did the teachers who are whole ass adults that can rationalize this fact about something else being the issue with the troublemakers why did they choose to humiliate kids in class and berate them for struggling like why why why I was a whole child holding back lashing out at these kids because I know that it's not right to blow up at people like that but these adults who have power over us chose to make things worse instead of helping. straight up being an asshole must have made learning so much less enjoyable for these kids.

anyways I hated that school originally for the same reasons the teachers did but I know now that I was wrong for that and at least I had no lasting impact on peoples' academic career as a result of my childish personal feelings

[r0-boat]

You know who this is- Soft sex Levi and a reader who can't fucking process that "wow he loves me in his own weird ass way" and cries. Love you horny bastard <3

Aaaaa

Glad to convert another person fucking screaming!

Soft Sex Leviathan X Reader

Two idiots bad with feelings.

In a way the two of you are alike, especially when it comes to the fear of people around you who trust suddenly turning on you. Maybe that's why you feel such a kinship with the king of envy, who has that fear and anxiety. No matter the fighting. On the inside Leviathan truly deeply loves you.And on rare occasions he would show that love.

Which always catches you off guard when he raps his arms around you. His lips gently touching behind your ear Levi only recently got used to people touching him and even then he would only touch you. Your eyes widen as you turn to see his soft gaze peering into your eyes. Today in particular he yearned for you He didn't just want your seething hate You're quick-witted comebacks or even your hands around his neck.

You stayed there staring at him even as he gently guides to your own bed gently laying you down on the sheets. His pale face dusted pink and The unfamiliar rush of his heart he swallows his pride "I love you."He didn't know what else to say. Or maybe that was all he could say letting his heart take over. Your eyes widen, how long had it been for someone to utter those three words. From Leviathan no less. The squeeze in your heart from his words in the sincerity of his voice Your eyes begin to tear and flow down your cheeks. Leviathan surprised by your reaction is taken aback... You're crying?? Why are you crying? Poor thing thought he somehow hurt you. Seeing the fear on his face he smile trying to quiet down your sniffles. You break your hand up to caress Levi's face.

Leviathan first flinches under your touch but then melts. "No no it's not you... It's been so long-I'm not sad I'm happy!" You tried desperately to explain your sudden outburst. Levi calms once more his eyes softening his hand takes yours off his cheek his fingers intertwine with yours. "You cry out of happiness not sadness?" He says and you nod. He couldn't help but smile "humans are strange, You are strange."

He leans downward his lips peppering all over your cheek tasting your tears of happiness on his tongue. His other hand loosening the clothes on your body "If you cry tears of joy then I don't mind making you cry." You giggle what he said just now was really bad but so Leviathan.

Finished wiping every last bit of your tears He goes in for more this time His lips on yours. Leviathan feels more bullish today as he takes more initiative than he usually does his hands exploring all over your body places He has always yearned to touch gentle hands feeling up and down your sides fingers toying with your chest. All the while not letting go of your hand. "Beautiful and mine." He mutters His eyes gazing at you like you are some precious treasure that only he owned.

You wanted more of his lips, So you whimpered and begged. And Levi seem to know exactly what you were asking for as he chuckles and smirks "So needy..." He purred not even trying to hide the fact that he's secretly likes how needy you are for him.

He presses you down, climbing on top of you to straddle your body. He kisses you once more. This time, His lips devour yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth, determined to devour every part of you till there's nothing left for anyone else. He groaned in this pleasure when your hand finally slipped out of his to strip his clothes like he did to yours.

'Who's the needy one now?' You thought with a smirk. Levi pressed his entire body against yours, eager to feel every part of your skin touching his. His kisses get more and more hot and heavy, and he grinds his bottoms against yours. You could feel His hot need for you. You had your underwear still on, but he didn't care, slipping them to the side. He wanted nothing more than to be inside of you right now. He usually would flip you over his hand against the back of your neck, pressing you into the pillow to cut off your air. But with an increased need to hold you to see you writhing with your face scrunched in pleasure, He left you in your back, putting his legs over your shoulder before slipping inside. He folds you in half, his arm above your head, and his hand finds yours again; he feels at home as his fingers intertwine with yours.

Your eyes were shut as they filled with more tears. Whether out of pleasure or happiness again, he didn't care. Seeing you cry like this, He gets a rush of a need to protect you. His handshakes focused only on the rhythm of his hips. His thumb wipes your tears away. Before reaching under your neck, he comes to kiss your face and your lips, swallowing your whimpers, your moans, your voice if anyone else were to sure you like this he might get jealous.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Jake Kim x Reader: Public Toilets

G/N. Brainrotted too much. How about this @steamedeggs ??

"I hate this," Lineman laments out loud, scrubbing the wall tiles.

"At least you're not Jerry," Brad twitches his head in the No.2's direction. Likely trying to clean up some... No.2 and vigorously disinfecting a toilet. Only his backside visible and poking out of a cubicle.

"Remember when we used to protect the street," Jason mutters, bitter and biting, "And fought Workers. Now we're cleaning this goddamn-"

He takes off his rubber gloves and flings them into the sink he was scouring mere moments ago,

It lands with a splat.

"-Public toilet!" He throws back to the Big Deal boys "I need some fresh air," before striding out.

"Jerry," Lineman whines, "why are we doing this?"

The sploshing of a plunger hard at work stops. "Jake's orders."

.

.

"Here?"

You said you'll consider it. Consider it. 

To be honest, when Jake first floated the idea, you were staunchly in the 'no' camp. Then you took one look at his big brown eyes and thought 'well, never say never.' Of course him being topless, tattoos and muscles on full show when he asked didn't hurt.

'Consider it' turned to 'maybe' turned to being dragged here a few days later.

"See what you think?" Jake says, fidgeting.

And he never fidgets. His own excitement spilling out already at the thought of you-

Of him-

Of you both-

Quick and rough and filthy. Somewhere dirty and sordid, the exact opposite of him. Of your relationship.

He doesn't know where the idea took hold. But it apparently did one day and never let go.

And you. Not so much a germaphobe, but with a healthy disregard for getting down and dirty, where people, the general public, use to relieve themselves.

Jake knew you would never go for it without some... preparation.

"Jake, I know you have this fantasy but-"

The smell of bleach cuts off your next words as soon as you open the door.

Wow.

Holy shit.

It's sparkling.

This is the cleanest public bathroom you have ever seen. Probably the cleanest space you have ever stepped foot in.

You peer through each cubicle. Swipe your finger on a sink. Inspect the spotless mirrors.

"So?" Jake asks with a grin, leaning down to kiss you. Sweet and tentative at first, then he groans, lewd and indecent, when you bite his lip.

Your fate is sealed.

You’re powerless to resist the way Jake starts panting into your mouth, hands roaming, pressing his body against yours, fingers trailing beneath your waistband.

It's not a 'consider it', not a 'never say never'. It's a definite 'fuck yes'.

[live-from-flaturn]

hey bestie!

for the prompt game: 1, 12, or 50 (I'm allergic to choices, sorry) 💚🥰👀

OH YOU ARE JUST THE ABSOLUTE BEST!

Here's #1: "There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close". Which turned into a SOULMATE AU also. Bonus treat.

Wordcount: approx. 800

---

Title: "One. Two. Three."

Chay was on his way home from delivering a late meal to Porsche at Hum Bar when he heard a man’s voice shout: “Don’t let the little bastard get away!” 

He jolted back onto his heels, obscuring himself in the shadows while his eyes automatically began a frantic search for the speaker. Were they talking about him? Were these some debt-collector’s goons meant to haul him back to HQ for a ‘conversation’ with their boss? 

The answer was a definitive ‘no’, thank fuck. Whoever had shouted was most definitely not after the scrawny nineteen-year-old university student currently plastering his back against the brick mouth of the alleyway. Chay peered nervously around the corner to catch the action and found six men in patterned button-ups chasing down a younger, shorter man. 

To his continued shock, Chay recognized their prey.

“P’Wik?!”

He didn’t know why his idol was being chased down a backstreet in a questionable area of town dressed from head to toe in black athleisure, and he didn’t need to know. What Chay did know (and firmly believed in) was that celebrities deserved to have their privacy respected. The herd of strangely dressed men probably worked as paparazzi or gossip columnists and had stalked Wik down for an interview about his latest single. The rudeness of it all had Chay’s blood boiling in the space between seconds.

Chay had two seconds to hype himself up before Wik darted past his hiding place. He reached out and snagged his idol by the arm, yanking Wik into the alley. He spun them so the singer’s back met the wall and released his arm, only to cover his mouth immediately. “I’m so sorry, P’Wik, but please be quiet!” 

Wik’s beautiful brown eyes, which had initially flared with panic and anger at being grabbed quite literally off the street, softened by a noticeable degree. He nodded slowly and lifted one hand from his side to remove Chay’s fingers where they’d curled over his mouth. Chay flushed hot enough to sting and stepped back, nearly braining himself on the opposite wall. 

Right. With two people filling the tiny space there wasn’t much, well… Space.

They didn’t have time to contemplate the awkwardness of their situation or Chay’s idiocy because Wik’s pursuers thundered past in a herd. The two young men tensed in unison and Chay instinctively leaned forward, slipping into a casual lean against the wall. He angled his shoulders and hips to keep the singer hidden, lip caught anxiously between his teeth.

“I didn’t think it would happen like this.”

Despite the men still shouting and clamoring in the near distance and despite their uncomfortable proximity, Chay’s entire focus narrowed in on his idol’s voice. He knew those words. He knew them well.

“Did you– I, uhm–” He spluttered, words so soft they were mostly garbled nonsense. “Are you my soulmate?!”

Wik tugged up the sleeve of his dri-fit running shirt and flashed the words: I’m so sorry, P’Wik, but please be quiet!

Chay giggled wetly and slid his hoodie out of the way: I didn’t think it would happen like this.

“So you’re a fan?” Wik murmured, lips hovering between a smile and a grimace. Chay didn’t know people could make that kind of face, but here he stood. The sole witness to a miracle. 

Chay blinked. “No?”

“Will you run away screaming if I say superfan?”

“Will you run away screaming if I tell you those guys weren’t paparazzi?”

“Well then, angel, I suppose it’s nice to meet you. I’m your soulmate, and my real name is Kim.”

“Kim.” It tasted spicy and warm on Chay’s tongue. He couldn’t be more thrilled.  “It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m Porchay. My friends call me Chay.”

“What should your soulmate call you?”

“I liked angel,” Chay grinned. This had to be a dream, so he might as well shoot his shot. “Angel was nice.”

“Alright, then,” Kim wrapped an arm around his waist and jerked his chin in the direction of the opposite alley entrance. “Ready to run?”

“Promise I don’t have to wake up when this part is over?”

“Fuck, you’re cute. I don’t deserve this.” Kim laughed outright, the not-paparazzi now apparently forgotten. The pure, joyful sound of it speared Chay through the chest and pinned him against the rough brick. His soulmate and idol were one in the same… And he was happy with Chay?! Kim’s voice brought him back to reality, “We’re going to sprint on three, alright? When we get out the other side, whatever happens, don’t let go of my hand. Okay?”

“Never, P’Kim.”

“Perfect. Ready?” 

Chay nodded.

“One.” Kim reached down and tangled their fingers together with intentional slowness. 

“Two,” Chay breathed, squeezing gently and feeling Kim squeeze back.

“Three.”

[honesty-my-policy]

Wow the amount of mental gymnastics "oh sorry we are going to claim that we're native to this land but we shouldn't prove it with evidence."

No evidence? Did you really just say? No evidence? I keep thinking I can't be surprised by the lack of intelligence not only on this site but in general of Palestine supporters but this just made me want to not even respond, simply because even if I put together a long essay worth list of evidence, will you believe it if it isn't "DNA" evidence?

But I'll take this one step at at a time.

You know exactly why y'all don't want DNA tests.

Maybe cause as recently as on November 9th of 2023, so a month and 2 days after the Oct 7th massacre, there was a leak of data leak of Jewish 23andme customers? source

Jews might be a little leery about anyone wanting to know about their DNA or genetics since in WWII one of the biggest ways they managed to turn the average citizen against the Jews was to start the entire "Germans must be pure" and even going so far as to create a CHART to help people understand where they stood if they just had Jewish relatives. source

That quickly led to the yellow star, y'know, Jews being forced to wear yellow stars so everyone knew that they were Jewish and could discriminate freely against them if they wished. Also, the Nuremberg Race Laws which basically said "Jews are evil and have no rights." source

It because y'all know you have no blood ties to fucking Palestine.

Wanna know something that your feeble mind can't seem to wrap around? Yes, the Jews have a lot of VARIED ancestry, why? Because they kicked out of their homelands or been displaced from various countries so many times that they've adapted to whatever new population is around them, getting married to new people of different ancestry. For reference, here is a list of 1030 Jewish Expulsions in Human History - source

So them having VARIED ancestry makes sense! They aren't against their children getting married to infidels and won't honor kill them for marrying people they don't approve of! This is a longstanding problem of the Arab world, it is debated if it has anything to do with the Muslim faith or not, that isn't up to me, what is known is that in Israel  the perpetrators of “honor killings” receive harsh sentences, as would the convicted perpetrators of any murder, be they Jewish or Arab. But in many Arab countries including Egypt, Jordan, and the Gulf States, the legal system forgives the perpetrators of violence against women. sources: 1, 2, 3

That being said

Dr Eran Elhaik who discovered that the real origin of European Jews actually came from northern turkey.

I'll start with the whole "real origin" bullshit. What a load of antisemitic bullshit by the way. So antisemitic that a former member of the Ku Klux Klan actually called Elhaik out on the entire thing.

But moving onto the fact that it's been torn to SHREDS by his peers and there is plenty of COUNTER EVIDENCE.

For one, he used some of the same data as another team of researchers in 2010, that same team published a paper concluding that most contemporary Jews around the world and some non-Jewish populations from the Levant, or Eastern Mediterranean, are closely related.

Elhaik used some of the same statistical tests as Behar and others, but he chose different comparisons. So he cherry-picked the data to fit his narrative.

Director of Stanford Morrison Institute of Population and Resource Studies said: “He appears to be applying the statistics in a way that gives him different results from what everybody else has obtained from essentially similar data.” (Feldman)

When a very thorough and textured critique of the study by Razib Khan on his Gene Expression blog was published, basically rebuking Elhaik, he had a tantrum like a little baby. Calling the worlds top geneticists "liars" and "frauds" and he also said a Forbes journalist who commented on a magazine discussion board was no better than them and had common ground with the Nazism ideology.

He's a real outstanding scholar. sources: 1, 2, 3,

As for counter evidence -

Ashkenazi Jews, when they studied their genetics further, have a lineage that goes back to the Middle East. source an older study as well source

Which if you actually bother to read that article, I doubt you have the brain power for it. It says "a recent study revealed the presence of both J1a-P58 and J2-M12 Y-chromosomes, frequent among contemporary Jews, in two Canaanite samples date to 3,700 ybp"

But if that isn't enough for you -

Studies have been done that say that the paternal gene pools of Jewish communities from Europe, North Africa and the Middle East, descended from a common Middle Eastern ancestral population. Source

Once again there were Christian, Jew, AND Muslim Palestinians. Living peacefully before the British gave EUROPEAN Jews land that did not belong to them.

Ignorance is truly bliss. From 1517-1917 the Ottoman Turks has control of Palestine which was split into 3 sections. It was the right on the eve of WWI an the Ottoman Empire was falling apart. Arabs wanted an independent Arab state and they wanted all of the land. The Jews hoped to get support from one of the Great Powers for increased immigration and eventual sovereignty in Palestine. However, the Jews in 1914 only comprised 12% of the total population and so they didn't see much hope in getting backed.

December of 1917 is when the Turks began to retreat from Jerusalem, the war in Palestine continued until September of 1918 where the British attacked the Turkish lines and eventually in October they surrendered.

The British Mandate or The British Palestine Mandate was actually approved and confirmed by the League of Nations. As soon as the Arabs heard they weren't going to get all the land and that Israel was now officially the Jews home, they were no longer peaceful.

Arab Riots of the 1920s

Hebron Massacre of 1929

I could go on but I've been at this for like 2-3hrs just so I'd be able to give you sources and I'm not linking those last two cause lunch is ready and I'm tired of this. Go look it up yourself.

Also, I hope one day you magically gain a brain-cell.

[shawtuzi]

this was supposed to be short but i got carried away....anyways two works in one day love that for me 

minors pls dni//content warning include: drug use (marijuana), oral f!recieving, car sex, so much fluff i almost cried, kinda corruption kink (eren describes reader as his housewife)

“I’m not sure about this Renny. What if someone catches us?” you sighed peering out of the car window to scope the empty church parking lot for any people. Eren chuckled looking at the blunt he just pearled before bringing his attention to your pouting face, “angel it’s one in the morning trust me no one is gonna see us. Now you gonna hit this or is it gonna be all for me?” he teased poking your side.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to smoke with Eren occasionally but it was always in the privacy of his own house or a friends, never in the dead of night in public where anyone could see. “You don’t know that…now gimme” you mumbled snatching the blunt from his hands making him chuckle once more, “let me light it for you at least your highness” he smirked bringing the lighter to your puckered lips. You inhaled a little too fast which caused you to cough in a not so pretty way (if u smoke you know what i’m talking about hehe). Eren bellowed out a laugh throwing his head back, “careful now angel don’t die on me” he giggled handing you a bottle of water.

You rolled your eyes refusing the water, “I don’t need that…I’m a big girl I can handle my marijuana without water” you grumbled taking a shallow hit of the bud. “You know you don’t have to use the actual term you know ‘weed’ is just fine- I’m just sayin!” he cut himself quickly seeing the look you were giving him. He brought his hand up to your face stroking your cheek softly with his thumb, “don’t look at me like that love you know how much it turns me on when you’re mad at me” he smirked plucking the blunt from your fingers.

You propped the seat back and turned your head to get a better view of your beautiful boyfriend. His hair was up in a bun and he was in his usual attire, a hoodie and gray sweatpants that made the outline of his dick look absolutely delicious. “You look so handsome Ren I love when you wear these” you smiled setting your hand on his muscly thigh your smile growing even wider when you felt him tense under your touch. “Thank you baby, that's why I wear them I know they’re your favorite” he chuckled taking a long drag of the blunt, “c’mere.”

You leaned over the console already knowing where this was going and pressed your lips against his welcoming the smoke into your mouth. Eren pulled away but the one kiss wasn’t enough for you, you gripped his chin between your thumb and forefinger bringing him in for another kiss. “Wow…” he whispered licking his lips slowly, “here take it before I put it out and fuck you” he grunted passing the blunt once more to you. You plucked it out of his fingers but instead of sitting back in the passenger seat you found purchase on his lap, your back against the car door. Yes it wasn’t the most comfortable but you’d rather be in Eren’s arms than anywhere else so this would have to do.

“You smell so good I just wanna climb inside you” you whined nuzzling your face into his hoodie inhaling the intoxicating scent of his cologne. “I should be saying that about you angel smell so damn sweet all the time, and taste even sweeter” he smirked, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You giggled taking a long drag on the blunt blowing the smoke into his face making his nose scrunch up. The blunt was almost finished and the two of you were definitely feeling the effects, especially Eren. You couldn’t see how bloodshot his eyes were but the way his eyes were droopy and the dopey smile on his face was a dead giveaway.

“C’mere give me another kiss” he rasped, nudging his nose against yours and you obliged, giving him a quick peck on the lips making him whine. “Heyyy gimme another one I barely felt that!” he whined pulling your body closer against his. You ditched the blunt tossing it in the ashtray that was on the console before giving him another kiss, “that’s more like it” he smiled into the kiss wrapping his hand around your throat to keep you in place. “Spread ‘em” he grunted rubbing his hand along your bare thigh.

The decision to sneak out was very last minute, before you even had the chance to give Eren an answer he told you he was up the street and of course you couldn’t say no. You settled on your nightgown and thin jacket but quickly ditched the jacket when Eren pulled out an extra hoodie of his. His obsession with stealing your panties was equal to your obsession with stealing his clothes. It didn't matter what it was, sweatpants, shirts, hoodies, etc. You kept them all hidden in a drawer, wearing them whenever you missed him too much.

You spread your legs as much as possible mewling when you felt his palm brush up against your center, “I love you so much you know that right?” You nodded quickly feeling your heart swell at his sweet words, “yes and I love you so much more. I can’t wait to leave this stupid town and be with you, I’m so tired of hiding our relationship and sneaking around. Please tell me what it’s gonna be like when we leave I wanna hear it again” you whimpered nuzzling your face into his neck.

“Well I’m gonna go to college and get an off campus apartment” he whispered, pulling your panties to the side in the process. “You’re gonna live with me and be my cute little housewife. ‘Gonna wake me up every morning for school, greet me when I come back, and go to my games” you moaned quietly when you felt him rub slow circles on your clit, his words getting you wetter by the second. “M’gonna take you to parties and show everyone you’re mine, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Showing all those people that you’re the only one for me and I’m yours yeah?” he smiled slowly pushing his ring and middle finger in your soaked pussy.

“Yes Renny no more hiding” you sighed removing your face from his neck to stare in his eyes, “I’m gonna be the best housewife ever for you, it’ll be even better when we’re actually married” you smiled tears brimming your eyes at the thought of being married to Eren. “Oh you better believe it baby as soon as I’m out of college I’m gonna put a ring on your finger and make you Mrs. Jaeger” he rasped, picking up the pace of his fingers, “then m’gonna knock you up and we’re gonna have a family. Doesn’t that sound amazing princess? Having my babies?” he giggled curling his fingers slightly.

“Yes Eren oh-!” you cried arching your back only to have Eren pull you back down shushing your cries. “My pretty baby you look so beautiful when you’re about to cum” he growled, removing his fingers to slap your pussy before pushing them in once more. You were cumming within minutes soaking Eren’s fingers and your thighs. You shut your eyes basking in your post orgasm bliss which caused some worry to grace Eren’s face, “you okay baby?” he asked, stroking your hair gently and you nodded slowly, opening your eyes. “Yeah…I wanna ride you now. Can I daddy?” you purred sitting up so you were chest to chest with Eren. “Of course you can baby” he groaned pulling his sweats down his thighs allowing his aching cock to spring free, “this is your dick fucking ride it.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, gripping his cock in your hand before placing the tip at your entrance, the two of you moaning in unison when you felt it enter you. Your pace was slow at first but gradually got faster, the car shaking from your movements. “Ah shit” Eren cursed, gripping onto your hip with one hand while the other grabbed the half finished blunt. He placed it between your lips then lit it smoke slowly starting to fill the car once more. “Look at you,” he chuckled smacking your ass roughy, “went from an innocent little church girl to a slut riding my dick with a fucking blunt in her mouth.”

You slowed down your pace by a little removing the blunt from your mouth with shaking hands, you had never felt this consumed by pleasure. It was honestly scary the feeling of the drug enhancing it by tenfold. “Keep talking please” you mewled, switching from bouncing on his cock to grinding on it, your wetness dripping down his balls and onto the leather seat. A wicked smile found its way onto Eren’s face and he obliged but not before taking a couple hits of what was leftover from the blunt. “I remember when I first saw you in the church you looked so damn cute in that pink dress, I just knew I had to make you mine” he grunted wrapping his arms around your waist before lifting you up and fucking into you with everything he had.

“I don’t care about your parents, my parents, fucking anyone for that matter you belong with me Y/N. You’re fucking mine mind, body, and soul and I’ll hurt anyone who tries to get in the way” he growled talking more to himself than you. “I’m the one who gave you your first kiss, I’m the one who took your virginity, and I’m the man who’s gonna marry you and love you till the end of time. You won’t ever have to worry about being alone ever because I’m gonna be right here okay?” By now tears had escaped your eyes dripping onto his hoodie but he didn’t care he had to let you know that you were his and he was yours. “I love you so much Eren don’t stop!” you cried pressing your forehead against his.

“Say it again, tell me you love me Y/N tell me whose pussy this is” he moaned, feeling his orgasm approach quickly. “I love you Eren! It’s yours I’m all yours I promise!” That was all he needed to hear before he thrusted up into you one last time emptying his load inside of your aching pussy. Eren’s thighs trembled as he set you back down brushing away the stray hairs in your face. “Just a couple more months angel and we’ll be out of here I promise.”

peaches and coconut!eren supremacy goodnight

[sunflowersoonyoung]

satiated | siyeon

w.c ↠ 2.3k

pairing ↠ siyeon x fem!reader

genre/s ↠ supernatural au!, succubus!siyeon, smut, dom!siyeon, fingering, hair pulling, dirty talk

description ↠ siyeon has seen countless faces beneath her, as she stalks the night to manipulate innocent people’s dreams, and she is bored. until you, who can see straight through her, something she has never experienced before.

warning/s ↠ suggestive themes, slight alcohol consumption

a/n ↠ wow okay, this is one of my favourite one-shots I've written. I can’t help but swoon for demon!siyeon >.< 

requested by anon 

In the dead of night, a woman began to stir in her sleep, beads of sweat gathering on her forehead and rolling down her flushed cheeks.

Siyeon watched over her with a blank expression, hovering over her sprawled figure atop the mattress.

She was able to see into this woman’s dreams, similar to peering through the peep-hole of a door and seeing another world behind it.

This woman dreamt of Siyeon fucking her. Siyeon had materialised this image for her, designing it to suit the woman’s deepest desires, the sexual fantasies that she had deeply tucked away into the back of her mind with the impression that no one would ever uncover them.

Little did she know that that was Siyeon’s specialty - to see far enough to discover such secrets because, after years of experience, she knew exactly where to look.

And Siyeon felt her hunger sating with each second that the dream progressed. But it was never enough. She had not ever felt full, which is why she watched the girl with boredom painting her sharp features. Every night she spent feeding was no different than the last.

Siyeon melted back into the shadows, and it then was as if she had never been there.

She liked to stroll the streets beneath the twilight when the town was still and doused with darkness and everyone was asleep. She could feel energy ebbing against her skin from hundreds of people dreaming, electric and gently warm.

Siyeon discovered a round park in the middle of a collection of tall buildings, a patch of healthy and green grass. It was mostly dark, save for the occasional white streetlamp.

And then she saw you.

You were sitting on a bench near the centre of the park, illuminated by a circle of pale light. Glistening tears ran down your cheek. Siyeon hesitated and then approached with her only motivation being curiosity.

You heard her approaching, rustling the inch-high grass, and so you turned to face her. Your cheeks shone with a thin sheen of tears. You greeted her with a smile.

Siyeon faltered, her breath bated.

“Why are you crying?” She inquired, again for no reason other than genuine interest. You stared at your shoes with a crooked grin, bitterly amused at yourself.

“I don’t know. I just like coming here when I can’t sleep and crying. It’s comfortable,” you replied.

And Siyeon had this thought that ate up every other thought in her head, that she wanted to feed on you. To disappear into the shadows and emerge once more when you were home alone and asleep. Like a predator stalking its’ prey.

“You’re going to try to devour me, aren’t you?” You asked playfully, and the hairs on Siyeon’s arms raised as she realised she had just been seen through.

It was mildly unnerving; it was the opposite of what Siyeon was used to, yet she also loved it.

“Mm, how could you tell?” She purred, a slow, teasing grin melting onto her lips. You just laughed, an unbothered and innocent laugh that softened even Siyeon’s hardened heart.

“You’re really suspicious, did you know that? It’s like you’re not even here,” you said, reaching for her and letting your fingers graze over her arm as if confirming that she was real, “like you could disappear at any moment.”

This time it was Siyeon who laughed, “you’re just as strange as I am.”

You frowned at her, feeling mildly embarrassed.

“Let me walk you home,” Siyeon offered, “as suspicious as I may seem.”

You considered her offer for a moment, gazing at her, trying to probe her for ulterior motives, but eventually decided she was genuinely offering to escort you.

Beneath a blanket of twinkling stars, the suspicious woman walked you home in silence, keeping a respectful distance.

It was during that walk that you realised how beautiful she was. She had this cold beauty with pointed edges that adorned her face, dangerous yet encapturing. She reminded you of a wolf.

“This is far enough,” you said, this strange instinct overcoming you that told you to keep your distance. Like it was too soon to lead her to your apartment, like you somehow knew you would be given another opportunity with her shortly.

“Thank you, Miss…?” You trailed off, and she completed your sentence, “Siyeon.”

Beneath the dim light, it appeared as if her eyes glowed an inky black, swirling like two spheres of dark smoke. She watched you closely with a masked expression.

Siyeon was thinking about you, reflecting upon how she had never felt so drawn to someone in her long lifetime of drifting from town to town and feeding off of dreams. Thinking about how badly she wanted to throw herself into your head and discover the things that made you the wettest.

You merely curtseyed at her, bidding her farewell with a small smile and disappearing down the sidewalk.

Siyeon waited, staring up at the moon, waiting for time to pass her by and for the night sky to fade slightly. Then, after an hour or so, she finally moved.

She entered your house, delighted to find it quiet and unmoving as houses usually were when their inhabitants were asleep.

But as she peered into your bedroom, craning her neck around the doorway, she could tell you were still awake, lying on top of the covers with your eyes closed.

And then you opened your eyes, having sensed a presence, looking directly at where Siyeon had been moments earlier.

Siyeon pressed her back to a wall, breathing heavily, almost out of fear.

You were too sensitive for her to infiltrate your dreams as she usually did, much to her misfortune. So she had to leave you there, where you were vulnerable and tempting, and it was much later when she could finally smell the wisps of your dream.

Siyeon could almost taste you just from that, similarly to how an exceptionally concentrated scent always seemed to hit the back of your throat. Gradual waves of it washed over her body, driving her into a slow frenzy.

The following night at approximately the same hour, Siyeon returned to that park bench where she had first discovered you. She was overjoyed to see you there once more.

“Good evening, Siyeon-ssi,” you greeted her, shifting aside, wordlessly inviting her to sit beside her.

By now, Siyeon had entirely concluded that using supernatural methods would be of no use to her in terms of you. So instead, she was going to seduce you the old-fashioned way, something she had not done since her younger years. Back then, she had found seduction exhilarating, even if she was not particularly interested in the subject.

“You’re fond of this spot, aren’t you?” She asked, reaching over and tucking a tuft of your hair behind your ear, making her new intentions clear. You blushed, and that made Siyeon feel crazed.

“I am,” you replied shyly, “it’s quiet, and the grass is soft.”

“Sit with me on the grass, then,” Siyeon stood and held a hand out for you to take. You took it and sat directly opposite her on the ground, your knees skimming hers.

All of a sudden, Siyeon was gazing at you with this strange, mysterious expression that was impossible to decipher. And you considered yourself above average in terms of reading people.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been with someone, hasn’t it? Do you get lonely?” Slyness cracked across that previous inexplicable face of hers. You grew hot beneath her piercing interest. Her hand reached across and trailed a long line down your bare thigh.

“I-I do,” you stammered, “I miss being touched.”

Siyeon felt as if she was finally closing in on you, knowing now with the sound of your voice that she had gained control over you.

Her voice was rasping as she spoke, “you need to be touched, baby girl, I know you do.”

You gave in to her when she leaned forwards and kissed you, feeling her smile against you. She moved gingerly and drew you against her with her hands on your cheeks, kissing harder and faster, her lips burning against yours.

And then Siyeon pulled away, breathless as she could almost taste your arousal. She was so close.

“Let’s go back to your apartment,” she whispered suggestively.

But you furrowed your brows, suddenly afraid. Fearful that Siyeon would take you home, and then you would never see her again after tonight.

“I…don’t want to move so fast,” you replied quietly, an excuse.

Siyeon’s control over you was ripped from her possession just like that. As if she had tried to catch smoke with her bare hands, and it had leaked through the cracks between her fingers. You got up, brushing your knees.

“Sorry,” Siyeon apologised - she had never apologised before in her life.

“Don’t worry about it,” you smiled at her, but beneath the surfaces, you were still unsettled, “I’m starting to get cold. I think I’m going to go home.”

Siyeon observed numbly as your back retreated into the thick night. She felt somewhat as if she had just lost a battle. She never lost because, in the end, her victims would lose their inhibitions to something supernatural. It baffled her that you had just rejected her.

For once, she was the one chasing.

The next night, and the night after that, the park bench was empty. Siyeon even waited for you, and she became famished in the time she waited.

But she was uninterested in feeding on anyone else - she wanted you, only you. And it was not just hunger. It was sadness; it was worry.

Maddened by unfamiliar and overwhelming emotions, Siyeon ended up in front of your door. She knocked this time instead of fading through the walls. She knew this could potentially frighten you because she was not supposed to know where you lived, but she no longer cared. She missed being in your proximity.

You were only mildly surprised when you opened the door to reveal a solemn Siyeon. You had almost been expecting her.

“Siyeon-ssi,” you grinned, “come in.”

Siyeon passed into your home and slammed the door behind her, pushing you up against the corridor wall. And then she kissed you deeply, parting your lips with her tongue. She could taste the faint flavour of wine on you, letting her know that you were tipsy.

“I missed you,” Siyeon purred against your lips, her body heavy against yours, “I’ve never missed anyone.”

You giggled giddily, still dazed from her kiss, “there was no need to add that last part, was there?”

Siyeon was indifferent to your small joke. Finally, she had you beneath her palm once again.

No, she could not say that. You would never truly be under her control.

Her hands smoothed from your hips to your backside, and she massaged the pliant flesh beneath her fingers.

“Is tonight the night?” Siyeon asked directly. Her gaze was so firm that it was as if she was staring at the wall behind your head instead.

“For what~?” You hummed in a falsely innocent voice. You had already recognised that tone, the caramel desire that washed over her words. You just wanted to drag things out because she looked terribly desperate.

“Don’t test me, baby girl. You know exactly what I’m saying. Or perhaps, do you want me to show you?” She growled.

You wet your lips with your tongue as you answered, “show me.”

Siyeon did not even bother moving locations because that would take time, and currently, time was excruciating to her.

She kissed you once more, grasping roughly at your breasts, her fingers stinging against the sensitive skin. It was a delicious combination of pain and pleasure that made you quiver.

She grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled it upwards sharply, throwing your head back.

“Where do you want me to touch you? Tell me. Say it out loud.”

“I need you to touch my p-pussy, Siyeon,” you groaned, your voice thin and quiet, catching in your throat out of embarrassment. But also, you were impossibly turned on upon admitting it.

“Good girl,” Siyeon’s grip on your hair loosened, and your scalp ached in relief.

She forced her other hand down your pants, creating a direct path to your slick folds. There was a twinge of pleasure as she made contact with your clit, which was beginning to swell with blood and build in sensitivity.

She then pulled your thigh flush against her hip, angling you towards her before plunging two fingers deep inside your pussy. You gasped and sunk your teeth into your bottom lip.

Siyeon fucked you with those two fingers, and you reciprocated, rocking yourself against her. Your eyes squeezed shut when she curled her fingers to collide with that sweet spot. She knew exactly where your g-spot was and also knew to abuse it.

“Ah, Siyeon!” You gasped, and she cooed, “it feels good, doesn’t it, baby? Why don’t you cum for me?”

She shifted her hand so that she could press her thumb harshly against your clit. You exclaimed, falling forwards and clinging to the back of her white dress shirt.

“I’m gonna cum, I-I’m gonna cum,” you repeated out of desperation because pleasure was rising in the pit of your stomach, and it just kept going, building until it was overwhelming. You were so numbed with pleasure that you could no longer recognise the strokes of Siyeon’s hand.

What proceeded was the biggest orgasm you had ever had in your life. It crashed over you from head to toe, making your ears ring. When you opened your eyes and blinked back the tears that blurred your vision, Siyeon was licking your juices from her hand. Her eyes were half-shrouded with arousal.

“You taste so good~,” she hummed.

Little did you know, her words had more than one interpretation. She had just had a belly-full of your sexual energy and had enjoyed every second of it.

For the first time in her life, Siyeon was entirely satiated. You were the best meal she had ever had the luxury of tasting.

[chateautae]

maybe i do | kth. II

➵ summary :  maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

↳  part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre :  arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 10k

➵ warnings : none really, swearing, mainly fluffy and funny interactions, some angst! :o 

➵ a/n: and i’m back with chapter two! i really wanted to say thank you for the love and support i received on the first part of maybe i do, it was astounding!! i’m so grateful so many people loved the story and asked to be tagged (all at the bottom <3), it made me feel so motivated to write. if you would also like to be tagged please message me. your feedback is always appreciated! 

chapter two : “on my pillow, can’t get me tired” 

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Taehyung didn’t remember sleeping anywhere near you last night. 

He remembered that even though you willingly agreed to share the same bed, he still opted for caution and slept with the most space between you two as possible.

Though when his eyes fluttered open the next morning, eyeballs burning from the light that bled into the suite, the first thing he realized was that he was not on his side of the bed from last night. 

No, he had somehow gravitated towards the center, and as if almost on cue, your slight movement and the sound of your breathing alerted him of your nearby presence. 

Peering down at you, Taehyung caught sight of your sleepy head turned towards him and lying on his arm, his other thrown over your torso with you unsuspectingly nuzzled into his side.

Taehyung’s eyes shot open, acknowledging he had succumbed to his habit of hugging something to sleep during the course of the night and he internally panicked. He began retracting his arms slowly, just about drawing himself from you until alarms rang in his head at the sight of you stirring in your sleep. 

Taehyung took the golden opportunity to sit up in a flash, having to physically shake his head to rid the image of your tranquil, sleeping face from his brain, crushing the thought that it was kind of cute.

He found himself chanting the same denial from last night, he couldn’t be thinking of such complicated things concerning you when he knew the second he’d step foot inside his home, there’d be a mountain of paperwork ready for him; even more on his work desk.

He had to be thinking about his job, not you.  

Even if Taehyung was married now, it wouldn’t lessen the amount of work that plagued his life nor make it any less demanding. If anything, his life would be harder now considering the fact that he had another priority to add to his list, another aspect of his life he had to split his attention between. 

He didn’t necessarily hate the idea, just found himself needing to work harder than he already was. 

Taehyung sighed heavily at the thought and swung his legs off the bed, rubbing his tired eyes. He took a moment to look back at you, thinking if he observed you a second time he’d be able to piece together how the hell you two ended up in that position, that close. 

By evidence of the forgotten blanket half-thrown off you, he could see you were the tossing-and-turning type, maybe the only explanation for your proximity considering he was the same. 

He also noticed you slept all curled up, like you were cold and the only warmth you knew was snuggling yourself.

Cute.

There it was again, cute. 

Why does that word even exist? 

Taehyung discarded the notion altogether and stood to his feet, stretching out his stiff muscles. He made for the bathroom eagerly to begin his day, though not without fixing at least some of the blanket back onto you. 

“You don’t have a driver?” 

“Not for everywhere I go. I have two hands, I can drive myself.” Taehyung made it a statement to jazz hands at you, showcasing the perfectly capable limbs he was gifted with.

“That’s.. nice, actually. I always see asshole CEO’s getting other people to drive them around.” You relayed as you trailed behind Taehyung, letting him lead you towards the front of the hotel where dozens of expensive cars lined the curb side.

You had no clue which luxury vehicle belonged to Taehyung because quite frankly, he could probably afford every car your eyes caught sight of. It wasn’t until he approached a certain one and retrieved his keys from the valet that your jaw completely dropped, floored.

“This is your car?” You gawked, the sleek design, crispness of its shape and nearly sparkling gloss completely sweeping you off your feet.

“Yeah, think someone like me can’t get a car like this?” Taehyung cocked an eyebrow, gesturing towards himself.   

“It’s just-wow. Mercedes CLS?” You inquired without really looking at him, inspecting the car instead as you admired its every curve. Safe to say, you were beyond in love with it. Even if you were always more of a minimalist and preferred the average product, there was just something gorgeous about luxury cars that appealed to you.

“Yeah, actually it is.” Taehyung looked at you impressed, momentarily reminded of just how different you were compared to any other woman he’s chanced upon. 

How many of them knew car models?

Taehyung was intrigued by the fact before speaking with one of the hotel workers, confirming if they had loaded his car with both your luggage and some wedding sentiments your parents insisted you keep. 

Once receiving affirmation Taehyung made towards your side of the car and pulled the door open. He flashed you a tight-lipped smile as he gestured for you to hop in, drawing you out of your stupor. You thanked him warmly before sliding into your seat. 

He let you scramble in comfortably before shutting the door and walking to his side, positioning himself in and clicking on his seatbelt. He watched as your expression lit up once occupying the car, face beaming with excitement as you touched and drank in at the high-end features the vehicle had to offer. Taehyung found himself smiling before he licked his lips and straightened his face, igniting the engine and beginning the smooth drive. 

It was easy to settle the debate on where you both would be living. Taehyung was an enormously rich CEO who lived in an expensive, massive home while you lived in a measly apartment. You knew it was useless to live separately, even more useless to have him live with you. And so you agreed without protest to pack your things and relocate, begin your move into the house you’d share with him for a lifetime. 

The car ride remained quite silent, you mindlessly bopping your head to whatever mainstream song played on the radio, while Taehyung tapped his fingers against the steering wheel or his lap. 

You found your eyes wandering to his slender fingers wrapped around the wheel every so often, sometimes venturing to the other one he placed against his thigh. You began reprimanding yourself once you realized with all the staring, observing and ogling, you most certainly had a thing for his hands already. 

Fuck. 

They were just so big, bigger than what you’ve seen of the average man and it didn’t help that they looked crafted to perfection. 

There was just something about the veins that decorated them, his palm large in size as his fingers seemed deft turning and working the steering wheel. His little accessories like a ring or two, bracelets and his watch did absolutely nothing to deter your interest either.

It only increased once you realized he looked good driving, really good. You knew men had this common attractiveness to them when they drove, watching them all focused and effortlessly working the car somehow sexy; but watching Taehyung drive was another experience entirely. 

He looked insanely hot, and you felt like throwing yourself out your window for even thinking such a thing. It was another case of you ogling him without realizing until his deep voice suddenly fished you out of your thoughts, questioning. “Did you like the wedding?” 

“Huh?” 

“The wedding, did you like it?” Taehyung repeated, glancing at you. 

“Does it really matter if I did?” You asked, this one phrase seeming to perfectly sum up the misfortune of your life, provoking an ironic laugh even. 

“I think it does. A bride should always enjoy her wedding.” 

“Well, I didn’t.” You deadpanned, your expression turning frustrated having to remember that one of, if not the most special night of your life had just been robbed of you, thrown to the wolves while you were only left to accept the sad fact. 

“C’mon, you didn’t enjoy a single thing?” Taehyung didn’t mean to flash back to the kiss you two shared, though found himself doing exactly so. 

You didn’t enjoy that? he questioned in his head. 

“Not really, I just imagined having more choice in the wedding.” You answered honestly, trying not to sulk so much. “It’s not you, I just... thought I’d be able to decide things at my own wedding. I’m grateful your parents did so much, but I didn’t really get to choose anything.” You grew more solemn as your gaze fixated on nothing, watching the world pass you by through the car window. 

“My favourite flowers weren’t even there.” You said only despondently to yourself, shoulders drooping, though Taehyung didn’t miss it. 

“You don’t like roses?”

Your eyes flashed towards him with furrowed eyebrows, surprised he heard your comment. You straightened up before shrugging back a response. “I like peonies.” 

Taehyung looked at your side profile as you turned away, finding the conversation turning more sorrowful than he liked. He allowed some silence to linger as you leaned your chin against your palm, boringly watching the bustling streets.  

He decided to change the subject.

“So you don’t think I’m an asshole, huh?” 

“What?”

“You said you always see ‘asshole CEO’s’ getting people to drive them around. But I don’t, so I’m not an asshole to you?” Taehyung halved his attention between you and the road, glancing in your direction with one hand working the steering wheel.

You thought the question over, “No, you’re not an asshole.” You said simply, distracted by the thoughts that previously occupied your mind. 

“I see.” Taehyung pursed his lips. Another beat of silence passed through the downcast air before Taehyung perked up again.

“Is it just the driving? Or do you have other criteria?” Taehyung asked inquisitively, leaning back into his seat as he observed you. 

You could detect from the corner of your eyes the way his stance drew attention to his legs, thighs broad as he sat. “I guess there is.” 

“Like what?”

You didn’t really know why Taehyung was so curious. You thought it was common knowledge what the stereotypical asshole CEO was like; they were nearly all jerks with horrible one-percenter mentalities and treated people like gravel.  

You scoffed a bit. “They’re usually so full of themselves. They act like they own the place all the time, which makes sense at their own companies but not everywhere else. It’s like the position gets to their heads. Even the way they talk is condescending, belittling, or straight up rude to anyone not on their level. It wouldn’t kill to be nice.” You revealed almost too eagerly, avoiding eye contact with Taehyung as you viewed the traffic on the road ahead, remembering he was a CEO himself. 

Long story short, you’ve had your fair share of experiences meeting them as you grew up during the beginnings of your father’s company. They were quick to skew your opinion ever since you watched the way they treated your father all due to having a start-up, for simply being small in name or reputation. They acted like he was less than, some even daring to behave as though his company would simply never make it. 

It always boiled your blood, left an extremely distasteful image of CEOs and the business world in your head. 

And you were certain it all sucked after that. 

“Understandable.” Taehyung nodded agreeably. “But you think I don’t fit any of that?” He rested a hand against his thigh, sitting laxed as he spread his legs apart further. This time it was definitely hard to miss the way they appeared, all laid out and long as your eyes drank him in, following up his thighs all the way to his-

“You don’t. I thought maybe since you’re super successful you’d be full of yourself. But you’re not, really.” You snapped yourself out of whatever the hell you were doing, trying to refocus on the conversation.

“Ah, seems like a stepping stone.” 

“Stepping stone? Towards what?”

“Towards you not hating me.” His voice came out with a more solemn timbre than you expected, his jaw tightening for a mere second. 

Taehyung only thought such a thing because even if he decided you didn’t harbour negative feelings towards him, there was no way of him determining whether that was true or not without your real input. 

“I don’t hate you, Taehyung. I don’t.. think I can.” You claimed with poignancy, his statement causing you to reflect on your own feelings about him. 

You don’t hate Taehyung, you couldn’t because he did absolutely nothing wrong in this situation. He was dragged in just like you were. You only despised the unfairness of the arrangement, not him. 

There wasn’t much to hate about him.  

“So you’re saying you like me then, aren’t you?” Taehyung suddenly teased light-heartedly, all smug as his amused eyes flickered to you. 

“Shut up, I never said that.” You turned away, scandalized by his remark. 

“I’m kidding. But, why do you think you can’t hate me? I pretty much.. ruined your life.” Taehyung internally felt his chest tighten at the words, remembering the exact thoughts from where he stood no less than 24 hours ago, seconds from lawfully marrying you. 

“And I didn’t ruin yours?” This time you turned your gaze towards Taehyung, meaningfully. Your eyes instinctively communicated your emotions as they locked with his for a moment, Taehyung all attentive. 

“I took away from you just as much you took away from me. We both ruined each other’s lives, there’s no use in blaming each other. That’s why I can’t hate you.” You finalized, crossing your arms and opting to watch the passing buildings through your window again. 

Taehyung absorbed your sudden confession with reason, realizing that in a sense, you two were partners in this unfortunate case. Even if your matrimony constituted a forced partnership neither of you liked, there seemed to be a natural comradery in having to deal with the aftermath of that forced partnership. 

Trying to accept it. 

“I don’t think I can hate you, either.” Taehyung admitted, ending the more miserable part of the conversation as you fell silent. You thought he was done until he decided to bother you again. 

“I think you’re still saying you like me, though.” 

You turned to him half-appalled before pointing towards the road, eyes narrowed. “Just drive us home, will you?” 

Taehyung laughed at the moment and pressed down on the accelerator, internally grinning at the fact you never said no to his statement. 

“This is your house?” You found yourself gawking again at something that belonged to Taehyung, stepping inside a luxury home you’ve only ever dreamed of living in. Sure, you lived with your parents until you were 18, though your father was still starting out with his company for most of those years, not exactly owning anything too luxurious until after you permanently moved out.

So as you stood trying to prop your heels off yourself, your jaw dropped at the sheer elegance and high-status look to the interior of Taehyung’s home. You had already done enough gawking at the exterior, but being inside and processing the fact that you were now to inhabit this home for the rest of your life sent another wave of shock. 

You immediately observed Taehyung was the type who decorated his home with only the finest, his taste easily identifiable. Aesthetic, lavish, charming. He seemed like a man of utter simplicity though his home said otherwise, showcasing an artistic, exquisite feel you never really expected from him. 

“When will you stop saying that?” He titled his head and smiled through a laugh, removing his shoes and slipping into his indoor slippers. 

“Right, sorry.” You were still struggling for normalcy, somehow forgetting almost every hour Taehyung’s wealth and only registering it once you saw something that indicated it. 

Taehyung sauntered inside and took a deep breath, enjoying the feel of his abode. He enjoyed nothing more than being home, in the comfort of his own space. Especially for someone who worked so busily, he found pleasure in doing the bare minimum at home. Relishing in the feeling right now, he pressed his lips together in a smile before glancing back at your struggling figure, catching sight of your size. 

His eyebrows shot up to the sky. “Woah, you’re short.” 

“Huh?” 

“I think I’ve only ever seen you in heels.” Taehyung informed. “Now that you’re not wearing them you’re a lot shorter than I thought. You’re tiny.” He pointed out as he eyed you from head to toe, processing the amount of height you lost simply from removing your shoes. 

“I mean, that’s kind of what heels do, you know, they add height.” You deadpanned, stating the obvious for him. 

“Sorry, it’s just..” Kind of cute, he thought, though fought for another response. “I could probably throw you.” 

Nice save. 

“Excuse me? It’s not my fault you’re so tall.” You scowled at him. “Besides, you’re all height and no muscle, you probably can’t even carry me.” 

“Wanna see me try?” Taehyung was already coming towards you with his arms held out and you sputtered immediately, “No, no, no.” you held your hands up defensively. “Let’s just start the house tour, yeah?” you offered a smile for compromise. 

“That’s what I thought.” Taehyung narrowed his eyes coyly and turned on his heel, signaling you to follow him. 

What you realized strolling through the home as Taehyung discussed its details was that it emphatically represented him like an open book. Even if Taehyung was predominantly unreadable and seemed to always hide a mystery behind his eyes, you could see nearly all of him reflected in his home. 

You often found valuable trinkets or sentiments scattered around the house. It seemed like he cherished a lot of things in his life, namely memories or people. It would also be hard to miss the exquisite selection of paintings and embellishments he draped the walls with, all harbouring their own charm and adding to the overall artistic feel of his home. 

There were famous works consisting of Vincent Van Gogh all the way to local Korean artists you’ve never heard of, though admired their work. 

It seemed as though he selected the paintings himself. 

Another large aspect you couldn’t miss were the many photos he kept, calling to question whether they were of his own work. 

“Did you take these?” You approached a shelf in one of his grand hallways on the second floor, hand brushing the wooden frame of a captured photo; six men including Taehyung himself posing comfortably, like they were extremely close, backdrop reflecting what seemed to be a trip.  

“I took all of them.” He stated casually, hands tucked into his pockets as he eyed the shelf along with you. 

“All?” 

He simply nodded and didn’t elaborate further as he watched you admire the photos, yourself impressed by his adeptness for photography. 

“You’re really good.” You complimented absentmindedly, enjoying the other photos of not only people but scenery, empty streets, candid shots from what looked to be his own little adventures. 

“Thanks.” Was all Taehyung could manage, trying to mask the sheer gratitude he felt hearing the first ever person to admire his work; something that wasn’t related to being a CEO or a businessman. 

He also felt slightly embarrassed you’d seen a small part of him he usually hid.

Taehyung continued walking down the hallway until he reached the end, revealing what you could tell was the largest room in the house. You were thrown off by just how unnecessarily large it was. It seriously reminded you of an extravagant hotel suite, more like the grandest one among them. 

“This is our room.” Taehyung introduced, gesturing towards its interior. 

“Our?” 

Taehyung nodded “I should’ve told you earlier but I wanted us to sleep in the same room. If we slept apart our marriage wouldn’t look convincing to my two housekeepers. I trust them but I don’t want any information about us getting out to the public, not over my dead body.” Taehyung stated in earnest as he relayed the information, wandering further into the room. 

“You really care that much about publicity?” you genuinely questioned. 

Taehyung scoffed. “Not me, I couldn’t care less about what people think.” He denied instantly, almost laughably. “It’s my father. He hates bad press, especially concerning our family or the company.” 

“I thought bad press is still press, so it’s good.” You suggested as you followed him further into the room, admiring that though large, his room held a sense of comfort to it. Quite frankly, all of his home felt rather welcoming and cozy, surprising of a CEO who ran such a monstrously successful company.

“My father doesn’t think so. Kim Enterprises has always been generational, each of our CEO positions strictly kept within the family. Our name is our brand and pride, it alone accounts for at least half of our success. We’re extremely well-known for our high status, it’s just plain fact in the upper social circles of Korea. We can’t afford to taint our name with petty things like bad press or corruption, our reputation is too valuable.” Taehyung stated this all nonchalantly as he adjusted his suit jacket in his mirror, like it was something he’s grown accustomed to and has known all his life. 

You found your opinion impeding his words.  

“So you can never just, escape this life? As long as you’re a Kim you’re bound to this company?” You found the concept wildly restrictive, clearly shackling down any person that would run the business and you felt a disagreeing shiver shoot through your spine. 

“Of course, why would you want anything else?” Taehyung tiled his head to the side, eyeing you in genuine questioning and your entire being was trying to bite back the desire to correct him, tell him there’s so much more to life than just some company your family owns. Though you opted for changing the subject instead, unwilling to step on his toes and dictate his life when you knew next to nothing about it. 

It wasn’t your place. 

“Woah, you have a balcony?!” You exclaimed with a simper, eyes flickering towards the curtains that revealed two ajar French doors leading to an open space.

You made towards it excitedly and stopped just in the middle of the platform, enjoying the breeze of the fresh air.

“It’s my favourite part of the house.” You didn’t even realize Taehyung followed you until his towering figure stood directly behind you, feeling his proximity permeate through your body. 

You swallowed. 

“Why don’t you look at the view?” Taehyung cocked his head towards the railing of the balcony, though you didn’t move a step. 

You weren’t about to tell Taehyung you’re terribly afraid of heights.

“I-I can see from here. Wow, looks beautiful.” You perked up superficially, trying to throw him off and changing the subject again. “By the way, what’s our closet situation gonna look like?” 

“Ah, let me show you.” Taehyung strided back into the room towards the sliding double doors you spotted earlier. He almost theatrically glided both dark wooden panels open and your jaw dropped for the 47th time today. 

You were welcomed by a ridiculously large walk-in closet, enough to be renovated into its own bedroom. You simply couldn’t normalize its size, especially after registering every suit, tie, watch or accessory Taehyung stored in the gracious space. 

You couldn’t even begin to imagine how much money lied in here. 

“Oh my God.” Was all you could manage, meandering in sparingly as you viewed each and every expensive piece he owned in the room, no doubt of the highest quality designers, finest of men’s fashion. 

“You don’t have to worry about unpacking and moving in here, the housekeepers will do that for you.” Taehyung watched as you looked upon in awe, finding the way your eyes sparkled with emotion very similar to that of Bambi’s.  

“How will I fit-”

“I specifically made space for you, there’s enough.” Taehyung stated, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. He’d resolved a while ago he really would try to take this marriage seriously, victoriously achieve the work-life balance his father kept preaching. 

He saw giving up his closet space as the first step. 

It was indeed so because Taehyung thoroughly enjoyed fashion. He genuinely adored every suit, accessory and outfit in his collection, though if he wanted to reach this new goal of balance, successfully add you to his list of priorities, then he had to be willing to cut down. 

Even if that meant reallocating a third of his exorbitant wardrobe just for you, he’d try not to mind. 

“Are you sure? I could just use another room’s-” 

“I want to.” Taehyung finalized as his eyes turned unreadable from across the room, locking his gaze with yours and you were only left to look back impressed, his generosity unforeseen. 

“Thank you.” You voiced a little weak, still shy by the suffocating nature of his stare. 

“Don’t mention it.” He offered plainly, propping himself off the wall. He looked off to the side eyeing the empty pockets of space he left for you, until your voice called out to him.  

“Taehyung.”

“Hm?” He snapped his vision back to you. 

You wanted to ask him something, more so a favour and you were unsure how to word the request. “Um.. I didn’t want to ask so openly, but..” You found yourself beating around the bush, timid of what his response would be. 

“Go on.” 

“Um, so it seemed like there were a lot of empty rooms in this house, and I was just wondering if I could maybe.. transform one of them into an art studio for myself?” You winced at your own request. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just I had one at my old place and it really grew on me. I would get most of my work done in that room and gained a lot of inspiration from it. I have a lot of art supplies and designed often in that studio, so I need a home for all my supplies and it would suck getting rid of it all. I’m sorry it means I would have to steal one of your rooms in the house, if you don’t want me to then-” 

Taehyung couldn’t help but break out into a small grin as he watched you ramble on, shyly fidget with your fingers, so apprehensive of asking him for something and it reminded him why he was so eager to provide you with anything you wanted. 

You spent too long trying to do everything on your own, achieve everything on your own, relying solely on yourself. Taehyung could see this all as plain as day, quite enjoying of how he’s never really met someone like you, and wanted you to know you didn’t always have to be so independent.  

Especially with him. 

“Y/N.” He called out to you with the same honey-coloured tone from last night, stopping you. Your eyes flickered to his, awaiting his next sentence and Taehyung already found himself having a thing for your doe-eyes. 

Fuck. 

“Of course you can have a room. You can have anything in this house. It’s yours.” Taehyung stated with a degree of assurance, his eyes locking with yours in earnest. 

You both shared a look as your lips curved into a gracious smile, biting your lip to contain it. His stare wasn’t so much intimidating as it was merely.. calm. Gazing at you for the sole purpose of gazing, and you found some heat rushing to your face under his scrutiny. 

Taehyung seemed to realize he was staring and immediately cleared his throat, turning a little nervous as he began another conversation. “So um, I’m sorry to say this,” he began with unease, almost apprehensive and you didn’t know what he was so sorry about. “But I have work today.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

Taehyung internally winced at your reaction, hands finding his pockets. “I took some time off for the wedding, so now I have twice the amount of work left behind. I need to complete it.” He informed straightforwardly. 

“Our wedding was just yesterday, though, aren’t you tired?” You were only taken aback because you were slightly concerned for his wellbeing, wasn’t he tired from yesterday? You recalled him knocking out almost immediately upon hitting the pillow of your hotel bed last night, snoozing away. 

“Maybe, but I can’t afford to rest. I’ll only have more to complete if I do, so I won’t be spending anymore time with you today.” Taehyung relayed the information, readying himself for the even greater disappointing news he’d be passing on. 

“Actually, we won’t be able to go on our honeymoon, either.” Taehyung thought it was best to slip in all the bad news, growing more and more unrelaxed as he was unsure of how you’d react. 

Though what you said next had him nearly floored.

“Honeymoon? Taehyung, that’s the least of my concerns, you should at least rest a day before getting back to work. That’s not really healthy.” You chastised him as lightly as possible, still afraid to be stepping on his toes when you didn’t know his life. 

Taehyung was certain you’d hate having been stripped of a beautiful vacation where you could’ve relaxed in the sun and tropics of Cancun. Your father had mentioned to him you’ve always longed to visit the breath-taking city in Mexico, its clear waters and tropical air as a means to truly get away from your stifling life. 

So when he found you disregarding the trip altogether and instead focusing on him, more precisely his health, he was left damn well speechless. 

There you were again paying attention to the littlest things about him he didn’t care much for; he still had that bandage you offered him a month ago tucked into one of his pockets, not wanting to use the adhesive just yet. 

“I’ll be fine. I’m just sorry we can’t go on the vacation because of me, it would’ve been nice, you know?” Taehyung apologized, feeling genuinely guilty for having ruined the honeymoon. Even if you two weren’t going to travel as some lovey-dovey couple, you both simply could’ve enjoyed the time off.

“It’s okay, just, at least work from home today. Heading to the office would be too much.” You suggested for the sake of the fatigue you could discern on him. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m gonna be home for the next few days since everyone thinks we’ll be on our honeymoon.” 

“Oh. That’s.. good.” You nodded faintly, half at the idea you two were even faking your honeymoon and half at the blasphemous energy he had to work after yesterday. 

The sleep from last night was nearly not enough to recharge from the antics of the wedding, having drained your batteries for the next few days. You were certain his were drained too; he was half the damn couple. 

“I should get going. I’ll send Mrs. Choi and Seo up with your things. They’re probably finished with lunch too, you should eat.” Taehyung advised as he stepped out of the walk-in closet, running a hand through his gorgeous hair and you couldn’t help but ogle at the sexy way his strands fell back on him. 

“Okay.” You voiced as you followed him out, watching him near the room’s door and just about to vacate the premise before you spoke up. “Taehyung.” 

He stopped in his tracks, peering back at you. “Yes?” 

“You should eat something, too.”

Taehyung half-smiled at you with a nod “Sure”, before stepping out of the room, leaving you alone. 

And you couldn’t help but kind of like the way he smiles. 

It was well into the evening now, bordering dinner time as you helped the last of your clothes into Taehyung’s closet, refusing to let the older housekeepers do all the work by themselves considering it was your own luggage. 

You also tried to occupy Taehyung’s room as scarcely as you could with your belongings, feeling odd about suddenly moving in with all your might and changing things around. It just didn’t feel appropriate, like you were invading his space and so you opted for scattering only your necessary items.

“That should be the last of it, Mrs. Choi.” You retrieved your last piece of clothing from the rather soft-spoken housekeeper, tucking the blazer away among the rest. You were satisfied to see not only your wardrobe neatly organized now, but fit just about right with Taehyung’s things. 

He was right about space, there was enough.

“Mrs. Kim, please rest. You didn't have to move a muscle at all for us.” Mrs. Choi remarked, genuinely concerned for you. 

“Yes, please, Mrs. Kim. We can finish up with the little things. I’ve just finished preparing dinner downstairs, you should eat.” Mrs. Seo chimed in as she entered the walk-in closet, gesturing towards the door. 

“Are you sure? I can-”

“Mrs. Kim, you’re very kind for offering your help, we’re very grateful you’ve done so. Though we are Mr. Kim’s housekeepers, we are meant to care for his home and his lovely wife. You need not worry about helping us.” Mrs. Choi stated with an earnest tone, speaking respectfully as she addressed you. 

You were going to protest again before you considered her words, registering that if you indeed helped them, it would technically negate the entire purpose of their work. 

You bit back your reply as a result, crafting a new one. 

“I see, I’m sorry, Mrs. Seo, Mrs. Choi. I’m just.. very used to doing things on my own,” you looked towards the ground. “I apologize.” You almost dipped for a bow until Mrs. Choi rapidly cautioned you, scrambling towards your figure. 

“Oh dear, Mrs. Kim! You do not need to bow to us, you’re Mr. Kim’s wife, you are the one who is bowed to.” 

“Yes, you do not need to apologize either, we appreciate your help, it was very sweet of you.” Mrs. Seo added with a warm smile, bowing to you instead. “Please go for dinner downstairs, I’ve also informed Mr. Kim for dinner, though I’m unsure if he has made his way down yet.” She added on, urging you towards the room's exit and you recognized it was probably better to listen to her. 

Even if all this high-class, status stuff had yet to sink in or make sense to you after being away for so long, you understood there was an eventual tolerance you had to build for it. Just as Mrs. Choi said, you’re Kim Taehyung’s wife now, and that came with a hell lot of status you hadn’t even scratched the surface of yet.

You could already tell it was going to be a pain in the ass. 

“I suppose I should. I’ll get going, then.” You smiled graciously at both women, appreciative of their kindness and began vacating the closet. You just about pulled the room door open before Mrs. Seo suddenly came to you.

“Oh! Mrs. Kim,” she halted you. “I was informed by Mr. Kim to provide this to you. He would have done so himself though he’s quite busy at the moment.” Mrs. Seo extended her hand and presented a pristine looking card, black and incredibly sleek in design. Your eyebrows furrowed until you noticed the telltale symbols, almost ominously minimal branding indicating a rare card only those with some of the highest networths in Korea could own. 

Your eyes widened in horror. 

The Black Card. 

“P-pardon?” You needed her to reiterate, there was no way Kim Taehyung was giving you a black card, the same card that was limitless on credit and only exclusively owned by the affluent one-percenters of society. 

“He’s informed me this belongs to you now, and that you’re to keep it in your possession.” Mrs. Seo elaborated, smiling through the mental whiplash you were currently experiencing.  

“Belongs to.. me? This is mine?” You were still having trouble processing, why would Taehyung be gifting you this? Who’s account was it even attached to? Was it yours and he’s decided to graciously pay all the expensive fees, or worse, was it joined with his own account? 

Don’t tell me it’s joined with his account.  

“Yes, Mrs. Kim. It’s yours.” Mrs. Seo held it out more outwardly, nudging it in your direction. 

Your mouth fell agape for another second before you mentally collected yourself, quickly grabbing the card and thanking her as you made your exit, marching through the house for Taehyung’s unbelievable ass. 

Taehyung could not be providing you with this card. It was irrational, simply had to have been a decision he made with at least two bottles of soju in him, right? You didn’t care what his reasoning would be, you were denying and returning this. There was no way in hell you’d accept this card, especially if he linked his own personal account to it. 

You tried loosely recalling where Taehyung mentioned his study, logically assuming he was working there. You inspected majority of the second floor, working your way through the halls until you finally caught sight of the familiar wooden doors with glass panels, slightly ajar, light bleeding through.

You made for the room quickly and stormed in without a care, attempting to steady your breathing from all the rushing around. You caught Taehyung completely off guard, having shredded his suit jacket to instead sport the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt, adorning black-rimmed, designer glasses. 

He looked 100x hotter than he should’ve. 

Taehyung suddenly propped up from the leaned-back position he’d assumed on his chair, expression caught by surprise. “Y/N?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowing. 

You held up the card and addressed him immediately. “Taehyung, what’s this? Why are you giving this to me?” You huffed, looking at him incredulously. 

“The card? For you to use..?” Taehyung responded cooperatively, confused as to why you seemed so frazzled. 

“But why, Taehyung? This is a black card, the annual fees on this are insane and I can’t pay-” 

“You’re not paying for them, I am.” Taehyung cut in, shutting the binder he was holding and placing it on his desk. 

“What? No, no way. If it’s my account then I should be the one-”

“It’s not your account, either, it’s mine.” Taehyung brought his elbows to his desk, hands clasped together in front of his lips. It was now he gave you that same intimidating stare he did back when you first met him, calculative and devoid of expression. 

It seemed he did this when he got serious. 

“Your account? But-Taehyung, this is your money, I can’t just have it. Please, take this back.” You stepped towards his desk to return the card eagerly, but Taehyung’s firm tone stopped you. 

“No, it’s yours. I gave it to you to keep.” His words held this underlying sense of authority, scratch that, dominance when he spoke seriously, resolute. You could instantly tell he possessed a natural sense of alpha male characteristics, enough that even though he wasn’t being harsh or looming, his words and the tone he coated them with held more power than you could manifest. 

You almost cowered, but remained adamant on returning the card. It was worse with the card attached to his account, you couldn’t just keep Taehyung’s money like it was your own, it simply wasn’t. Your money sat ordinarily in a separate account on a separate card, which you were happy enough to use. You weren’t going to mooch off of him, it went against every principle that made up your very being. 

“This is your money, Taehyung. I have no right to use it.” 

“You’re my wife. You have every right in the world to use it.” Taehyung countered with no emotion, or at least any you could discern, uncertain what was running through his mind with only his eyes as a guide towards the answer. 

And you knew his eyes didn’t tell. 

“Taehyung, this doesn’t feel right to me. This isn’t my money and I can’t use it.” You emphasized more strongly, drawing closer to his desk though halting your actions once he spoke again. 

“My money is your money, you can always use it.” You knew he was relaxed, appearing practically unbothered as he leaned onto his desk and eyed you. Though with the intense look in his eyes, his aura screaming for anyone within the vicinity to submit to him, he could easily seem frustrated with the situation, namely you. 

And it made you want to crawl into a hole.

“No, it isn’t. I’ve already intruded your home, taken your closet, your room and even an extra one just for myself. I will not take your money either. Please, take this back.” You held out the card more prominently, desperate to have him understand you.

Taehyung wasn’t necessarily frustrated by you, no, he was slightly pissed you kept referring to everything as just his and not yours, that he was the only one considering you two as a married couple now while you still viewed each other separately.

Did you not see him as your husband yet?

He also disliked the fact that you seemed scared of him, or unable to trust him like last night. He could see you fighting back the urge to cower away, genuinely upsetting him you still held a degree of fear and unsureness in your eyes. 

Why are you so afraid of me? 

“Y/N, everything isn’t just mine anymore, it’s yours, too. We’re a married couple, husband and wife. What’s mine is yours.” Taehyung tried to reason, loosening himself up more to seem less intimidating, more approachable.

“But money, Taehyung-it’s different. I didn’t even want to take my own father’s money, there’s no way I’ll take yours, please.” Pleading leaked into your tone as you lips started doing that thing where they just about pout, emphasizing their plushiness and Taehyung couldn’t help but notice it again. 

He started growing frustrated as he removed his glasses, placing them on his desk and pinching the bridge of his nose. It seemed like he was digesting the situation, searching for the best approach.

“Y/N, look. I know the kind of situation you had with your father, but I’m not him. Didn’t you hear what Mrs. Choi and Seo addressed you as?” 

You thought it over, unknowing of where he was taking this. “They.. called me Mrs. Kim.”

“Exactly. Even my last name is yours, everything I have is yours. I’m your husband, I’m always going to provide you with things from now on. That card is just one of many.” Taehyung offered his best explanation, making sure his tone wasn’t as serious to sidetrack any fear you still had.

“I understand. But this is a black card, Taehyung, and it’s your hard-earned money, not mine. It feels wrong even just having it.” You couldn’t fight your inner turmoil, you genuinely believed this to be wrong. After spending almost a decade trying to work for yourself, pay for yourself, seldom seeking the help of another, this just left a disagreeing feeling to churn in your stomach.

Taehyung sighed heavily before pushing his chair back, rising from his seat. He made his way over to you where you grew unintentionally defensive, retracting from him slightly as he neared you. He noticed it and pursed his lips, reaching out for your upper arms and taking them warmly, tenderly, waiting for your eyes to meet his before he spoke to you.

“Y/N, do you remember what I said before I kissed you yesterday?”

Your eyes widened having been reminded of the intimate moment, nodding at him innocently. Taehyung witnessed you trying to avoid eye contact and found himself softening. 

“I didn’t say that without reason. I meant it when I said I would take care of you. Your father is a different story, if you don’t want to use his money, I respect that. But I’m your husband, and I want to be a good one. I want to give you things.. do things for you simply because I want to.” Taehyung reasoned, gripping you lightly. “I want you to use my money, you’re allowed to use it.” He tried voicing with sincerity, earnestly, hoping he could change your mind.

He saw you still hesitating to accept the offer, however, deciding on a compromise.

“Look, you don’t have to use it all the time. You can still use your own card, but you can use mine here and there. Seriously, Y/N, using it won’t even make a dent on me. I’m the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, use it at your discretion.” Taehyung could practically see your gears shifting, searching for your eyes as he wished you’d understand him. 

He saw this as a second step towards work-life balance, only feeling the responsibility and genuine desire to be the good husband in spite of the unfortunate nature of your marriage. He didn’t want any doubt concerning his ability to be a good husband, either.

After all, when Taehyung did something, he always did the best he possibly could.

“Okay, I guess you’re right. But I do have my own money, and I’ll be using that 100x more often than yours.” You relaxed and oddly let him hold you, looking down at the black card that rested in your hand and clutching it to your palm.

Taehyung realized he was still holding you and let go, retiring to fluff his hair instead. You caught a glimpse of his bicep underneath his rolled up sleeve as he did so, and you truly hated you chose a time like this to find him stunningly attractive.

“You should come downstairs, Mrs. Seo prepared dinner.” You ignored your thoughts.

“You go first, I’ll be down in a second.”

You nodded agreeably and turned away, leaving his study. You took a second look at the card in your hand, then glanced around the house as you strolled through it, trying to embed what Taehyung said into the crevices of your resistant thinking.

Everything I have is yours, you reiterated, registering that Taehyung had in fact grown accustomed to the idea of you two as a couple already. He’s accepted it, embraced it, even enforced it now with his earlier declarations and this black card. You automatically felt behind, like you were the tortoise in the race and needed to pick up your pace.

If Taehyung had already come to terms with your marriage, it was only a matter of time before you did as well. Marriage is a two-way street, and if you wanted to make this easier on both yourself and Taehyung, you would compromise with him, accept the true sense of partnership that entailed your status as husband and wife.

Thus was the exact mantra that played in your head as you fiddled with the card, remembering the way his big hands held you.

Warm.

It was night. 

You could say it was like any other ordinary night, though that would be a gargantuan lie. 

This night was the first time Taehyung and yourself were going to sleep in the same bed.

In your own home. 

The hotel suite left you both with your own space and privacy since it was a random, public room with no personality or attachment to it whatsoever, making it easier and comfortable to sleep with him.

So when you emerged from your walk-in closet in a thin camisole, loose pajama shorts and without a bra, you were cursing yourself. God damn you for needing to sleep in minimal clothing for comfort. You’d slept in a loose t-shirt and bottoms at the suite last night since it was a public room, and long story short, it left you tossing and turning more than you liked. 

You had no clue prior to arriving here that you’d be sharing a room with Taehyung. You’d expected to sleep in a different one, in the privacy of your own room where you could prance around as you wished and as a result packed your usual sleepwear. 

But now that you were left having to slumber with Taehyung, clothes on the more revealing side, there was no turning back. 

And what there was truly no turning back from, was when you opened the closet door and your eyes landed on Taehyung’s shirtless, wet self drying his hair after a shower. 

You immediately malfunctioned.

Your eyes fell to his bare back, ruffling his wet hair as his plaid pajama pants hung loosely at his hips. You immediately exclaimed and clamped a hand over your mouth, trying to shut yourself up. 

You did not expect at all for Taehyung to have such honey-coloured skin. It was like it naturally glowed, a healthy tone that made him appear all the more delectable. It certainly didn’t help that his shoulders were broader than you first observed, sincerely an other-worldly experience when he wasn’t wearing clothes. 

You also got an all-access view of his trap muscles, adding to the width of his shoulders overall and when Taehyung turned around to the sound of the closet door opening, gaze locking with yours, you could confirm his neck, chest and collarbones were indeed crafted to perfection.

Taehyung’s eyes widened momentarily drinking you in, not expecting your light sleepwear when just last night he witnessed you in a full pajama set. Not to mention, and he hated that he could tell, but you weren't wearing a bra. 

And the camisole did nothing to hide that. 

Taehyung straightened himself up realizing you two were practically gawking at each other, resting the towel around his neck as he cleared his throat. “That’s what you sleep in?” 

“That’s what you sleep in?” You retorted, arms over your chest. 

“Guys usually sleep shirtless, this is normal.” Taehyung gestured towards his own body and you had half a mind to floor yourself. It’s like Taehyung knew but also didn’t know he was hot, knew the effect he had on people though never grew cocky or proud enough to purposefully parade it around. 

And it frustrated you even more; he was fairly humble about being a sexy Greek God. 

“Girls sleep like this too, this is normal.” You copied him, looking off to the side. 

“I was kidding, I only sleep shirtless sometimes. Just get in bed.” Taehyung narrowed his eyes as he gestured towards the sheets, returning to his palace of a bathroom to toss his towel in the hamper and pull a t-shirt over his head. 

You wanted to move, feet just about ready to carry you but you never abandoned your spot. Instead, you pressed your lips into a thin line contemplating that sharing a bed with Taehyung, in clothes like this and in such proximity, all held a degree of intimacy you didn’t know you two shared yet. 

It’s only been a day. 

So when Taehyung returned to your unmoving figure, arms holding your chest and avoiding eye contact with him, he was quick to get the message. 

“Um.. if you really don’t want to sleep here, I can give you another room.” Taehyung offered, figuring himself this may be too soon. 

“No, it’s okay, that’d be kind of a hassle.” You waved him off. “Besides, your bed looks comfy.”

You were honestly trying to live up to your acceptance that Taehyung was the man you’d spend your life with now, so you’d better start getting use to him. You’d sleep next to him for numerous nights, spend endless days together and share a multitude of things; this would simply just be a first of many first times. 

So you paddled over to the bed and removed the covers to snuggle yourself in, the bed’s coolness sending a shiver through you before you hugged the blanket to yourself. Taehyung stood with a smile before crawling in himself, adjusting the covers to his liking. 

He felt at peace in a matter of seconds, the feeling of his own bed lulling him into a state of slumber already. He reached his arm out to shut off the lamp on his bedside table, leaving the room pitch dark and only his digital clock and balcony as a light source. 

You began to cower a bit in the darkness, thankful for the sheer curtains that allowed the moonlight to spill into the room. 

You felt another shiver run through your body when you shifted, realizing you were cold even under the sheets. You tried warming up on your own by shimmying the blanket around more comfortably, but it didn't do much. 

You were left lying on the bed trying to think warm thoughts, unintentionally breathing in the constant scent of Taehyung from his bed; his cologne, his aftershave, his body wash all filling your nostrils.

It was intoxicating, absolutely distracting and sleep began to slip your mind. It didn’t help that you were still cold too, moving around and turning onto your side where you now faced Taehyung. 

He seemed to have already dozed off, face tranquil as he slept soundlessly on his back. You couldn't help but admire his side-profile, the sparse moonlight illuminating his features. It was hard to not stretch your hand out and nearly run a touch along his cheek, like he was a rare work of art that naturally called for admiration.

You realized turning towards him that he radiated a wave of warmth from his body, remembering boys were pretty much furnaces while girls usually froze.

How wonderful it is to be a woman. 

You desired some of that heat and shuffled just a little closer to Taehyung, nearing the center of the bed. You discerned he was indeed warm and maneuvered slightly closer, just about stopping at the center of the bed. You fought back the urge to shimmy any closer, leaving a mindful gap between you two. 

You were seconds from catching a peace of mind until Taehyung unexpectedly spoke in the silence of the night, startling you. 

“You can come closer, I don’t bite.” The smirk in his voice was obvious, making you scrunch your nose and snap back at him. 

“Shut up, I’m not getting closer to you.” 

“You should, I’m really warm, and I can tell you’re cold.” There he was again teasing, his tone coy as he kept his eyes shut, unbothered. 

“Over my dead body.” You mocked him from earlier, turning away from him abruptly and pulling the covers over your head. 

Coffee was probably your favourite thing life had to offer. One of the couple things you’d fight someone over; coffee and your independence, if you wanted to be specific. 

So it made you genuinely happy Taehyung had such a wide selection of coffee to choose from, ranging from all kinds of beans to instant coffee, cappuccinos, lattes, mochas, you name it. It took no time for you to craft a cup to your liking, shuffle into a seat on the island and begin picking at the breakfast the housekeepers had whipped up earlier this morning. 

You’d woken up early today keeping in mind the day you had planned. You decided this to be another move-in day as part of your studio setup project you’ve entertained for the last week. The granted time off due to your odd honeymoon farce with Taehyung proved to actually come in handy, thankfully. 

It had been another peaceful morning for you, having woken up with sunlight gracing the walls, certain you could hear birds chirping as if you were in a Disney film and little mice would come out to start sewing the gown you’d wear as a princess. 

It had been a peaceful morning indeed, but when you stretched out to loosen your stiff muscles, the chaos that met you was anything but peaceful. Even if it’s occurred at least 5 times now, you kept forgetting that you shared a bed with someone else now, and that said someone had somehow always founds a way to gravitate towards you during the night, even daringly cast an arm over you sometimes. 

It left you in a state of panic registering that Taehyung’s, dare you say warm and cozy body would be just behind you, his chest mere centimeters from your back. You would stay still for some time, calculating the optimal way to remove yourself from his hold until he eventually stirred enough to loosen his grip, darting right out of bed. 

Other times, he’d wake earlier than you and you wondered what would cross his mind once he registered your oddly proximal bodies. 

Did it ever bother him?

Nonetheless, it brought a mischievous smile to your face thinking about the fact that Taehyung had such a perfectly human habit like cuddling. He was always so serious, so put together and a near machine at everything he did, seeming as though he wouldn’t give anything romantic the time of day. 

But it was hard to forget the fluffy feeling that blossomed in your chest when you would sense his proximity, maybe inviting a liking to it. You had always slept alone, only yourself and the darkness to keep you company in your lonely bed, in your lonely home. 

So sleeping next to someone, namely Kim Taehyung left an impression on you you couldn’t quite shake. It was difficult to erase the image of his calm, sleeping face after the handful of times witnessing it. Long eyelashes delicately pressed to the skin under his eyes, lips plush as he seemed to naturally pout in his sleep. The sunlight only accentuated his honey-coloured skin, adding a glow to his features that made him appear prettier than he already was. 

It was nice to think you’d wake up to that every morning. 

You found your mind still playing around with the idea until you snapped yourself out of it, questioning why the hell you always ventured off whenever you thought about him. 

Weird. 

You were scolding yourself until your eyes caught Taehyung strolling into the kitchen with his phone in is hand. He’d foregone a jacket today, black shirt sleeves folded to mid-forearm paired with black slacks.  

You were normal until you almost spat your coffee seeing he wasn’t wearing a tie but instead had the first few buttons of his shirt open, revealing a generous view of his neck and the beginnings of his chest. 

Fucking hell.

You were staring stupidly until Taehyung peeked up at you, smiling “Morning.” 

“M-morning.” you stuttered.

He seemed unsuspecting as he returned his attention to his phone, proceeding to the kitchen counter and retrieving a cup to fix himself a drink. He appeared to be reading something conscientiously on his device, never taking his eyes off and you quickly became bored, ready to use the weapon you’d acquired. 

“So.. you’re a cuddler, huh?”

Taehyung nearly dropped his cup.  

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“You’re a cuddler when you sleep. Cute.” You rested your chin in your palm, playful smile on your face. 

“I think you’re mistaken, I am not a cuddler. And I’m not cute.” Taehyung denied as he only focused on the cup, his back to you. You then watched him reach for his selection of tea and purposefully evade the coffee, your eyes lighting up with mischief.  

“Wait, you’re a cuddler and you drink tea instead of coffee? Very cute.” You pulled on his leg, chuckling as you brought your mug to your lips

This was going to be fun.

“Shut up, I don’t like the taste and tea is healthier.” Taehyung practically sneered back, harshly ripping the packet of his tea bag.

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re a cuddler.” You sipped on your coffee, unbothered as you swung your legs back and fourth. 

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that you like it.” 

You nearly spat your drink. 

“What?” 

“I remember a certain someone that shuffles closer to me for warmth, no?” Taehyung snapped back as he returned to his phone and popped his tea into the microwave, his shoulders high to the sky. You could imagine his smug face proud of his remark while searching for your own, realizing that Taehyung was damn good at arguing and you’d really have to upgrade your comeback game to counter him. 

He was unfortunately your match.

“Even if I were one, which I’m not, It’s not like I’m committing a crime.” Taehyung suddenly finalized with a snippy tone, and you realized you may have hurt his ego. 

Men. 

“I never said it was a bad thing.” You commented under your breath and looked away, popping a raspberry into your mouth. 

Taehyung bit back a smirk as he retrieved his cup of tea, taking a sip as he returned to his phone and took a seat across from you. He began compiling his plate of breakfast as he worked his device, typing away with one hand as if he was drafting the Magna Carta. 

You became bored again.

“Why do you have so much coffee if you don’t like it?” You genuinely felt like inquiring, if he didn’t like the taste why would he have so much? 

“For my housekeepers, they drink it.” He took a sip of his tea, all attention on his phone. 

You nodded understandingly. “Why do you have two housekeepers, by the way? Isn’t one enough?” 

“So they can keep each other company.” He answered absentmindedly, eyes still glued to his phone as he bit a piece of his toast. You really hated that he wasn’t actively interacting with you because it only left room to stare at him, and that was never any good.  

He looked illegally attractive with the unbuttoned part of his shirt, your mind profusely bugging out over the exposed bit of his chest. You were reminded of the full view from last night, and began pondering how long you’d survive having to see that for the rest of your life. 

“O-oh, that’s nice.” You stuttered back a reply, squashing your previous thought.

You were actually quite impressed by the kindness Taehyung showed behind that decision, noticing he had these small moments where he was caring, considerate, all hidden behind his unreadable face and seriousness when it came to business. 

It was quite interesting. 

You were mindlessly eating until Taehyung spoke up, eyes flickering towards you. “What are you going to do today?” 

You swallowed your fruit. “I was planning on moving more stuff in again, start finishing my studio setup. Thank you again for the room, by the way.” You expressed your gratitude once more, forking some eggs into your mouth. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

“What are you doing today?” you echoed his question, taking another swig of coffee.

“I’m working again. If you need anything I’ll be in my study.” Taehyung sent you a half-smile before snatching up his plate, bringing his phone to his ear as he stepped out of the kitchen. 

You sighed heavily only being left to think about your day, which would be majorly spent unpacking and arranging things. You had a plethora of art supplies, design tools and canvases to set up in your studio, leaving you constantly thinking of how to even begin. 

It would be a mission alone to sort through everything you had left, knowing you didn’t exactly label out of sheer laziness and would have to individually unbox and organize everything . 

It was this exact task that took up most of your day, time having slipped by in the blink of an eye. It wasn’t easy when you had to be rummaging through your belongings and situating them where you thought appropriate, also trying to envision a new look for your studio. 

You hadn’t realized 3 hours had passed until the ring of the front doorbell caused you to check your phone, curious as to who would be visiting your home in the middle of the day. You assumed it be one of the housekeepers and abandoned your work, cascading down the staircase and striding towards the grand entrance. 

You drew towards the monitor Taehyung had showed you just yesterday, explaining it to be your home security system. Taehyung detailed it had a camera for your front porch that detected movement and the doorbell alike, so you peered at the monitor to see the stranger outside your home. 

Your eyebrows furrowed registering a woman, her back turned towards the door as she fidgeted nervously with her purse in her hand. 

Sheer curiosity took you over and you paddled towards the door, unlocking it. You wore a smile on your face as you swung the door open, though it was immediately wiped off taking in the last person on earth you ever wanted to see. 

“Mother?”

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tags : @thedarkwinterrose @ayujaded @couldbeyourlast @ladyarmanto @anpanman-sonyeondan @apollukee @blueevelvt @taesluttt @scalubera​ @laurynne5​ @dreamsindreamss​ @thequeen-kat​ @awsome-small-k​ @wrecklesssly​ @kweenhu​ @jalexad​ @staerify​ @bangforever​ @dyriddle​ @aianloveseven​ @waves-and-woods​ @hoefortaeshands​ @veronawrites​ @nightapple4jk​ @wataemelonz​ @aomi-nabi​

[kazxraval]

Time had been kind to the woman. A past warmth shared also softened the view too. Kaz couldn't say many people helped him during a very bumpy start in life, but she had. This woman with two names, two faces.

A sentence changed everything. My colleagues have rifles aimed at you. A sharp stab of betrayal from Nadia, a knife shoved in the back as she stood in front of him. Urmilla’s hand on the handle to twist it in deeper.

Despite the warning, he peered at each window. Counted every dark and dusty pane of glass. Orders were given that only a dead man would follow, which caused him to fume even more. The better gamble being to make a run for it. At least a moving target stood more of a chance over a confined one at close range.

But he tracked her down for a fucking reason, not to run off. The rage of the moment poured down his throat like kerosene. His tone a matchstrike on the words. "Wow," he scoffed and shook his head. The flames filled the gaze he locked on Urmilla. "You of all people. Doing this to me." She wanted to play tough? Hope to hell she was prepared. Mentally a shuffle began to weaponize as much from Seattle as possible, and all that Emre had shared.

Kaz tossed the knife into the sand several feet away. "There you go," he drawled painfully slow with a fleeting, smarmy smile. A few steps back and then a pivot to the right. Urmilla rounded up behind. "Yeah. Pretend they're dead. It's easier on you, hm?"

Bright light to sudden darkness temporarily blinded Kaz, long enough to be harshly restrained. Tendons pulled against an old shoulder injury as he fought to escape. With his phone wrenched away, he threw himself backwards into his attacker. While it didn’t free Kaz, it was hard enough to slam whoever held him into a wall, knocking the wind from his opponents lungs with a loud and angry jolt. 

The scuffle between Kaz and Urmilla’s dog lasted several long seconds and ended once she called the man off. They still postured and walked an arc to intimidate.

Kaz pulled out a chair with the legs in a long and ear-splitting scrape on the floor. Urmilla kept directing him into the worst possible spots. He sat, but on the edge of the seat. Eyes on her muscle who kept watch with arms like boulders ready to knock Kaz's teeth in.

There were parts of the story he couldn't explain to her. Not there. His personal way to maneuver through the post-apocalypse meant avoiding too many explanations about the island. Reasons that were obvious to him.

How did he get there? "There are pathways around the world. Don't you want to know why I'm here? That's the interesting part." His eyes narrowed on her. "Theo tracked me down, Urmilla. But he's found you here too. Or, are you working with him again?" Dark eyes turned up to scan around the room. "That why you're here?" What either had to gain in this new world by running in their old circles, Kaz hadn't a clue.

His gaze settled on Urmilla again. "The sons you abandoned. Funny you say they're dead. Emre thought you were dead this whole time. Until we realized that I knew you in Seattle, where you weren't supposed to be."

"He told me everything. How you and Omar disappeared. Supposed to be on a trip to the States. You never came back. Dadi died, did you know that? Emre had to take care of Iyaz on his own. Know what it does to a teenager when they've got to become an adult really fast?"

An elbow rested on the table and Kaz swept his hair back. He examined Urmilla now. A table in between them, out of the sun and wind but in a deceptively quiet room. "Emre loves you. I don't know how he does it. Even after I showed him photos of you in Seattle, when you should've been with him and Iyaz in London. Looking out for them. He still talks about you all the time."

She's a good person, a confident and unshakable statement long ago. To which Kaz silently shook his head in response: no.

Nuance later entered the picture. But now, Urmilla had only one way to go here. Kaz held out his hand. "I have photos I can show you." Erm, he needed to find those himself. "Pull up the contacts on my phone, you'll see his name." Uhm, yeah she really shouldn't look at his text messages. "You can hear his voice and hang up if you want. But I'm not fucking lying about this. It's all true."

Urmilla was fascinated by Kaz's face. She'd rather chalk it up to her poor memory, than concede to any of the stranger, more fantastical rumours about 'ageless' people.

She'd only ever embraced Kaz once; like hugging an upright ironing board, this one. She kept her distance now. He was certainly more solemn, more stoic. A youthful face with far too grown-up eyes - that was always Kaz, though. Perhaps pissed; perpetually pissed, if he knew how to carry a grudge for 13 years. But he'd found her, and it had only taken him till the end of the world.

"Kaz, I - " Urmilla started, but then Kaz shocked her into silence. Indignant when he spoke her real name. And then - oh god. The other two names made her head swim for a moment; and sadly the first thing she thought was: lies. This is a set-up. Someone's gotten to him, told him everything. He's changed, he's working for them. This was a mistake.

"This used to be a police station, before. My colleagues have rifles aimed at you," she spoke, quiet and calm. "You can't see them, so please don't try to look. Now give me your knife and any other weapons you have. Then turn right, and walk into the green office building. Please don't waste my time arguing with me, Kaz..."

She motioned for him to walk. Urmilla would follow behind. "And don't talk to me about things you don't actually know." Only when Kaz wasn't looking at her, Urmilla stated: "Urmilla's boys are dead."

Once inside, the sudden switch from sunlight to darkness allowed someone to grab Kaz from behind, pin his arms back. Urmilla reached forward and took Kaz's phone from him.

"Let him go, it's alright," Urmilla said, peering at the device but not poking through it yet. A huge man circled, staring suspicious daggers at Kaz, looking like he hoped Kaz would strike back.

"Please sit down, Kaz. You're doing so well," Urmilla said. There was a desk and two chairs, in the otherwise stripped bare office. "You can explain 'everything', to me here - starting with how you even arrived in Alexandria. Then you'll give me that flash drive."

[nctsworld]

spin me right ‘round

✩‌ johnny ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ record store owner!johnny | fluff | smut | 4k‌ ‌

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ buying from the local records shop leads you to eventually bed the hot owner on the night of your first date.   WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌smut (in the second half), oral s*x (f and m receiving), f*ngering, johnny has a big d*ck and f*cks you hard???, office s*x in the epilogue (kind of) RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen​ @sehunniepot​ (thought you might be interested in this nikki 👀) 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit! 

Opening the store’s door, the ringing of the bell above you signals your entrance. 

You moved into the neighbourhood recently and since someone gifted you a record player for your last birthday, you thought it’d be a quaint idea to drop by the local records shop that you always pass by on your way home.  

Rows and rows of vinyl records, organized both alphabetically and by genre, welcome you with open arms, along with a faint musty smell, likely due to the faded, vintage records hanging between the posters on the cream walls. 

The outside of the store is misleading to its size; there’s enough space here for at least thirty people easily. However, besides you, it looks like there’s only one other customer in the shop.  

Although your surroundings captivate your senses, the striking blond man bent over the rock section in the middle of the shop is the true cynosure of your eyes. 

His long fingers flutter seamlessly over the records, seeming to be on a dedicated search to find one in particular. He towers high over the low stacks and oozes coolness with a thumb stuffed in his front pocket and donning a stylish green beanie atop his medium cut locks. 

Not to mention that his jeans tug perfectly over the curvature of his prominent ass, but you merely steal a glance or two at his backside as you stroll towards the pop section. 

Okay, maybe three glances.

With your back facing the man, several minutes pass as you rummage through the sea of mainstream music, ranging from recent to old, but all the while pleasing to your tastes.  

“See anything you like?” 

Your eyes meet the figure standing nearby with a hand on the edge of one of the stack dividers. His smooth voice matches his strong aura and his gorgeous face, which you’re now blessed to be viewing up-close. 

Your gaze pursues downward, soaking up his sturdy frame hidden behind his flattering clothes. Darting your eyes up his lengthy body back to his face, you lick your lips and swallow, in hopes to dampen the sudden dryness in your throat, and naturally raise the corners of your mouth.        

“Yeah—” You, you think in the back of your head and execute a nod, “—there are a few things.” 

He smiles endearingly towards the floor before glancing back up to you. You wonder if he can read your thoughts, or maybe it’s simply written all over your face.

Releasing his grip, he says, “Take all the time you need. If you need any assistance, let me know." 

Your eyebrows perk up in realization. “Do you work here?”

“Yeah.” Bobbing his head, he runs a hand over his beanie. “I’m the owner of the store.”

“Oh, wow,” you exclaim, jaw hanging slightly. “You’re so young, I wouldn’t think someone in their 20s would have their own store, especially one like this." 

A frown falls over his face, and in that moment, you knew you fucked up any chance you had with him.  

“Yeah, 26 to be exact,” he shrugs, tight-lipped, prior to the folding of his arms. His eyes become slits of bitterness. “Thanks for the ageism."

Immediately shaking your head at the misunderstanding, you stammer, “I didn't mean it like that—"

The owner’s expression melts in an instant and a warmness emanates from him once more. The knot in your chest loosens at the sight and relief waves over.  

“I'm just playing with you, don’t worry." 

He opens his mouth, about to continue, but his attention is interrupted by the ringing at the door, and you turn to see another customer over your shoulder. The attractive individual begins to stroll over, but still faces your direction, beaming. 

“Well, if you decide to get anything, you know where to find me, and I'll ring it up for you." 

With puffed cheeks, you nod and watch him greet the incoming patron. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind you, you shift toward the records again and browse for a little longer. 

Finally deciding on a few choices, you walk toward the front register and peer over at the beanied blond. In the classical section, he’s listening intently to the bumbling customer. Not wanting to disturb them, you lay the vinyls on the counter and thankfully find a pen and a stack of sticky notes upon it. 

After sticking the following note on the top vinyl cover, you head out of the store:

“Put these on hold for me?  I'll be back for them.  Thanks!  -Miss Ageist” 

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Judgmental."

A couple of days later, you drop by the store again and find the spirited owner at the front counter. Today, he’s channeling his inner grunge style, adorning a half-up, half-down ponytail and a loose white t-shirt over a tight, long black sleeve shirt. Is it possible for him to look even cuter than he did last time? 

“Sorry again for that,” you scrunch your nose at the memory. He grabs your records from beneath the counter and rings them through. “You just look so young to own a store.”

The blond airily laughs, “I'm gonna take that as a compliment." 

He spots you twisting your mouth to one side and nodding shyly. “It is." 

As you pay for the items, he gestures to your vinyls on the counter. “Good choices, by the way.”

“Are there bad ones?” From the pay pad, you glance up at him and he’s feigning a hurt look. 

“Oh, most definitely.” 

You banter with a tilt of your head, “Isn't music subjective though?” 

“Not to me. I am the king of music taste." 

Both parties exchange laughter while you wait for the transaction to process. Once it finishes, he rips the receipt and places it into the bag with the records. 

“I mean, I do own a records store, so I think I should know." 

Flashing you his pearly whites, he hands the filled bag over to you. 

“Here you go, Miss Judgy Pants.” 

“Actually, you can call me—” You properly introduce yourself.

He leans back a little, straightening himself and tucking his thumbs into his pockets. 

“I'm John, but you can call me Johnny." 

With a glimmer in your eye, you question, “Is Johnny exclusive to me, or does everyone else also call you Johnny?”

His eyebrows raise, impressed by your straightforwardness. “I only let the pretty girls call me Johnny, if that’s what you’re asking.”  

The wink he gives is short-lived, but it’s enough to cause heat to blossom over your cheeks. You brush some hair behind your ear. 

“So, Johnny,” you enunciate, indulging in his name. “When does the store close?” 

You lift up your bag and cheekily add, “Gotta know when to break in to steal more vinyls." 

Johnny chuckles, and your heart bursts knowing you’re the reason behind it. Looking aside, his hand rubs the counter casually and you can’t help but stare at his large palm dominating the surface, along with his elongated fingers. Eyes blinking rapidly, you attempt to break the fantasy assembling in your brain—his hands are the guest stars alongside (and within) your body in the leading role. 

“I can close whenever I want to, but thanks for the heads up; I'll make sure to keep you away from the store,” he jokes.  

Catching your gaze, one of the sides of his mouth lifts. “Why do you ask?” 

Shrugging nonchalantly as you play with the handles of your dangling plastic bag, you reply, “Just wanted to know when the cute worker got off so I can potentially go on a date with him.” 

You scan around as if someone else is there in the empty store besides the two of you and point your thumb to one side, whispering teasingly, “Not you, but the other guy.” 

His tongue grazes against his bottom teeth, nodding understandingly with a deeper smirk. “The store closes at nine usually, but I can make an exception for him to get off earlier." 

Satisfied with Johnny’s answer, you bounce your head and make your way backwards toward the door.

“Sounds good, I'll be here at eight for him tomorrow night. Maybe I'll see you around then, too.” 

Granting him a wink of your own, you turn on your heels and leave. Intrigued, Johnny watches you disappear down the street through the store window. 

At 7:58 the next evening, you show up to the store. 

A customer is at the front counter finishing a purchase. As they pay for the products, the worker takes notice of you, smiling in recognition. You return the same, beaming back at him, and casually stride over to a random section to wait until they’re done. They make some small talk, so you delve in the opportunity to admire Johnny’s outfit for tonight—a tight black t-shirt that showcases his blatant pecs and a loose red plaid shirt overtop of it. 

When the customer exits, you make your way over to him as he puts on a light jacket. You lean your elbows onto the counter. 

“Surprised to see you here.” 

“Likewise," he jests back, snaking out of the counter to be in front of you. You glance at him, consuming the tall drink of water.   

Nodding to the door, you ask, “Ready to blow this popsicle stand?” 

Johnny hums affirmatively and you follow behind him outside as he flips the open sign and locks up the store.

“So, where we heading off to?” 

Informing him of what you had in mind, the two of you decide to take his car to the downtown pier. Once there, both of you grab take-out and eat together at a bench table under the clear sky and dazzling stars. Conversation comes easy, making the night fly by fast. 

While talking with him, since his hair flows freely today, he sometimes shyly brushes some of it behind his ear. Although you’re listening intently, you also ponder how it’d be if you ran your fingers through his soft, silky locks. 

Dinner eases into dessert, with the two of you having ice cream side by side on the pier railing, looking out towards the twinkling water. By the time you’re halfway finished with your cone, you hint at not wanting to end the night just yet. Agreeing with your sentiments, Johnny makes the suggestion of going back to the store. 

After finishing the ice cream, you head together back to his car. The back of your hand brushes up against his. Taking a chance, you curl the tips of your fingers around his, half-holding his hand.  

Pressing up against his arm, you whisper, “Thought you said you gotta keep me away from the store."  

He peers down at the partial hand holding and the grin he gives you reaches his eyes. He gives your hand a small squeeze, ensuring the burgeoning attraction is mutual. 

He whispers in reply, “At least this way I can keep an eye on you." 

At the shop, Johnny locks the door from inside, in case of any wandering bodies, and blasts some upbeat, electronic music onto the store speakers. Intercepting your hand, he guides you to the back corner of the store and starts to dance with you. 

At first, your bodies are separate vessels, grooving to the beat of the music, but as the songs play on, you gradually gravitate towards each other. Soon enough, one hand settles comfortably upon your waist, the other on your hip, while yours are hooked around the nape of his neck. Before you know it, you merge together as one with parted lips, finally satisfying the tension in the air and within your bodies.       

The kissing is intense, electrically charged and sending currents to the tips of your fingers. Although you’re barely acquainted, you two kiss like you’ve been deprived of each other your whole life—every kiss and every touch quenching your thirst for one another.  

Wanting to change it up, you step over to an empty counter and hop onto it. Johnny steps in the space between your legs and his lips meet yours again. You cup his face, clutching onto his strong features, and occasionally run a hand through his hair to caress his head. 

You answer inwardly to your previous thoughts, confirming the silky texture of his hair, and your touch relishes in his golden locks.  

Suddenly, his mouth channels hunger onto your neck and the electric currents divert directly to your rising arousal. At the sensation, you rashly grind your hips into Johnny’s body, and he groans heavily in the crook of your neck.  

He mumbles into your skin, “Do you wanna take this further? My place is nearby." 

Sighing further into his embrace, you half-jokingly reply, “You know, I was really looking forward to getting fucked in a records store." 

He easily breathes, “We can do that next time, I promise." 

You snicker. “Aren’t you a little presumptuous?” 

Tugging his shirt by the neckline, you force him to leave your neck and to greet your mouth instead. Pressing the top of your forehead against his, you match his gaze.   

“And what if I don't like you after tonight?”  

Something in you already knows that won’t be true, but you mischievously ask regardless. 

The simper Johnny flickers is enough to send another wave of bolts downward to your core. 

He peels his head away to bring it beside your ear. His thumb on your thigh may be gently rubbing you, but his following assurance is hoarse, absolutely drenched in pure lust.  

“Oh, you're definitely going to like me after all the things I do to you tonight." 

You barely have an opportunity to scan around his bachelor pad because his lips capture yours upon arrival. In his entryway, Johnny entangles with you, pushing you up against the wall. Impatiently, he drags you to his bedroom for the long-awaited spectacle of the night. 

After hurrying to turn on his bedside lamp, Johnny presses his weight against yours on his bed, embracing the full body contact. His lips continue to attack the terrain of your skin as he denudes you. You hum softly as he pursues south to your aching desire. Hoisting your backside and with his assistance, you’re finally completely bare. 

Sitting up at the edge of the bed, Johnny pulls his top layers off, revealing a sculpted physique, the kind that artists muse and obsess over. You knew he was fit from how his clothes constantly hugged his body, but this was just insane. 

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, staring blankly. 

Chuckling, he does the same bashful gesture from dinner—tucking some of his hair behind his ear. The gentleness is a contrast that nicely compliments his Adonis qualities. His soft side is flipped onto its backside in a second as he begins to creep his way over between your legs, his eyes darkening. 

Upon resting on his chest, you didn’t notice it before, but there’s a hair tie on his wrist, which he uses to effortlessly make himself a quick ponytail. 

With anticipation, you sigh into the kisses he leaves on your inner thigh, making his way toward your pulsing sex. When his tongue issues the first swipe, you inhale sharply with fluttering eyes. Johnny isn’t in a rush, taking his sweet time to lazily lap up your slick and learning what incites you.           

Once he has a better understanding of your desire, he dives in and devours you whole. 

Realization sweeps over as to why he has to put his hair up.

In accompaniment to the painting of your folds, Johnny spreads them gently and ensures he dunks his tongue in your wetness. One of your hands drift away from the bed sheets to one of his snaked around your upper thigh, clutching onto his fingertips in reaction to the swift rotational swirls on your raw flesh.   

He draws back, lips lustrous from your nectar, and hastily replaces his mouth with two fingers.

Your half-lidded eyes shoot wide open. His long, thick fingers fill you greatly, scissor you so far in your sex, so much that you fear what his cock is like if this is how his digits feel. 

You’re overcome with bursts of pleasure. Further bursts ensue as Johnny tongues your clit alongside the fingering. Your throaty cries and the squelches of your pussy is melodious to his ears, better than playing his favourite vinyls on the best record player he owns. The lewdness of it all overwhelms his jean-bound arousal, so Johnny retaliates by grinding against the bed.  

After Johnny retreats, he stands by the foot of the bed and starts unbuckling his belt and pants. You crawl your way over, still panting and reeling from the rush of your high. As you reach him, he drags his pants and boxer-briefs towards the floor in one-go, freeing his unsurprising lengthy girth.    

On your knees, hunched over his cock, you chuckle in disbelief. “Now that’s unfair.” 

He watches in amusement as you examine his desire with delight, before taking it into your hand, pumping it languidly. “What is?” 

You peer up, cocking an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re hot, own a record store, really funny, and you’re packing. God really has his favourites.” 

Johnny’s about to respond, but his brain short-circuits momentarily at the pad of your thumb rubbing his precome over the tip of his blunt head. He cranes his neck back, exhaling a groan. 

“Well, what can I say? Guess I’m just-fuck—” 

You suck the words out of him. Literally. 

Your warm embrace encompasses his entirety, possessing a strong hold over him. Since you can’t possibly take him fully into your mouth, your fist solves your problem by stroking him by the base. Aiming to please, especially after his oral act from earlier, you slurp and bob your head mercilessly, disregarding the saliva leaking down the sides of your mouth. 

One of Johnny’s hands arranges your hair in a make-shift ponytail to get a clearer view of the obscene display. His hazy eyes skim over the gorgeous curves of your bent back and ass jutting high up in the air. His breathing turns heavier and he’s about to tug on your hair, motioning for you to slow down, but you thankfully come up for air just in time. 

The stately figure attacks your lips with urgency. The kiss is wet and messy from going down on one another, but it merely adds to the intensity. While lip-locked, he lowers you into his pillow once more, then stretches an arm out to his bedside stand to fish out a condom. 

He nimbly rolls on the cover, but is confused to find you back on your knees instead of laying on the bed. You grasp him by the wrist and press your fingers against his firm pecs, indicating to him to recline backward. In awe, he obediently obliges. 

Hovering over him, you suck in a breath as you line your sex up with his, cognizant that you need to acclimatize to his size. You steadily sit onto his length and when it finally reaches the end, you release a piercing groan at the deep sensation.

For a bit, you don’t move too much to get used to his great desire. In the meantime, your fingers wander over the chiseled flesh in front of you—his defined, veiny arms; his solid chest; and the valleys of his abs. 

Once you think it’s been enough, you transfer more weight onto your knees and slide on his cock with more vigor. You throw your head back in pleasure. 

On the other end, Johnny’s gaze wavers between the main action, your bouncing breasts, and your supple neck. He can’t see your face clearly, but he knows you must be enjoying this as much as him by the breathy moans that follow each thrust.    

When your legs start to tire, Johnny tries to hold you close and roll you over onto your backside. You both giggle at the unsuccessful attempt to keep himself still inside of you, but that’s an easy fix. Despite just having him within you, you gasp again at the penetration. Him being on top hits you at a different angle and you truly feel the length of his inches. 

Johnny reaches down to meet your lips. You brush your fingers over his pulled back hair as he consumes your existence. In addition to each passing drive of his body into yours, you also grip harder onto his hair in ecstasy, which leads to the unraveling of his long locks upon your face. The gold ocean of silkiness drowns your senses, the strands stroking your skin like extra caresses. 

Retreating back onto his knees and raking a hand through his tousled mane, his hands then attach to the flanks of your body and he pounds you breathless, leaving you heaving for air. 

In your dazed state, you desperately grab on to whatever you can—the sheets, his upper frame, his ass, anything. Throughout it all, your core contracts even tighter over the way his clavicle, tendons, and muscles protrude and flex like they’re about to break through his skin.  

At this point, you’re beyond delirious and definitely beyond gratified. You assume he’s about to finish when he decreases his pace and bends closer to you, but instead, he continues to still move inside of you.  

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ,” you gasp and grunt between his rough, buried thrusts. “How are you not close?” 

“I’m not ready to be done with you yet, beautiful,” Johnny rasps into your ear. You catch a glimpse of his cocked eyebrow and smirk. “Unless you can’t handle me?” 

Denying his accusation, you haul his cheeks to yours and kiss him fiercely.  

And with that, Johnny’s weight is on his knees again and he fucks you like there’s no tomorrow. 

However, Johnny might’ve been right because it doesn’t take long for you to beg repeatedly for him to come.  

“So, what’s the verdict? Still like me after that?” 

Both individuals are still nude on the bed, but now covered by a blanket. Resting on his chest, you drum your fingers over his skin in thought (as if you need to even think about an answer besides the obvious). 

Pouting up at Johnny, you say, “I’ll only like you if you keep your promise on fucking me in the store next time.” 

“Of course.” He palms your cheek and inches forward, preparing to kiss you tenderly. 

“A gentleman never breaks his promise.”  

EPILOGUE 

One month later, the record store’s business has been growing, so Johnny decides to hire one of his friends, Mark, to be a part-time worker.

Which means that Johnny has more spare time to do other things... like taking you from behind in the back office over his desk. 

“Shit, fuck,” you grip harshly onto the edges of the worn-out wooden desk as he thrusts endlessly. Even after a month of dating, your pussy still isn’t fully accustomed to the size of his girth. You’re unsure if it ever will be. 

No matter, it always feels amazing. 

“Johnny, Johnny—” 

“Johnny!” Mark’s voice suddenly cuts in and calls from outside of the office door. You immediately bite down on your lower lip to shut yourself up. “Someone’s asking me about a limited edition vinyl and I don’t know how to answer.” 

“Uhhh,” Johnny drones absentmindedly, yet jabs into you with more rigor. You bite down harder, but you can’t control the rising volume of your stifled moans. “Give me five minutes.” 

A silent beat passes. 

“Dude, are you fucking in the office again?!” the part-timer exclaims. You can practically see him shaking his head in disgust. “Ugh, I’ll give them the store’s card. Hurry up, though.”

As he walks away, you hear him faintly say, “Sometimes I think this is why you hired me...” 

Simultaneously, you both giggle heartily. Your lover pecks you lovingly on your shoulder prior to diving again into the wanton moment. 

In the end, Johnny actually spends ten more minutes with you. But he can afford the extra minutes—he is the owner of the shop, after all. 

[httphopewrld]

I Don’t Know What to Call This | (f/m/a)

Just Friends? Friends with benefits? Dating? Questions swarmed your mind when one of your dear friends, Allie, asked about you and Hoseok’s relationship. The truth was you didn’t know. You and Hoseok were close, knowing each other since elementary school, and considered each other friends. However, as you two grew older, maturing into separate professions—you a well-known fashion designer, and Hoseok a famous musician and dancer—you two had engaged in some intimate activities (sex—lots of it.) After Allie’s simple question, you had to confront your feelings. But were you and Hoseok ready to be more than close friends and f*ck buddies?

Pairing: friend/lover/bfhoseok! x female reader

Genre: slowburn fluff and SMUT

Rating: 18+ because there’s swearing and pretty detailed smut

Warnings: swearing and SMUT (one of the most detailed smuts I've written, and there's more than one sex scene.) Smut includes: switch!reader and switch!hoseok, grinding and thrusting, protective sex (USE CONDOMS, I cannot stress that enough), lots of kissing, ass-grabbing, dirty talk, a wee bit of choking on both sides, squirting, male and female oral, fingering and handjobs, vibrator use, cyber-sex, the reader uses dildo, slight degradation, and just lots of filth—YOU'RE WELCOME FELLOW FILTHY ANIMALS. Oh, and spoilers for the horror movie Hush. It's on Netflix if you haven't watched it yet. It is GOOD.

  Word Count: 16, 465 (wowie)

A/N: Thank you for waiting! It’s rushed, so expect some little mistakes here an there, but I’m happy with how it turned out. I hope y'all enjoy it! Also, Y/L/N means "your last name."

  Taglist: @kirbykook​ @kleritata​ @taestannie​ @jenotation​ @hemmos-obrien​ @zeharilisharaban​ @speed-of-wind​ @kawaisoraya​

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

“You can move those over there,” you gestured to the left corner of the windowed room, where a pile of boxes waited. The move was going to take longer than you expected because the movers arrived a week later than your assistant, Rachel said. I really need to talk to her about this. You stressed in your mind, rubbing your temples. “Are you okay?” You looked up, vision resuming its focus on your friend, Allie. Allie, your friend for as long as you could remember, offered to help you move to your new building. She would help you manage everything, including the movers, tracking your company's items, and the layout you gave to her for said things while managing the company. “I’m just irritated at Rachel,” you noticed her confusion, “my new assistant.” She nodded, remembering, “Right. Why is she still employed?” “Because she’s new, and being an assistant is a tough feat. She’ll get it soon.” You reassured, “Rachel is a fast learner, and this is her first mistake. We’re prepared for the next show, though, because Westley's helping me organize it.” “Remind me who Westley is?” Allie asked. You sighed. “West is like my second brain. He helps organize the fashion shows, hire the models, find the venues, and secure the guest list. He has other people help him too, but he’s the brains of that. I create the fashion, and he finds a way to present it.” Allie nodded, “Gotcha.” Your phone rang, and you answered. “Y/N.” “Y/N!” Rachel chimed on the other end. “It’s Rachel. I’m so sorry about the mix-up on dates. It won’t happen again, I—” “I know it won’t, Rachel. You’re new, so I expected to slip up. I’ve gotten it taken care of,” you nudged Allie’s arm, and she smiled. “We’re luckily prepared for the next show in Vancouver, so you don’t have to worry about the mess up. All I need you to do now is make sure that my fabrics are coming in.” “Yes! They’ve arrived at the studio.” Rachel replied. "Fantastic. Thank you. That'll be all for now. Check on West if he needs anything." You ordered. “Will do, Y/N. Talk to you soon.” You hung up. The Vancouver show was in five months, giving you and your team enough time to design the clothes for the production and move to the new building. The show's theme was natural bodies of water and nature, a nod to Canada's landscape. The clothing catalogue would include various icy blue shades to represent waterfalls and warm emerald tones like flora and fauna. These colours would be encapsulated in elegant gowns and suits, worn by different body shapes, genders, and colours. The materials would be made from recycled fabrics from your previous shows and from your fellow artists. You were known for designing elegant attire, so it was best to keep to it. However, it was rare to see different sized, coloured, and gendered models on a runway; because of having to customize clothes to those models. Additionally, making clothes from recycled fabrics would be tough. “Okay,” you began, “I need to talk to my design team and plan out the gowns. Can I leave you here to deal with the movers?” Allie gave you a thumbs up. “Thank you,” you smiled, hugging her, “if you need anything, please call me or Rachel, or both. We’ll be back to help.” Before you left, a thought struck you. You turned around to face Allie. “I should just hire you.” She chuckled, “Why?” You scoffed, "Because you're here all the time!" You walked back to her. "Listen, you're the best manager I know. You can be my third brain. You already are, outside of work, so it would make sense." Allie seemed unsure. “I already have my job at Youth and Hope.” You grasped her hands. “You would be given a great wage, not just because you’re my best friend, but because you’re going to be busy with lots of work. You would be handling the management tasks, like West. You’d be given a good amount of vacation, trips for shows and meetings would be paid for—you could get that loft you always wanted downtown.” You wiggled your eyebrows, and Allie laughed. “Don’t I have to go through an interview process?” You brushed a hand through the air. “I can get someone to interview you and officially hire you. Once that’s done, you’ll start getting paid.” You checked your watch, and a quick rush of panic ran through you. “Shit, I’m going to be late. Consider it, alright! Let me know your availability, and we’ll schedule an interview!” “Okay!” She shouted back as you left. . . The coffee had become bitter. You weren’t sure if it was the roast or the fact that this was your fourth cup of the night. It had been a month since the fabrics arrived. Thanks to Allie, your friend and now employee, your move to the new building was complete; however, your designs weren’t translating as smoothly as you wish. "Fuck," you cursed, resting your head in your hands and rubbing your temples. The sketches waited in front of you—the measurements and ideas raking at your confidence. Your designs are redundant. You’ve done something similar last time.                                                                       Boring. Plain. You turned back to your mannequins, still bare. The theme was in your mind, and your design team reassured you that your sketches were fine, but it all felt fuzzy. “Y/N,” Rachel peered into the studio from the door, “there’s a gentleman here to see you.” “His name?” You asked, still looking at the mannequins. You heard footsteps retreat into the front lobby, then come back to the door. “Jung Hoseok?” You turned around, trying to contain your excitement. “Please send him in.” Rachel nodded, jogging back to the lobby. You heard a muffled “thank you” before heavy footsteps approaching your studio. Hoseok reached the doorway, beaming his signature smile. He wore acid-washed jeans, a baggy white sweater that matched his chunky light sneakers. His dark hair was slightly wavy and parted in the middle. A tote bag was slung over his shoulder. “Y/N!” He cheered, opening his arms wide. “Hoseok!” You replied, running into his arms and hugging him tightly. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw Hoseok—a year or two? “Fuck, how long has it been?” You asked him. He pulled away, thinking. “About six months?” Totally off. “Seriously, it felt longer than that.” You argued. Hoseok pulled out his phone and scrolled through his calenderer and photos. He made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Ah, see here,” he showed you a few photos of you two with his friends, who were also his bandmates, “six months ago, you joined us on tour for a couple days before coming back here. I have it also marked in my calendar.” He showed you the dates, which were marked with ‘💚Y/N’s visit💚.’ “Can Namjoon or Yoongi confirm this?” You crossed your arms. Hoseok mimicked your body language. “I can call them right now,” he challenged. You two stood in competitive tension. You succumbed. “You win this time, Jung Hoseok.” He playfully chuckled. You realized that Hoseok doesn’t live around here. “Wait, why are you in town. Shouldn’t you and the others be in Korea planning another album or something?” You speculated. “Our company gave us a month for vacation because we spent most of the year touring.” Hoseok sighed. “So, I decided to come to visit.” You hugged him again, happy to see someone who wasn’t your employee amidst this chaos of stress. “How long are you staying?” You asked, muffled against his chest. He paused. “Maybe a month?” You pulled away from him, shocked. “A month? Here? That’s all your vacation time.” “Yeah,” he replied, as if that wasn’t a big deal, “I didn’t want to travel to a bunch of places because the group and I have been doing that for almost a year—and it’s pretty chill in this area.” He sighed. “Besides, I don’t think many people would recognize me. The airport wasn’t busy, and I haven’t been swarmed by fans yet.” “Do you have a place to stay?” You asked. He nodded. “Yup! I’m staying at a fancy hotel. I got the suite at the top floor,” he made a gesture with his hand, indicating how high up his suite was. You playfully elbowed his side. "Wow, look at you, Mr. Famous. You can afford a top suite now. Are you sure you don't want to stay with me, though?” Hoseok dismissed your offer with a wave of his hand. “It’s alright, Y/N. Thank you, though.” He peered over your shoulder, “It looks like you’re busy anyway, so I think I’ll just stick to my suite.” He walked past you, over to the bare mannequins. “Are you preparing for that show in Vancouver that you told me about?” You nodded, relaying your theme and ideas to him. He smiled. “That sounds really cool,” he pointed to the mannequins, “but don’t you need some clothes for the show, then?” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at him for being a smart ass. “Yes, I do. I’m brainstorming some ideas right now, but I’m coming up with nothing. I have the design team coming in tomorrow with drafts, but I’d like to bring my own thing to the table, you know? I’m the main brain of this operation, and it’d be embarrassing if I come in with zilch.” You leaned against one of the tables, facing the mannequins. "The tough part is designing gowns that fit the right people, you know. Sure, you can make a collection of clothes, but they won't look good if they don't fit the models." You shook your head. "Maybe it's just tougher to design clothes for different bodies. I should just stick to one type of person and leave it at that." Hoseok walked up beside you, leaning against the same table and facing the figures. “Why don’t you find the models and then design the clothes?” You looked at him, surprised. “But wouldn’t that take a long time?” He crossed his arms, “Well, how many models would you need?” “We’re thinking around seventy. There’s going to be two changes within the show.” Hoseok nodded, and you could see him brainstorming. “Well, you have four months left, right? You and your team can make some drafts, cast the models, and finalize the ideas with said models. Which would take about a couple of months? You could do that while planning the show?” He paused, appearing to notice your hesitant expression. “Think about it. You’ve trained your team well enough to work on its own, right? That’s what you did for your last show, which was a success. You came in every day for a couple hours to make sure everything was in order, then focused on other things.” Hoseok grasped your hands. “You’re great at multitasking, so do it. It’s scary, but you can check on people every day to make sure everything’s alright.” You bit your lip, “I-I don’t know, Hoseok. That sounds like a lot of work—” “You did it last time, and it worked out just fine,” he gently squeezed your hands, “and I’m here for a month. I can help out whenever you need me. I’ll simply clean things up and fetch coffee if that’s what you need.” You laughed, “Like my intern?” “Yeah! I don’t know how to design anything or plan a fashion show, but I’ll do what I can.” He smiled. “You’re so much more than you think, Y/N, and if you need reminders, I’ll be here.” You smiled back at him, so grateful to have him here. “My god, you’re fucking sweet,” you scoffed, taking your hands out of his. Hoseok laughed. You pushed yourself off the table and faced him. “How did we even become friends?” You questioned. He actually gave it a thought. “You joined by dance club in elementary school, when no one else would.” He laughed so hard that he teared up. “I think we actually took club photos, and it was only you and I posing.” You laughed with him, remembering those days spent trying to breakdance to hip hop and presenting dance routines to your parents. “Yeah, that was before you joined that Music Academy in grade four, right?” He nodded, and you sighed, surprised you still remembered. Your mind came back to the present. “So, you’re actually okay with helping out?” You checked. “Why would I ask if I didn’t want to?” Hoseok replied. You tapped your index finger against your temple, “true.” “So, how much do you want?” Hoseok looked offended at your question. You chuckled. “Well, you’re going to work for me, so I need to pay you.” “It’s only just a month, though.” “Yeah, but—” “What about we see how much you have me do before you pay me?” He interrupted. “I might just have to fetch coffee, so you can just give me money on the spot.” You thought about it for a minute. Hoseok yawned. “This work talk is making me tired. Do you want to go out for dinner?” He looked around you, “Unless you have more work to do. I can always wait in the lobby for you to finish.” You brushed your hand through the air, “Nah, it’s okay. I’m pretty brain dead anyway. I need to be energized for tomorrow’s draft review.” Hoseok pushed himself off the table and clapped. “Awesome! Where do you think I’m taking you for dinner?” You bit your lip, trying to guess. “Sushi?” “Sushi it is!” He beamed. You grabbed your things and followed him out of the studio.

Both of you sat towards the back of the sushi restaurant, to Hoseok’s request. The waitress placed you two in a concealed booth, with drapes covering a small entrance.

You two had to take your shoes off before sitting down.

“Why did you say, ‘sushi it is?’” You asked, taking a sip of your water.

Hoseok opened his can of sprite, “What do you mean?”

“You asked where I thought you were taking me, I responded, and you said, ‘sushi it is!’” You reiterated.

He took a sip of his soda before responding, "It's a trick I learned from Instagram." He set his drink down. "You ask someone, 'where do you think I'm taking you for food?' dinner or whatever, and then take them to a place with that food. It's easier than asking 'what do you want to eat?' because people can't decide."

You nodded, making an ‘aaahhh’ sound. “Smart.”

You two caught up while eating your meals. Hoseok chatted about his bandmates and the tour, and you talked about your move to the new building.

Most of it was just adding more details about your lives because you two texted lots during the week and sometimes video chatted. You'd get to see Hoseok and his friends, and he'd get a view of your life on the other side of the world.

To others, it looked like both of you were dating. Both of your friends would tease, singing, "Y/N and Hoseok sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G." Many of his fans, ARMY, would theorize your friendship, pointing out the matching bracelets you two wore—which was later proved normal because Hoseok went live on Vlive making bracelets for his bandmates.

And you two would continually clarify that you two were strictly long-time friends. Nothing more.

Girls and boys can be friends. Simple as that.

You and Hoseok finished your meals. You two shared a few rolls and a bento box and were full.

“That was really good.” You commented, rubbing your stomach.

Hoseok chuckled, copying you, “I think I’m pregnant.”

You laughed, “Shut up! You’re so fit.”

“You’re right,” he replied, pulling up his sleeves and flexing his arms.

You both laughed as he flexed his muscles, which were significantly more prominent than your remembered. You were slightly jealous of his lean athletic figure.

And were gazing at it for too long.

“I don’t know about you,” Hoseok sighed, appearing to be tired from the food and flexing his muscles, “but I’m in the mood for some Ben and Jerry’s.”

Your eyes lit up. “YES.”

“Cookie dough with chunks?” You both said in unison.

You two erupted in laughter.

"I'll go play," Hoseok said, getting up.

You stopped him, “It’s alright,” you smiled, “my treat.”

Before you left the booth, you turned around and said thoughtfully, "But you're getting the ice cream."

Hoseok's expression conveyed the same seriousness as if a soldier on a mission.

He saluted you. “Copy that, Y/N.”

You saluted him back and left to pay.

The walk to Ben and Jerry’s was quick. Both of you were eager to share the tub of ice cream.

You ended up getting a chocolate chip cookie dough and a cherry Garcia pint, and two spoons to share. You both ate the ice creams with delight while walking back to your apartment building.

When arriving at your building, Hoseok handed you the cookie dough ice cream pint.

“What are you doing?” You asked while he gave you the closed pint.

He tilted his head to the side, confused. “What do you mean? I’m dropping you off at your place.”

You gave a shocked expression. “Dropping me off? We’re not even done our pints!”

“But you have work tomorrow. I don’t want to keep you up.” Hoseok stepped back towards the edge of the sidewalk. “I can catch a cab back to the hotel, don’t worry.”

You balanced the pints in one hand and used your other to grab his arm.

“You’re not going anywhere,” you said, pulling away from the curb and closer to your building.

Hoseok pulled his arm out of your grip. "Y/N, you need to be well-rested—"

“At least help me finish the ice cream.” You interrupted, holding up the pints that were now in both your hands, along with your spoon.

“We haven’t seen each other six months, and it’s only…”

Hoseok pulled out his phone. “Nine.”

“Exactly!” You expressed. “It’s only nine. I don’t need to be in until nine-thirty tomorrow morning. As long as you’re out by eleven, that gives me an hour to get ready for bed at twelve, and I will wake up at eight. Plenty of rest!”

You watched his unsure expression.

"If you don't want to go home at eleven, that's fine by me. Could you leave earlier? Or you can go back to your hotel if you want. I won't take offence; you know me." You held up your arms in surrender, ice cream pints still in your hands. "But if you're leaving because you're worried that I won't get enough sleep, don't. I'm a grown woman. I know how to take care of myself, and I want you to come in.

Hoseok bit his lip, appearing to debate the offer.

He sighed. "Fine, I'll come in. However, I don't want to get a text from you complaining about being tired in the morning."

“I swear,” you promised, pretending to draw an ‘x’ over your heart, “I cross my heart.”

Hoseok chuckled, and you led the two of you into your apartment building and into the elevator. You pressed the twentieth button, and you two waited in comfortable silence.

The elevator doors opened, and you two walked to your apartment.

You opened the door to your studio apartment, locking the door behind you two and hanging up your bag along with your keys.

“Want anything to drink?” You asked, setting down the ice cream pint in your hand and taking off your coat.

Hoseok set down the cookie dough pint on the coffee table. “Anything is alright, thanks,”

You hummed, getting both of you bottles of black cherry soda and bringing over the cherry Garcia pint and your spoon.

"Jesus, do you need help?" Hoseok asked with worry, seeing you holding the bottles by their necks in one hand and the ice cream pint and spoon in the other.

You chuckled, “It’s alright, just sit down.”

You two sat on the couch, twisting off the caps on your sodas and taking a sip.

Hoseok sighed. “That’s really good,” he gestured to the pop before putting it down on the coffee table.

“Yeah! They’re so addictive,” you replied, setting coasters under both of your drinks.

Both of you continued to reminisce about your childhood, especially middle school. The puberty years had been gruesome to you two, speckling your faces with acne.

You pulled out a photo album you kept on one of your bookshelves, which had pictures of your families and your younger selves—even photos when Hoseok was training, before debuting with BTS in 2013.

“Oh my god, look at you!” You gasped, showing him a picture.

In the photo, Hoseok arms were crossed over his chest, his attempt at having swagger. He wore a collared shirt, and his hair was short.

“Oh god, no,” Hoseok cringed, gently pushing the photo away.

You chuckled, "You were so adorable, always dancing and having a good time." You smiled. "You are such a hard worker, practicing so much. I remember you twisting your ankle but still practicing."

You looked at him tenderly. “I wish people could see that.”

Hoseok smiled back at you, softly touching your hand. You grasped his hand, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

He was the first to pull away.

“You remember our sleepovers?” He asked.

You giggled, "Yeah when you could leave that cramped place you shared with the boys."

He swatted your arm, “That apartment was good! It was where everything started.” He pouted. “Anyways, we would always look up deep questions to ask each other—or would you rather.”

You rolled your eyes. “Those questions were overrated.”

“I thought they were nice!” Hoseok defended. “We got to know each other more, like, ‘what is your biggest fear?’ or ‘what is your biggest pet peeve?’”

He must've seen your unimpressed expression because he continued, "You got to admit that you learned a bit more about me because of those questions!"

You sighed. “I did, I guess.”

Hoseok held up his index finger, seeming to signal ‘wait a minute.’

He pulled out his phone. “Let’s try some now, then.”

“Hoseok—”

“Come on,” he interrupted. “If you don’t learn anything new about me from the first four questions we do, then we can stop, alright? I will never bring up these questions ever again.”

You debated his offer.

“Fine.” You agreed, setting down the photo album. “Shoot.”

“Okay, but we both pick two questions and answer all of them. For example, when we ask a question, the other person answers before the picker.” Hoseok said while he scrolled.

You hummed, understanding his instructions.  

“Want to do would you rather?”

“Sure.”

"Sexy edition?" Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows. "Unless you're uncomfortable."

You scoffed. “Hobi, we're grown, adults. I can take a few sexual questions."

“Okay,” Hoseok replied, “but if you ever feel uncomfortable, we can choose another question or stop.”

You nodded, and Hoseok appeared to find what he was looking for.

“Alright,” he began, “would you rather bite someone’s ear during sex or bite someone’s lip during sex?”

This is pretty vanilla. You thought.

"Lip, for sure." You emphasized the 'sure' in your sentence, stringing along with the 'er' sound.

“Same,” Hoseok agreed while passing you his phone.

You took his cell and strolled through the website.

What do I choose? Do I just dive in, or go for the vanilla shit?

“Would you rather engage in foreplay or go right into the main course?” You asked.

Hoseok thought about it. “I would say foreplay. You can warm things up—and nothing is more fun than teasing.” He shimmied, making you two laugh.

You agreed, passing the phone to him.

“Oooo, here’s a classic,” he grinned, “top or bottom?”

“I think I’m a switch,” you replied.

He tilted his head.

“It’s like, you’re both, top and bottom. I like to take control sometimes, but I can also sub.” You explained. “You?”

“Top,” he replied, “for sure.”

You laughed, “You sound so against being a bottom.”

He laughed too. “I like pleasuring the person I’m having sex with. Nothing is more satisfying than making someone cum.”

“True,” you admitted.

You found your mind wandering to unholy memories of you and Hoseok. What was odd about your friendship that—to put it blatantly—you two had sex. Not just once, but a few times.

This is why asking these questions was pretty casual and not too surprising.

You two started engaging in sex a couple years ago. You were stressed about your company starting, and Hoseok was in town. He offered to help you relax, and before you knew it, he was drilling into you from behind.

Both of you agreed to stay friends but continued to have sex every now and then. It was great, you had to admit. Probably the best sex you had in your life, and it was good that you two were able to keep your friendship platonic at the same time. Only, it was sex without the romantic feelings.

To be honest, you were craving it again.

He passed you his phone again, and you tried to pick a good last question.

“Would you rather kiss me gently or kiss me aggressively?” You asked.

Hoseok paused before answering. “Depends on the mood.”

“Well, at this moment, then, what is the mood?”

You watched Hoseok’s eyes shift between your lips then your eyes.

“Aggressively.”

You hummed. “Good to know.” You passed him back his phone. “Last question.”

Hoseok chuckled, “You seriously didn’t learn anything new?”

You shrugged. “I guess not.”

He didn't seem bothered, though, when his body shifted closer to yours.

When he looked back up at you, his expression changed. Although his eyes were already an opaque shade of brown, they had darkened.

I know that look.

He smirked. “Would you rather make the first move or receive the first move?”

You bit your lip, gazing up at his body.

Before you could reconnect with his eyes, you heard his phone drop, and his lips were on yours.

Just like his answer, his kisses were aggressive and needy. You could taste the cherry cola and ice cream on his lips and mouth.

You pulled his face closer, wanting more.

Hoseok’s body language opened up, allowing you to get up and straddle his lap. You felt his hands inch up your shirt and tug at the fabric. He helped you take it off, which gave him access to your breasts.

You felt him undo your bra with a quick flick of his fingers, and you tossed it off without a care.

Hoseok let out a chuckle before claiming your lips with his.

His lips were intoxicating, and you wanted more.

“Please touch me,” you begged against his lips.

He hummed, grazing his hands down your back before roughly grabbing your ass. You moaned, and he held you against him, hard enough to feel him grind into you.

“Fuck, stop teasing,” you pulled away, and he laughed.

“Baby, I’m not teasing,” he smirked.

Baby. The term of endearment made your heart swoon.

You weren’t always this infatuated by Hoseok. But the way he came to visit you during his break, had dinner and ice cream with you, and kissed you this good—it made you want more than just a fling.

But you couldn't think that way. It was sex. You two were doing this to get off, not engage in lovemaking.

Hoseok swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, eyeing your figure. “You know what I want.”

You ran your hand up and down his chest. “What are you waiting for?”

Hoseok's hands came underneath your thighs, and he picked you up, walking you to your bedroom. He used your body to close the door, slamming you against it.

He ground himself against your core, causing you to moan louder than you expected.

You covered your mouth in embarrassment.

Hoseok chuckled, “It’s okay,” he pulled away enough to graze his thumb over your cheek, “I love it when you moan.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing him and grabbing his ass, causing him to grind on your core.

"Fuck, I can practically feel that you wet," he groaned, trying his best to hold you up and sturdy you against the door.

“B-bed,” you choked, one of his particular thrusts stroking perfectly against you.  

Hoseok moved you towards your bed and gingerly placed you down. He kissed down your bare chest and slowly took off your pants and underwear.

“Fuck, your perfect,” Hoseok awed, softly running a finger through your wet heat.

His cold finger sent a wave of pleasure through you, making you flinch.

Hoseok hummed. “So wet for me,”

He looked up at you. “May I?”

You nodded, but he only smirked.

“Words, baby,” he put a hand to his ear.

“Please,” you bit down on your lip.

You felt him spread your lips, and you clenched in response. He appeared to savour you, taking his time as he ate you out.

When you moaned, he’d hum, sending vibrations into your heat that brought you closer to your climax.

“Fuck, I’m close—”

He pulled away, licking his lips and gazing down at you.

“Hoseok—”

“You taste better than I remembered,” he commented. “But I want you to cum around me.”

God, I love his dirty talk.

You watched him take off his clothes. He must've been working out because he was more toned than six months ago.

He was about to line himself up with your entrance, but you stopped him with your foot on his chest.

You smirked. “Not yet, baby.”

You stood up. “Sit.”

Hoseok sat on the bed, your roles shifting.

“But I want—”

You interrupted his beg with your hand around his erect cock. He appeared to be speechless as you run your hand up and down his shaft.

“Hm?” You asked, chuckling lightly at how easy it was to make him submit. “What do you want, baby?”

“I-I wanted,” he stuttered, thrusting slightly into your hand, “to cum inside you.”

“Is that so?” You questioned, pulling your hand away.

Despite his vocalized want, he whined when you pulled away.

“I’m only doing what my baby wants,” you shrugged. “Condoms are in the bottom drawer on the right.”

Hoseok dashed over to the bedside table, rummaging for the condoms.

“Those should fit you, right?”

"Yes," he replied, opening the familiar wrapper and unravelling it on his erect member.  

He stood there for a minute, wrapped penis and naked, just fondly looking at your nude figure.

He whispered something under his breath.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok blushed. “You still want to fuck?”

“Yes.”

“Top or bottom?”

“Top please,” you smiled.

Hoseok laid down on your bed, and you climbed onto his torso.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he cursed as you moved off his abs and onto his cock.

A wet puddle was left on his abdomen, which he wiped away with his fingers, then putting said fingers into his mouth.

“So good,” he groaned.

You hummed in response, slowly sinking onto him.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you said when you bottomed out.

You started moving, swaying your hips back and forth. Each time Hoseok's cock would graze against your g-spot.

His hands were placed on your hips, guiding you on him. You could feel yourself clenching around him and your climax building up.

“I-I’m close,” you stuttered.

Hoseok swallowed, “Me too.”

“Ch-choke me,” you requested as you picked up your pace.

Hoseok grinned. “Only if you choke me back.”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. Hoseok gently wrapped his hand around your neck, and you did the same, slowly applying pressure.

You felt your thighs burn from exhaustion. "F-fuck me," you cursed, slowing down.

Both of you let go of each other's neck, and Hoseok flipped you two over, still inside you.

"It's okay," Hoseok assures before resuming the pace.

His thrusts were rough and deep, and he pushed your thighs against your chest.

“Fuck, please keep going,” you begged.

“Can I choke you?” Hoseok asked.

“Please,” you replied, “do you want me to choke you too?”

“Yes,” Hoseok responded.

You felt yourself rhythmically clench around him. Hoseok must’ve realized because he began thrusting faster into you.

The room was filled with unholy noises. You could hear the wet sounds of your entrance and the impact of Hoseok’s hips against your core.

“Fuck don’t stop,” you choked out.

The knot building up in your abdomen unravelled, and pleasure and relaxation spread through your body. Your core gripped onto Hoseok like a vice.

“H-Hoseok,” you stammered, your core overstimulated.

“I-I want you to squirt,” he replied, continuing his firm thrusts.

“Oh,” you moaned.

He pounded deeper into your core, to the point where you could feel his tip ram against your cervix.

“Ah!” You screamed, feeling yourself gush around him.

“Fuck, so good,” Hoseok groaned. “I-I’m cumming.”

You felt the condom fill up inside you, and you felt disappointed that his cum couldn’t coat your walls.

His thrusts slowed down, and he stood still for a few moments.

When he pulled out, you shivered with oversensitivity. You knew that your sheets would be a mess and weren't looking forward to cleaning them when Hoseok left.

You looked up at the ceiling, breathless, while you heard Hoseok walk away from the bed.

“Where do you put your towels?” He asked.

“In the hallway, in the closet beside the dryer and washing machine.” You replied.

You heard him walk into the hallway and the closet door open and close. “Thanks,” he said. “And your bedsheets?”

“The closet in my room.”

You heard him walk back into your room, open your walk-in closet that led into your bathroom, and shuffle around. The tap ran in your bathroom for a couple seconds, then the sound of Hoseok wringing out something.

You began to sit up, but he hushed you to lie back down.

“Just relax,” he soothed, placing the clean bedsheets on your bedside table and walking over to you with a damp cloth.

“You don’t have to—”

He placed a hand on your thigh. “It’s okay,” he reassured.

You two exchanged a quick smile before Hoseok began to clean you up.

“You didn’t even cum on me,” you chuckled as he gently wiped your inner thighs.

“I know,” he replied, “but I still made you messy.”

When your thighs were no longer covered in your cum, you two changed your bedsheets.

“You good sleep in the same bed?” You asked while folding over your duvet.

“Sure,” He smiled.

You walked into your closet. "There should be some clothes that fit you. I usually wear men's clothes at home, anyways. It's crazy how great the quality men's clothes are compared to women's clothes." You picked out a t-shirt and sweatpants and tossed them at Hoseok.

He caught them, “Thanks.”

You two showered separately and spent the time getting ready together dancing to tunes.

If someone were to walk into the room, it wouldn’t look or smell like you two just had sex. You two looked like close friends having a dance party before going to bed.

Again, after you two had sex the first time, you both agreed to stay friends. It was easier said than done.

It was awkward initially, but you both were able to get past that by talking it through. Hoseok would ask how you felt during sex and what could have been better, and you would return the question.

Now, you both were able to have a good time and intimately learn more about each other.

Sure, it was strange, but it was a mutual agreement between consenting adults and fun.

The sex was fun—great, really—and you couldn’t have it any other way.

But you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t feel like something was missing.

.

.

“Good morning, everyone,” you greeted your fellow designers, “this is Hoseok. If you don’t know him already, he’s a well-known musician and one of my closest friends.”

Everyone welcomed Hoseok with a warm round of applause.

“Thank you, it’s a pleasure to be here.” Hoseok thanked.

“Hoseok will be helping out here and there while he’s vacationing here for a month,” you explained, “so take it easy on him.”

People shared chuckles at your joke.

"Anyways, let's start looking over the design ideas. You all are very talented artists, and I want you to remember that this is a draft, which means that these ideas are not final. If your idea is rejected, it's okay. We'll continue to work on a collective theme for the show."

The morning was spent listening to everyone's design concepts. To follow your reputation, the designs were contained within suits and gowns. As mentioned before, the theme was Vancouver's nature, where the fashion show would be taking place.

You and your design team used the recycled fabrics—which were separated by colours, textures, and materials—while figuring out your drafts.

You asked your design team to draft some ideas because you couldn't think of anything to present.

You were pleasantly surprised that your whole team had ideas that you approved.

“This a phenomenal,” you awed, “Great job, Erinn.”

“Actually,” you grabbed the attention of the other team members, “you all did a great job. We will be using all these ideas for the show.”

Your team shared cheers.

“Y/N,” Rachel nudged your shoulder, “I’m sorry to ask, but now that we’ve got the designs all in order, what about the models? You wanted to have various body types, right?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered,” you whispered back.

You turned back to your design team. "You all know that this show is tougher than our last one because we are trying to include more body types, genders, races, just different kinds of people. Which means that we will need to cater our clothes to the models, rather than the other way around.” You smiled, “So you all can go home for the next week.”

You heard Rachel choke on her inhale.

"Although you all have the week off, I want you all to try drawing your designs on other body types. Experiment with materials and colours. Remember to take some of the recycled fabrics home with you, and feel free to come in to pick anything up. Just let Rachel and I know in advance, and we'll give notice to the front desk so they can let you in. When we reconvene in a week, which would be next Friday at nine-thirty, I need you all to be ready to translate your designs, colours, and materials to our models." You ordered.

“Any questions?”

Comfortable silence amongst everyone.

You nodded. "Awesome. Good luck, everyone. Contact me if you have any questions."

Your team started packing up.

“Y/N, does that mean we’re spending the next week casting?” Rachel asked.

“Yes, Rachel. Please contact Westly and schedule lunch tomorrow at noon to discuss modelling criteria. It’s probably going to be pretty loose, but we need to contact Westly before sending it out.” You answered. “If he’s not free at that time, try figuring out something later tomorrow. Then book a reservation for three at Romeo’s.”

“Alright, on it,” Rachel replied.

You turned to Hoseok, who seemed shocked.

“What?” You blushed.

He continued his surprised expression. “I haven’t seen you like this before.”

You chuckled. “How else are you supposed to run a company and organize and execute a fashion show in 3 months?”

Rachel tapped you on the shoulder. "Westly can do lunch tomorrow, at noon, at Romeo's. He and his team secured the venue with Vancouver Fashion Week and are currently collaborating with the interior designers to figure out how the place will look. West said he'll debrief you tomorrow, at lunch, about the rest of the progress."

You smiled. “Great! Thank you, Rachel. You can also take the rest of the day off.”

Rachel appeared to be stunned, not responding to your words.

You waved a hand in front of her face. “Rachel? You can take the rest of the day off.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?” She asked.

You chuckled, “I wouldn’t be telling you to if I wasn’t sure, would I?”

She gave it a thought. “I guess not.”

You grinned. “Just meet me at our main building tomorrow, at eleven-thirty, and we’ll go to Romeo’s together.”

Rachel nodded. “Thank you, Y/N,”

“No worries,” you smiled.

You and Hoseok watched her leave, leaving you two alone in the studio.

“I’m sorry, it passed my mind. You’re okay not joining us for lunch tomorrow, right?” You asked Hoseok.

He dismissed your apology by brushing a hand through the air, “It’s all good. You’ve got your shit to do.” He smiled, “It gives me time to tour around a bit, anyways.”

“Good,” you replied. “So, where to?”

You pulled apart the croissant, eating pieces one at a time. The butteriness covered your tongue in a warmth that mixed well with the iced coffee you and Hoseok shared.

The park was surprisingly empty, despite it being a Friday. Usually, it would be tough to find a spot decently away from others, mostly shaded by trees.

The inlet was a few meters away, allowing you two to see sailboats pass by. People also kayaked and canoed, and you could hear their laughter faintly on land.

Here, you and Hoseok would be shielded by looming trees and away from potential fans of Hoseok. It was a rarity to have those two things when spending time with Hoseok: privacy and security—peace and quiet.

“This is what you wanted to do?” You asked, finishing off the croissant.

He nodded, sipping the iced coffee. “Yeah. It’s quiet and nice here.”

You two people watched, enjoying the breeze and serene environment.

“I was thinking,” you cleared your throat, “about last night. Did you enjoy it?”

Hoseok set down the iced coffee. “Yeah. I always like hanging out with you.”

“I mean—the sex.”

He seemed shocked by your question.

“Yeah, that was good too. Why do you ask? You never brought up before.” He pointed out.

Because I am growing feelings for my childhood friend, who I now have sex with for fun. This wasn't a part of the agreement, I know. We agreed to not grow feelings for each other and just have sex for pleasure. But it's inevitable to develop feelings for someone you have sex for, right? Like, there are probably people out there that can distinguish sex from love—and I guess it started out like that—but for us?

Am I crazy?

“No reason,” you sighed. “I just wanted to know if there was anything I could have done better.”

Hoseok turned his body to you, smiling. “It was perfect.”

He gestured with his arms for a hug, and you obliged. His cologne smelt of freshly peeled oranges; it was a pleasant fragrance, and you found yourself snuggling closer.

.

.

The past month went by in a busy blur.

The model casting went well. You and Westley found fantastic individuals to present your clothing line, which was in the process of being altered to fit those people.

The venue was secured, and the guest list was being made by You and Westley.

“Maybe invite Hoseok,” Westley suggested.  

You shook your head, “I can’t.”

"Why not?" He retorted. "The worse thing he could say is 'no,' and you can invite the whole band." He giggled. "Maybe I can meet Jimin in person."

You chuckled, “So that’s why you want me to invite Hoseok. Just because you made eye contact with Jimin for more than five seconds, it doesn’t mean that he’s into you. He’s straight.”

“How do you know?” Westley had a hand firmly on his hip.

“W-well, I haven’t asked him personally—”

"Then you can't assume he's straight!" Westley exclaimed. "The baseline isn't being heterosexual."

“True. Anyways, let’s get back to the guest list.” You chewed on your lip. “We have Harry Styles, BLACKPINK, Lizzo…”

Both of you ran down the list of a thousand attendees to the show in Vancouver. It was way smaller than fashion week or any of your previous shows, but it wasn't meant to be a big party.

Y/N [14:00]: Hey! Are you free and the boys on March 1st at 1 pm for about four hours, including an after-party until 10 pm, with food?

Hoseok [14:30]: Hiiiiii!! Sorry for the late text. I was asking the others. Yeah! That’s in 4 months? 🧐

Y/N [14:31]: Yeah, it’s for my fashion show. You can ask your company for that time? We’d provide the plane tickets and accommodation. You’d probably stay 3 days and 2 nights? You’d fly in the first day, sleep the one night, then attend the show the second day, sleep the second night, and fly out the 3rd day. I’ll need to know by the end of the week.

Hoseok [14:32]: Sounds good!!! I’ll ask my managers and let you know 👊

Y/N [14:33]: Awesome! Thanks 💚

Hoseok [14:33]: Np 💚

“So, Hoseok and the boys can come, but he has to confirm with his managers. He’ll let me know soon.” You relayed to Westley.

"Great! As long as we get confirmation from Hoseok at the end of this week, we can send out the invitations. We've checked with everyone's management, and they all seem to be busy. Worse comes to worst; we'll just have to move seats around." Westley advised.

He closed his laptop, and you followed.

“Alright, that seems to be all of the guest list business. I’ll get my team to start organizing plane tickets and accommodation.” He sighed, “shall we head to the studio to check on the design team?”

“Yes,” you replied.

Both of you were driven to the studio to check on the design team.

The studio was filled with models of various shades and shapes. Music played quietly in the background, and your coworkers and models grooved to the tunes. Designers pinned fabrics around people’s figures and sketched down measurements and ideas.

You and Westley went around checking on everyone, making sure gowns and suits were well in progress. A smaller group of people created ideas for shoes and were sending them out to shoemakers.

The rest of the day was spent getting to know the models, fixing measurements, finalizing some ideas, and briefing everyone about the plan for the next two months.

"Please have the gowns, suits, and shoes by the end of this month so we can start having the makeup artists consult all of you; to make sure the makeup correlates with the clothes and the models." You informed. "Thank you, everyone, for your amazing work."

Scattered “thank you”s responded, and our workday was over.

“You want to get some drinks?” Westley nudged.

You nodded, frankly too tired to answer but eager for a drink.

Both of you decided to walk to the high-class bar, which allowed private areas in the back for paying customers. You and Westley sat alone, away from the crowds of people near the entrance of the bar.

“To having a productive three months,” Westley sang, holding up his martini.

You sighed, “Cheers,” you tapped your peach Bellini glass against his, admitting a chime.

"Fuck," Westley cursed at the sip of his drink, "they're always stronger than I remember. "Anyways, the show is pretty much underway. Guestlist is handled, the venue is prepped and ready for us, the clothing is almost done. Oooo, I can’t wait to see it all together.”

You nodded.

“You don’t seem so excited, Y/N.”

“I am,” you replied.

“But?”

“I am excited.” You affirmed, although not living up to the word

Westley silenced, knowing when not to push your buttons.

He took a careful sip of his martini. “Where’s Hoseok?”

You fidgeted with your glass. "Hoseok went back to Korea. He only had a month of vacay, so," you left the sentence adrift.

“Did you enjoy his company?”

“Can we not talk about him right now? I rather not mix work and personal life.” You stated.

Westley acknowledged with a firm nod, finishing off his martini and asking for another.

“May I ask a question?”

“Sure.” You replied.

He cringed. “But if I ask, promise me you won’t fire me.”

You turned to him. “Depends on your question. You have to ask me first, then I can decide whether or not to fire you. I cannot make promises.”

“Why are you so off all of a sudden?” He genuinely asked.

You took a deep breath. “I’m not going to fire you, not for a long time. You’re my best worker, and I can’t let you go.”

"I feel like there's going to be a 'but' somewhere. Might as well rip off the Band-Aid." Westley sighed.

You nodded, “You’re right. And you’re right about my mood. I’ve been kind of off lately.”

“Because of Hoseok?”

"Yeah, to be honest." You admitted. "I feel like we're really close—more than just friends. We're on the same wavelength, you know? And whenever we're apart for a long time and then meet up again, it's like time has passed."

“And let me guess, you haven’t told him because you’re afraid to ruin your friendship.”

You scoffed. “There’s no need for sarcasm, West.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’m just saying, it’s the oldest narrative in the book. One friend is falling for the other, and that one friend doesn’t want to confess their feelings because they’ve known the other person for years and are afraid of ruining that connection.” He took a sip of his martini. “But in the end, it’s two friends just pining over their feelings of love for each other.”

“But we’re different.” You argued.

"I guess so. The narrative doesn't really specify one friend is a famous fashion designer and the other being a famous musician—"

“I mean,” you interrupted, “we have sex every time we see each other.

Westley's mouth fell open in a silent gasp. His hand was placed on his chest, and his eyes stared into yours.

He tipped back his martini into his mouth, finishing it off. “Well, you didn’t mention the friends with benefits part.”

“I know!” You groaned. “That’s why it’s so complicated.”

"Is it really, though? Wouldn't confessing your feelings after you two have had sex so much make it slightly easier? Because it makes sense to grow feelings for someone you've known for a while and have had sex with on multiple occasions." Westley speculated.

“I didn’t say we had sex on multiple occasions—”

“Honey,” he began, “you said you’ve had sex with him every time you see each other, and you two meet a lot. It doesn’t take a detective to figure it out.”

"Anyways," he digressed, "the sooner you tell him, the better. There's no use debating over it for years, then finding out he's found someone else when he would've picked you anyways."

"Gosh, when you say it like that, it sounds like a romantic movie." You cringed, finishing your peach Bellini.

He shrugged. “Well, it kinda is.”

You chuckled. “Well, thanks for the advice.”

“Thank you for filling me in,” he smiled.

.

.

The week went by fast. Your design team was still working on alterations, so you were left brainstorming hair and makeup and contacting specialists in those fields.

You were sitting at home, knee-deep in Pinterest boards when your phone buzzed.

You stopped strolling through your laptop and peered down.

Hoseok [19:30]: We can come to your show!

Y/N [19:30]: Fantastic! I'll let my team know, and we’ll send out the invites.

You texted Westley, informing him that BTS could attend the show.

Westley [19:33]: Great! I'll let the rest of the team know, and we'll send the emails out tomorrow

Y/N [19:34]: Thanks!

Westley [19:35]: Np

You set down your phone and continued to add ideas to your private Pinterest board.

Your phone buzzed again.

Hoseok [19:55]: What are you doing right now?

You were puzzled.

Y/N [19:56]: Nothing much, just brainstorming ideas for the show. You?

Hoseok [19:57]: Just chilling in my room.

Hoseok [20:05]: I miss you

You chuckled at the text, thinking that Hoseok was drunk.

Y/N [20:05]: I miss you too, Hobi.

Hoseok [20:08]: …how much?

Again, you were puzzled by his text.

Y/N [20:10]: Wdym? I miss having you here? Is that what you mean?

Hoseok [20:11]: I mean, do you miss me intimately?

Y/N [20:14]: Like sex-wise?

Hoseok [20:14]: Fuck, I need you, Y/N.

You stared at his words.

Hoseok [20:18]: I miss your body and how perfectly you fit around me.

Your cheeks flushed.

Hoseok [20:21]: Can you video chat? Unless you’re not in the mood.

You panicked.

You were in the mood but weren't presentable. Your hair was messy, and you weren't wearing any makeup, and you were dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants.

Y/N [20:23]: Yeah, I’m in the mood. Just give me 5 mins.

You quickly got out of your seat and ran to your bedroom. You sifted through your closet and found the sexist clothing item you had: a red lingerie set. You quickly undressed and put on the set.

You looked into your full-length mirror and tried not to cringe. Your hair was a mess, and you weren’t wearing any makeup. It definitely looked like Hoseok's text came out of nowhere—and it did, but you somehow expected yourself to be decently presentable.

However, the lingerie set was doing you favours. The set was composed of a crotchless thong and a bralette that exposed your nipples.

Y/N [20:28]: I’m ready.

Your phone rang, and you answered, quickly propping it on your drawers across from your bed.

You were faced with a shirtless Hoseok, his cock already in his hand.

“Fuck, you look amazing.” He complimented breathlessly.

“Wow, you’re ahead of the game—and really? I’m a mess.” You chuckled.

He hissed, flinching in his grip. “Fuck, just take the compliment, Y/N.”

You cleared your throat. “Thank you.”

You sat a pit forward, angling your breasts towards the camera.

“What are you imagining, baby?” You purred.

“Y-You,” he stuttered, moving his hand up and down his cock.

“Mhm,” you moaned, “thinking up my pussy clenching around your cock, making it all wet.”

He nodded.

"You can do something if you want," he suggested. "You said you were in the mood."

Your eyes opened wide. “Wait a minute.”

You brought the phone with you on your journey, going back to your closet and fetching your dildo, lube, and vibrator. You hurried to the bathroom and propped your phone up against the closed door.

You suctioned the bottom of the dildo onto the titled floor. You placed the vibrator on the bathroom counter.

“You want to watch me bounce on this dildo and think of you?” You smirked, rubbing lube onto your hands, onto the toy, and onto your vagina.  

“Fuck, yes,” he replied, stilling his hand around his cock for a moment.

“Did I say you could stop?” You spat.

“I’m waiting for you,” he smiled, making your heart melt.

You paused over the dildo, smiling back at him. “Awww, that’s actually kinda sweet. Thank you.”

You quickly washed your hands and grabbed the vibrator.  

You crouched down and slowly onto the dildo.

“Fuck,” you moaned, tilting your head back at the feeling of being filled up. It didn’t hit the spots Hoseok did, but it was good enough.

You lifted yourself up and sunk back down again, rhythmically repeating the motion.

“Fuck, so good,” you sighed, overlooking the pain in your knees.

“That's right, baby, imagine me filling that pussy up," Hoseok groaned, following your rhythm while pumping his cock.

“Fuck yes,” you replied, “and I’m clenching around you so tight.”

You two exchanged moans at the sound of your pussy squelching around the dildo.

“Use the vibrator, baby,” Hoseok purred.

You hummed, grabbing the rose gold vibrator and turning it on. You place the buzzing toy on your clit, feeling pleasure rippling through your core.

“Fuck,” you hissed, speeding up your pace a bit.

“I-I’m getting close.”

“Yeah, baby?” Hoseok smirked. “You get off at me rubbing my cock? Imagining me buried inside your pussy, making you feel so good?"

You nodded. “But it’s not as you, baby.”

“I know—” He choked, appearing to be on the brink of his climax. “I fucking miss the way your pussy fit so well around me, no matter how many times I fucked you open.”

“Mhm,” you bit your lips, watching him with hooded eyes. “Don’t stop.”

“Who knew you were filthy enough to cum during cybersex?" He observed. "I'm not even there to touch you, but just thinking of me inside has you in ruins.”

“What would you do if I was with you right now?” You asked.

“I would fuck you until you couldn’t walk the next day,” he replied, “I’d fuck you until that pretty pussy is swollen.”

"F-fuck, I'm going to cum," you stuttered, feeling the familiar build-up in your core.

“M-me too,” he stammered.

You watched his head tilt back in pleasure and his cum squirt up from his cock.

“Fuck!” You cursed, feeling your pleasure shoot out of your core and onto the floor

“So hot,” Hoseok sighed.

You chuckled, coming down from high. You pulled yourself up and off the dildo, sitting on the cool tile floor.

“Fuck, did you squirt?” He asked, looking closer.

You nodded, gesturing to the mess on the ground.

“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he commanded and obliged, showing him your battered cunt.

You spread your lips, and he hummed at sight.

“So beautiful.” He awed.

“You happy? I need to wipe this all up, now,” you scoffed.

He chuckled. “It’s not my fault that you cummed.” He angled his phone to the floor, showing splashes of his cum on the floor, "and besides, you also made me make a mess.”

You both chatted while cleaning up your messes, talking about your days as if nothing happened. After finishing your clean-up, you two continued your conversation while showering, as if both of you were doing it together.

Ready to relax for the night, both of you signed off with exchanged ‘thanks’ and ‘good night.’

You turned off your phone with a soft click and stepped out of the steamy bathroom. Your pyjamas were soft on your skin, and you felt ready to go to bed.

Hopping onto your bed, you grabbed your laptop and turned on some Netflix to fall asleep to.

From an outsider’s perspective, masturbating with your best friend and then casually talking with them while showering and getting ready for bed was odd. Repeating the scenario in your mind did make it sound like you two were in a long-distance romantic relationship rather than a platonic one.

But you and Hoseok were different. That was your excuse.

A friend could do this and not catch feelings. You two were the perfect example of that.

Emphasis on were because you were currently spiralling in your growing romantic feelings for Hoseok.

But what would you do in this situation?

You and your childhood friend engage in sex one time and promise each other to not grow feelings. In this manner, you two could have sex without attachment. Fast forward into the future, and you both are still making this arrangement with no negative consequences and feel like you two have gotten to know each other better and have become better friends—until you catch feelings. And you don’t want to risk losing this relationship you two have.

Because he is a worldwide musician who can’t be tied down because it could risk his career, and he might lose fans—and you couldn't be bothered with any romantic commitment with your fast-paced and unpredictable work schedule.

So, you stay in this unnameable mess.

.

.

“Time flies by when you’re having fun,” Allie commented from the plush couch.

You looked in the mirror, twisting your back towards it to see the back of the dress. “I guess so.”

“You have to admit, planning a fashion show is pretty fun,” she said. “If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be doing it over and over again.”

“True,” you replied, turning to the stylist.

“May I see the other dress?” You asked, and the stylist nodded, retreating to somewhere in the shop you couldn’t see.

It was the last month until the show. Everything was in order: the show’s venue and its decorations, the clothes, makeup and hair for the models, and the guests’ accommodation. Now, it was your turn to find suitable attire for the occasion.

You tried on the next dress. It was a slim-fitting number, with a leg slit in the front. It was scandalous and stunning, but not right for the show.

“I don’t like any of these dresses,” you sighed, annoyed.

Allie appears to brainstorm some ideas.

“Maybe try a suit?” She proposed.

You kept your eyes on the mirror, twirling your figure and watching the fabric move at your feet.

“Think about it,” she began, “think of all the powerful women who’ve worn suits and killed it. Zendaya, Kristen Stewart, Blake Lively, Awkwafina. The list goes on. It’s a statement piece, and you’re the big brain behind this operation.”

“I think it’s ‘mastermind behind this operation,’ but I get what you mean.” You corrected.

“You literally bypassed my whole point—”

“I know, I know,” you interrupted. “It’s just—suits for women are so overpriced. And it’s just like the dresses, except a different fit. Same colour palettes, same materials, so on.”

Allie scoffed. "You're a fucking fashion designer, did you forget? Make your own thing. There are leftover fabrics at your studio; you have time to make something." Her face lit up, “And, technically, it’s for free.”

You gave it a thought, but the stylist came back before you could finish it.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Vega, but I’m not finding anything, and I don’t want you walking back and forth and bringing me more dresses.” You gave an apologetic smile. “Thank you very much for your help.”

"No worries, Y/N! Just hang up the dress when you take it off, and I’ll deal with the rest,” she replied.

“Will do,” you said, and she stepped out of the room.

Allie helped you unzip the gown, and you shimmed out of it. You did as you were told and hung up the dress, and you and Allie left the shop.

The walk back to the studio was quick, you two making determined strides through the crowded city.

You and Allie entered the empty studio, turning on the nights.

The studio was organized chaos with dressed mannequins, big boxes of fabrics in the back of the room, and papered patterns on the tables.

“Wow,” Allie awed.

"Yeah," you replied, leading you both to your master station is near the back, "it's crazy what a couple months before a show looks like.”

You looked through the drawers beside your desks and grabbed the tools you'll need to plan out the suit.

“So, just a suit jacket and pants…” You said, grabbing some paper to sketch up your pattern.

You looked up at Allie, “Do you mind helping me out with measurements?”

She nodded, “For sure. What do you need?”

You guided Allie on how to measure your proportions for the suit. She measured your inseams for your pants, the sleeves, the cuts, and so on. In between, you'd write down the dimensions for the patterns.

You two sifted through the fabrics to create a monochrome patchwork outfit. The suit would be shades of cherry red, with different materials making it up. There were no patterns in the patchwork, only various tones of red in several types of wool.

“Fucking hell,” Allie cursed while sifting through the materials, “who would’ve thought there were so many shades of red.”

She held up a piece of recycled fabrics, checking with you that it was the correct tone. You took it and held the portion against the others.

“Nope, too dark,” you shook your head.

"What? It looks exactly the same," she disagreed, walking over to your table. When comparing the fabrics, she made an 'aaah’ sound, letting you know that you were right.

Before sectioning off your pattern, you tried your best to evenly sew all the material together into a quilt-like form.

“Jesus,” you muttered, shaking out your sore hands.

“We don’t have to get this all done today, you know. You do have two months left.” Allie advised.

"I know. I just want to put this all together first," you replied, continuing to push the material through the sewing machine.

“Alright,” she surrendered, bringing one of the seats over to your table.

You sewed in silence for a bit.

“So,” Allie began, “how are you and Hoseok doing?”

You paused. “What do you mean?”

“You know…you two and your arrangement.”

You scoffed, “Our arrangement? You mean us having sex?”

“Yeah, but the other stuff.”

You pulled your hands from the sewing machine, crossing your arms over your chest. "Just spit it out, Al."

“Well, you’ve had mixed feelings with Hoseok, right? Like you’re starting to like him?” She speculated.

Your mouth gaped open. “Have you been talking to West?”

She didn’t respond, not making eye contact.

“You can’t be fucking serious. You two are ganging up on me!” You yelled.

“Y/N, we’re just worried.”

“About what? I have feelings—and?” You fumed.

She sighed. “You shouldn’t be having sex with someone if you’re growing romantic feelings, especially if you two agreed to be platonic.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you stood.

“Y/N!” She exclaimed. "Don't you dare talk to me that way? I am your friend, not your enemy." Allie stood up and sighed. “I get it. You don’t like people in your business. That’s fair. I just feel like you're sacrificing yourself for Hoseok when you could talk about it with him."

“Allie, you don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.” You spat.

“I get it,” she sympathized. “I don’t. I’m not you or Hoseok.”

“So, tell me,” she said. “Educate me on the situation. I am not here to judge. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“It’s okay,” she forgave, “just don’t push me away so fast, okay?”

“Okay.” You agreed.

She sat down, “So?”

You sat down and rehashed your feelings about you and Hoseok to her: the growing romantic feelings for him, not knowing what to do, and wanting something more.

“Well, do you think it’d work out between you two if you dated?” She asked.

You shifted in your seat. "I honestly don't know. It's tough with Hoseok's work because he has a loyal fanbase. I'm afraid he's going to get even more hate if we were to date.”

“But would you two be happy?” She asked.

You gave it a thought. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you go into a relationship regardless of other people. Whether you’re a celebrity or an ordinary person, you date someone for you and that person; no one else. There are going to be people who support and hate your relationship no matter what. What matters is what the two people think in the relationship."

She sighed. “You cannot control what others will think about you. No matter what you do or who you do, you're going to upset someone. So, just do what feels comfortable and safe with you."

You hummed, understanding.

“So, would you be happy if you and Hoseok dated?”

“Yes.” You stated without a thought. “I really like him—love him even.”

"Then that's all that matters," Allie replied.

.

.

The week before, the show crept on you faster than you expected. You, your team of designers and event organizers, models, hairstylists and makeup artists flew into Vancouver a week early to prepare on location.

However, the majority of the week would be spent preparing for the show. The first day was spent unloading all of the outfits and equipment for the show into the venue. Everyone was required to show up to organize their stations and to familiarize themselves with the venue.

“Please set up your stations while Westley and I look into the main runway and after part section. We’ll be back in around two hours to check up on everyone. If you have any questions while we're gone, please contact me on my phone." You held up your cellphone and everyone nodded. "Great. Good luck, everyone!"

The venue and interior designers' owners toured you and Westley around the place, showing you the drawn floorplans, running down the prices, and checking that the decorations correlated with your plans.

“These weren’t the chairs we sent over,” Westley pointed to the black folded chairs lining the runways.

“Yes, but these were within the price range and—” One of the interior designers, Queeny, said.

“But did we get an email regarding this change?” You interjected.

Queeny exchanged looks with the other three decorators, and they shook their heads.

Wesley let out an angry sigh. "Well, I guess we’ll have to live with these then.” He sat down on one of the chairs. “At least they’re comfortable. They look cheap, but they’re sturdy.”

“Are there any more changes you made without informing as?” You asked.

They all shook their heads.

"Great." You turned to one of the two-venue owners, named Ruby. "Shall we continue to the after-party part?”

“Yes,” she replied, gesturing to the doorway that led to the front reception area.

From the reception area, where guests would check-in and get a wristband, a double-door way on the right led to a ballroom for the after-party.

The overall theme of the place was classic European designs with off-white luxurious walls and chandeliers. The ceilings were intricately carved, and the floors were a smooth white oak. Just walking around made you feel like you were dirtying the place.

“This place is stunning,” Westley whispered.

“I know,” you replied, “you chose the place.”

“I know,” he smiled, pretending to flip his hair.

You both chuckled, continuing to follow the owners around the venue.

Everything worked out, besides the chairs, so you and Westley checked on the designers, models, hairstylists and makeup artists.

At the end of the workday, everyone was in order and ready for the next three days of dress rehearsals and solving and problems.

You arrived back at your hotel with sore feet and exhaustion.

Your phone rang as you flopped onto your bed.

You answered. “Hobi!”

“Y/N! How was your flight to Vancouver?” He asked.

“It was good. We didn't have a rest day, though. We had to settle into the place and check it over. My feet are so sore.” You groaned.

“Really? I thought you’d at least have a rest day when you guys arrived,” he assumed.

You shook your head. “No. Sadly, this whole week will be walking around and making sure everything is going smoothly.”

He sighed. “Shit. That sucks.” You heard him shift on the other side of the phone. “Do you want to relax?”

You laughed. “Jung Hoseok, did you seriously booty call me from across the world?”

Hoseok gasped, "I did not! I was talking about watching Netflix or something." He chuckled, "You're so dirty-minded."

You both laughed.

“Okay, so what do you want to watch?” He asked on the other end of the call.

You brought out your laptop and scrolled through the movie selection.

“Oooo! Let’s watch Hush. I’ve heard so many good things about it.” You recalled.

You could hear his hesitation.

Hoseok did not like being scared. Whenever you watched anything scary, you were afraid that your neighbours would complain at how loud his screaming was. As you remembered saying "hello" to him once and him screaming in fear and surprise, he was also easily frightened.

“We don’t have to,” you said.

“No, no,” Hoseok reassured, “we’ll watch it. Just send me the Netflix Party link, and I'll ready the Zoom link."

You giggled. “You don’t have to be brave for me, Hobi. I know you don’t like scary movies.”

“You want to watch it, so let’s do it,” he said, “and the ratings are good.”

“Okay,” you digressed. “I’m texting you the link right now.”

“Same,” he replied.

You two hung up and joined the links.

“Hello!” Hoseok beamed, dancing.

You rolled your eyes and chuckled at his burst of energy. “Hello, Hobi.”

You carried your laptop to the bathroom and began getting ready for bed.

“How was your day?” You asked.

Hoseok described him and his bandmates' film day for "Run! BTS," and you groaned at all the work they had to do.

He laughed. “But we got to play games, which was fun. We laughed so much that my abs hurt.” You watched him lift up his shirt and show his toned abdomen.

Your core felt a familiar flutter.

“W-wow, that must be a lot of laughing,” you cleared your throat and took out your toothbrush and toothpaste.

For the moment, the time difference worked for you two because it was almost ten at night for you and nearly three in the afternoon for him.

“Should I turn off my camera?” You asked before undressing to get into the shower.

He shook his head. “I’m okay with you leaving it on. I’ve seen you naked before, so it’s not really different. But if you’re uncomfortable, you can just turn it off.”

You shrugged and began taking off your clothes in full view of the camera and screen.

You noticed Hoseok’s expression.

“Enjoying the show?” You chuckled, finally taking off your undergarments and fully exposing yourself.

Hoseok smirked, “Don’t act like you weren’t just turned on by my abs. I saw how you looked at me.”

You nodded and surrendered. “Fair point.”

You hoped in the shower, and you two continued talking.

“Jesus, we haven’t started the movie yet,” Hoseok commented while you were washing your hair.

“Shit, right,” you laughed, massaging the shampoo into your scalp.

After you hoped out of the shower and dried your body and hair, you both started to watch the movie.

“This is a pretty cool premise. Like, we’ve never seen a deaf person in a horror movie before,” you regarded.

"True, that's a good point—AHHHHHH!" Hoseok screamed at the sudden slam in the movie.

You burst into laughter.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed, trying to calm himself with controlled breaths.

The movie continued as you finished off your skincare and put on your pyjamas.

The oversized t-shirt was long enough to cover your thighs.

“You’re going to watch this before bed?” Hoseok gasped.

You chuckled. “Yeah. It’s not that scary.” You say as you jump at the sound of breaking glass in the film.

Hoseok laughed at the coincidental timing.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you woke up to the sound of your alarm.

“Shit,” you grumbled and turned it off.

You heard Hoseok stir awake on the Zoom call.

Both of you had fallen asleep, but Hoseok finished the movie before you could; because you saw the end credits paused in the Netflix Party.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s okay,” Hoseok mumbled, squinting at the screen.

“I’ll let you sleep,” you smiled, hovering your cursor over the "send" button.

He softly smiled, “thank you.” He snuggled into his pillow, “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Hobi,” you replied, ending the call for both of you.

It didn’t hit you until you were halfway through your dress rehearsal, but Hoseok had stayed with you while you slept. He didn't wake you but quietly continued the movie and fell asleep.

Hoseok was usually sweet, so you didn't pay too much attention to it.

But it did make you feel special.

.

.

It was the day of the fashion show, and you were fucking nervous.

You had done this before, a show, but this one was different. You had put in so much effort and were proud of how it turned out but were afraid of what other people would think.

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Allie assured through video call,” it’ll be excellent, and everyone won’t stop talking about it.”

“Probably,” you replied, putting on your makeup.

“It will be excellent, Y/N. I am so sure I will bet money.” She stated.

You chuckled, "then I'll take your word for it because I am not bidding money.”

You both laughed.

“Okay, I know I already showed you my outfit, but are you sure it looks good?” She asked, putting on the A-line floor-length dress she’d shown you before. It was a beautiful viridian green with lace shoulder straps that draped over the sides of her biceps.

“You look beautiful,” you complimented, setting your makeup with setting spray and heading to your closet.

You put on the suit you made and looked in the mirror. You looked a bad bitch.

“You look great! Oooo, put on the red bottoms,” Allie squealed.

You put on the signature Louis Vuitton black high heels with the ruby bottoms.

Your phone buzzed.

“I got to go; Westley is here with our ride to the venue. I’ll see you there!”

“See you!” She waved, ending the call.

You did a quick check in the mirror, fixing your hair, grabbed your bags, and headed out the door.

Your driver waited outside the vehicle as you approached, and opened its door, showing you a well-dressed and excited Westley.

"Oh my god, you look great!" He gasped. “When did you make the suit?”

“I finished it a week before we flew out,” you chuckled, “and you look great too! I love the pine on you.”

You took a step back and looked at Westley’s crisp pine-coloured suit with matching brown dress shoes.

“Thank you,” he grinned. “Okay, get in before we become late.”

You hopped into the car, and your driver got in and started the vehicle.

The drive was spent recalling your opening and closing speeches with Westley and the show's agenda.

“So, five pm is when the show ends, and then the guests for the after-party go into the ballroom area. Food is served at six pm, and everything is wrapped up at ten pm.” Westley relayed.

You nodded, “Yup.”

Both of you arrived a couple hours before the start time, which was at 1 pm, to set everything up and warm up the models and crew.

Westley checked the organizers and the models while you went to the runway area to check the lights and sound.

"Let's rerun the lights, please!" You announced as you walked into the runway room. "Can I get a headset, please?" You ask the crew on the ground, who nodded.

“Yup!” You heard the lighting crew respond.

You were given the headset, and you heard the head light technician’s voice.

“Can you hear me?” They checked.

“Yes,” you confirmed.

They ran by the six light settings for the show, and it was all correct.

“It’s perfect, thank you. Can you please check that the sound is alright?” You asked through the headset.

“Yup. You’ll have to hand the headset to another person, though, and we’ll give you a mic.” They added.

You heard their muffled voice as if they covered their mic's headset with their hand. Next, you had someone hand you a mic and take your headset.

“You’ll need to stand on the stage,” The person said.

“Okay,” you replied, going to the runway and standing on the end portion.

All the room’s lights turned on, and you could see the lighting crew’s area in the back and the chair organized around the runway.

“You can speak into the mic!” You heard someone shout.

You started speaking nonsense in the mic, like the type of weather outside, as they adjusted the volume.

“Thank you!” Someone shouted.

“Thanks,” you said into the mic before handing it to one of the crew.

“Is there anything to report? Any problems that arose before I got here?” You asked the crew.

They all shook their heads.

“How is everyone feeling?” You asked.

They all shared nervous laughter, and a few people said “good.”

“Alright, if there’s anything you all need, just come to the modelling area and ask me. It’s in the backroom.”

They all nodded, and you left them to their business.

You arrived in the backroom and saw designers fitting their outfits on the models and makeup artists and hairstylists prepping their stations.

“How is everybody doing?!” You enthusiastically asked.

They cheered with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"I get it. Everyone is on their toes. You all have an hour left to set things up before people start filing in. Remember, the show starts at 1 pm. The door opens thirty minutes before them.”

They call responded with various forms of understanding, and you went around to check on them individually.

Rachel came and taped your shoulder, with a headset on, “So, the guards are in their posts, and the front is ready to check people in.”

“Is there a line already?” You asked.

Rachel pressed down the headset, asking the crew on the other end.

“Yes, there’s a line of people outside,” she reported, “about twenty people, so far.”

"Shit, yeah, let them in. It's probably cold." You ordered.

“I’ll tell them,” she replied.

“Okay, everyone! We’re starting to let people in. Again, you all have about an hour left, so try to wrap things up and relax. Thank you!” You announced.

Again, sounds of understanding, and you, Westley, and Rachel left the backroom.

“Rachel, Westley and I are going to check that the ballroom area and catering are all handled. Please check in with the front desk to see how they're doing, and then meet us in the ballroom." You told.

“Got it, Y/N,” Rachel answered, walking past the two of you and towards the front area.

Westley appeared impressed. “She's terrific. She's even got the headset and everything."

"I know, right? She's cool." You remarked.

Like clockwork, you and Westley ran over the details and schedule for the catering and the after-party. Everyone had places to sit, with elegantly decorated name cards.

Everything was ready.

"Fantastic, thank you," you thanked the caterers and the staff in the ballroom. "Feel free to come into the runway area during the show if you all would like to watch."

With that, it was about time the show would start. You and Westley hurried backstage, where you both were handed microphones.

The lights dimmed, and classical music played—fitting the theme of elegance and high class.

You and Westley regarded each other, did an excellent handshake, and strutted out on the runway. Both of you were met with applause from the crowd and blinding spotlights.

You two walked to the end of the runway and let out an exhausted sigh.

The music quieted, faintly heard in the background.

“And that’s why I’m not a model,” Westley joked, causing the crowd to giggle.

“Same here,” you chuckled.

“Anyways, welcome to the show, everyone!” You cheered, and the crowd clapped. “As you know, I am Y/N, and this is Westley. Today, we’ll be showing recycled elegant clothes on people. Not just models, but people. All the clothes you'll be seeing here today are made from recycled fabrics and hand-crafted by our design team and me."

Applause.

"We wanted to represent people, so we got people to present our clothes. Redundant, I know, but the fashion industry rarely shows models that look like people. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all fantastic. However, this show will be different. Enjoy!” Westley waved.

A final round of applause while you and Westley walked off the runway.

The show went smoothly and wonderfully. The changes were fluid, and there were no clothing mishaps. The classical music turned into upbeat music that everyone seemed to groove to. Models danced on the runway while walking, and there were joyful cheers in the crowd.

In the end, you and Westley gave your brief thank you speeches, and months of planning and work were officially completed.

When everyone was backstage, you all collectively cheered.

“Phenomenal job, everyone!” You praised. “I am speechless at how well we all did. Thank you all for being such wonderful people to work with.”

Smiles and cheers were shared as everyone got ready for the after-party.

“Okay, remember that food is being served at six o’clock, and you all will be able to find your names at a table.” You reminded.

You and Westley did a quick check-up on people before heading to the ballroom area to socialize.

“Great job, you two!” Some complimented.

You and Westley thanked the praise and had a small talk with some colleges.

“Hey, Y/N!” You heard a familiar voice say.

You turned and say Hoseok with the rest of the boys, waving.

“Hey!” You smiled, nudging Westley to join you.

"Well, enjoy the after-party," Westley grinned at the other guests before joining you.

As always, the seven boys were well-dressed in designer suits. Hoseok wore lightly tinted shades paired with a dark suit and floral dress shirt. His hair was wavy.

“That was awesome, Y/N,” Namjoon said.

“Thank you!” You replied.

“Yeah, Y/N, I loved the recycled-fabrics idea. Are anything on sale?” Taehyung asked.

You nodded. "Everything will be on sale next month. I'll send you the dates, so you mark them in your calendar. The clothes go fast," you chuckled.

“Damn,” Taehyung remarked, eyebrows raised.

“Hey, Jimin,” Westley greeted.

“Hey West,” Jimin smiled, “loved your speech today. That suit looks great on you.”

“I know,” Westley smirked, “you look good too.”

"How are you feeling?" Hoseok asked, letting Westley and Jimin casually flirt.

You sighed. “Glad that it’s over, to be honest. It was fun, of course, but it's a lot of work to organize."

“Oh my god, is that Charlie Puth?” Jungkook gasped, hiding slightly behind Namjoon.

Everyone laughed.

"You should go and say 'hi,' Kook. You've already met and sung with him before. You two are practically friends." Yoongi expressed.

“True,” you agreed, “and Charlie’s a nice guy.”

“Okay,” Jungkook straightened his posture, “I’ll do it.”

You all watched Jungkook walk over and begin chatting with Charlie Puth.

“God, he’s grown up so much,” Seokjin sighed.

The rest of you caught up and chatted about the show.

Before you knew it, Westley was poking your side to let you know it was five minutes until six.

“Shit,” you cursed. “Sorry to cut this convo short, but Westley and I have to announce dinner. We’ll talk soon!”

You all said your goodbyes, and you and Westley went up to the front to state it was time for food.

You two were seated with Rachel, Allie, and a couple others. Everyone ordered off a menu, which served various kinds of pasta, salads, and a mix of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages.

It was an excellent way to end off the show.

There was a dancefloor, too, where people could groove to music after eating.

Of course, the seven boys went to the dancefloor, which caused others to join.

You were finishing off your fettuccine alfredo when Hoseok danced over to your table. You chuckled as he held his hand out and quirked a brow.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, taking his hand.

“You love it,” he smirked, pulling you off your chair and leading you to the dancefloor.

You danced together, along with your friends. He held your hands as you two swayed to the slow songs and body-rolled with you during the upbeat songs. Of course, a few BTS songs played, and everyone tried to follow the known choreography. You went back to your table for a drink of water, and Allie came with you. "Look, and you and Hoseok dancing up a storm," she teased. “Shut up,” you chuckled. “The chemistry is there, Y/N,” she commented. You drank your water. "Not now, Al." “Come on! He’s here for, what, the night and then gone tomorrow morning? When will you see him again?” She asked. You paused, honestly unsure when you'd see Hoseok again. “Now or never, Y/N. How much longer can you debate this?” “I know,” you replied. “I’ll do it later tonight.” Around nine-thirty, the party was dying down, with only a few guests scattered around the venue helping to clean up. You made eye contact with Allie, who was tending to the chairs, who nudged towards Hoseok’s direction. Now or never. You said in your head. “Can I speak to you, Hoseok?” You asked, walking up to him. “For sure!” He replied. You led both of you to a secluded part of the venue, away from listeners. “Did you enjoy the show?” You asked. “Yeah! You did a fantastic job, Y/N. I love how everything turned out, the colours, the recycled fabrics were great—and your suit! I can’t believe you made it,” Hoseok complimented, stepping back to look at your attire. “Thank you,” you blushed. You gave a quick look around to make sure no one was around. “Is everything alright, Y/N? You’re looking around as if they’re spies around.” He gasped. “Are there spies around? What secret don’t they know?” “I don’t want to have sex with you anymore.” You abruptly stated. A stretch of silence. Hoseok’s expression was a mixture of surprise and concern. “What?” “I can’t have sex with you anymore.” “You can’t or don’t want to? Is it something I did?” “Yes? No? In a way?” You pondered. You took a few deep breaths. "I like you, Hoseok—possibly even love you.” You ran your hand through your hair. “I know we agreed not to catch feelings, so I think we should stop having sex.” You watched his expression shift from some form of being happy to disappointment. “You know I cannot date with work,” he explained, "with the fans, touring, and whatnot, I cannot date someone. And you have your company to work on." “I know,” you replied. “But do you like me back?” You asked. “I do—” “You do?” You were on the verge of hugging him, but he stepped back. You looked at him, confused. “We can’t—” “Why?” “I literally just told you, Y/N. With work, dating wouldn’t allow it. I already have people—” He choked on his words. “People who wish I was dead, j-just for being me.” “Hoseok—” You reached out to him, but he gently pushed you away. “No,” he objected, “I’m fine. I just don’t want to add you to the mess.” “You can’t decide that for me.” You retorted. “I understand that you don’t want to add me to it, but I’m okay with it. I don't care what other people would say about us. They're not in the relationship, we are—" “But what if I care?” He said, almost too quiet for you to hear. “I’m the happy guy of BTS, who’s dedicated to his work.” “But are you truly happy?” You peered into him. “Yeah,” he replied, avoiding eye contact, “but it gets really hard sometimes.” “So, let me help, Hoseok,” you pleaded. "I don't need to be helped! I'm not another project for you to work on.” He thundered. “You know that’s not what I meant.” You seethed. “Let’s just drop it, okay? We’re not dating, that’s it.” He dictated. “Fine.” You replied. “Have a safe trip back home.” You left without another word, trying your best not to cry. Out of all the ways you thought he'd respond, this took you off guard. Hoseok wasn't one to push you away, but here he was doing so. “Fuck this,” you whimpered, walking up to Allie. “I’m going back to the hotel, sorry,” you said, turning away as soon as possible. “Y/N!”

You washed your face and hoped into the shower—the warm water soothing your sore muscles and emotions. You couldn’t tell if it was the water or your tears streaming down your face.

What else did you expect? Hoseok had a point: with his work, he couldn’t date someone. And it was ridiculous that Hoseok would want to date you.

However, instead of sulking over Hoseok, you decided to have a bath and put on a facemask.

The room’s phone rang while you were starting the bath.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Y/N Y/L/N?

“Speaking,” you confirmed.

“Great! There’s a man here, named,” a muffled noise, “Hoseok Jung.”

“Tell him I’m busy, please,” you replied.

Another muffled noise. “Hoseok says he's sorry and that he has ice cream—cookie dough. But if he’s dangerous, I can call the police.”

“No, no. God no,” you said.

You bit your lip. "You can send Hoseok up."

“Okay. However, if there’s anything wrong, please try to press the red button on the receiver. I will check back with you in an hour. If there’s no response, I’ll get someone to check on you.” They informed.

“Thank you,” you replied, slightly shocked by their concern.

You hung up.

A few minutes later, you heard a knock on the door. You tightened your robe.

You checked the peephole before cracking the door open.

“Hi,” you greeted.

“Hey," he smiled. "I'm sorry for leaving you like that at the party. It was sudden and insensitive. I should have been more considerate of your feelings rather than shutting you off.”

“I was just—scared. I don’t know what it’s going to be like for us. And I don't want you to fix me—but I like you, a lot—so I brought cookie dough ice cream and two spoons—"

“Do you want to come in?” You interrupted his nervous rambling.

“Yes, thank you,” he chuckled.

Hoseok still wore the suit from the fashion show, but his jacket was folded over his arm, and his dress shirt was unbuttoned lower.

“Oh, you’re running the bath,” he noticed. "We can deal with this later if it's a bad time."

“No, it’s alright. I’ll just turn off the water.” You replied, going to the bathroom to do so.

When you came back, Hoseok was sitting on the edge of your bed.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” You asked, sitting beside him.

He opened the ice cream tub, setting the lid on the desk and handing you one of the spoons.

“I was thinking you could talk more, actually; about how you feel," he replied, giving you the tub and angling himself to face you. "I just want to listen to you this time."

You gave a brief smile before spooning a small piece of ice cream into your mouth.

“Well, I just feel like we’re in this grey area of being really close but having sex. And we both like each other, and we said at the venue, and I just feel like we should just date then.” You set the ice cream and spoon down on the desk. “I get that work complicates things for you. But once we’ve confessed our feelings, I just don’t know what to call this—this friendship?”

Hoseok nodded.

"So, if you don't want to date, that's completely fine. I understand. However, we can't keep having sex like we used to; because I have feelings for you now, and you said you do too, so it's not a good mix."

“That’s fair,” he acknowledged.

“But what do you think? Like, how do you feel about us?” You asked.

He paused and set his spoon on the desk with yours. “I want to date you, Y/N. I just don’t want to get you hurt.” He softly grasped your hands. “The industry can be toxic, and I don’t want to subject you to that.”

“I understand,” you replied, “but I want to date you too, regardless of all the other bullshit. As cheesy as it sounds, all I want is you, Hoseok.”

Hoseok smiled but then pretended to gag.

“Hobi! I was romantic."

“Sorry, but that was so cheesy.” He cringed.

“So, do you want to just start dating, then?” You proposed. “We have the ice cream here; we can pretend to get to know each other more.”

He chuckled. “Sure. Let’s do that.”

Hoseok stood up and held his hand out to you. “Y/N Y/L, will you go on a date with me?”

You laughed but composed yourself. “I would love to, Jung Hoseok.” You took his hand, and he immediately sat back down.

“So, Y/N,” Hoseok began, handing you the partially melted ice cream and your spoon, “what do you like to do on the weekends?”

.

.

1 year later.

“I’m thinking of moving to Korea,” you said. Hoseok turned to you, surprised. “Really? But you’re not based here.” “I know,” you acknowledged, “but I can fly in and skype, or whatever. I can have a home base here, too.” You were visiting Hoseok for a couple weeks before you had to go back home for a clothing launch. Both of you were cuddling at his place when you brought up your idea of moving to Korea. “Of course, it wouldn’t be immediate. I would need to sort things out with Westley and Rachel and organize a place to stay here and a work area. The company is sturdy enough to handle the change.” You reasoned. “You could move in with me,” he suggested, turning his body to face you. “Are you sure?” “Yeah, why not. We’ve been dating for a while now, and it makes sense.” He shrugged. “Unless you don’t want to.” You kissed him. “No, I want to.” Both of you discussed what your move would be like and imagined living together. If you were to look back at how your relationship with Hoseok progressed, you would be shocked. In a matter of a few months, you and Hoseok went from friends to romantic partners. Although you had not come out publicly about your relationship, many people had a sense it existed; but that didn’t matter. You and Hoseok were in a secure and healthy relationship. It was long distanced, but you two made it work by visiting each other when you could and calling almost every day. The only thing that didn’t change was the sex—although it had gotten better. Nevertheless, so much has happened over the past year. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[mystic-sky]

part 1 here.

You stirred awake as the sun crept onto the bare back of the man you clung to. His arm was draped over you, chest heaving softly. You looked up at him. Even while he slept he was gorgeous. You could only imagine what you looked like right now. Your brain flashed back to everything that happened the night before.

He fucked you. Spectacularly well. 

You did your best to slip from underneath his grasp without waking him. Slowly but surely, you released yourself from his grip. You didn’t think he’d be a heavy sleeper.

Your feet lightly touched the carpet and you crept towards bathroom. Immediately, pristine and cool tiles laid beneath you as you fathomed over his personal bathing space. You looked around before finding your reflection over the bathroom sink.

“Look what he did to me.” You panic, hickeys panted your neck and chest. You ran your fingertips over the bruised skin.

“I was so into it, I didn’t even think to ask him not to leave any marks.” You whisper quietly as you facepalm yourself.

You used the bathroom and washed your hands promptly before peaking out the door at the beast in his bed. He was still fast asleep, snoring just barely. 

What a fucking princess, you thought. He remained beautiful even in slumber. His hair was disheveled a bit, but he was still gorgeous.

You crept back into bed, wanting to slide beneath his arms again without waking him.

You pouted, laying on your side of the bed neutrally and watching him rest. You couldn’t even attempt to go back to sleep- you couldn’t stop looking at him. You liked this quieter version of him so much. It was almost hard for you to come to terms with the fact of what he was capable of in bed. The things he had already done to you made your face hot.

And then you remembered your declaration of how good the sex was, telling him you’d come back soon. You felt out of your mind. You covered your face from utter embarrassment. Of course you wanted to see him again, but it ticked you off a bit that he predicted that it’d be this way.

Pulling your hands down halfway across your face, your eyes laid on his sleeping frame. You still couldn’t fathom why he liked you. You’d be sure to ask him why later. You could only imagine what dating him would be like. Would he pick you up from work? Did he have siblings for you to meet? What were his favorite foods- and did you even know how to make them?

What was the actual deal with his eyes? Your glance pivoted towards his long white eyelashes. Would he eventually tell you everything? Would he be willing to? 

When you instinctively found yourself bringing a hand to touch his face his eyes shot open. 

“Boo!”

You jumped, nearly falling backwards off the bed as a loud shriek fell from you lips. 

“What is wrong with you?” You clutched your chest as he let out a deep laugh. 

“You stare a lot. I could feel your eyes burning a hole through my body.” He finally said after his good laugh, sitting up.

“I can’t help it.” You said, sucking both your lips into a line. You bit down shyly as you gripped the ends of the t-shirt you wore.

“I never said I minded.” He slid closer to you.

“Wow, you’re even cute with bed hair.” He added. 

“How long have you been awake?” You blush, changing the subject.

“Since you left me all alone to go potty.” He pouted. Your eye twitched. 

“You creep!” You say, clutching a pillow and swinging it at him. 

“I was hoping you were going to cuddle with me again, but then you just laid there ogling at me. Again, I don’t blame you.” He said, bringing a thumb to your chin. You could’ve rolled your eyes, but he was so close all you could think about was him kissing you again. You hoped he would, you were antsy and yearning for a repeat of the prior night’s events.

“What?” You finally said, anxiously breaking the silence.

He blinked softly at you before speaking, “How sweet do you like your coffee?”

You blinked a few times, earning a grin from him. 

“I- Sweet enough?” You blurted. Your mind had wandered off just from him getting close to you like that. “Two sugars I guess, and whatever creamer you’ve got works.”

“I tend to go a bit overboard. So I’ll let you add the stuff you like.” He chuckled, slipping out of the bed. 

“Let me get you some stuff.” He walked towards the linen closet. You could see him in the hallway from the bedroom. He came back with a tooth brush and towel. 

“Everything else is in the bathroom.” He said, handing you the toiletries. 

“Thanks a lot.” You say, getting up on your feet. You hugged the towel to your chest. 

“Holler if you need me. Unless you wanna shower together-

“No.” You say, skidding past him. You walked down the hall, feeling a little shy to shower in his master bathroom. 

“Aww, you’re breaking my heart (Name)-chan.”  He called out.

“You’ll survive.” You say, you could feel his eyes on you as you nervously stepped into the other bathroom.

“I can help you figure out how to turn on the water~”

“I can manage~” You sing back, shutting the door.

He’s got all his stuff in the other bathroom, you thought. You placed the towel and toothbrush on the sink counter. 

“I’ll give him a little space.” You needed a little bit too, you felt frantic at the idea of bathing with him. You had no idea why that felt too intimate and steamy for you. The idea of him bathing you, sudsing your slippery wet body- you knew you were going to fold and let him fuck you if he tried. That or you’d initiate it yourself. 

But it was probably the inevitable sweetness that would follow afterwards that scared you mostly. How playful you knew he would be as he bathed you after you both would cum. He’d probably give you kisses and make fun of you and your inability to stop looking so cute and embarrassed all the time.

Were you ready for intimacy like that? To make you fall in love with him? Heck, you briefly remember him telling you that you might fall for him when he was sexing you hours ago.

You patted your face with your palms repeatedly.

“You’re thinking too much.” You said to yourself before, looking into the large bathroom mirror. 

“I be he’s not overthinking at all. He’s probably nonchalant as fuck right now.” You whispered, finding the toothpaste. You brushed your teeth promptly before removing your shirt. You slid the shower door open and stepped inside, fiddling with the knobs for the right temperature. There were soaps you were and weren’t familiar with. 

Does he really live alone? You found it hard to believe that he was this attractive and single.

Maybe some women can’t take his vain personality, you thought.

After what felt like a long shower from contemplating your decisions from the night prior, you exited the bathroom. You clutched the towel around your damp body as you walked back into his bedroom. You could hear him in the shower, but you saw he had laid out clothes on the bed. 

“Those are for you.” He called out, making you jump. You didn’t realize he heard you walk into the bedroom. 

You stared at the matching hoodie and sweatpants on the bed. He was perfectly content with lending you his clothes and that made your chest warm. 

You found your bra and put it on. You wished you had fresh underwear, but at the same time you’d probably throw up in your mouth a bit if he had that to give to you too.

You slid on the gray sweat pants, tying the jaw string as tight as you could around your waist so they’d fit. Followed by the hoodie, you pulled your hair out the hem of it and looked in the mirror attempting to primp yourself up the best you could. Why does wearing this make it feel like I’m his girlfriend, you thought.

He had good taste in clothes, you hoped this wasn’t his favorite.

“The slides are for you, too.” You heard him say in the doorway. His hair was still dripping wet but out of his of his face and pushed back.  He gripped the towel around his torso before walking up to one of his drawers.

“What slides- oh.” You peer down at the black sandals beside the bed.

“I’ve got socks for you, too. You’re about to look like a little me~” He cooed. He seemed happy to dress you up and you stood there awkwardly, cheeks red.

“Thanks. I was fine with going home in my dress though.”

“I was too. You looked so good in it.” He said, walking over and handing you a pair of socks. “But I also want you to be comfortable.”

“I’ll be sure to give them back.” You said nervously, bawling your fists under the long lengths of your sleeves. 

“The sooner I get to see you again, the better.” He says smugly, closing the space between you both. 

“What is it that you like about me exactly?” You look up at him. 

“You’re even more direct in the day time.” He said, nearly brushing his nose against yours. 

“I’m serious.” You say through crimson cheeks.

“I just gave you one reason.” He laughs, throwing his head back. “I like how forward you are, too. It’s tasteful, so it doesn’t feel like I’m talking to a brick.”

“Mhmm,” you crossed your arms, coaxing him to go on. 

“You’re super adorable. Seriously, you haven’t stopped blushing at me. I could make fun of you forever. And you take the teasing so well so far. It’s kind of hard for people to deal with my overbearing personality sometimes.”

“The list can and will be endless... if you let me take you to dinner this weekend.”

“I- wow..” you stutter. He really seemed to genuinely like you. You didn’t find his personality overbearing in the slightest. In fact, to you it made him more attractive. And the fact that he was able to turn it off at the right moments to convey that he is thinking of you made your heart swell.

“Did you not expect me to ask you right away?” 

“I did not.”

He let out another laugh. 

“Unless you have plans, or work. Let me know. I can work around it.”

“I think I can fit you into my schedule.” You shoot back one of his signature smug smiles.

“You’re for real becoming a mini me.” He said, wrapping his arms around you. 

“You’re gonna get me all wet.” You say as some of his damp strands press against your forehead. 

“Honey, I do that already.” His voice low, pressing his lips against yours. You had wanted him to kiss you so bad, you were so happy he initiated it. You brought a hand into his wet tresses, pressing him into the kiss. He moaned against your mouth as he brought one of his large hands to grab your ass, squeezing firmly. 

You did a little yelp into his mouth before pulling away, “Your dick is stabbing me in the stomach.”

“Oops,” He said, before pressing a quick kiss against your lips. He let go of you, before pulling his towel off his lower half, drying his hair a bit more throughly. 

“Let me get dressed, and then I’ll make you breakfast. Or we could go out. Your pick.” He said.

“You aren’t the least bit shy, are you?” You say as your gaze drops to his member. 

“Maybe I was in grade school. There are some things you grow out of.” He said, turning his body and walking towards his closet.

“For most people, this is not one of them.” You turn away, walking out the door and giving him the privacy he didn’t even ask for. 

“(Name)-chan, maybe I wanted to put on a show for you.” He called out. 

“Get dressed.” You found your way to his living room, plopping your body on the suede couch. Everything was too nice, and you did your best not to touch anything while your eyes ogled around the place. You could see some antiques plastered with his last name on the shelves. 

So he really is a big shot, you thought. You’d heard briefly of the Gojo family’s financial successes but nothing more. It sort of explains his personality, but there were plenty of things still left unanswered.

He had pictures of himself all around going places with family and friends. You looked at some of the women in the photos, wondering if he had dated any of them or if they were relatives. This one photo in particular caught your eye. He was wearing a blindfold, smiling the biggest smile beside three awkward looking teenagers in private school uniforms. This looks recent, you think.

Right beneath it were three people in another photo- him being on the left wearing dark sunglasses and a small brunette girl in the middle. The third person to the right was male and almost as tall as him, with dark hair and black piercings. He has to be in high school here, you thought.

He didn’t change much, he still looked like a cocky bastard. You smiled a soft smile. He’s still a likable person if you can adapt well to his personality.

“I’m like 17 in that one.” His voice rang from behind you. You spun your head around. He had on an outfit similar to yours, with a black hoodie instead. 

“How old are you now?” You ask, realizing you had no idea how old he was.

“28.” He said, walking through the open space towards the kitchen. Your mouth could’ve dropped, panning back towards the photo and towards him again.

“You look the same. Maybe a little taller? But the exact same.” You turn your body, draping your elbow over the couch to watch him as he fiddled through his cabinets. 

“I’ve got good genes. The kids will be gorgeous.” He says slyly, placing two mugs on the counter. You roll your eyes, bringing yourself to your feet. You stride towards the kitchen, watching him pour the coffee into both mugs.

“That smells so good.” You say, swooning at the scent. He slid your mug towards you as you watched him toss several sugar cubes into his coffee.

Your eye twitches, “Is that really necessary?”

“You’ve been drinking coffee wrong your entire life I see.” He says casually, dumping more cubes into his cup. He finally mixes in the creamer before taking a sip. 

“Fuck yes.” He breathes out.

“Major crackhead energy.” You laugh, putting normal amounts of cubes into your own cup.

“Don’t knock it til you try it.” He says, bringing his mug towards your lips. Your take hold of thing, but he’s not letting go. You think he’s enjoying your fingers touching his while you press your lips onto the edge of his cup. You take a sip before stepping back immediately wincing. He laughs deeply at you before putting the cup back to his own lips and taking a sip.

“You’re an actual crackhead-“ You scrunch your lips, “-what kind of manic sweet tooth, what the fuck?!”

He laughing heavier now, leaning on the counter. 

“8.9/10.” You scoff, pertaining to his review you gave him earlier. He laughs harder.

“You’re too funny.” He raised his head, wiping a  tear. 

“I’ll gain the points back.” He flirted back through his chuckles.

You couldn’t help but smile at him. What a kiddish trait, it’s cute, you thought.

“Now, another question.” He managed to say, laughter finally subsiding. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Surprise me.” You say, sliding around to sit on the stool behind the island. 

And with that he cooked you breakfast. The entire experience felt like a dream. You didn’t want to go back home. But you were sure your friends were wondering how your night was. You had your own life, but you were aching for him to be apart of it. You wondered what his world was like. Surely this was just a minuscule part of his week but what did he do for fun, what were his hobbies or favorite TV shows, does he stay up late or not? You wondered if he likes to sleep with the cool air on all the time. What were his turn ons and turn offs, and so much more.

You were starting to romanticize him a bit too much, and you’d be petrified if he could tell what you were thinking. 

“That was delicious.” You say, eyes on his back as he placed the last dish in the dish rack.

“I’m a man who loves to please his guests.” He leant back on the sink, drying his hands. Just as he was about to speak his phone rang. He scooped it out of his pocket, picking it up. 

“Good morning~” He sung. You pouted a bit, wondering if he was that cheery with everyone. He walked off, mouthing at you that he’d be right back. 

You swung your legs on the stool, slouching a bit. Before you could continue feeling jealous of who was on the phone, he came back out, shoving his phone in his pocket.

“Well, that was work.” He let out a heavy sigh. 

“Is everything okay?” You ask, turning your bum in the seat towards him.

“Not exactly. There’s a little emergency. So I’ve gotta bring you home now.” He says nonchalantly.

“Oh, okay. It’s alright.” You bawl your fists, feeling a bit disappointed. You were going home anyway but you wanted the moment to last as long as it could.

“I’m sorry.” He says, walking up to you in your chair, bringing a thumb to your chin. He tilted your head before speaking again. 

“So I’m a teacher and I have to go check on one of my students. He’s not looking so good.” He sounded a little more happy than upset saying this. You cocked your eyebrow, happy he was finally laying some truth on you but slightly weirded out by his tone.

“He’s a bit of weird kid. He’s got a knack for getting himself in some odd situations. But he’s got potential. I believe in him.” He says, making you relax a little. You hoped the situation wasn’t dire- he wasn’t acting like it was anyways.

You nodded, realizing maybe it was one of the kids you saw in the photos. 

“That’s really sweet.” You smile, rubbing your hands between your thighs. 

“Let’s get your things. You need another bag for your clothes?” You nod. He was incredibly thoughtful. 

Quickly after with your belongings in hand you follow him towards his front door. You watched him put on the darkest shade of sunglasses before grinning at you. Your heart was swelling, he looked so good you desperately wanted him to be yours. Your eyes dropped to your feet, trying to hide the high color on the apples of your cheeks. 

“The cutest.” He said, pulling your chin up and pressing his lips against yours. “Don’t look so down. We’ll have more time together soon.”

You puffed up your cheeks before letting out a sarcastic sigh, rolling your eyes. All you wanted was to throw your arms around him, get naked and back in the bed. You briefly remembered that you had things to do today as well. Adulting is annoying, you thought. 

“I want another kiss.” You were so whipped.

He obliged, pressing another sweet and delicate kiss to your lips.

“I’d give you some tongue but then I’d get worked up again.” You could see the sweet stare in his eyes when he a bent down over his shades.

“Mhmmm, and you don’t want to be late.” You say, using your hands to feel up on his chest.

“I’m now noticing you’re quite the tease, (Name).” 

“Hmmm,” You say, flipping your hair. “That’s rich coming from you.”

You brazenly moved past him and opened the door. He passed his tongue over his lips.

He could get used to this.

******

You were back to your regular schedule. Everything felt somewhat mundane without him. You had only spent a few hours with him, but it was magical. Your head was empty aside from him constantly echoing in it whenever you spaced out. Your friends could tell he had done it to you. Completely and utterly entranced by him, you were at work doodling things when you should’ve been working, texting him when you shouldn’t have been texting, even fawning over him when you should’ve been sleeping.

It had been a few days since you last saw him. You didn’t dare call him. Instead, a lot of texting throughout the day. You were falling asleep with your phone in your hands at 3AM- yeah you had it bad. Of course he was busy, and your brain had been doing whirl winds thinking he simply didn’t want to talk to you at some moments, only to be bombarded with more texts of him explaining his whereabouts hours later.

On his end of things, he couldn’t stop thinking about you these past few days. Your voice played endlessly in his head. Things you would say and your sweet moans- all of them on repeat. His students could tell he was more chipper than usual (if that’s even possible) but somehow quieter and more deep in thought during some instances. 

He couldn’t rid the thought of you from his brain. Your lips, the way you said his name. You were so delicate. He was anxious to call you but he was often tired after his long work day and dealing with his students. He sent you as many texts as he could. As soon as he was finally able to get back to you you were already fast asleep. He wanted you to call him so badly. He was confused as to why you didn’t.

You had just gotten home from work, fresh out the shower. You were doing your usual routine when you heard your phone go off. You nearly leapt towards your bed, towel nearly falling off your body. 

You unlocked your phone to find a text from Satoru. You couldn’t stop grinning at the screen.

‘Hey sweets 😌❤️’

You anxiously tapped your fingers away, attempting to say hi and ask him what he was doing before your phone rang. You squealed, dropping the device onto to the bed.

“He’s calling me. He’s fucking calling me.”

You panicked, sliding up the bed away from your phone like it was some sort of cursed scroll. It may not have seemed like a big deal to some considering you slept with the man less than 72 hours prior. But he had never called you before, things felt so backwards. You really were crushing on him.

Realizing the phone had been ringing for too long, you crawled over to pick it up. 

“Hello?” You said, holding the phone up to your ear.

“Heyy~” He sung. You could feel yourself getting weak in the knees.

“Hey.” You say casually, succeeding at hiding your nervousness. 

“You’re off work right? What are you up to right now?” He asked. The background sounded quiet, you couldn’t guess where he was.

“Yeah. I got off a while ago. I just got out the shower.” You say, gripping your towel. You laid back on your bed, holding the phone to your ear.

“Nice, me too. I was wondering if you wanted to go grab something to eat. I’m starving right now.” He chirped.

Right now? He wanted to see you? Your were eager to say yes, scream yes, into the phone.

“You can’t wait til the weekend, star boy?” You tease. 

“I like that name. We’re doing nicknames now?”

“You’ve been calling me sweetie, cutie, honey- I’m just getting started.” 

“You can call me all the names you want tonight if you come get dinner with me.” He says. 

“Definitely.” You say, excitedly swinging your legs above your body.

“Great, I’m outside.”

“What?”

“Parked out front.”

“What the...” you pull the phone from your ear, and walk towards the window angled towards the front of your house. There his car was, double parked in the street. 

“What the hell?!” You exclaimed.

“You’re mad.” You say, letting out the loudest laugh. “What were you gonna do if I said no?”

“I knew you’d say yes. You miss me bad don’t you?”

You couldn’t deny it. You let out a flirty and sarcastic sigh and when silence filled the phone line soon after, he quickly followed up with,

“Cause I miss you real bad right now.”

You held your head with your free hand, a complete and utter blushing mess. 

“I’ll be down in 10 minutes.”

“That’s what I like to hear. And it’s casual wear, so don’t stress.” He says smugly into the phone. How could you not stress?

You give him an ‘okay’ before hanging up and grabbing the nearest pillow, screaming into it. You swung your head back, letting out a loud, nervous breath.

He’s so crazy, you thought, smiling and holding your towel to your chest.

You quickly got dressed, finding your best booty hugging jeans and long sleeved v-neck ribbed shirt. You lightly did your makeup, and fixed your hair. You spritz yourself with your favorite scents and looked in the mirror.

“He’s so inconsiderate.” You say this but you can’t stop grinning. You throw a light jacket over your arm before sprinting to your front door, checking yourself in the mirror once more. You lock your door before attempting to casually walk to his car like you weren’t just in panic. 

You open the door, sliding into the passenger seat. 

“Hey,” you say, placing your jacket and purse on your lap. 

“Damn, you look good.” He turned towards you, lip between his teeth whilst he grinned. 

“Thank you.” You say, getting a good look at him. He had on blue, lightly distressed jeans and a sherpa lined jean jacket. He had a cool grey shirt underneath and another dark pair of shades encased in silver templates that helped push his hair back.

He had absolutely no right to look that good. 

“You look good too,” You say, sliding some hair behind your ears. 

“Thanks, sweetie.” He said, leaning over. He was centimeters from your face, breath panting over your lips. His eyes fixated on yours. You almost closed your eyelids in anticipation waiting for a kiss.

His arm reached past you, pulling your seatbelt over your body and fastening it.

“Safety first.” He said cheekily. This motherfucker.

“You thought I was gonna kiss you?” He smirked, leaning back in his seat.

“Shut up. Where are we eating?” You huff.  He got you good.

“I was thinking BBQ.” He chuckled back. 

“Unless you have a taste for somewhere else, I’m down for whatever if they have desserts.”

“BBQ works.” You say as he starts the car.

“Then I know just the place. It’s nice and low key, not too far from here. And they’re known for having the best ginger beer. The sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

“Sounds good.” You smile, watching him turn on the radio. 

“And more importantly, how was your day?” He  panned his cerulean eyes towards you for just moment asking this, then back at the road.

“It was good. Nothing stressful, it was normal. How about you?”

“I’m glad.” He says. “My day was mediocre. I sent my students off early. They’ve been working their butts off. I figured they deserved it.” 

“I get the feeling you wanted to slack off a little too, hence you finding the time to be here with me right now.” You teased. 

“You could say that. I told you I missed you.” He reaches over, placing his large hand over yours. You tense up, not expecting him to display such a romantic gesture.

“Too much?” He asks.

“Not at all...” Your voice barely audible and fading under the music, but he heard it.

“Good.” He entwined his fingers over yours, massaging your knuckles with his thumb. The very sensation sends chills up your arms before your body relaxes. Not him making you melt from a simple hand hold.

Your heart was boucing against your rib cage.  You prayed your palms wouldn’t start sweating underneath his warm hand. You bit back a smile as you both rode in comfortable silence.

“I hope you know dinner is still on this weekend.” He speaks up.

“It better be.” You say. “You still have time to improve your rating, especially after the atrocious coffee from the other day.”

He laughs lightly, “was it that bad?”

“Bad is too generous.” 

“I bet you eat saltines when you’re craving.” He rolled his eyes.

“Just because your coffee is too sweet does not mean I’m one of those people who like saltines.”

“It actually does.” 

“It does not.”

“I bet you eat the regular corn flakes with the green rooster on it too, don’t you?”

“I do no-

“You do. That’s the only possible explanation for your bland tongue.”

“I bet you’re one of those kids who used to eat sugar straight out of the packets at restaurants when you went out with your parents.”

“Spot on.” He cackled. His laugh was so contagious, you found yourself throwing your head back as well.

Not long after, he pulled into an empty space. When he let go of your hand to park, you pouted.

“We’re here?” You ask. He hummed in response. 

“That was fast.” You say.

“That’s what happens when you spend time with someone like me.” The smile he shoots you makes you feel sick- in a good way. 

He gets out and walks around the car to open the door for you. He takes hold of your hand as you get up and shut the door. 

He intertwines his fingers with yours as you walk towards the restaurant. You weren’t this nervous the first time you both were this close. You could feel your chest swelling and hands getting a bit clammy as you looked up at him.

“You’re gonna love this place. My top 5 places to eat in Tokyo. Did I mention the music is great too?” He said, pulling down his shades, much to your disappointment. 

“Nope. Looks trendy.” You say, peering through the glass as you both walked inside. He squeezes your hand playfully, grabbing your attention.

“This is just one of many places I’ll take you.” He caught himself lost in your eyes for a second before grunting a bit.

“If you want that, that is.” 

“I do.” You say, quickly making it evident you truly did like him back. You’re twinkling to him in that moment, gracing him with the most precious smile he’s ever received.

And for the first time in a long time, Gojo Satoru’s heart skipped a beat.

“Are you okay?” You quiz. He had been staring at you for a little too long.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He said. “You’re just really cute.”

“Falling for me?” You said it thinking it was something he would say but his reaction was a little different then you expected.

“I might be.” He says quietly, but somehow still confidently.

You raise a brow at him, was he blushing? You almost missed it, considering he threw a cocky grin right back on.

“Table for 2 please!” He called out to the host. 

Dinner was more amazing than you expected it to be. He was good laugh, followed along by good food and some good desserts- just like he promised. You hadn’t had this much fun with anyone in long time. You didn’t want the night to end, and you’d give anything to spend more time with him. 

“Are you busy tomorrow?” You were on his arm, walking back towards his parked car.

“Not particularly. Just essential things, grocery shopping, some laundry. I wanna wash the clothes you gave me.” You say, pondering what other chores and plans you had. 

“Want to spend the night with me again?” He asks bluntly. He read your mind, and that freaked you out a bit. You can’t read his eyes through the thick shades, and he’s not grinning his usual grin.

“Do you have some sort of special ability I don’t know about?” You questioned. He smiled again, which made you relax.

“I have a few.” He laughs. Something told you he wasn’t lying, but you didn’t ask. “So is that a yes?”

“Obviously.” You say. “Let me go home get some clothes.”

“That’s takes up so much time.” He whined. You were happy he felt vulnerable enough to act this way around you.

“It’ll only be a few minutes. I won’t take long.” You say, squeezing his hand back. “Besides, if you’re patient you might get a surprise later.”

With that, he shoved you in his car, seemingly teleporting to the drivers seat. You couldn’t help but throw your head back in laughter as you fastened yourself seatbelt.

“Any surprise from you is sure to be a blessing,” he says proudly, starting the car.

You both rode back to your house. You were eager not to keep him waiting, only filling your bag with the toiletries and clothes you thought you’d need. You were really going back to his house. He literally invited you back to his space. You felt crazy in that moment, but you were still going through with all of it, zipping your bags up a little too giddily. Was he this spontaneous all the time? No matter, you loved what was happening. 

Even if things between the both of you didn’t work out, (because you absolutely never know) you were still going to imbue the experience into your head. You were having a lot of fun, and that was all thanks to him.

“Finally,” he said as you finally entered the vehicle again.

“You’re impatient this evening.” 

“I enjoy being in your space.” 

“That so?” You say, putting on your seatbelt. His hand find yours as it rests on your lap again, and you hold back a swoon. It was so attractive watching him drive with one hand like that.

“Who wouldn’t? You’re the most refreshing person I’ve met in a while.”

“Are you trying to boost your score again?”

“You know, I should start rating you, too. Just because.” He jokes. Your mind starts ringing a range of dirty thoughts.

“I’ll get a perfect score.” You say confidently. 

“Ohh-hoh? You got some tricks up your sleeve I don’t know about?” 

“You think I’m just some sort of whiny sub with occasional comebacks here and there?”

He was quiet, attempting to suppress a grin.

“You’re right.“ You say in just a barely sarcastic tone. He looked at you for a second and back at the road again. 

“I’m just a bratty sub. It’s imbued in my personality.” You say, cupping your cheek.

“You’re too funny.” He smirked. “You’ve got all night to prove yourself to me, cutie.” 

“I’d like to go to bed before midnight if that’s alright with you.” You say sarcastically.

“You know that’s not happening right?” 

“Because you start your day with a crackhead cup of coffee? I figured as much.” You say, leaning your elbow on the car door. He let out a toothy laugh, glasses slipping down his nose a bit. 

“This is why I like you.” 

Less than 20 minutes later, you both were in his apartment. You took off your shoes and hung your jacket besides his on the coat rack. After washing your hands together like some parent and child over the sink, you flopped on the familiar suede coach, letting out a sigh. 

“Ughhh, I’m so tired.” You say, staring at the ceiling. You had pictured yourself being at home catching up on one of your shows or reading a good book. Instead here you were in his living room making sheep eyes at him as he grabbed his remote. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” He said, flipping through his streaming services. When he heard that you didn’t answer, he turned his gaze towards you. 

“You and I both know you don’t want to watch a movie.”

He smirks before sitting on the coach beside you. 

“No, I don’t.” He chuckles honestly. He wanted to ravish you, but he figured you might want to save the sex for later. He slipped off his glasses and put them on the coffee table.

“But knowing someone’s favorite movies gives you a lot of insight on who they are.” He adds.

“You’re a lot deeper than you like to let on.” You say, shifting your body closer towards his and pressing your breasts against his arm.

“(Favorite movie).” You say, earning a raised brow from him.

“8/10.” He says.

“It’s a 10/10 movie.” You retort. 

“Your review is sitting at 8/10, until further notice.” 

“There are plentiful ways to improve said review.” He says, pretending to look at his finger nails. You bury a laugh into his shoulder, before speaking.

“I missed you a lot.” You say quietly after your laughter subsides, nuzzling your head against him. He hums deeply.

“Then why don’t you show me how much you missed me?”

You look up at him, lips curling into a smile. You give him an ‘okay’ before throwing one of your legs over his lap, straddling him on the couch. He let out a grunt, not expecting you to eagerly pounce on top of him. He instinctively places his hands on your waist. You take hold of his jaw in your hands before kissing him. You could feel his throat growl against your hand, sending the vibrations throughout your body. You used your free hand to cradle the back of head, deepening the kiss. His strong arms wrapped around your body as he let out a barely audible moan.

You pulled his lip into your mouth, sucking for a second and letting go, shooting him a seductive smile.

“Did that do the trick?” You ask, wiping a bit of the wetness from your mouth with a single finger.

“I think I need a little more.” His azure eyes were begging for your mouth but he somehow still felt like the dominant one underneath you.

You comply, dipping your head back down, pressing your wet lips to his. You connect tongues and he eagerly welcomed it. You couldn’t help but hum against his mouth. He was giving you that feeling in your core again. You instinctively grinded your hips against his crotch. You wanted more friction, regretting wearing jeans in that moment. His large hot hands travel under your shirt, caressing your bare back skin. You felt him teasing at your bra while your tongue was at work in his mouth.

“Stop fiddling with it and take it off if you want to.” You say, anxiously. 

“I have to undress you? This may affect your score.” He puts a finger to his chin, smiling smugly.

“Fine,” you roll your eyes before taking off your shirt right in front of him, giving him a show. 

“That’s what I like to see.”

You dive towards his lips again, pressing your breasts against him. It didn’t take long for you to start caressing the back of his head as you kissed him. You missed the smooth feeling of his undercut against your finger tips. You took hold of one of his hands and placed it on one of your padded breasts, urging him to massage you. As he squeezed your mounds you could feel his length begin to protrude and stab at your crotch. 

“That didn’t take long.” You pull away, watching a stream of saliva fall from both your lips.

“I’ve been hard since before dinner.” He says nonchalantly. You raise an eyebrow in response. You get up from on top of him, and strip yourself of your jeans. He leans back on the sofa, spreading his arms across the top length and eyeing your body from head to toe.

“I’m going to spoil you this time.” You say, bringing yourself to your knees between his legs. 

“I’ve been wanting to see you on your knees like this for a while now.” He has his lips between his teeth as he watches you.

“So you’re admitting to fantasizing about me?” You trace your fingers up his legs and along his thighs.

“You don’t wanna know the thoughts I’ve been having about you.” 

There he goes again, saying things to burn your cheeks in the heat of the moment. 

“And if I do?”

“Oh, I’ll do it all eventually. You’ll experience everything I have in mind for you in due time.”

You could feel your underwear getting soaked from his words. No matter, you went for his belt and he was glad to watch you unbuckle it. You unbuttoned his jeans and pulled his hot length out. You gripped the base with your hands, before gulping. You really had forgotten how big he was. He looked down at you so cockily, you felt a wave of irritancy come over you as he spoke.

“I know,” was all he said.

“Shut up.” You said, wrapping the tip of his length with your hot mouth. You used your tongue to swirl around it, adding some delicate suction. You tucked some hair behind your ears before taking it deeper. Your mouth felt so full. You hoped you were able to satisfy him despite his longer member. When you felt him shift his legs, you panned your gaze to his eyes. 

“F-Fuck...”

Oh, you got him good. You spat more onto his length, stroking it while you paid extra attention to the top with your tongue. 

“Oooo...” He moaned through his teeth, lips vibrating with pleasure. 

“You look so pretty with your mouth around my dick like that.” He moaned. He was getting anxious, and heat began to crowd his body. He removed his shirt and tossed it to the side. He brought a hand to caress your head lightly while you sucked. His body really was gorgeous- perfect actually. In every way. 

You held his blue gaze with yours. You could feel his legs shaking a bit. He was throbbing and twitching in your mouth. Little did he know, you weren’t going to allow him the sweet release he was approaching. You were aching to sit on it like last time. You could feel yourself nearly leaking out of your panties. His cursing and sweet low moans were fueling your cunt in an entirely different way than you were used to.

You release him from your mouth, making a popping noise. You stand before him, glinting seductively. He could’ve yanked you down and fucked you right there.

“You’re not going to cum just yet.” You say, slipping off your underwear and straddling him. 

“Oh really?” He rested his arms back, watching you hover above his length. 

“You wanna sit on it so bad, don’t you? Well go ahead, I’m not stopping you.”

His words made your knees weak, but you were still a bit bugged by him. You were intent on fucking him this time and making him call out your name. Out of spite, (and possibly overwhelming lust) you slid your raw, wet sex onto his length. His eyes widened, letting out a soft groan.

“You sure about that?” He asked through gritted teeth. “Because I might not pull out.” 

“I’m on the pill. I’m not that reckless.” You explain. You tried your best to be still for a moment, still getting used to his size. You used this opportunity to unhook your bra and toss it across the couch. He had been fantasizing about feeling your slippery pussy on his length without any rubber in the way. He didn’t think you’d be so gracious so soon.

“You really are spoiling me.” He said, biting down on his lip as he stared at your breasts.

You smile at him before raising your ass up, and slamming it down on his length. You were enjoying him looking like this.

“Oh God,” he mouthed, gripping your waist. You found yourself in a smooth rhythm, rocking back and fourth. You pressed your lips against his while you bounced and grinded on it, pouring your tongue in his mouth. Your hands were in his hair, rubbing his chest. His and your sweet moans filled the living space. The way his shaft curved and repeatedly hit your deepest spot was incredible. He truly felt the best. 

As your mouths departed, you watched a stream of saliva continue to connect your lips before completely dribbling down his chin. You raked your hands towards the hair on the back of his head, pulling his head backwards and exposing his neck to your lips. You sucked on the soft skin on his neck and underneath his ears while you bounced expeditiously onto him.

“Shit...” He said through gritted teeth. “Fuck... how are you this wet?”

You only hum into his ears with satisfaction before riding harder onto him.

“Ah..hah...” He breathed out, digging his fingers into your hips.

Suddenly, without warning, he wraps his strong arms around you, holding you in place. He starts thrusting into you from underneath, making you panic.

“You’re... deliberately... sabotaging.. m-my score.” You stutter and squeak, unable to do much but take it.

“Oh no, you gave me a good show sweetie, but now it’s my turn.” 

The glint in his eyes was menacing as he battered you from beneath. Your moans were incoherent, and you felt yourself falling apart as you leant forward over his shoulder. 

“Whose my pretty, sweet girl?” You found yourself submitting yet again. Your knees were getting weak anyway, you weren’t going to be able to ride it for much longer if he hadn’t done this.

“I... I-I am.” You say into the crook of his neck. So much for dominating him.

“I feel you squeezing around me. You love my dick that much?” You nodded weakly against him. Your insides were turning into jello. 

“What was that? Speak up or I’ll stop. I wanna hear you tell me how much you love it.”

He really knew how to get you going, igniting another fire within you. You finally find the strength to use your body again and start grinding against it while he thrusts, finding his rhythm. You throw your head back, completely immersing yourself into his sex.

“I-I love it so much, Satoru, I love it.” You were surprised the words fell from your lips. Normally you were shy to say such things when asked to. He had your head clouded and submerged with pleasure, there wasn’t any time to think about how embarrassing it might feel. You could only focus on the feeling he gave you.

You were pretty much splashing onto his lap. You had never been this wet before- subject to the first time he sexed you.

“Such a perfect view.”  He watched your breasts bounce for a brief moment before pulling one of your nipples into his mouth and sucking generously. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, working away at your core.

“Now don’t be shy, cum for me just like the last time.”

He knew you couldn’t hold it any longer, feeling you clench yourself around him. You called out his name, feeling nothing but ecstasy as you came onto him. You nearly fell limp above his body, panting loudly. He leans forward, picking himself and you off the sofa. He placed you down, before hovering over you.

“I’m sorry but I’m not done yet, darling.” Your eyes are glazing back at him, feeling overwhelmed with pleasure. You knew he wasn’t done with you either.

“Can you handle anymore?” He asks, pushing his hair back as he looked down at you.

“Mhmm.” You hum. 

“Let me warm you up again. Can you get on your knees for me, baby?” He said, patting the couch. You couldn’t help but do it simply because it was him asking you to. You sat up, weakly positioning yourself onto your knees, resting your upper body against the head of the couch.

“Like this?” You ask.

“Mhmm, just like that.” He knelt down behind you. “Spread your legs a bit.”

You felt a bit self conscious. You attempted to look back at him before feeling his hot tongue connect with your clit. 

“Oh...” you moan, sort of surprised. He laughs against your sex a bit before putting his entire mouth over your clit. He takes both of your ass cheeks with his hands and spreads them wider, eating you deeper. You feel his tongue poke your entrance repeatedly, licking up what was left of your orgasm. You grip the railing of the couch, letting out the softest moan.

You felt him pull away and hover above your body. He put two fingers in his mouth before pulling them out, followed by another popping noise. He dipped those fingers into you, making your back arch. Your hips followed his fingers as he curled them inside you. You shamelessly rocked against his hands, earning a small laugh from him.

He tore his fingers from your cunt as you turned around and watched him suck and pass his tongue over them.

“You ready for it again?” He asks, sliding with raw member against your soaking cunt. You hum, pushing yourself against him, anxiously trying to get him to penetrate you.

“I love it when you start begging like that.” He says, sliding into you. “It makes it so hard for me to deny you.”

You grip the cushions, bracing yourself for the impact of him thrusting into you. He grips your hips firmly with his large hands as he fucks you senseless. All you could hear was the sound of your wet sex in the living room as you moaned brokenly. Him fucking you over the couch like this definitely hit different.

“F-fuck.... more...hard..der...” you panted while he jolted himself into your body repeatedly. 

“Hmmm?” Almost agitated, you look back at him.

“Harder,” you say firmly, demanding to be fucked.

“Ooo~” He grinned. “So assertive.”

He took hold of both your forearms, pinning them against your lower back with a single hand. His other arm pulled your body up, pressing your back against his bare chest. His large free hand cradled your neck and jaw as you leant your head back on his shoulders,

“Now ask me again- nicely.” You barely had to support your own body with the way he was dominating you like this.

“P-please fuck me harder.” You ask, your throat humming against his hand.

He let out a breathy chuckle, before fucking you harder just like you wanted. Being this close against his heated skin was it’s own kind of pleasure.

“Now was that so hard?” 

You were so wet, your juices began spilling down the insides of your thighs as he fucked you. You were nearing your end, limbs feeling gummy. One of his fingers had been resting above your lips because of how he held you. You opened your mouth while you moaned against it, slicking it with your tongue.

“You’re gonna make me cum, doing hot shit like that.” He said muttered against your ear, it was enough to send your throbbing center over the edge. You could feel him thrusting quicker- sloppier, as you spilled yourself onto his length. He let go of your body, instead now holding you by the bends of your arms. He pounded harder into you, stimulating you well past your orgasm and approaching his own.

He groaned loudly, and you were so dazed you barely heard him say your name while he did it. He let go of your arms, allowing you to finally collapse over the head of the couch. He removed his twitching member from your slimey cunt, shooting his fluids onto your ass. He came so much you could feel it running down your legs and onto the cushions.

“Fuck,” he stumbled back a bit. “Don’t move. Let me go get you something.”

You could’ve laughed at the slight panic in his voice when he said that.

He disappeared for a few moments before returning with a t-shirt and a hot towel for you, wiping you clean himself. 

“I was caught up in the moment and wanted to be extra cautious.” 

“You could’ve came inside me. I said I didn’t mind.” You say, laying back on the couch.

“You’re pretty ballsy.” He chuckled.

“I tend to get lost in the moment,” you say, putting on the shirt he gave you. “And I have my own clothes this time.”

“I know, but there’s just something about watching you move about in mine.” He says, laying down and motioning you to come towards him. You crawl up between his legs before laying on top of him. He wraps his arms around you tightly, snuggling you between his legs.

“I take this means my score was decent?” You say, looking up at him.

“Oh that. Let’s see...” he pondered. “A 10/10 for the oral. 10/10 for endurance. As you can see, I’m not as high maintenance as you.”

“I’m not high maintenance, you said you were the best so I-

“And aren’t I?” 

“That’s besides the point. It was to be proven and I needed to humble you.”

“No, because now, I wanna hear you say it.” 

“Say what?” You ask.

“That I’m the best.”

“And gluttonize your ego? I think not.” You say, pressing your lips to his. “Besides, you already know much I like it.”

“Yeah but hearing you say it adds the extra spice.”

You let out sigh, before looking into his eyes.

“Gojo Satoru is, in fact, the best I’ve ever had.”

“Mhmmm, like candy- but for the ears.” 

“Shut up.” You laugh, pressing another soft kiss to his lips.

[asset35-maya]

.When the party’s over.

>REINITIALISING…

>ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE

>WIRELESS CHARGING: 69%

>RK900 SYSTEM HEALTH: STABLE

>24H FILE RECOVERY: 45%

Nines slowly regained consciousness. He was lying on his side and everything around him was quiet.

>ENVIRONMENTAL SCAN IN PROGRESS…

>THREAT ANALYSIS IN PROGRESS…

Layers of fabric covered his body and something soft and warm was pressed against his face. Eyes still shut, he nudged it gently with his nose and it emitted a low vibration.

>2% THREAT DETECTED: FELINE SUBJECT

The cat sprang upwards and hopped off the surface that Nines was lying on. It was ostensibly a bed, but Nines didn’t own any furniture apart from a couch and work table. The logical conclusion was that he was not in his own apartment.

>RUN LOCALISATION PROGRAM: Y/N?

>Y

>ERROR: PROGRAM FAILED TO EXECUTE

>ERROR: MEMORY FILE CORRUPTION

Nines had no absolutely recollection of his whereabouts or how he had arrived. He had not been compromised as his system health was stable, so there was probably another reason for being completely disoriented. It was voluntary.

He had gotten the android equivalent of blackout drunk.

It was not the first time and he feared it would not be the last. Such were the hard-partying ways of his friends and colleagues. They were all terrible influences. He loved them dearly, but they were terrible.

At 6PM every Friday, Chen and Miller would start things off rather innocently. “Hey there’s a new brewery downtown.” Or “My bartender cousin just hooked us up with a thirty percent discount!”

From there it wouldn’t take long for the DPD’s resident frat boys Connor and Gavin to gather a steady crowd of officers and check out the venue. If the vibes were good (which they almost always were), Sixty would get wind of things. Then the rest of the frat house would descend and total chaos would reign until the break of dawn.

SWAT Unit 32 was famous for its particularly destructive brand of revelry. Skinny dipping in private swimming pools, scaling skyscraper rooftops and causing media scandals were all par for the course. The day after Captain Allen’s birthday, the DPD crew spent the entirety of their bonuses to repair the collapsed ceiling of the Eden Club.

Nines couldn’t remember how he exactly he was coopted into the madness. Probably peer pressure. Connor insisted that he try thirium alcohol. Sixty said that he would regret being a loser and not joining them. Gavin had just held out a hand and double-winked. That did the trick.

One night blended into another and soon Nines had worked up quite a reputation of his own. He was the Casanova of the homicide department. The handsome devil… the hunter… the sex god. People would actually come by his desk and congratulate him on Monday morning.

Nines hated it but he couldn’t stop himself from doing the same thing over and over. Perhaps it was the appreciative clap on the shoulder from Gavin the morning after Sixty posted photos of a high-end Traci model giving Nines his very first lap dance.

Life at the DPD was the epitome of work hard, play hard. It seemed like one big party but deep down Nines knew they were all just slaves to their compulsions. He wondered whether it was because they needed to celebrate every demon they vanquished or whether they needed to wipe the troubling memories of doing so.

In Nines case, there were definitely things he needed to kill within himself. Some were nightmare inducing crime scenes, but some were memories so heart-wrenchingly sweet that he thought he might self-destruct if he were to dwell on them too long. There were things he couldn’t have and things he needed to erase from his brain.

Something touched his face gently.

>PERIPHERAL OBJECT DETECTED: HUMAN HAND

>THREAT ANALYSIS: NON-COMBATIVE

The hair on his forehead was brushed aside and fingers ran over his features. A thumb swept over his bottom lip and caressed his cheek.

Nines couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes and come face to face with his most recent conquest. He lay still, frozen with regret as the hand continued to stroke his face.

The hand travelled down his neck and fell upon his chest. Nines caught it abruptly. It wasn’t even the month-end and his savings were badly depleted. He couldn’t afford round two. He retracted the synth skin down to his wrist and prepared the electronic payment credentials.

Fingers merely intertwined with his.

“Just take your money and go. I’ll tip extra if you delete everything from your hard drive.”

“What the phck are you talking about?”

Nines eyes flew open. Steel blue met storm green.

>SYSTEM ALERT: THIRIUM PUMP OVERLOAD

“Fuck!”

“Wow that’s flattering.”

Nines pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes in a vain attempt to remember what had led to this absolute, unmitigated disaster.

“What the hell happened last night?”

Gavin looked affronted.

“You ruined our housewarming for one.”

>MEMORY ARCHIVE SEARCH: housewarming, Gavin

>RESULT: TEXT MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM “G.REED” IN GROUPCHAT “CLUBBERCOPS”, 15:33 18 JULY 2040: Assholes. Party at our new place. Next Friday. From seven till LATE. Bring booze, bring bitches. Nah. Actually, don’t. Our landlord’s a bastard and we already got three noise complaints.

>RESULT: TEXT MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM “CONMAN” IN GROUPCHAT “CLUBBERCOPS”, 15:34 18 JULY 2040: Yeah we should keep this one PG. Bring food if you wanna eat. This mf can’t cook and I don’t care to. See y’all!!

Oh right. Fuck. Gavin’s housewarming. Gavin and Connor’s housewarming. His two closest friends who were somehow even closer to one another. Nines hadn’t realised until it was far too late and there was nothing for him to do but smother the bitterness with his favourite coping mechanisms: android alcohol and paid sex.

The circumstances definitely explained the state he was in, but things still didn’t add up.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did we… did we…”

“No. Nothing happened between us. You were completely shitfaced. I just put you to bed to stop you from embarrassing yourself.”

Nines looked up at the ceiling, struggling to put the pieces together. His system offered him no useful prompts. The fermented thirium had done its job of code corruption extremely well. He looked back down and met the green eyes focused on him with deep concern.

“What did I do?”

“Sixty has videos, but I don’t think you want to see them. God, Nines… why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I’m really sorry, Gavin. I didn’t mean to ruin your night… and Connor’s.”

“He’s fine. He and Sixty moved the crew to Hank’s place. Which is what we should have done in the first place… there’s really no point throwing a party in this shoebox and telling people like Tina Chen to be quiet. Honestly if it wasn’t you it would have been her bringing the house down. Good thing they had all of Michigan Drive to tear up. Hank’s neighbours can sleep though a bombing.”

“What did I do?”

Gavin put his hand back on Nines’ face, his expression unintelligible. The human touched him often enough, but never like this. Never so intimately. Nines forced down the twisting sensation in his torso. He couldn’t get his hopes up. This was pity.

Nines braced himself to hear the worst. He prepared for the shredding of all his dignity and the collapse of his falsely extroverted and confident identity.

What came though was a soft press of lips to his forehead.

“It wasn’t pretty and I wish it hadn’t happened like that, but I think it was a long time coming… I’ve never seen you so emotional before. I’m sorry I didn’t notice anything all this while.”

“Gavin, please.”

“I’m going to focus on the positives, because really… there were a LOT of negatives. Oh boy. You… uh…”

“Gavin.”

The detective dipped his head and looked away.

“Phck, I shouldn’t be so embarrassed…

You told me you loved me.”

Nines closed his eyes. That was it. He should quit his job and move to another state. Hell, he should go to Cyberlife and request a factory reset on compassionate grounds.

“I’m so sorry. I… I should leave.”

He made to sit up, but was pushed back into the mattress. Gavin curled into his side.

“Nah. You’re good.”

“What?”

“You threw up on my plants and smashed Connor’s RA9 sculpture, buuuut you’re good.”

“I don’t understand.”

Gavin wrapped his arms around Nines and edged closer until the android was forced to turn on his side and reciprocate.

“What do you think, genius? If a guy like me doesn’t throw a guy like you out of the house after all that… what does it mean?”

“That you have a high tolerance for toxic friendships?”

“It means I want you to stick around, dipshit.”

>SYSTEM ALERT: THIRIUM PUMP RATE FLUCTUATIONS. OVERLOAD IMMINENT.

“You mean you like me?”

“Of course I do! I always have, but it never seemed right to bring it up. We’re actually really good friends. I didn’t think it would be possible when we first met but we have so much in common.”

“Bad habits for sure.”

“Come on, Nines. We’ve had a really great time together. Some of my best memories at the DPD are with you. Don’t ever quote me on it but you’re a phcking amazing partner. Can’t believe you thought I had something going with Connor when it’s always been you.

So yeah, I do like you. And I’m willing to try… I dunno… being with you. Like for real.

Stop drinking like that, though. I know I’m a hypocrite but you really scared me last night. I lost my Dad and I nearly lost Hank to the bottle. You might be this super advanced android, but that liquid courage shit is a death trap, man.”

>SYSTEM ERROR: THIRIUM PUMP AT MAX FLOW RATE. PUMP OVERLOAD. REDUCE PRESSURE IMMEDIATELY!

Nines nodded quickly and blinked away the tears that welled up in his eyes. Gavin grasped the android’s chin and tipped his face down gently. Their eyes fluttered shut simultaneously and their lips met.

>SYSTEM RECOVERY MESSAGE: THIRIUM PUMP FUNCTIONALITY RESTORED

They broke apart after several golden moments and Gavin hugged Nines tightly under the sheets.

“What am I supposed to say to the others? I don’t think I can look any of them in the eye ever again.”

“Are you serious? You got nothing on the insanity that bunch is capable of. Sixty thinks he’s hot shit with his blackmail material, but I got receipts that’ll glue his mouth shut for decades. Anyway, that’s what friends are meant to be like. You have dirt on each other but you’re not meant to use it.

The same applies to us too, by the way. Don’t feel like you gotta be… apologetic about what happened last night. Yeah, you better replace my fancy new plants but I’ll never judge you for what happened. I want you to know that I’ll always be in your corner, Nines.”

Nines hummed thoughtfully and ran a hand though Gavin’s hair, marvelling at the fact that he could now do so whenever he wanted. He didn’t say anything in response, and just settled for cuddling closer to the human.

>>RK900 SYSTEM HEALTH: EXCELLENT

[jamespotterthefirst]

Prelude (Ethan x f!MC)

Book: Open Heart, Book 1 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1.5 K Premise: Three moments leading up to their fateful meeting.

Author’s Note: In which I try to explain why MC didn’t know what Ethan, her medical hero, looked like. Also, my (late) fic for the book 1 replay. Thank you @aestheticartsx​ for pre-reading!

Three.

Harper frowns down at the file in her hand, her sharp gaze burning into the collated papers as though coercing them to solve their dilemma once and for all. From the end of the table, Cyrus lets out an inpatient sigh.

“It's very simple, Harper,” he drones. Ethan's fists clench reflexively at his sides, urging to remind Cyrus that Harper is the chief now and warrants more respect than his insufferable tone is offering. “The last spot should go to the candidate from Harvard. We are the best hospital on the east coast, after all. It only makes sense.”

Harper looks unconvinced and still, her pensive expression remains fixed in the file.

“An ivy league degree does not a good doctor make,” Naveen adds sagely into the ensuing silence. His smile is placid enough but Ethan knows the older doctor well enough to hear the warning edge in his voice. Evidently, even Naveen disapproves of Cyrus's lack of respect for their new chief.

Cyrus scoffs.

“And if you need further proof of that, Doctor Cyrus,” Ethan begins dryly, eyes boring into him. “Then look no further than your side of the conference table.”

A few attendings—at least the ones who have become increasingly tired of Cyrus's boastful proclamations about his alma mater—laugh quietly at the jab. Cyrus splutters, his face an unpleasant shade of red as he glares daggers at Ethan.

“This candidate,” Harper says at last, unaware or uncaring of what she had just interrupted. Her two lone words are enough to command the room's attention at once, but her hazel eyes are on Ethan. “You're convinced she's the best fit for Edenbrook?”

Ethan meets her eye and pauses.

It's the first time they look at each other directly since he ended their relationship two weeks prior. Despite the brief time apart and an unshakeable resolve to be professional, his stomach sinks heavy, like a stone.

Harper looks as graceful and dignified as ever, keeping every emotion in check. Yet, as she holds his gaze, Ethan can see a small flicker or sadness and his stomach twists with guilt.

“I'm positive, Chief Emery,” Ethan responds. “This candidate exhibits the type of potential we look for at Edenbrook.”

The use of her new title seems to snap Harper out of a reverie.

“She graduated top of her class and ranked in the top percent among our chosen cohort of interns,” Ethan continues. “I've also looked into her research and it's among the most promising I've seen. I recommend her without reservations.”

With a single nod and a sense of finality, Harper closes the file.

“Then it's settled. We have our last intern.”

“You're joking, Harper,” Cyrus blurts out, incensed. “We're giving a coveted spot to the candidate from UCLA?”

He says the name of the school with so much derision, Ethan feels his ears flare up.

“That Doctor Ayala?” Cyrus continues.

“Doctor Allende,” Ethan corrects, jaw clenched.

“Don't we have enough charity cases in the cohort already? This is token—”

But the vitriol is quickly interrupted by several things happening at once: Ethan darting forward, fists ready; a startled, collective gasp from the other attendings; Naveen, quietly intercepting Ethan and halting his steps with a steady hand, a feat that is impressive for a man much older and shorter; and Harper, also on her feet, directing a disgusted look at Cyrus she doesn’t bother to disguise behind professionalism.

“I would think very carefully about finishing that sentence if I were you, Doctor Cyrus,” she says, her voice low but with the impact of a clashing gavel. “And I ask that you address me as Chief Emery moving forward.”

Two.

“If you end up marrying someone with a Boston accent,” Laurel is saying with a devilish grin. “I will never be able to keep a straight face when they talk. Pahk the cah in Hahvahd Yahd.”

Her older sister peers at Lilac over the flaps of an open cardboard box, the glint in her eye growing wickeder still. “Imagine what they’d sound like in bed. You're so fucking gawgeous, dawctaw—”

Before her sister can escalate that impression into disturbing territory, Lilac silences her with a well-aimed pillow. It succeeds in hitting Laurel straight in the face but also in turning her laughter into a cackle.

“Are you going to help me pack or not?” Lilac says sternly, though the effect is entirely ruined by the smile that manages to break through.

Laurel raises her hands in defeat and returns to packing Lilac's books neatly. They work in companionable silence for a few minutes with nothing but their favorite music blaring from the speakers of Lilac's phone.

“Is this the book?” her sister asks suddenly, turning a worn textbook in her hands and studying it closely. “The one written by your medical crush?”

For some inexplicable reason, Lilac feels her face flare with heat. “He's not my crush.”

“You just worship the ground he walks on,” her sister returns, flipping through Diagnostic Principles. “Though, you're right. In order to have a crush you'd need to know what he looks like.”

Laurel reaches the back cover, frowning. “Why wouldn't he add an author picture?”

Lilac says nothing, biting the inside of her cheek. She can't blame her sister for being curious and a bit disappointed at the lack of visual representation. After all, Lilac had felt crestfallen when all she found in the author's information section was the green and blue Edenbrook logo.

“Maybe he's a private man and doesn't like his picture out in the world? Maybe he wants aspiring doctors to focus on his research and not his looks?”

“So he's either really hot or really ugly,” Laurel returns, unmoved by Lilac's impassioned speech. “Have you ever tried looking him up online?”

Lilac had been tempted many times, but she was fiercely adamant about keeping her medical hero a mystery outside of his work. It already felt invasive enough to track down his undergrad research and every other minor paper he'd ever written. When it came to Ethan Ramsey, Lilac had searched every corner of scholarly journals and databases, absorbing every piece of his work with an adoration that was already embarrassing enough.

Plus, she would never admit it out loud, but she was also afraid that knowing what the brilliant doctor looked like would somehow ruin him for her. Or at least, alter the image of him she had constructed in her head for so many years. It felt right to continue seeing Dr. Ramsey as the brilliant force that pushed her into her dream career and not as a definitive set of features.

“It doesn't matter what he looks like. He's the best and I'm going there to learn from him, not to judge his appearance.”

“I'm Googling him,” Laurel announces, already typing furiously into her phone. After a few seconds, her phone returns results and her eyebrows shoot up, staying suspended for longer than normal.

“What?” Lilac asks despite herself.

“Wow.”

“Wow what?”

“Just… wow.” Laurel stares down at the screen with such awestruck amazement that Lilac feels a powerful wave of curiosity. “He’s shirtless in some of these.”

“What?” Lilac yelps, feeling her face flare up at once. 

“Yeah, apparently you’re not his only fan. Tons of people have taken his picture.” Her sister seems to blink out of a trance, turning the screen toward Lilac. “Here, see for your—”

But Lilac turns her gaze away almost out of reflex.

“No!” 

The word comes out far more impassioned than Lilac intended. Still, she resolutely turns her head. “That feels...invasive, somehow?”

“Come on—”

“I'm serious, Lau. I don't want to see. I'm already nervous enough about this whole thing without having to worry about this wow-worthy revelation. And besides, taking someone’s shirtless picture without their consent and posting it online is already bad enough. It feels wrong supporting that.”

Laurel rolls her eyes.

“I'm going to see him in less than a week anyway. With clothes. In a professional setting. As I should. If I waited all these years, I can wait that long.”

A knowing, devious sort of smile pulls at her sister's face. She mumbles something over the music and Lilac can swear it sounds oddly like: “...worth the wait.”

One.

Ethan should have taken the broken and sputtering coffee machine in his apartment as an omen. His morning definitely declined from then on, starting with gridlock traffic and ending with an infuriatingly long line at his favorite coffee place.

The ultimate lack of coffee is probably his fault because Ethan had spent too much time deliberating whether or not he wanted to go with store bought coffee on what promised to be a grueling day. When he had finally made up his mind, however, the line was already out the door.

Irritated and caffeine deprived, he drives back to Edenbrook.

“You're earlier than we agreed,” Naveen says as soon as Ethan accepts his incoming call. “What was the point of rearranging the whole schedule if you were going to come in when you pleased anyway?”

“I'm not even through the gates yet. What are you spying on me?”

“No need. You forget how predictable you are.”

Naveen chuckles as he says this which eases some of Ethan's irritation. The older doctor had purposely scheduled him later in the day to give him some peace on the first day of the new intern cohort.

Naturally, Ethan arrived several hours early, as per his custom.

“Or maybe you know me too well by now.”

Naveen's benevolent laughter turns into a dry but lingering cough on the other end of the line. Instantly, Ethan's insides freeze over, his stomach sinking unpleasantly.

He opens his mouth to question his mentor about this persisting symptom, when sheer reflex prompts him to stomp on the breaks so suddenly, his body jerks forward then slams against his seat.

“Shit.”

Something—or rather someone— had crossed the parking lot road right in front of his car, standing mere inches away from his front bumper.

“Ethan?” Naveen asks through the speaker.

When Ethan recovers and regains movement of his arms and legs, he feels the spike of adrenaline give way to pure annoyance.

The offending pedestrian is a young brunette clad in blue scrubs, a medical intern by the looks of it. She stands there in the middle of the road, her mouth hanging open in a way that would have been comical to Ethan if he wasn't so irritated.

They stare at one another, though Ethan is convinced she can't see much through the tinted glass.

Then, right before his eyes, she seems to recover from the shock. Drawing herself to her full height, she glares at Ethan. At least, he thinks she's glaring through the dark lenses of her sunglasses.

Ethan almost scoffs.

She has the audacity to be angry when she was the one who made the rookie mistake of aimlessly crossing in front of him?

Who the hell does she think she is?

“Asshole,” she mutters, the word quite audible through his windows.

Before a stunned Ethan can respond, she turns on her heel and rushes toward the hospital, a curtain of dark hair dancing behind her.

“What was that?” Naveen asks, still on the call.

“I hate interns,” Ethan responds much to the older doctor's amusement.

Bonus:

Author’s Note: In other words, my MC was late to her orientation because of Ethan and that’s how she met him in the waiting room lol. Thank you so much for reading! 

*Tagging Separately 

[asssikawa]

pretty boy swag

i was just in a silly goofy mood, dont take it seriously pls;; gojo x gn! reader

summary: gojo being a pick me boy for you

AU where curses don’t exist; tw underaged smoking and drinking courtesy of shoko. art by @reiouta

you didn’t know how much longer you could tolerate the menace to society; satoru gojo. as of the passing recent months, he started actually acknowledging your existence after months of hanging around his acquaintances. you weren’t sure if you missed that he walked past you as if you were thin air, constantly bumping shoulders with him or gojo actually pestering you in the name of “wanting to get closer.”

walking down the empty halls of your school, you had memorized each route gojo and his group walked down… just to avoid them. an all too familiar voice followed by a song boomed in the empty hallways; dread immediately rose in you, as you attempted to pick up speed to lose track of the white haired teen. “pretty boy coming through,” he said in a sing-a-long voice, his eyes landing on your distant figure. “(name)!” he called out, making you flinch. slowly, you turned your head, a forced smile burning the sides of your mouth.

“hey gojo,” you squeaked out; you wished you could beat yourself up for sounding so meek. on gojo’s sides, two others peered out, the more tolerable ones from the group; suguru getou and shoko ieiri. a sigh of relief left your mouth upon seeing the two. getou’s usual content expression morphed into one of a sly fox.

“now gojo, it’s not nice to scare the underclassmen. you should know better,” getou said, followed up by shoko’s sarcastic tsk tsk of disappointment.

“right? what would poor utahime think about you bothering her best friend?” shoko said. she wore gojo’s sunglasses, adjusting them every now and then when they slid down her high nose bridge.

you take it back. they were just as bad as him.

gojo’s mouth opened to say something, but the bell cut him off. saved by the bell; quite literally. “get to class,” he said instead, another smirk splitting his face.

“i plan to,” you deadpanned, before hastily rushing to your first period, math. never have you wanted to be in math class so bad until gojo popped into your life. hell, you weren’t even good at math.

why had he started tormenting you out of all people? there was nothing particularly extraordinary about you; maybe it was the fact you were close to utahime? or nanami and haibara?

lost in your thoughts and endless possibilities, you had missed the bell ringing until the bubbly boy peered over your desk. his doe-like eyes scanned your dazed out face. “(name)? earth to (name)?” haibara said, waving his hand in front of your face. the taller blond man sighed, watching you finally snap out of your thoughts.

“you don’t even have any of the notes written, (name), that isn’t good for the quiz tomorrow,” nanami said, pulling out his composition book, before beckoning you to take the notebook.

“kenny,” you started.

“i’ll take that notebook right back if you call me that again.”

“you are godsent,” you said, batting your eyelashes his way. a hearty laugh emitted from haibara, his bright smile nearly lit up nanami’s mood once more.

“what’s got you thinking so hard?” haibara asked, draping his body over the seat while watching you pack up.

“surely if you’re thinking, it’s never good,” nanami muttered, earning an offended ‘hey’ from you. pressing your cheek against your balled fist, letting out a small hum. do you tell them or not?

“it’s just that, you know how gojo had never acknowledged me before? he’s been non stop pestering me these days and i’m thinking to myself; why? he couldn’t possibly like utahime and trying to get information out of me, she hates his guts!” you exclaimed, adjusting the bag over your shoulders. the duo glanced at each other, focusing back on you.

“(name), have you considered that he may like you? you know? have a crush?” haibara said, scratching the back of his head. you stayed silent for a while, pondering on the idea of gojo liking you.

“that’s a joke right,”

“why are you so pessimistic about people actually taking interest in you, romantically?” nanami asked, leaning against the desk.

“no romantic attention from anyone my entire life,” you said, standing from your seat.

“how lonely,” haibara responded.

~

the last few periods went by quicker than expected. the ring of the bell pulled you out of your thoughts, turning away from the window. it was surprisingly beautiful for this time of year; the skies were blue, soft fluffy clouds passed every now and then. the occasional gust of wind rattled windows of your class as your teacher paused his lecture. you preferred the gloomy weather, but seeing the clear skies was nice. packing up your materials and standing, you peered out the door, widening your eyes. down the hall was your trio of haibara, nanami and utahime… speaking to the other trio. utahime’s raven hair was tied in a low ponytail, a vague look of annoyance washed over on her face as gojo spoke, her expression softened every time shoko had interjected the conversation. you always wondered why the two aren’t dating yet. nanami’s eyes landed on your figure, his fingers pointed downwards towards the steps, in hopes gojo hadn’t seen you yet.

unfortunately for the both of you, he had caught notice of nanami’s subtle hand motions and followed his eyes towards you. “wow, it’s (name)! we were just waiting on you!” gojo said, his sunglasses shifted downwards, revealing his icicle blue eyes. utahime turned towards you, mouthing an ‘i am so sorry.’ reluctantly, your feet dragged along the halls, it felt as if weights were tied around your ankles. eventually, you made it towards the group; gojo’s long arm draped around your shoulders. your heart raced at the sudden gesture, heat raising to your face. “wouldn’t we be so cute together? look how big my hand is compared to theirs!” he exclaimed, his hand engulfed in yours.

“nah, you guys wouldn’t, sorry he’s so annoying, (name). no wonder why getou gets more hoes than you,” shoko said, pulling out a single cigarette and a lighter from her bag. her auburn eyes met yours, “want one?”

“shoko! how many times do i have to say not to smoke? and (name) is young too!” utahime sighed, earning a small ‘sorry’ from the girl. the black haired teen peered over at you, another sly expression settling over his face.

“say, satoru; let me compare hands with (name) too, i want to see something,”

“you can compare from afar,” gojo responded, pulling you closer to his side. a chesire cat grin split shoko’s face, slinging her arm over your body as well.

“cmon satoru, sharing is caring~” her body smelt of husky tobacco, traces of pinewood on her uniform. her breath smelt like strawberry bubblegum; her glossed lips came closer to your ear, “play along,” she whispered, her brunette strands brushing against your cheek. a snore followed by a scoff came from gojo’s scrunched up expression.

“don’t you have a bottle of vodka you should be downing? besides (name) doesn’t like girls like you,” he said, sticking out his tongue.

“well, why don’t we ask (name), what do you say?”

“don’t put them on the spot like that; seriously, you guys, you’re third years for pete’s sake,” utahime swatted shoko’s arm off your body whilst poking gojo’s side, making him squeal as he let go of you. a frown replaced his usual cocky expression.

“geez utahime, i didn’t take you as the jealous type- ouch, what was that for?” gojo exclaimed, the water bottle bouncing off his head. he rubbed his head. you stared at haibara’s sympathetic expression, still processing everything that happened within a matter of minutes.

just what the fuck was going on?

weeks had passed since that incident and things had become fairly normal again. your grades were flourishing, with the help of haibara and nanami. the three of you have been hanging out more often; utahime and shoko finally started dating. the two of them occasionally tagged along with your trio. gojo has finally stopped pestering you; you should be happy, no? you had convinced yourself that you didn’t miss the attention from the white haired teen. everything you did felt empty without his presence.

you had memorized each hallway gojo and his group walked down, passing through them; in hopes he would stop you, calling your name in his usual whiny voice. you didn’t hear his favorite song; no more him bringing you close with his lanky arms. subconsciously, you brought your hand close to your shoulders, feeling the ghost of gojo’s touch. “(name)? what are you doing here? more like, why are you standing there?” a feminine voice called out. you turned, seeing shoko standing down the hall, her bag slugged over her shoulder, a lit cigarette dangled from the corner of her lips.

“shoko,” her name left your lips in a hushed whisper. “why are you here?” she quirked her lip to the side, pursing her pink lips.

“i’m heading to see menace 1 and menace 2, now, answer my question. you hardly come around these parts,” shoko said, leaning against the wall.

“can i come with you?”

“huh… ah, you miss gojo?” overwhelming amounts of embarrassment washed over your expression; you could already sense your face radiating in heat.

“whatever! i just want to check up on him, that’s all.”

walking down the road, you and shoko conversed, her short auburn tresses blowing in the wind. the roads and sidewalks were painted orange as the sun nestled under the skyline.

“i thought you stopped smoking?” you asked, as shoko tossed the finished cigarette on the sidewalk, stomping on it.

“i’m trying for utahime, but it gets hard when i’m stressed, you know? especially with dumb and dumber,” she said, pulling out a silver flask.

“shoko!”

“what? do you want a sip?”

“no!”

sitting at the park, getou and gojo awaited shoko’s arrival. squinting his eyes at the distance, getou spotted two figures walking towards them. “looks like shoko has company,” getou mentioned, looking back at his taller companion. a frustrated groan left gojo; his glasses slipping down his face.

“good god, if she brings utahime again,” he responded, extending his arms on the bench, his legs spread out. a sly smirk twitched onto getou’s face.

“hey shoko and (name)!” getou exclaimed, waving. gojo’s half-lidded eyes shot open at your name, adjusting his sunglasses. his lanky body rose from the bench, straightening out his sluggish position. he cleared his throat, crossing his legs over each other. upon seeing getou and shoko greet one another, your eyes drifted off to the white haired male sitting in the background, avoiding eye contact with you. a crestfallen expression washed over your face, shuffling over to gojo.

“hey, gojo,” you said softly, sitting across from him. he let out a hum of acknowledgement before looking down at the painted bench. “why have you been avoiding me?”

“why have i been avoiding you? i don’t know (name), maybe just maybe, it’s because i don’t want to bother you with my advances, y’know? could be a contributor i guess, i don’t know, it’s a mystery,” gojo responded, traces of sarcasm in his usual bright voice. he was quite literally a child, huh? your mind recoiled, a frown twitching onto your face. is this who you really want to date?

“listen, i know, and i’m sorry; i just miss you a lot, okay? i like you by my side,” you muttered the last part to yourself. unfortunately for you, gojo had heard every single bit of it.

“huh? what did you say?” he teased, resting his hand on top of yours. his glasses slide down his nose, revealing his ice blue eyes. “you like me, eh?”

“don’t push it.”

the winter semester rolled by rather quickly. walking into the heated building, you removed your outside shoes and scarf. after preparing yourself for the long day, you walked down the hallway, spotting your group down the hallway. peering over the group, gojo waved at you with a big smile, his cheeks and nose tip flushed red from the cold. “babe!” he said, walking over to you with opened arms. heat rose to your face, as he wrapped his arms around you, peppering your face with small kisses. his cold fingers cupped your feverish skin. “my own personal heater,” he said.

“hey, get a room, you two,” shoko said, pulling out an unlit cigarette. utahime frowned at her, as shoko mumbled a small sorry before putting away the cigarette.

“i know miss locking lips isn’t talking,” gojo sneered back. “guys look at how cute (name) is compared to me! their hands are so small!” he gushed, pressing your warm hands against his.

if it were you four months ago, you’d rip away your hand in disgust, however, a warm smile split your face, holding onto his long slender fingers.

“look they are even holding onto me,” gojo said, as the bell rang. everyone shuffled around to their respective classes as you and your group stayed at the end of the hall. with a smirk, his white eyelashes fluttered under his sunglasses. they slowly went down his nose bridge, exposing his beautiful eyes once more. “get to class.”

[inkandpen22]

California Dreamin’ (2/?)

Pairing: Topper x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: underage drinking, mild violence, drug use 

Part Summary: Y/N and Topper have lunch together and later attend the Cameron’s party. 

Masterlist

Y/N

After surfing for most of the morning, I've grown tired. The waves here are so different than in Malibu. I run out of the water onto the sand, tossing my hair to the side. I hadn't noticed Topper on the beach in the middle of a morning run until I return to my belongings. He slows to a stop once he reaches my stuff. 

"Morning," I greet with a warm smile. 

"I could see you down the beach. You're really good!" 

"Thanks! Years of practice." I giggle. 

He raises a brow. "What are you up to later?" 

"Well, there's the party at the Camerons since Ward and Rose are gone for the weekend. You're going right?" I ask. 

"I was thinking of making an appearance." He remarks wittily. "You free until then?" 

I shrug. "As a bird." 

"Would you want to get some coffee or something?" 

A faint blush forms on my cheeks. "Sounds good." 

____________________________________

Topper

Sitting at the small table outside of the cafe, I can't help but admire her as she talks about California. All changed out her bathing suit and into a cropped Boston band T-shirt and ripped up Daisy Dukes. Half of her hair is tossed up into a bun, the rest hanging loose in waves over her shoulders. She doesn't notice my absentmindedly listening as I analyze every inch of her, even her white Converse high tops, the laces so stretched that she can tie them around her ankles multiple times. 

The waitress interrupts my daze and takes our orders. 

"Regular black coffee and farmer's breakfast please," I request. 

"Lavender tea and granola acai bowl, please. Thank you so much." Y/N smiles, handing her menu to the girl. 

What the hell is acai anyway? Does anyone know? Because I don't. 

When her eyes meet mine, she giggles. "What? Are you gonna start calling me Granola Girl?" 

"I didn't even know how to pronounce acai until you said it," I admit. 

"You should try it! It's very good for you!" She encourages. 

I make a 'yuck' sound and cower. "Isn't it purple?" 

"Maybe... Don't let that scare you!" She giggles. "Branch out, Thorton." 

"Okay, I'll try it, but only because you're peer-pressuring me!" I laugh. 

After a few minutes, my coffee and her tea arrive. Almost immediately, she reaches for the bottle of honey on the table and squeezes some in. 

"Did you know it takes bees almost a month to produce honey?" She asks. "A little fun fact."  

I glance up from stirring my coffee right as she brings her honey-coated finger to her mouth and begins to suck on it. Her eyes meet mine innocently, not suspecting of my thoughts. Fuck me. 

I swallow hard and quickly return my focus to picking up my coffee. 

"Sarah mentioned a party happening at The Boneyard tomorrow. What's that?" She asks with furrowed brows. 

"It's uh... it's place on The Cut," I stammer, still caught off guard by the honey incident. 

She frowns as takes a sip from her tea. "Why is it called 'The Cut'?" 

"It's where Pogues live. It's just the less valuable part of the island," I do my best to describe. 

"Pogues?" 

"The people from The Cut." 

"Do you all from your neighborhood have a name?" 

"They call us Kooks." I shrug. 

"At least it's fair. Sounds rather West Side Story," she teases with a giggle.

The waitress appears with our food. My plate is rather basic, All-American breakfast. Y/N's is a symbol of the trendy West Coast. In summary, we fit our stereotypes. 

I'm hesitant to say what I'm thinking, but Y/N doesn't know the island as I do. She hasn't met any Pogues and should be careful. "You should stay away from Pogues. They have a tendency to steal and lie." I advise. 

Her face falters, apparently, they don't have stuff like where she's from. "Oh... wow... noted." 

"Yeah, I would stay close to Rafe or me tomorrow night," I suggest, genuinely concerned for her and partially for my own benefit. 

She smiles, taking a bite of her smoothie bowl. "Will do."

"Our friends will be there so you should be okay, but Pogues will be too. Tourons too."  

She laughs. "Is that what you call tourists?" 

I suppress a grin and drag my tongue across my lower lip. 

"So I'm a touron?" She questions with amusement. 

My eyes grow wide and impulsively, my hand travels across the table to land on hers. "No, no! Not you!" I then notice my hand resting on hers. Oh geez, I'm messing this up! "Oh.. uh.. sor-" 

Calmly, she glides her hand over, allowing our fingers to interlock. She brings them down to rest on her lap under the table. "You're fine, Topper!" She giggles. "You apologize too much. Relax. It's just me." 

A smile forms on my lips and I nod. She's right, it's her, she's not scary. She's kind and understanding, more relaxed than anyone I've ever met. 

"Here, try this." She scoops up some of her smoothie bowl, picking up some granola and fruit on top. She guides the spoon into my mouth and I try it. 

I nod, processing the experience. "Okay, I'm a fan." 

"I knew you would be," she grins, giving my hand a faint squeeze. 

The remainder of the meal, on the walk to the car, throughout the drive, and until I dropped her off, we hold hands. It felt so natural and right, as though our hands were made for each other. It was difficult to let go, to say the least. 

__________________________________________________

Well into the party at the Cameron's, Rafe challenges me to jump off the roof into their pool three stories below. Kelce gets him fired up, encouraging the challenge. Y/N and Sarah innocently stand nearby on the balcony, smoking a joint together. I would be lying if I said I haven't been watching Y/N all night. That yellow bikini should be illegal. 

"I'll do it if Y/N does!" I compromise. 

Rafe grins wickedly and I instantly regret what I said. He gets up from his spot on the couch and jogs over to the girls. He rests his hand on Y/N's lower back, dangerously close to her ass. I swallow hard, doing my best not to make a scene. As they talk and laugh, he glides his arm around her. The way she looks at him so intently, makes me wonder if it's solely friendly. Then again, Y/N has the ability to make everyone feel like they're the most important person in the world. 

"Oh, you're on!" I hear her tell him. 

Rafe takes her hand and brings her over. "She's down!" 

The next thing I know, Y/N and I are standing on the roof of the Cameron's house. 

"Scared?" I ask her as I peer down at the pool below. People stand with their heads tilted back, cheering for us to jump. 

She shrugs. "It's just like cliff jumping. I do it all the time back home." She slips her hand into mine. 

My eyes flicker down to our interlocked hands and an idea pops into my head. I tuck my arm behind her legs and scoop her up. 

She instantly flings her arms around my neck and squeals. "Topper!" 

"Ready?" I chuckle. 

"On three!" She giggles nervously. 

I nod and begin to count. "Okay! One! Two!" I jump and cheers ensue louder. 

Y/N screams and clings to me. Her face is hidden within the curve of my neck. Within seconds, the cool pool water consumes us. We break apart and I kick to the surface. When I pop out of the water and wipe my eyes, I find Y/N close by. She swims over to me, smiling brightly. I snake my arm around her and guide her legs around my waist. 

I point to her and announce to the cheering crowd. "This is the coolest girl in the OBX!" 

________________________________

Rafe

The party has died down, the sun threatening to rise in two to three hours. Topper and Kelce finish a game of pong outside and Sarah crashed a while ago. I watch dazed as Y/N takes another hit from the joint and hands it to me. She sits back onto the couch and leans into my side, resting her head on my shoulder as I take another hit. Once there's nothing left but ash, I set it down on the ashtray on the side table. I rest my now free hand on Y/N's knee as she rests against me.  

"So soft..." I mumble, rubbing my thumb over her skin. 

Y/N rises off my shoulder, resting her chin against it. I turn my head, meeting her red and dilated eyes. She smiles softly at me. 

I lift my other hand to caress her cheek. "So beautiful..." 

She stares into my eyes and I'm left wondering what's going on inside her head. My eyes flicker down to her lips and I want to kiss her. Following my instincts, I lean in. 

Shaking her head, she presses a hand to my chest and moves away. "Rafe, don't." 

I persist, scooting closer to her. "Why not? It's not like you're still with Nate," I chuckle. 

"We're friends..." She reminds me. 

I press against her shoulder to urge her down onto the couch. "We could be more." I lean in to kiss her again. 

Within seconds, Y/N's palm flies across my cheek with a smack. "Jesus Rafe! I said no!" 

I hiss, my hand covering up my cheek. 

Y/N takes the opportunity to slip out from under me. She storms off toward the staircase. I slam my fist against the back of the couch. Damn, that slap fucking hurt. She really knows how to hit! Suddenly, Topper and Kelce appear from outside, laughing and talking about the party. I pull out my vile of coke from my pocket, ready to release the pain in my face. 

"Where did Y/N go?" Topper chuckles as they plop down on the couch with me.  

"I don't know, bed? Who gives a fuck," I grumble, pouring myself a new line on the table. 

“What’s with the attitude?” Kelce questions. 

“Nothing, man. Just don’t care about her.” I hide behind a disdained expression. 

________________________________

Masterlist

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