#crafted studio apartments

[zeloinator]

Redecorating my ffxiv small housing garden for having it (and the house in general) be a good hangout spot for the static and A Corner Torments Me (pls pls pls just give me 5 more spots 10 if youre feeling kind ;-; 20 spots is not enough for a garden)

[crimsonmochi]

Personal ― S. Gojo

Synopsis. Pornstar!Satoru is used to fucking for money's sake. It's something he does often and something he does really fucking well. When he is requested to guest you, however, it shocks everyone to see an immediate energy shift.

Pairing. Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Content. MDNI, fem! pornstar! reader, chubby! reader implied, gender neutral pronouns used for reader, no use of "y/n", smut, p in v, cunnilingus, slight choking, some semblance of onlyfans, pussydrunk! gojo, gojo is left handed canon, a little bit pathetic, and a little nasty, probable breaches of work boundaries, no beta

Word Count. 3.9k

Parts. one | two

A/N. baby's first jjk fic, be gentle </3 please give me feedback and lmk if i forgot some tags :3 reposts encouraged!

Rain dribbled and splattered on the window, the tiny water beads reflecting and refracting the dim light from Satoru's phone. He sat upright on his bed, muscular back against the headboard, upper arms aching from his last session two days prior. He had reluctantly agreed to participate in a "professional"―which, to Satoru, was just a word for more work, smaller pay―shoot with some girl he could barely remember the name of.

The result? The director had barked at him to put himself in impossible positions for the camera's sake, which left his limbs sore and not in a good way. Satoru forced the scene to end, left with his money and a vow to himself to never ever work for studios again. He hated being told what to do, especially from guys who don't actually have what it takes.

While painkillers and a nice massage from the spa below his apartment complex did not eradicate the pain, it did make it much more tolerable.

Satoru's thumb swiped across the screen, scrolling through comments from his latest post, a message to his subscribers asking for content ideas. Sure, he did not like being told what to do, but being kindly suggested by his fans to fulfill their desires was different. In the end, he was still in control.

And it probably won't land him in a pharmacy either.

The request that Satoru found came up the most was for him to do ASMR; some fans wanted to hear those pretty praises, those filthy words he gives to his co-stars, spoken to them instead. Although the idea was alluring, Satoru would rather be on camera than behind a fancy microphone in a recording booth—primarily because he was too proud to opt out of showing his god-crafted body (that cocky bastard). But then again, he could find a way to do both...

He shelved that idea for later.

Other requests were suggestions of people to shoot with. Some popular names came up, women and men he had already filmed with and didn't find too interesting. He could fake it, of course; he was an actor, it was half of his job―but he would be unsatisfied with the end result.

Satoru was about to quit reading requests, bored and uninspired until his cerulean eyes stuck themselves to a particular comment. The space between his eyebrows creased as his eyebrows furrowed. It was a subscriber recommending another star, explaining how they weren't very well known, but they believed them and Satoru would make a great pair.

The wording was not what caught his attention, he had gotten plenty of requests with the same exact sentence before. No, it was the name, your page's name―which, to Satoru, felt familiar yet distant. He hadn't shot with you before, no, that wasn't it. Yet he was certain he knew you, knew of you at least.

His thumb reached for the search bar to type in your alias, his eyelids flickering when his gaze fell on your profile, your soft face on display. Satoru felt his length chub up in his boxers, soft lips parting to accommodate for a sudden need of oxygen.

Just as his subscriber said, you were less popular than him, with less than half the number of subscribers he had and an inarguably cheaper paywall in front of your content. Memories of happily searching for his new credit card numbers to pay for your videos came back rushing to him, memories only a few months old.

Satoru recalled seeing a preview and being immediately smitten by your pretty figure, your plush thighs and your tummy, that tiny thrill in your eyes. Fuck, how he had spent half of his revenue giving you tips on an anonymous account―just to obtain a personalized picture of just those pretty thighs, fisting his aching cock to that image for days.

Just looking at that profile again, oh my god.

His eyes laid on the subscription button. He did not even bother getting on an alt account this time to press it, watching the confirmation request pop up on his screen to gather his fingerprint in order to complete the purchase. When the paywall finally went away, Satoru let out a breath he wasn't even aware of holding, his hand travelling to his boxers, palming himself through his briefs as he scrolled.

And oh, he was gone again.

Satoru had never sent a message to his agent that frantically in his life, asking her―no, begging her to contact you to secure a shoot with you. Asked her to do whatever she could to get you in the studio.

The next few days went by without a reply from your part, and Satoru was going mad. He could not remember being this nervous for anyone, this needy. In between sessions of overthinking (maybe he should have asked you himself or maybe offered something more), he found himself replaying videos of yours he had already seen, notably the ones with other men. He knew them by heart.

Those guys didn't seem to appreciate you nearly as much as you needed, as much as you deserved. It pissed him off beyond what he thought was possible, yet made him so hard; He knew he could fuck you so much better than those amateurs you were with, pleasure you in ways they wouldn't even dare.

Unbeknownst to Satoru, you were just intimidated by his offer. Too much money from too big of a creator and an offer that seemed too good to be real to not hold a catch, which is why you did not answer right away, anxiously weighing the implications. It wasn't until he, in a moment of pure desperation and haze, shot you a private message confirming the offer that you replied, shyly agreeing.

From then on, Satoru could barely contain himself, daydreaming about everything he could do to you with his left hand eagerly moving up and down his cock, breathy exhales escaping his mouth and shaky fists gripping his bedsheets. Too often, he found himself checking the calendar on his phone, awaiting the shoot date, disappointed every time that it was still the 15th instead of the long-awaited 21st. Satoru Gojo did not exactly believe himself to be a patient man.

He sent you little messages throughout the week with ideas and reassuring messages. He wanted to know everything about you, your likes and dislikes, what you thought of him, how your body worked, and how he could get you to whine and moan for him.

On the day of the shoot, Satoru was almost unrecognizable to others involved―his agent and the friends he'd stopped to visit on his way to his studio. The man people had described as cocky, overly confident, and self-absorbed was reduced to a nervous, lost-in-thought mess. All because of you, the pretty little thing he would get to have his hands on later that evening.

He'd showered three times, spent too long in his room figuring out what clothes to wear, as if that would matter, and freaked out over his hair. His hair.

And when you finally arrived at the studio with your assistant, he nearly forgot how to breathe. That, or he was purposely holding back for fear of scaring you off, this cute little thing before him. You introduced yourself, pretty eyes gazing up at him, taking a second to admire each and every one of his features. As soon as he saw your smile, here in person, he told himself he could die happy.

Well, he could die happy after having a taste of you.

You were shy while introducing yourself to him. The interaction could easily have been misread as awkwardness, and that was what Satoru would have gone with, too, if he didn't know any better (if he didn't think so highly of himself). Your softer voice, your pretty eyes, god, those eyes. He could tell you might've had a tiny crush on him as well, and he would be lying if he said it didn't make his head reel.

Your assistant all but confirmed it when you excused yourself to the restroom, admitting that you hadn't stopped gushing about this opportunity since you got it.

And when you got back, he had the most annoying smirk and glint in his eyes, looking down at you.

After discussing what he wanted for the scene, making sure you were comfortable and willing to participate―a gentleman, truly, asked you so many times that you started chuckling your answers―he had his agent and your assistant leave the studio after you agreed to dismiss them. He did not mind an audience, but he wanted this to be personal.

"I film all my own shit anyways," he hummed, hopping behind the camera to adjust the angle.

In the film room of the studio was a bedroom set with a queen-sized bed with navy sheets and a wooden frame. A sliding-door closet with mirrors stood tall on the left side, and a bedside table on the right.

The scene you and Satoru agreed upon was vanilla, but he was pleased with the gist of it. Any way he could have you is a way he'd be pleased with, however. It didn't really matter how for the time being.

You sat in the middle of the bed, your back against the cold headboard and palms against the soft sheets, gazing at Satoru as he grumbled at the camera, shifting through the studio to find a new battery with his lips pursed in a pout. It amused you, seeing a different side of him.

It was only three minutes later that he climbed onto the bed, knees against the mattress as he moved towards you, those blue eyes staring at your frame through those pale lashes. He moved to straddle you, his back straight, his body looming over yours.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," mumbled Satoru, his hand firmly landing on the headboard to support himself, making a louder sound than he intended. "You tell me if I'm too much for you, alright, pretty?" he followed in a softer tone.

You nodded, the pad of your index landing on his shoulder and travelling down his torso, trailing close to the sweatpants he wore. Satoru reached his own unoccupied palm to your face, his fingers hooking themselves at the nape of your neck to pull you towards him. His nose brushed against yours before capturing your lips with his.

Satoru had never felt drunk on a kiss until you entered his studio.

As if a switch flipped in his head, he kept you closer to him, desperate and unwilling to pull away from your lips. He breathed shakily, his minty breath fanning over your mouth.

"Oh, you're good at this," he laughed, an arrogant laugh that made your pussy ache.

"Yeah?" you murmured.

"Yeah."

The hand on your cheek moved to your throat, squeezing at the sides―not enough to hurt, just to make oxygen sparse in your system. "I'll make you feel good, sweetheart, hm? I'll do better than those fucking losers on your page."

The sweetest words said oh so cruelly.

Although it was increasingly hard for you to think, you were able to click the pieces together pretty quick, your eyes widening and your pupils dilating.

'Fourth wall break wasn't part of the plan.

Oh.

He watched.'

Satoru's gaze had changed. Deep, yet precise in conveying the exact energy desired. A short, almost inaudible gasp escaped your lips, and fuck, he fed on that, on your reactions to him, no matter how small or insignificant. It mattered to him.

Warm fingers slipped under your the black camisole hugging your body before you could even notice his hand had left your throat, caressing your skin until he his the jackpot, massaging the same breasts he had spent hours looking at only within the past week.

"Oh-ho— nothing, no bra for me?" Satoru chuckled. He captured your nipple between his index and his thumb, rolling and pinching at it until it pebbled, drawing out a whimper from your lungs.

Satoru was fascinated by what he had under his hand, taking a too-curious approach to exploring, as if he had never seen or felt another body before this point in his life. He took his time to gently remove the fabric off of your body, imagining all the ways he could bind and explore it, worship it, cum all over those pretty tits—

It wasn't until he felt your soft hands trying to discard his shirt that he snapped out of his haze, realizing he was fucking up the pacing.

Satoru latched his mouth to one of your breasts, biting and sucking gingerly while he focused on getting you out of those tight leggings you wore just for him, that truly left nothing to the imagination. He frantically worked to get those white laced panties out of the way with a tad more force than he should have, causing a tear to rip into the fabric.

"Satoru—" you gasped, only halfway acting.

"I'll get you another pair," he groaned against your chest, licking over one of the bite marks he had left before unlatching to look down.

Satoru's brain short-circuited.

Sure, he's seen your body time and time over, but that had only ever been through the careful separation of a screen, a paywall. It was different to have access to it, to be able to touch and feel.

He thanked his earlier self for asking if he could eat you out, for now, getting to have your supple thighs around his face and neck. Fuck, he could really die happy now.

Satoru caught sight of your dripping cunt, juices dripping and latching onto your skin. He felt hungry for what seemed to be the first time in his life, moving down your body to kiss right over your mound, your scent filling his senses.

"Oh, s-shit, look at that," said Satoru.

Had he just stuttered?

He nudged his nose in between your folds, brushing against your clit with a swiftness that made your figure jolt. He chuckled, moving his arms to trap your hips and pin them to the mattress, muscles flexing under his skin to intimidate.

"God, she wants me so bad."

Satoru languidly licked up and down your slit, careful to miss your sensitive bud in the meanest way. He whimpered at the taste of you on his tongue, sweet in a natural way, catching both you and himself off guard. If his face wasn't buried in your cunt, you could have seen the faint blush creep to the surface of his cheeks.

"You ever had someone do this, sweet'art?" he mumbled against your heat, lips finally latching on to your clit.

"N-No, not really," you sighed.

"Mh," Satoru hummed disapprovingly, toying with the bundle of nerves between his teeth, one of his arms sneaking away from your hips. He teased his ring finger at your entrance. "You're, fuck- fuck― you're so― taste so good..."

He pushed his finger past the ring of muscle until he was knuckles deep, groaning before he returned his mouth to your clit, sucking in small intervals as he pumped in and out of your velvety walls. Satoru whined when your hand flew to his hair.

And when you moaned for him, he was a goner. He noticed the usually loud and audibly altered sounds had turned saccharine and almost timid.

You had been faking your moans?

He snickered at his realization, breaching through the noise of your moans and the quiet slurps. "I think she loves me," said Satoru in between breaths.

"Wha-, who―"

"Wasn't talking to you, love." Satoru's words drastically contrasted with his soft tone.

He punctuated his sentence by curling his digits to find and abuse that spongey spot, earning a string of nonsense words and whines from you, only encouraging his endeavour. The soft squelch of your pussy around his fingers and his mouth was enough to drive him to buck his hips toward the mattress.

When Satoru felt your soft thighs tighten around his head, he forced himself to pull away, grunting as you desperately moved to grip your fingers in his hair, trying to keep him there. If he hadn't had such strong convictions, he might have stayed down there for the rest of his life, dying happy with his face buried in your pretty cunt.

Satoru straightened his form, his fingers pulling out to find your clit, rubbing it in soft circles. You protested, whining pathetically.

"I know, I know, sweet girl, I'm sorry. Wanna... wanna have you cum on my cock. Can y'do that love? Want you all over me.."

He was mumbling, staring into your eyes with his pupils blown wide. The blue of his irises was overtaken by those black orbs, capturing you in his sight. His chin was wet and dripping, and his lips were slightly swollen.

A gorgeous mess for you to gaze upon.

Satoru's eyes dropped down to the sweatpants he threw on earlier (and called Suguru about just to make sure it looked "casual but not fuckboy"―Suguru called him a dumbass and hung up), carefully bunching up the fabric as well as his boxers before pushing down. Hissing as his length perked up, angry and weeping pre, he breathed a little heavier than before, his shoulders rising and falling. Satoru hadn't felt this worked up in months, maybe years, all from this.

For you.

And you would not be lying saying that had to be the prettiest dick you'd ever seen.

"Shit― look at that, hah," Satoru softly chuckled. "Lift your legs up f'me, pretty, come on.."

He grinned down at you as he helped you push your knees up to your limit, delicately placing your ankles on his shoulders and leaning his torso forward. Satoru placed one of his palms behind your cranium, a small yet protective measure.

"This okay?" asked Satoru, nudging his tip against your folds, collecting your slick to drench his cock, gliding over your clit.

"Y-Yeah, this is fine..."

It was rare for you to be nervous, given that you were used to having sex, filming it, and posting it for hundreds to see. Intercourse was not something you had any insecurities about. Usually.

What caught you off guard was the look in Satoru's eyes, the way he carried himself with a gentleness foreign to anything you've seen from him.

Satoru leaned down to press kisses against your jawline, open-mouthed and delicate, exhaling as he guided his length past your entrance, satisfied at the small gasp he heard from your lips.

"Oh my god, it's even fucking better than I imagined," said Satoru, his voice strained.

He could feel the stretch, your walls fluttering to accommodate him, still so tight and fuck―the tiny high-pitched, almost inaudible whimpers that escaped your throat.

"Don't know if I'll be able to pull out, sweet girl, hah―shit―she's sucking me in, look."

"Then don't," you mumbled, turning your head to meet his lips.

"You can't say shit like that," Satoru scoffed.

"Why not? I want it."

If you were simply pretending for the camera, that was some damn good acting. Good enough to turn Satoru into putty in your hold, to shut his brain off and make him act on instinct alone, script be damned.

Satoru pushed in until his pelvis hit your flesh, his hold on you faltering in strength momentarily, a helpless expression on his face. He listened to your quiet whines, his free hand returning to your clit in hopes of easing the strain.

"Just fuckin' perfect, holy fuuuck―" he strained out.

He withdrew his fingers from your clit to taste you once more, addicted. He drew his hips back slowly, just enough to leave about an inch inside, before thrusting back in at a slightly faster pace, setting a rather slow, intimate rhythm for you to follow.

Satoru watched as your breath picked up, how the slow rock of his hips made your eyes unfocus, and your mouth hang open. He watched as your forehead started to sweat, how your hair moved along his movements.

More importantly, Satoru listened. He heard those moans, shakier and uncalculated. He knew he wasn't crazy earlier when he had the reflection that you had been faking them.

Actually pathetic, those "men" you had been with.

"You're so pretty, y'know that?" Satoru mumbled, out of his mind. Like he was a schoolboy talking to his second-period crush. "So pretty... s'not fair..."

"H-Huh―?"

"S'not fair how it's gonna be―mh, shit―over, how s'gonna be over."

Satoru angled his hips differently, aiming for that spongey spot he had found earlier. That said, he would have had to be able to think straight to get it on the first try; which he could not, not when he was buried deep inside your cunt.

"W-What―aah, fuck, Satoru~"

You couldn't recall any shoots you had done―or any sex you had had at all, actually―that felt as good as Satoru.

"Right there, right? S'that i-it?"

He drove his movements faster, his pelvis hitting the back of your thighs and your ass with a louder SMACK! than it did previously, his breaths becoming further shallow and desperate. His skin grew increasingly damp as his efforts increased, and what were previously grunts turned to shameless moans, whines and whimpers, wanton and needy.

The man was losing his mind, so unlike anything you had seen from him.

Satoru's thrusts soon became erratic and uncoordinated, his face buried in your neck, drinking all of the sounds you were making like he was getting drunk on them.

"Can't... won't last l-long, okay? M'sorry I can't..." Satoru wailed.

His hand found your breast, flicking at your nipple in hopes of making you cum faster, needing to feel you. You were teetering on the edge, and he could feel it, feel how your pussy drew him in.

"Y'know you've been― y'been teasing me for two fuckin' weeks―aah... shitshitshit, so so g-good―two weeks." He paused to groan, pinching your flesh between his index and thumb to elicit a reaction from you. "Can't get enough of you, you're so―and you know it, you fuckin' know it too, I-I know y'do."

"Satoru! So close, please d-don't stop," you yelped, walls constricting around his length.

"Y-Yeah, pretty, I know, fuck―I know, sweet thing. I got you," Satoru panted and tightened his grip on the back of your head as if to brace for impact. "Y'do know how to drive me fuckin' crazy, with―mh, you're so soft and pretty, m-makes me want to quit the business, make you my own, God, make you my pretty wife."

Satoru's mind was running on overdrive, trying to keep up with what the fuck he was saying and making sure you felt good, as good as him. No easy task.

"Shit, gonna make you mine, I promise, fuck―"

His his stuttered as he spilled himself inside you, crying out like a wounded animal. It felt too good, it was too much.

Satoru kept going, although fucked out of his mind, determined to make you cum. He lapped up the sweat from your neck, not caring if it was nasty, while he reached down to your clit once more, slapping the sensitive bud a few times, stopping when he felt your cunt constrict and clench around him, a nice little ring of creamy mixed arousal forming at the base of his cock, gliding down your ass and spilling on the bedsheets.

"Such a mess, oh my God," Satoru whined.

He gathered some on two of his fingers, wiping it right off of your skin. "Taste it f'me, pretty," Satoru groaned.

He could have ascended to heaven right then as you wrapped your lips around his digits, glossy eyes peering up at him through your lashes.

"I gotta keep you."

Parts. one | two

[saeun]

the husband and his type of style jujutsu kaisen ⭒ fem-reader.

⤹ list ﹢ nanami kento, toji fushiguro, gojo satoru, choso.

﹙ syn ﹚ headcanons — as husbands, they all have their own unique characteristic.

+ love ‘su: “i thought you hated cho—” 🔇🔇🔇

NANAMI KENTO : the “get dressed” husband.

nanami's a man of his word. you want to eat out for dinner? get dressed by 7:00 p.m. you feel like doing a random grocery run? be ready by lunch, he'll come pick you up.

to nanami, nothing is more important than his wife's wants. having necessary items serve their purpose, obviously, but who doesn't like having their wants satisfied? he can never be one to hold you back from it.

happy wife, happy life. the motto he worships. as a man of tradition, he'd take a sick leave from his job if you wanted extra attention. a spoiler to the bone. whatever you want, just say the word and he'll tell you when to get ready.

TOJI FUSHIGURO : the “i'll make it” husband.

the king of craft. toji not only serves as eye candy for your eyes only, he also serves as your person handyman! whether it's to make, break, fix, or repair, he'll have the job done in no time. give him two hours, a beer, and a hammer.

to be loved is to be seen. for toji, he knows when you wish for something to be added to make daily activity easier. since you often crave snacks during the night, he reworked the nightstand's drawers into a small pantry filled with snacks.

sometimes you like to continue watching your show despite what you're doing. with this in mind, his new project is to either make a space into the shower wall where you can safely place your phone, or make a table for the bathtub when you're relaxing.

GOJO SATORU : the “don't you dare throw that away” husband.

a hoarder. most of the time, the items that gojo's been piling up in his studio are things that no longer serve him any purpose nor value. he simply doesn't feel like trashing it.

he'd run up the excuses that it's there for nostalgia, but if you ask him where or who the object came from, he'd be unable to answer. many times this led to unnecessary arguments. there was a time it got bad to the point he'd place the objects around the house out of pettiness.

this downside has its upside. with his hoarder mentality, you're guaranteed to find something you swore to the heavens you lost. there is always good in bad!

CHOSO : the “i miss my wife” husband.

doing grocery runs alone? he misses his wife. seeing a couple holding hands? he misses his wife. someone holding something that's enjoyed or liked by you? he misses his wife.

it's gotten to the point where if he's ever invited to a boys' night, the sentence “i miss my wife” is banned. if he says it he'll have to clean everyone's vehicle. to them, it's annoying. to you, it's peak husbandnity.

choso depends on you as much as you depend on him. oftentimes he needs a moment alone and you're always there to hold his hand. he's gotten used to such behaviour, so when he's set apart from you, the “i miss my wife” gets wicked.

[helioooss]

hard times

part two

synopsis: you have been dating mina in secret for nearly five years now. things start to fall apart after her fans finally raise speculations about your true relationship with her

w/c: 7.4k ((oops, got carried away and dragged it out))

warnings: mentions of alcohol…lots of angst. actually just pure angst

a/n: if i had a dollar for every time i yelled “girl, stand up for yourself” while writing this, i’d have like $6. againnnn, not proofread, was sleep deprived writing this, also only had 12 hours of free time at work <//3

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The early rays of sunlight cracked through the blackout curtains of your apartment window, sending out golden hues of light to wake you up. You turned over to wrap your arms around your girlfriend, but to your surprise, were met with cold sheets and an empty bed instead.

In confusion, you slowly opened your eyes - melting away any remnants of sleep. As far as you were aware, she had nothing written down on her schedule today.

You were about to reach out for your phone when you noticed the answer to your question: a handwritten note sitting on the bedside table from no other than Mina herself.

A smile tugged on the corners of your lips, she knew you too well.

good morning my love, i got called into a morning meeting with head office today. i should be back home for lunch!

love, minari <3

Sitting up, you let the familiar silence settle around you. You were suddenly reminded of how lucky you were to be a part of Mina's life - to be able to call her your own, she chose you even when the rest of the world wanted her.

Four years later, your love for her only grew deeper with every sunset and beating of your heart. The timeless moments that built your relationship; from the late-night game dates, flying to every tour show, holding her hand as she achieved her dreams and even the silly little arguments that made your relationship stronger — you were grateful for them all.

The light that she brought into your life was otherworldly- she was everything (and perhaps more) you needed.

Though sometimes, there were moments where you wished you could just tell the world about your girlfriend because the world outside of yours, you were only one of her closest friends. At least, her family and friends knew, and to some extent, her company. You could write a million books about her and it still wouldn't be enough.

There was a delicate balance in the fragile world you built together. Mina worked as a popstar and you were an independent producer.

It helped that you grew up with one of her bandmates, Jihyo, who (unfortunately) was always a good first excuse whenever questions were raised as to why you were so dedicated to being present in almost every show. Secondly, you were one of their producers.

Besides that, you had pretty much perfected the art of being Mina's best friend. Anniversaries were orchestrated carefully, always planned months ahead of time and any public appearances involved being friendly with her as possible. Your longing smiles and shared looks were a soft reminder of your love for each other, and that was enough for now.

In the corner of your dimly lit studio, you worked in front of the mixer endlessly - isolated from the rest of the world as you poured yourself into your craft. You were constantly attempting to push JYP into releasing more music outside of TWICE's comfort zone, something the girls had respected you for.

The buzzing of your phone pulled you out of your work trance as you frantically grabbed it out of your pocket. It was Jihyo and it had to be something important if she was calling you at ten in the morning.

"What brings forth the Queen's presence?" you chuckled, however, she held her silence on the other end. "Hello, earth to Jihyo?"

"Have you seen the link Momo and Dahyun sent you?"

You frowned at the seriousness in her tone, the weight of her emotions passing to you. "Good morning to you too, and no, I've been working since I got up."

She heaved out a sigh. "It's not looking too good, Y/N, not good at all."

"What are you on about?"

Within a second, you were scrolling through the group chat you shared with the other members. Multiple links were sent out and you wish you hadn't clicked on it because the sudden doom you were feeling was horrifying - your world had just been turned upside down.

Mina and Y/N - more than friends?

The first one you had clicked was a video compiled of Mina's longing stares, the changes in her mood whenever your name was mentioned and of course, the moments you two shared together in public as friends being carefully dissected. She wore a different persona around you - the one you were only meant to see, and it didn't click to you how painfully obvious it was.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you muttered as you clicked another link, heart racing as you watched the headlines unfold.

This time, it was a tweet; a photo of her in one of her many disguises next to a photo of you and her holding hands at the beach...the only indication pointing to her was the fact that she wore the exact same outfit.

There were more "evidences" but you had seen enough.

You have never felt this violated in your life, years of cherished memories were now tarnished by the mere fact that it was being shared around for the public to scrutinise. It would be a lie to say that you two had not prepared for this, but there was always the illusion of your lives being separate - safe in the world you had built.

"It's going to be okay," Jihyo tried her best to comfort you in her soft voice. "Is she not home?"

"No, she told me she got called into a meeting and I'm assuming it's all because of this mess," you plopped your head against your pillow, a million thoughts already running through your head. "Do you think she'll get kicked out of the group?"

"Are you kidding me?" Jihyo scoffed at you. "We aren't Twice without Mina. The only options for JYP are to either confirm, deny or not say anything at all."

"I'm going to lose her, I know it," you gasped out, running your fingers through your hair. "What am I going to do?"

"You know what Mina always says about you, Y/N?" it was Chaeyoung's voice on the line this time. "That she wouldn't be able to do all of this glitz and glamour if she didn't have you in it. You're her anchor, remember that.

"Thank you," you strung out, voice heavy. "I appreciate it."

"Your relationship will always have our support, we love you as much as we love that penguin."

Mina suddenly barged into your studio a mess; puffy eyed and hair messy. Her face showed a mix of anger, uncertainty and more importantly, fear of what the future held for the both of you. In the middle of all the chaos surrounding your relationship, you opened your arms wide for her and you were met with a crying Mina falling into your chest.

"I'm so sorry, baby," her voice was barely above a whisper. "Tell your family that I'm sorry. Everyone's going to pry into your life and —"

You squeezed her body tight, making her stop as you kissed her temple lovingly. You were just as lost as her. "Have you forgotten that everyone was prepared for this? Don't worry about my family, they'll be fine, I'm more worried about your career."

She looked up at you, biting her bottom lip as hard as she could. "They want me to confirm the old dating rumours I had with Jeno."

"What?" your question held so much frustration and turmoil. Out of all the possibilities you two had considered, you didn't see a fake relationship with another idol coming. "How the fuck is that going to help you?"

"They're convinced a relationship with him will be more beneficial for me than damaging, and it'll stir away all those rumours about us if the public is convinced enough," she replied, her tone mirroring your bitterness. "They also want you to go on friendly dates with other idols and make it look like you do this with everyone else."

Your eyebrows furrowed, your grip on her arms loosening. "And you said okay to all of this?"

"I had no choice," she bellowed out, another set of tears prickling out of her eyes. "It was either I lose you forever or for a short amount of time and I picked the latter!"

You sent her an apologetic look, letting out a sigh. It was a mission to contain the surge of anger flowing through you in front of Mina, it was the last thing she needed. This storm would pass, however, it was sailing together that worried you the most.

"I love you, Y/N," Mina firmly reassured you. "Do you know that?”

"I love you too, I'm sorry."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

In the days that followed, against both of your wills, Mina temporarily moved out of your apartment and "officially" started dating Jeno. Alongside that was the release of a series of photos of you with other idols - seemingly justifying your intimate dates with her.

It felt like a blow to your place in the industry. You weren't just a mere producer to the public now, you were linked to almost every member of Twice and Blackpink, years of hard work overshadowed by dating rumours just like that.

The thing that convinced the public the most were old photos of you and Rosé's friendship resurfacing, all the way back from her debut days. A recent one caught Mina's eye out of all of them; the blonde idol was kissing your cheek at your favourite Italian restaurant out of all places - the one you took her out to for your first date.

It was the sole reason for Mina's silence tonight.

You and the members of Twice were all seated around the dorm's dinner table; candlelights flickering and casting shadows in the room as Japanese jazz played in the background.

She was sitting right across from you, absentmindedly twirling her ramen but still refusing to eat it. The soft hum of their conversations were drowned out trying to figure out how to push your girlfriend's sour mood away. And, she looked so beautiful in the light - jet black hair cascading past her shoulders and perfectly framing her divine features.

"My love, aren't you going to eat?" you whispered gently, a tinge of concern beneath your voice. "You haven't touched your food since I got here. Did you not miss me?"

You hadn't seen her in over a week due to your clashing schedules, most of her free time were spent doing publicity stunts with Jeno and most of yours consisted of missing Mina and hanging out with idols you have worked with at least once.

She sent you a tight-lipped smile, pushing a strand of her hair to the back of her ear. "I did miss you, a lot, I'm just bothered."

You gazed at her, raising an eyebrow. "What about, my darling?"

A rush of warmth made its way to her cheeks as she shook her head. "It's nothing important, I'll tell you after dinner, yeah?" she reached for your hand over the table, resting it on top of yours.

Albeit unconvinced, you nodded with her. She didn't speak to you for the rest of the night, choosing to engage in conversations with the group. It would've been reasonable if it weren't for the fact that you hadn't spoken to or seen her all week - the longest you have spent away from each other so far since you started dating.

It didn't seem to have an effect on her and it stung.

Nayeon nudged you with her elbow, noticing the shift in your behaviour. "And what's going on with you, Y/N? I miss seeing you lurk everywhere, and now all these other girls get to be in your presence."

All eyes were on you now, but yours fell on Mina whose jaw was noticeably clenched. You nervously chuckled, taking a big sip out of your chardonnay. "I know, it sucks, but also a perfect opportunity for me to play around with my tunes, you know? It's exhausting, but hopefully it'll all tone down soon...specially with Mina dating Jeno."

"So, having fun with Rosé?" Mina cleared her throat, tone coming out harsher than intended with hurt evident in her eyes. And it caught you and the rest of the girls off-guard. "I didn't know you guys were that close until those photos came out."

"Yeah," you awkwardly trailed off. "I used to work for Teddy at the Black Label. We've always been close but the years have grown us apart, can we talk about this later?"

"Why later?" her voice cracked, burning you with her stare.

Your face was flushed with embarrassment as you took notice of the girls sinking on their seats, trying to make themselves invisible and far away from her wrath because angry Mina was bad, but jealous and angry Mina was the worst version of her to exist, ever.

"Because I haven't seen you in so long and I'd like to have a good night with our friends," you said quietly. "Is that too much to ask, Mina?"

She got up, not before exchanging strained looks with you, unable to hide her emotions any longer. "She's kissing your cheek in one of the photos for god's sake," she shot back at you, footsteps bearing the heavy weight of the mess she created. "Girls, I'll be in my room if you need me, I'm really sorry for ruining the night."

The stunned silence that followed after her departure hung heavy between all of you. You were completely blindsided by her reaction because it was unusual of Mina. She trusted you and your judgement regarding everyone in the industry, and you had always been transparent about your previous relationships. Rosé wasn't even on the list of people you've dated, she was like a sister to you.

"Go after her, Y/N," Jeongyeon was the first to break the silence, a gentle contrast against the previous heated exchange. "She's under a lot of pressure from the company right now - please go easy on her."

You silently excused yourself from the table, trailing behind Mina a minute too long. You opened the door to her room and your heart instantly ached at the sight of her sitting on the edge of the bed with a defeated look on her face.

She glanced up at you, tears streaming down her face. "I don't know where that came from, that was unacceptable and -"

You took a deep breath, kneeling in front of her as you cupped her face in between your palms. "Baby, what's going on?"

"I'm scared and I'm so tired of following rules and I hate holding the hands of someone I barely know and don't love," she started, shoulders trembling with silent cries. "And I hate seeing you with girls who are so much better than me.”

"My love, there is no else better for me in this world. I will always choose you no matter what," you said, wiping streaks of tears off of her face with your thumb. "I love you more than anyone else in the world, you matter to me the most."

She searched your eyes for any ounce of lies, and all she found was sincerity. "You promise?"

"I promise," you took her hand into yours, placing a chaste kiss on the back of it. "I'm all yours."

Her head was resting against yours and you sat frozen in that position for a long time, cherishing this moment for the rough waves ahead of you two.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

After the first wave, it wasn't long before the cracks in your relationship began to show. You weren't allowed to see Mina for a certain amount of time each week and every interaction with her had to be meticulously orchestrated by her managers - date nights are now rare and she barely replied to any of your texts, it felt like your place in her life was slowly being taken over by Jeno.

Arguments were more common than ever, most of it coming from Mina's side with all the built up frustration at the lack of control in her own life getting lashed in your direction.

In one of the rare nights management had allowed you to see her in the space of your own home; a month and a half after the unraveling of the biggest chaos in your lives, she had specifically told you she only had limited time for two rounds of Fortnite and and maybe an hour or two of Minecraft before she had to leave.

Nonetheless, for you, that was more than enough.

You went out of your way to set up a pillow fort in the centre of your living room, Mina's favourite snacks all on display and even putting up fairy lights all over the space. It was the only way you could try to bring back the intimacy that you both lost ever since being outed by the public.

And honestly, you wanted to remind her that you were so much better than Jeno - that you knew her more than he did.

"So, how long ago did she leave?" you were on the phone to Jihyo like normal. These days, with your movements still limited (the rumours between you and Mina have thankfully died down) you confided in her and she let you.

"She should be there any minute now," the other girl hummed, clapping her hands in excitement. "This is going to make her feel so much better, Y/N, I just know it."

"I really hope so, Ji," her old nickname rolled off your tongue like clockwork. "I miss her so much, I wish things could go back to normal."

"Just hold on a little longer, yeah?"

As soon as you heard the locks turn, you stumbled on your feet trying to make yourself somewhat presentable in front of your girlfriend. "I gotta go, I'll let you know how it goes."

Mina appeared behind the door, a tired smile on her face. In an instant, your arms wrapped around her, being smothered with all the kisses she missed from you.

She planted multiple kisses on your lips, equally missing you. "I missed this."

"I'm so glad you're here, Minari," you pulled her into the living room with your back turned towards her. "Just like old times, hey?"

Your eyebrows furrowed when you were met with silence, confused as to why she wasn't saying anything. So, you turned towards her and you wished you hadn't because you felt so small under her cold gaze.

"What's this?" she began, her tired giggles replaced by an angry scowl.

Your hopeful smile was gone. "What do you mean?"

"I'm so fucking tired, I told you not to do anything special, didn't I?" she rubbed her temples in irritation. "You never listen to anything I say."

Your heart sank at the entirety of her words. Tonight was supposed to be special for you both but Mina's lack of effort and gratitude were beginning to show and it hasn't even been five minutes. "I thought it would've been nice to bring a sense of normalcy back into our relationship."

"Normal?" she scoffed at you, clearly offended by the words that came out of your mouth. "There's nothing normal about our whole situation. It's hard for me to keep up with you when you're always at my back for the smallest things. There is only one of me, Y/N, can't I catch a break from you?"

"Mina...what are you saying? What am I doing wrong?" you stood there, dumbfounded at the lack of context in her words. She was simply rejecting you and it felt like a punch to the stomach.

"You're obviously rubbing it in my face that I'm not putting in enough time into our relationship," her voice was laced with nothing but anger. These days, it was a common tone from her. "Do you know how exhausting it is to act like everything is fine when it's not? To act like I'm in love with someone I'm not? I didn't ask for any of this, I just wanted a night of peace - not a fucking extravagant date."

Your expression softened, heart aching at the sight of her scrambling to let all of her bottled emotions out. She was struggling to balance everything and you hoped that she would let you carry some of the weight on her shoulders. "Okay, we'll get all of this silliness out the way," you were trying so hard not to cry in front of her - you hated making things worse but feeling a sense of rejection from your own girlfriend wasn't exactly the best one.

"Forget about it, don't follow me, please," she added, walking out of the living room and into your shared bedroom.

Your heart broke as she stirred away from you with every step, all you could do was sink on the couch - the fort you built crashing after you. Burying your face into your hands, you let the tears fall: you were losing her, and that realisation had cut way too deep.

Minutes later, deep within your thoughts, you failed to notice the presence in front of you until she wrapped her arms around you, muttering gentle apologies and reassurances.

"I'm here, baby," Mina's tone was laced with a heavy sense of regret, drawing circles on your back just like how she used to. "I'm sorry I took it out on you, again."

"I don't understand what I'm doing wrong," you turned to face her with bloodshot eyes. "I'm trying my best for you and none of it seems good enough."

"None of this is on you," she reassured, placing a kiss on your neck - lips lingering longer than usual. "I love you so much, I don't want to lose you."

"It feels like I'm losing you, Mina."

"I'm here until forever, remember?" she promised, a hopeful glint in her eyes.

"I hope so."

"I do know so," she smiled at you with sincerity, that was all it took for you to forgive her. "Let's smash a few rounds in, shall we?"

Mina somewhat kept her promise of putting more effort in, she fought with her managers more, never failing to defend you from their wrath. With the rumours toning down, you were allowed to be out in public with her and Twice again. Of course she was still dating Jeno in their eyes, but with their schedules constantly not aligning due to his group's upcoming album, the rift that was building between you and her grew smaller because it meant she could see you more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Things were nearly back to normal again, until you had to meet him.

"Remind me why I have to meet this guy again?" you raised an eyebrow as Momo and Sana both circled around you.

"Because the public is starting to notice that despite being Mina's best friend, you have never been seen around Jeno," Momo described the situation perfectly.

"Um, what?" you chuckled. "I could literally say the same thing about you and him!”

"Okay, but we're idols, and our worlds are bound to crash with each other," Sana defended their situation.

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever you two say."

That same night, you were seated around the candlelit dinner table once again. Arriving a little later than usual, you had exchanged formalities with Jeno against your will, and as much as you wanted to hate him, he genuinely seemed like a nice guy and if the circumstances were any different, you would've liked him.

Cutlery clinging and small conversations that were filled with laughter took up the sound of the room. Instead of taking the seat across from Mina like you always did, you chose the one next to Tzuyu. She didn't even notice.

With him around, she barely acknowledged your presence. If anything, she seemed to enjoy being wrapped under his arms as they all laughed to a stupid joke he made.

"Are you alright?" Tzuyu whispered into your ear when she noticed your white knuckles on the wine glass, carefully treading around your anger.

"Me?" you forced a smile.

"I'm asking you, lovely."

"Why would I not be?" you swallowed the bitterness along with your drink. Her eyes held a bunch of questions, frowning when her bandmate who moved a little too close to you for liking. "I'm feeling great, Tzuyu."

Tzuyu didn't press you any further for the rest of the night and as the evening drew to an end, you had nursed at least a bottle of wine to distract yourself. It only heightened the growing knot of jealousy and despair in your chest as Mina laughed to another joke Jeno had said; leaning in closer to him.

"Please enlighten me on what the fuck the show they're putting on is all about," you asked Chaeyoung with a low voice, and heard by Tzuyu and Jihyo as they turned to you. "Are there cameras around?"

"No," Jihyo shook her head, confusion plastered on her face. "You're going to have to ask Mina that."

Chaeyoung sent Jihyo a warning glare, not wanting her to add any more fuel to the fire. "Y/N, are you sure you're meant to be pouring another glass?"

"We've already taken photos, why the fuck is she acting like this in front of me?" your voice feigned with hurt, ignoring the concerned looks from your friends.

The sight in front of you frayed with your emotions and clawed at your insecurities. They looked so perfect together and she seemed happy. At your expense, you watched as he leaned in closer and captured her lips unexpectedly.

You were met with nothing but only horrified looks from everyone in the room, including Mina. The pain in your heart grew, and the temporary bandaid placed on it ripped apart - the wound you thought was healing was gaping open once again. Without thinking, you slid off your seat; chair scraping harshly against the wooden floors.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go attend more important matters," you held your composure firmly, looking Jeno right in the eye before bowing your head down. "It was nice meeting you, you're perfect for Mina. I hope the rest of you have a good night."

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as they finally pieced what the breaking point in your relationship would be. You turned on your heel, not bothering to look behind you. And with one certainty, you held your head up and slammed the door shut.

Outside, you stumbled down the pavement; the cool winter breeze hitting sharply against your flushed skin. You clenched your fists as you tried to steady yourself through the alcohol and the free-falling of your tears - the picture of Mina and Jeno kissing replaying in your head, sealing it into place.

Behind you were audibly hurried footsteps, and Mina's voice echoed throughout the street as she called for you to halt. You quickened your pace but anyone sober was guaranteed to be faster than you. "Please let me explain, Y/N," she pled desperately, grabbing your arm.

"Explain what?" your voice was cold, another set of tears making its way down your face. "How do you explain kissing someone else in front of me? You barely spared me a glance tonight and now you want me to listen to your bullshit?"

Her grip tightened, fearing that you would slip through the cracks and leave her completely. "He doesn't know about us. It's all my fault, I'm sorry, I know I should've told him beforehand but I assumed he would've gotten the hint after meeting you —"

It felt like another punch to the gut. "He doesn't know we're dating?"

The fake relationship with Jeno was supposed to make things better for you and Mina, but it felt like he was slowly seeping into your lives, casting you to the sidelines. You failed to notice all the Jeno this and Jeno that, but it all came to you at once now.

What you had witnessed tonight; the way she slipped into that fake relationship felt too real - it looked like what you two once had.

Mina's features were etched with fear, eyes glistening with tears, and despite all this mess, she looked gorgeous under the streetlights and your hazy vision. "I love you, please stay over tonight."

Your breath shuddered in disbelief. "You want me to go back and watch you play housewife with this guy? Don't you think your actions have embarrassed me in front of our friends enough, Mina?"

"Okay," she heaved out a sigh, pausing to consider her other options. "Then please let me come home with you tonight."

One thing about her was that she was stubborn - always almost determined to win you back immediately after arguments. You've never felt to defeated in your life; in the back of your mind, you knew you were never good enough for Mina.

In your eyes, she was a bright star with so much ahead of her future and the shadow you casted over only dimmed her; she deserved someone who would let her shine. And tonight, you saw that in him.

You shook your head, turning away from her. "Forget about this, okay? Go home, Mina.”

"Y/N, you're not listening to me," her voice trembled. "I wanna come home to you."

Ignoring her desperate pleas, you continued to walk ahead of Mina - widening the gap between the two of you. In one last final act, her body collided with yours from behind, arms wrapped around your waist tightly.

"Mina," you tried to wriggle your way out, but you undermined the extent of her strength. "Let go, people are going to fucking see!"

"Then let them," she cried out. "I'll end this stupid contract and tell him about you and how I have loved you for the past four years. No more drifting apart, my love, it all ends tonight."

You finally gave in to her touch, allowing yourself to lean against her. You began to think about all the things she gave up for you; ones that would've been beneficial for her career but in the end, Mina always chose you. And tonight was no different from that.

She was willing to defy everyone else, with her career on the front lines, just to keep you in her life - but why?

"I love you," she whispered, breaking the silence. "Please don't give up on me now."

You took a deep breath, turning around to face her. "Okay," a flash of hurt appeared in her eyes as she took a good look at your tear-streaked face - regret filling her body knowing that she caused it.

"Okay what, baby?"

"Okay, you can come home to me tonight...after you do all of that."

Her eyes lit up, pulling your face in for a kiss but you immediately stopped her. She looked at you, a mix of hurt and confusion plastered on her face. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want his germs on me, please brush your teeth first," you put your hand up in disgust. "I'll see you at home, okay?"

She chuckled, nodding her head in understanding. "I love you baby, text me when you get dropped home."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

For the next three months, things settled down for a while. In the eyes of the public, Mina was still dating Jeno - you two figured out that it would be too soon to end it and would only make things worst for the both of you. Their dates were less frequent due to her insistence; she fought for your relationship like she would. And he was extremely apologetic about his actions that night.

The two of you were rediscovering your love for each other, coming out stronger than before. Days were filled with laughter and heartfelt conversation - you were rebuilding your safe space together once more.

Things were good, until they weren't.

You were more careful than before, even after JYP offered an extension of your contract that came with a new apartment in the same building as Twice.

This allowed you to spend more time with the girls whenever you had the chance, hence why you were currently sitting on their couch with a bowl of bulgogi in your hand whilst Mina was away...which seemed more frequent nowadays.

After some blissful weeks together, the shadows of the past were creeping up behind Mina, and the person the came with it was Jeno.

They had frequent shoots for international brands together and were practically the face of the industry after one of their Prada campaigns went viral. The thought that often lingered in the back of your mind, the one that told you that you weren't good enough for Mina, was beginning to resurface in her absence.

"Can you cut more trees for us, Somi?" Chaeyoung rasped out. "Stop swooning that useless and ugly man over, the village doesn't need more mouths to feed right now!"

You chuckled at her frustration, eyes glued to the screen. Tonight's game was Medieval Dynasty, and both Chaeyoung and Somi were new to it. Usually, it was Mina playing it with you but with her often gone, you managed to convince one of her members to play with it - who also swayed her friends, Somi, into it.”

"I don't care, I wanna see useless and ugly babies," she snickered, eyes quickly falling on you. "Can you throw a mouthful of that into my mouth, please? It smells really good.”

"Have some damn shame, Somi," Chaeyoung said, fake annoyance laced in her tone. "Put some in my mouth first.”

"And what makes you two think I'll give you some?" you quirked up an eyebrow. "I asked if you wanted any but you chose to order sushi instead, so live with that decision."

"I just cut you thirty-four trees you ungrateful brat!"

"And I just built you three houses and a hunting lodge, plus I gave you my copper axe."

As the night continued, the nagging doubt inside your mind gnawed stronger - constantly looming over your thoughts. It was nearly midnight and it was unusual for her to be out this late.

to: minari

hey baby, you good? when are you coming home

from: minari

Was out with jeno and some of his members tonight, on mg way home now. Sorry!!!

You frowned; she couldn't even tell you that beforehand. Jamming your phone back into your pocket, you grabbed the controller in frustration again. Jihyo woke up from her "nap" (which was six hours long, you counted) and took the empty space on the couch next to you.

"Was that Mina?" she mirrored your expression. "Why isn't she home yet?”

"Went out with Jeno and his friends," you mumbled, eyes focused on the screen and failing to notice the glances your friends exchanged with each other. "Chaeng, I think you should build a huge orchard. I have all these seeds for you."

Not too long after, the door rang open and Mina stumbled inside; hair messy and eyes red. The scent of alcohol entered the room with her and the laughter faded into concerned looks.

"Hello," she slurred, struggling to kick her heels off her feet. "Hello everyone, sorry for interrupting."

Your heart immediately sank at the state of her, walking over towards her to hold her up. "Christ Mina, how much did you drink?"

She sheepishly smiled at you. "I'd rather not count."

"Okay, let's get you to bed," you said, suppressing your anger for tomorrow's conversation.

As you laid next to Mina with a million thoughts running through your head, you took note of his scent lingering a little too long on her.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The next few days grew longer. Mina was out almost every night, barely making time for you. You were seated on the edge of your bed, hands buried in your face after Mina had slammed the door on you after voicing out your growing concern about her spending too much time with Jeno.

"You know this is important for my career, right?" she immediately turned defensive after hearing the familiar tone in your voice. "Y/N, the man you speak of is actually boosting Twice again. The girls are getting booked more -"

"And that's awesome," you said gently, going back into the mental box you built around yourself after stepping a foot out. "I don't have a problem with that, but Mina, it's affecting our relationship. I'm not seeing you, you're always out and when you come home, you're hammered. I'm not getting any sleep just staying up to look after you, it's unfair, I have work to do too."

That didn't help your case because she just seemed angrier than a second ago. "Why are you being so selfish? It's always about our fucking relationship and never about my career, do you even care about me?"

"Is it selfish to ask you for the bare minimum?" you bit your lip. "I want you to show our relationship a tinge of respect."

"You're so clingy all the time, I can't stand it," her frustrations were cut short with the sound of her phone ringing. "Why do you always start pointless arguments when I'm just about to leave?"

You sent her a glare. "If you leave now, you can sleep at your dorm tonight."

"Perfect," she clenched her jaw with no hesitance in her voice. "Goodbye, have a nice night!"

That night, you accidentally found out from Momo that your girlfriend didn't end up coming home. Accidentally...because she ended up asking where Mina was after she didn't show up to practice.

You knew the worst had already happened a long time, you felt it in your gut. Something shifted in Mina and its been going on for weeks now, the distant look in her eyes, their intimate photos together - she had been pulling away from you for some time now but you loved her too much to let her go.

Four years. Four years of building your life around your future and this was how it was going to end, tainted by her betrayal.

That wasn't even the turning point for you. No, it wasn't when the girls cornered you into a table in an attempt to talk you into confronting Mina about her late nights, not the photos plastered all over online - the ones with her head on his chest outside of a restaurant in Gangnam and definitely not the smell of his perfume on her clothes.

You knew it was truly over when she barged into your apartment one night with marks all over neck.

The room was illuminated by the television, a random Anerican show playing in the background. Your eyes were glued to the clock on the wall, a glass of whiskey on your hand as you waited for her to come home. She was supposed to be here four hours ago for your anniversary dinner...and she didn't turn up.

Mina was now living a fast life and you fell behind. You sprawled out on the couch, loosening the tie on your neck as you pictured a desolate life without her. It would end all the heartbreak, for sure, but could you really do it without her?

The door creaked open, revealing the disheveled woman in front of you. The knot in your chest tightened, eyes failing to ignore the dark spots on her neck.

"Y/N baby, you're still up?" your presence startled her, assuming you'd be asleep by now, she didn't even bother to hide it.

"Do you know what today is?" your grip on the glass tightened when she remained silent. "Happy fifth anniversary."

The severity of her shortcomings instantly dawned on her, rendering her frozen in her spot. It seemed like those three words pulled her out of the safe bubble she had been living in - away from all the guilt that had been eating its way into her chest. She knew that you have known for a while now, yet she was too selfish to let you go.

Deep inside, Mina needed you more than you needed her.

"It's not what you think -" she stammered, struggling to find a decent explanation.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" you asked her, voice dangerously calmer than expected. "You forget our anniversary and come home to me with hickeys on your neck? After five years together, you dwindle me down into a stupid idiot - how could you stoop so low?"

She flinched at your tone, noticing the half-empty bottle of whiskey and a gift box on the table. "I know there's nothing in this world -"

"You only get to speak when I'm fucking done talking to you, Mina," you stood up, towering over her - your anger rising. You couldn't look at her, she was a stranger to you now and the thought of it hurt. "How fucking dare you. After all these years!"

Tears welled up in her eyes, never having seen this side of you. You were always gentle, even during heated arguments where all she did was yell at you, you remained calm. "I don't know what happened, Y/N, but please, give me another chance to make it right."

She searched for love in your eyes and found nothing but indifference. You were enraged, her betrayal slashing deep cuts into the home you built for her inside your heart. Everything was crumbling apart, each fall carrying the weight of your love for her.

"Get out of house," you said through clenched teeth. "And my life."

This was the end.

Mina stepped closer, eyes filled with regret. She reached out for you, but you slapped her hand away. "I love you so much, I'm so sorry for everything. I know I ruined it, but we can fix this, Y/N, I'll do anything just to get what we had back."

You shook your head, refusing to shed another tear for her. "Fix this? I can't even look at you without feeling disgusted. It's gone, Mina, the love that we shared is gone. You threw it out of the window."

She remained silent, the weight of her own actions bearing heavy on her shoulders. "I understand," she nodded slowly, choking a sob out. "But I'll wait for you, until you're ready to fix things with me."

You held your breath. "Don't you get it? There's nothing left to fix. Please go now before I say anything I'll regret.”

"No," she shook her head, trying to intertwine your fingers together. "You and me always forever, right? I love you, please don't leave me."

A forced smile tugged on the corners of your lips as you were starkly reminded of the happy memories you shared with her over the years. It calmed you in an instant. "And let's keep it that way by letting each other go. Don't ruin any more memories for me, Mina, I don't think we can fix this. We have to move on separately."

"Let me remember you," her fingers desperately traced your face, her eyes closed as she brushed over your features - heart shattering at the thought of not seeing them anymore. "I don't know how to let you go."

You gently placed a hand on top of hers, stopping her. "Goodbye, Mina."

Tears cascaded over her cheeks as she tried to understand why she needed to let you go. "I've hurt you enough, haven't I?"

You didn't say anything as your eyes followed her towards the door, each step she took felt like another knife to your chest. As soon as her hand reached the handle, she turned towards you with a grateful smile on her face amidst her tears.

"Thank you, for everything. For being you. And for allowing me to love you. Goodbye for now, Y/N."

The door behind her closed with a gentle thud, the harrowing silence of your loss echoing. The loneliness was beginning to settle in your heart as you threw yourself back on the couch. Memories of her felt so distant now, but the way they made you feel were real. She loved you in those moments.

You weren't certain about what the future held for you, it was going to be a rough road ahead of you but you hoped to find yourself again. And maybe, live a life where love didn't have to hurt this much.

[snoopynatural]

time 2 fumigate myself

[slowd1ving]

KILLER ・゜゜MOZE NSFW

"All you are to me is a bleak obsession I am the mark intent on burning the street How many times can I ask you? How many days can I go without you?" Hǎoshì chéng shuāng. 好事成双. Good things come in pairs, even if the pair in question is a homicidal crow and a brokenhearted cryptologist. art by @ ma_mori74 on x!!! moze can we honestly e date? you’re so beautiful. You always make me laugh, you always make me smile. You literally make me want to become a better person I really enjoy every moment we spend together. My time has no value unless its spent with you. I tell everyone of my irls how awesome you are. Thank you for being you. (joke) (not really) this was kinda rushed so :3 errr consider this like part 3 of tales of a disgruntled corvid pairing: moze + male reader warnings: nsfw, male reader, mentions of blood/death/violence, alcohol consumption, jealousy wc: 4.5k  

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Hǎoshì chéng shuāng. 好事成双. Good things come in pairs. 

Fortune. It is a humorous concept for Moze: tasting of a fleeting childhood dream and the dregs of hope. Fortune, as some know it, comes in all forms. From gilt wealth and corruption, to finding a strale dropped on the street and getting to bed on time—everyone, it seems, tastes good fortune somewhere along their paltry lives. 

Moze’s good luck surmounts to meagre things: not getting blood beneath his nails after a mission; evading the prying eyes of the Yaoqing as he slinks into the shadows; working by himself; and most of all, not running into you. Good luck equals a tidy house and leftovers in his fridge. Good luck equals not needing to stock up on the tools of his trade and knives that don’t need sharpening. Good luck equals a fresh steamed bun and a slow day perched on the roof of a building. 

The point must be made. Moze does not experience auspicious encounters often. 

Conversely, those afflicted by confirmation bias might say misfortune comes in threes. Misfortune, for Moze, is significantly easier to quantify—but to stratify it into threes grossly underestimates the cesspit of chance he’s been allotted. 

One: being outside currently at Jiaoqiu’s food stall while rain drizzles down on him. It could be argued it’s only by his own volition that he’s slurping on steaming chilli-infused noodles as petrichor stains the air, yet that stupid fox decided this was the way to go in terms of conveying intelligence from Feixiao. This was the hell crafted by Jiaoqiu’s hands seeped green with pungent herbs. 

Two: getting his apartment lease renewal rejected a week ago over a development project at his block. Though he had been planning on starting afresh—never one to stay in the same area for too long, just like the rest of the Shadow Guards—he quite liked the nondescript studio. It’s a tidy place: plain and unassuming. What a pity. He’s read the message from his landlord over and over: growing a tad bit more incensed each time. 

Three: the sudden absence of suitable apartments in the districts that he sticks to. None of the flats he browsed were innocuous enough, and the ones that were perfect for his schedule and profession were in dismal condition. 

Four: you purchasing a flat a month ago which perfectly fulfilled his conditions. Two-bedroom, in the lower districts of the Yaoqing, with reclusive neighbours and a walking distance of the Seat of Divine Foresight. Had he gotten the notice for his lease rejection earlier, it might’ve been him there. 

Five: upon asking about his dilemma, Feixiao’s eyes gleaming bright. This was the indicator for certain disaster—an omen as ill as he ever saw. And unfortunately, her gaze next fell on the scripts you were working on, before flickering back up to you. Shit. That was the only thought running through his mind, before she pitched her idea to have him simply move in with you. Say no, he pleaded mentally, but alas—

“Sure,” you mutter, red ink spilling from your pen onto the parchment. Bold characters sign the form off and the letter is folded neatly onto a cycrane absent-mindedly; before you finally look up at the assassin who flinches as your eyes land on his. “S’long as he pays rent.”

Six: you agreeing to this stupid deal. Why? Why? It can’t possibly be the deep veneration for the Arbiter General. Surely your adoration of her cannot be deep enough to let this guy room in your house—an assassin, at that. You aren’t a follower of Qlipoth, but where the hell is your sense of preservation?

Seven: him not actually finding any fault in the building. Not in the surroundings, nor the modest room across from yours, nor the lazy grin on your face as you showed him around the apartment—still expecting him to vehemently shake his head. 

He signed the damned contract, and that was that.

“What’s got you sighing?” Jiaoqiu eyes him from where he’s pulling noodles: sleeves rolled back to avoid dusting the salmon hues with flour. Fragrant red wafts from the pot on the stove, and he’s suddenly reminded of the crimson shirt you wore just this morning—rippling around the taut lines of sinew and muscle as you worked diligently on decrypting ancient alchemical texts. “I thought you found yourself a place to stay, so why the long face?”

Moze keeps his silence. Well, tries to—but it’s not like a singular word will make him any less laconic. Tapping his chopsticks against the rim of the blue-toned porcelain, he evades the question and focuses right on the middle of Jiaoqiu’s sentence. “Somehow.” 

“Right! Your dearest partner—” Jiaoqiu drags the word out, characters stretched tight until they wind right against Moze’s eardrums. He glares: visibly annoyed, yet this only makes the man in his peripherals close his own eyes in satisfaction. “—took pity on you, didn’t he?”

“Maybe.” The assassin slams down the rest of the piquant broth: lips dripping with sanguine. His response is a question in itself—because why the hell did you agree to Feixiao’s request?

“Curious?” Of course he’s curious. 

“It’s not much of a surprise, really,” the foxian sighs, twisting the strands into a neat circle and letting it drop into the boiling water. “Poor thing’s probably still in shock from his breakup. I think he would’ve agreed to pretty much anything coming out of Feixiao’s mouth at that point.”

The man can only stare incredulously. Every part of that sentence is laden with a bombshell. 

“Wow, I thought you would’ve known. Guess what’s said at Qiu’er’s stays there too.” Jiaoqiu’s golden eyes gleam slightly at the mention of the downtown bar. No, Moze didn’t know. No, Moze isn’t currently outright staring at the man no longer in his peripherals. No, Moze cannot hear his chopsticks creaking beneath his grasp. “Woah, don’t break those.”

The fox eyes the crow warily. “Seriously. Cool it.”

Eight: you’re still not over your boyfriend cheating on you. In the drizzle beneath the canopy, this is how your new roommate diligently listens to how his work partner and resident cryptologist really can’t catch a break from bad men. 

“That includes you, you know,” Jiaoqiu squints at an unusually contemplative Moze. Flickering amber lights and the buzz of cicadas makes the assassin seem even more shady than usual. “You don’t have a chance, so don’t even try.”

“The hell are you talking about?” For someone like Moze, his piece of good fortune is that his voice remains steady in almost any sort of situation. This means that anyone hearing this man speak right now would naturally presume he’s affronted at Jiaoqiu’s response out of its complete implausibility. But on the flip side, those who’ve known Moze longer have learnt to watch for other irritated tells of his rather than a wavering voice. The subconscious flex of long fingers. Minute shifts in the elbows propped up on the bar. Biting the inside of his lip, just enough that it’s unnoticeable. But these aren’t things the assassin really takes stock of. 

For a brief moment, Jiaoqiu’s friendly smile drops and he peers at the man askance. Is he brain dead? “...Okay.”

And that is how the tall man—hunched over in the downpour to not let his noodles get too cold—first learns of matters of a more personal note of yours. In the rare grey skies that cast over the Yaoqing, it’s a chance to digest this information he’s learnt. 

But he doesn’t care. 

He doesn’t. 

・゜゜

A painful month passes for Moze. 

There’s nothing else to describe it—psychological torment is the only fitting description of your behaviour. Outwardly, nothing changes. He still hates you, and you still hate him—two arguing peas in a pod with a mutual dislike being the only thing in common between the two of you. Outwardly, behaviour-wise, nothing changes. Outwardly, appearance-wise, something does. 

He first notices it about three weeks after that waterlogged conversation with Jiaoqiu. There’s a faint aroma of sweet-smelling smoke on you—a long cigarette holder between your fingers as you read a thick book on the couch. He’s never seen the thing before in all your months together. Sure, the Yaoqing tobacco scent fades quickly away to not linger  in the case of a borisin’s especially sharp senses—but he’s never seen that sort of heavy-lidded expression on you before. When you glance at him, it’s usually irritatedly—not like this, where your glance is hazy and your lips are parted to blow plumes from your mouth. 

Shit. He doesn’t quite know why his heart speeds up. 

The second thing he notices is that every week or so, there’s a clinging perfume to your body: never your usual clean scent, one that clearly belongs to a different person. This is the same time he starts noticing you slipping on shirts with longer necks on missions—a darker imprint just about peeking above the material. 

He’s not an idiot. He can put two and two together. 

The third instance of misfortune is your habit of wandering around after a shower with nothing but a towel wrapped around your waist conservatively. Sure, the area from your hips to your knees is covered—but what about the rest? He finds himself growing more irritable during work hours. Marks not caused by injuries still bruise your skin; as you turn your back in the kitchen to make yourself a mug of tea, his eyes rove the dips and valleys of your back. Categorising each wound. Systematically detailing each little infringement on your skin. 

He doesn’t particularly know why. Maybe his obsession with tidiness crosses over to people too. 

・゜゜

It happens like this. Occasionally, a man as ill-fortuned as Moze receives gets a break. 

There’s a tumbler of whiskey on the low coffee table in the living room. Polished chestnut—if you had to describe it—with the light shining through the amber liquid just so, until it reflects onto the varnished surface. A cube of ice sits dainty in the middle, clinking as you tip the glass this way and that. 

“Don’t spill it,” the assassin murmurs. From behind the couch, breath ghosting just past your ear. You don’t shriek (perhaps he hoped you would)—you don’t even glance his way. 

“I feel like that was a redundant warning,” you remark brusquely, taking a swill of the liquor. It’s sweeter than it would’ve been normally: courtesy of the saccharine pipe nestled betwixt your fingers and the smoke still lingering in your mouth. “Were you hoping I’d jump?”

“Yes.” Short. To the point. Laconic. That’s how those outside this home would describe the man currently leaning down, hands splayed on the backrest of the couch. “We’ve got a mission tomorrow, and you still haven’t done the dishes.”

“It’s your turn,” he adds, because he likes seeing how this man’s expression wrinkles in exasperation, likes that stupid cant of your head—for it means Moze has won this little encounter. It’s all because he strongly dislikes his roommate, no other reason. 

“You suck.” Syrupy plumes ghost his face as you exhale into his face above—he doesn’t move back, even as the traces of burnt caramel become far more prominent, even as it feels like you’re blowing him a kiss more than anything.

“And you need to clean and go to sleep before you’re late,” he grits out, more annoyed than he was a moment ago. He’d say it was due to your lack of responsibility, but this angle allows the loose robe to expose your bitten collarbone—like some stupid fucking trophy. “Like you always are.”

“I’m never late, A-ze,” you enunciate each word in such a way that makes it clear you’re not drunk—so clearly the nickname is just to piss him off. A last-ditch middle finger; a threat that hasn’t worked for some time, one that makes his stomach churn uncomfortably but not enough to admit defeat. “You’re just up stupid early.”

He goes silent, in the way he does when you’re right. Instead of saying anything, he instead plucks the glass from your hand: downing the smooth alcohol from where you drank it, enjoying how for once your mouth closes just like his. The pipe in your hand tilts this way and that as you take a drag thoughtfully—recovering far too quickly for his liking. 

“A-ze.” Like this, with wisps exiting your mouth and silk draped over you, you look good enough to eat. He freezes at the implication of his thoughts, freezes at the sound of the name blanketed in some gruesome replica of affection. He hates it; hates how his heart squeezes and a faint flush of red dusts his cheekbones. Aeons. 

It is common knowledge to not toss a starving dog a bone before it hungers for more. 

“What, you don’t hate it anymore? Here I was, hoping you’d turn tail and leave,” you sigh, theatrically despondent—much like you normally are. Too damn dramatic for your own good. 

So desperate, drinking your sorrows away as if that’ll possibly work. He scoffs, striding the short distance over so he can tower over from the front. 

“Maybe you just like calling me that,” he breathes. There’s a smile playing on his lips: the rare one he gets when he knows he’s got a point, knows when he’s right. It’s unconscious—he’s far too oblivious to notice it only occurs around you. 

“I do,” you murmur. “Bet it warms your heart though. No one likes you enough to call you that.”

“So you like me?” There’s an odd buzz in his veins tonight. As the orange lights from the street blink into existence, and the room is no longer illuminated by ‘day’, he’s glad for the darkness that conceals the heat in his face. Your clothing rustles as you stand—practically nose to nose with the man in front of you.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Xiaoze,” you mutter, and the heated breath from your lips fans over his sensitive skin—mingling with the tobacco wisps and alcohol vapour. He swallows. “It’s pity.”

“Pity?” he sneers. “Like how you sleep around to get over your boyfriend? That’s not pitiful?”

“Like I said—” your tone becomes frigid as you shift closer: until his chest brushes up against yours, until he can count every lash that glows amber in the incandescent street lamps, until he can practically taste the rolling fury off your tongue. Warm. Scalding heat ebbs from your body and flows right into his own. “—don’t get ahead of yourself, Xiaoze.”

His breath comes in ragged waves. So close. When he stands so near to a human, it typically means he’s feeling life flow from them. Not like this; but he cannot bring himself to get away. 

He’s never been more thankful for his unwavering voice. 

“Don’t give bones to starving dogs,” he murmurs, mellifluous rather than jarringly annoying. “They’ll bite.”

Smoke wafts into his face as you survey his expression: flushed, brows knitted taut, lips still slick with liquor. 

“So you’re a dog, now?” Your fingers graze his chin, canting his head this way and that as he makes no moves to evade your grasp: heart beating miserably in his chest. There’s a strange sort of hunger in your gaze. 

He’s never seen it before. 

“No, it was proverbial—” Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “—you know?”

“Just as desperate as one,” you mutter. Trailing your finger down until they graze his collarbones, it’s no wonder he flinches—and you stare at him, unimpressed. “If I tell people about this, your reputation would immediately disintegrate. How many years have you cultivated that stupid mysterious image?”

“Hah—who would believe you?” It’s true, not many people would—but alas, the important ones have already witnessed this man looking at you. 

“Jiaoqiu, but I guess he already knows what a loser you are.” And you miss how when he lowers his head, he looks like a completely different person—flushed visage mired in shadow, like the assassin he truly is. He’s staring right at you, unblinking as he watches the cruel movement of your lips. 

“Don’t talk about him right now.”

And so, you don’t. 

・゜゜

This is the prelude leading up to this particularly humiliating scene. 

Humiliating, because propping himself up on his elbows on your bed isn’t a position he thought he’d ever find himself in. Humiliating, because he never gets drunk, so why the hell is his head spinning? Humiliating, because for once the mellow deep of his voice is pitched a note higher—larynx taut with suppressed groans. Unsteady, in a way his voice has never been. 

You taste like the pipe still tipping in your fingers: candy-sweet and saccharic. But there’s also the heavy aroma of liquor on your breath, mingling bittersweet with the plumes of smoke wafting from your fingers. Beneath that, blood from a scrape on your lip—acrid and metallic. That is what he knows, so your lips moving gently against his feels so utterly foreign: and not just in the way they taste. 

When you pull back for air, his eyes are blown wide in surprise; his mouth has only ever been used to bite, after all. You seem to instinctively know this as you take a long drag from the stick, blowing the curls of vapour into his mouth when you pull back in: to induce a slight tingle into him presumably (but Lan knows he doesn’t need aid to feel that buzz). 

Languorous. That’s how he’d describe it—for it seems you only ever work lazily. There’s no hurry as you lick past the seam of his lips. There’s no hurry as both your scalding mouth and your arid fingertips trail downwards, past the vales of his tense abdomen. There’s no hurry—but Aeons he wishes there was, for your hand slipping under his shirt and against his stiffened nipples are much too damn slow. 

“Do you—do you even know what you’re doing?” he mocks, like he isn’t currently jolting as you roll the pink flesh between searing fingers. You raise a brow: lucid against the otherwise irritated thoughts. 

“Do I?” you copy his broken whine, gripping the fat of his tits coarsely while the rise and fall of his chest becomes ever so slightly more shallow. If only he could see himself right now: jarred at every turn, pupils blown out, and the residual sheen on his lips. Every damn hue of purple littering his neck and collarbone. And if only you could see better in this darkness—spot that obsessive fervour in his gaze, one neither of you are quite aware of. 

“Do you have any experiences to compare it to?” you counter, twisting your hand while he glares at you heatedly. Nothing. Quiet as a corpse when you make an irrefutable point. 

No, that’s right, you grin sardonically as you slip the long cigarette back into its place on your nightstand. Syrup drips from your mouth as you twine your free hand in his hair, tugging until he groans into your lips with his own in that mellifluous cadence. 

You’re harsh as winter. 

No, cruel.

Cruel, as you trail your hand from his chest to his waistband—palming him roughly through his pants. Cruel, as you pinion his hips against your bed to prevent them from bucking into your hand—fingers digging desperately against your sheets as you grind against him. Cruel, as you swallow each whine with your warm mouth: so sweet, so gentle even as you wrench your hand into sinew, flesh and everything beyond. He can taste the arid heartbeat through your mouth, and he’s sure you can feel his own—pulsing hotly as he yields his worries to you, just for a moment. 

Or two. 

He’s inexperienced, but even he knows what the tension in his abdomen signifies. The distinct tremors in his legs, the pain as he digs his nails into your thigh, the tightness coiling his body into rigidity. Puppet-like beneath your machinations: manipulated this way and that way with strings unseen. 

Fucking his hand has never felt like this. 

As he writhes, he greedily swallows you whole. Taking everything, including your bloodied lips, including the faint caramel tracing your tongue, including the strangled gasp as he grasps your nape with burning urgency. Aeons. He’s breathless; judged human lust far too soon. Against your brutal palm, the fabric of his trousers is slick with his release—wet patch a testament to his sin. 

Yet still you rock against him as he rides out the mind-numbing pleasure: limbs infinitely heavier from the tension suddenly all releasing. 

But he forgets how cruel you are. 

One final sweet kiss later—nails raking past his scalp and the other hand warmly pressed against his cheek—and you pull away with a lazy smile. 

“Go to sleep.” The directive jolts him awake, like a bucket of ice-cold water breaking apart a dream. Dissolved like candy, like the damn fluid in Penacony connecting the conscious and unconscious. “We’ve got a mission tomorrow, remember?”

Like the cat that got the cream, you smile Cheshire-bright. A fucking riddle on your lips. “And I still have to do the dishes, remember?”

He’s left stupefied: numb lips, a reeling head, and an impercipient body. Once more, the shower he douses himself in is frigid—but nothing could be as cold as what just occurred. 

What the hell? 

He presses his palm to the lower half of his face in shock. 

What the hell?

Seriously, there’s something wrong with you. And as he glances down, he realises with utmost horror that his problem has not yet died down yet. 

What the hell?

Important things must be said thrice. Duplicitous in nature, Moze’s fate both turns for the worse and better simultaneously. 

The bone has been tossed. What will the starving dog do?

・゜゜

All actions have consequences. 

That is a proverb universally recognised by all walks of life: trodden on by kings, revered by alchemists, and vowed by the weak. You reap what you sow. What goes around comes around. Equivalent exchange. 

The natural outcome from that night is mutual silence. You don’t speak of that evening, and neither does he—face flush with implication, yet unwilling to actually divulge his thoughts on the matter. Sure, he finds himself with his hand attempting to recreate your rough friction (teeth clenched around his shirt as he paws at his lean chest)—but it never quite works, and all of his colleagues are privy to his especially curt mood. 

Joint missions with you are now a thing painful. Tense. 

The strings that bind him to you are taut with the feeling. Constricting, tightening, until he can sense their imminent breakage. 

This leads this unusual pair to this scenario. You, fresh out a shower and post the nth mission of this month. It’s only been three weeks since that night, and watching you meander about the kitchen with only a towel slung low on your hips is giving him heart palpitations. Steam curls from your body; each time you shift, he’s excruciatingly aware of how it appears just like that smoke from that night. 

“A-ze. What do you want?” 

That’s the golden question—what snaps him out of the trance—and makes him realise he’s practically pressed up against you from the back. No, scratch practically. His arms are on either side of the counter, pinning you in position as you continue stirring the fragrant drink. Feeling that damned sear of your skin is driving him into the throes of madness. 

He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and not heeding the rivulets that seep into his clothes. So warm, he wants to murmur—but talking is for those who want to speak, and he does not want to. Not in this moment, where he’s appreciating the soap you used, the lotion spread onto damp skin, the inherent smell of you. 

His teeth graze the vulnerable juncture. You turn, and he can see your eyes waver, feel the rapid thrum of your pulse as you become aware of just how desperate he is. “A-ze.” And your hands roam his waist, tracing the taut muscles betraying his anticipation. 

His lips are heated as he leans into you: a snarling mess. Trembling fingers trace the expanse of your soft body, like you’ll ghost away just like the wisps you smoke. 

“Need you.” It’s not a plea—the rough deep of his voice makes him sound demanding, as arrogant as ever. “Haven’t I behaved?”

He’s so damn desperate as he grasps your body: bruising and fatal. He’s desperate as he kisses you heatedly, desperate while your hands brush past the feverish skin of his stomach, desperate as you push him against the couch—too hasty for the bedroom. Now, he chokes out. Now, now, now. Please. 

Pliant beneath your hands, it’s not exactly the longest time until he’s gasping beneath you. So tight, you may have commented: drunk on the sensation of him fluttering around your probing fingers. Aeons. 

He’s so malleable: arching into you as soon as you line yourself up. It almost makes you feel bad for him: feeling him flinch whenever you brushed past him, watching his face bloom scarlet as he saw the marks on his neck in the hallway mirror. Almost.

It’s because he’s so cute like this: drooling amidst all the broken noises as you slam into him. You’ve never quite seen him this dishevelled, not even during that night. Hungrily, he’s sucking you right in—paying no heed to suppressing the almost-pained moans dribbling past his open lips. 

What a mess. 

Physically, it can only be described as such. White globs decorate his flushed skin messily: pearlescent in the dim lights of the living room. He can’t even begin to count how many times his weeping tip has stiffened, not when you’re so damn insistent that he forgets how to speak properly. It’s not like you’re any better; each time you look down there’s that frothy ring that strings you two together. 

Emotionally, it’s also quite the mayhem. You don’t particularly know where to look when his eyes have that gleam in them—a sort of fervour that one rarely ever sees. Even now—pupils hazed with lust and eyelids lowered heavily—he’s staring right up at you, content as can be whilst you drill mercilessly into him. 

Fuck. 

“Come on, you—ah—can do better than that,” he taunts. As though he doesn’t look completely fucked-out, as though there aren’t tears leaking from his foggy eyes. You’re not sure where he gets his audaciousness from. 

He’s beautiful. 

“This is why no one likes you,” you hiss, sharply tugging his hair back to hear his surprised whines. Supplicantly, he does exactly what you expect. Loser. Aeons, he sucks. 

“Yeah?” he grins. “What does that say about you?”

“That I’m a no one from the Intelligenstia Guild,” you answer against his neck, feeling his throat constrict as he swallows. Though it’s only minutely, his nails dig somewhat deeper into the flesh of your back—marking you up just as much as you’ve marked him. An acknowledgement of your words. 

Well. 

You suppose you’ve always been drawn to the pathetic ones. 

・゜゜

[withbroombefore]

I saw a poll earlier about participation in regular in-person activities, with numbers that make me wonder if a lot of people don't know what the options are or how to find them. Here are some that I have always found welcoming to new people; for me, these are ways to leave my apartment and get some human interaction without having to make much conversation (there is a reasonable amount of that if you want it, but since it's understood that you are there to do an activity, the thing you are doing is the point rather than pure socializing). A search for "[activity] [location]" should tell you what's available in your area.

Contra dancing: This goes at the top and gets explanation because it's my favorite. I grew up doing this and love it very very much; I always look for local dances when I move somewhere new. Most dances are very beginner-friendly (though there are some exceptions), and zero dance experience is required to participate. Many will include a lesson for beginners in the half-hour before the main event starts, and there are always instructions throughout the evening. You truly do not need to know anything going in. The convention is to switch partners throughout the night, and it's completely okay to attend alone and ask people you don't know to dance. Try Contra Dancing has a search tool by zip code. Typically $8-15.

Community theatre tech: Acting is an option if that's your thing, but in my experience, tech is easier if you're looking for an activity because there's not usually competition--you often can just volunteer without needing to worry about auditions or casting. Roles like run crew (where you move set between scenes and such) don't require any prior knowledge, and plenty of the other tasks can be learned with a little training. If you turn up reliably, the word will spread--good techies are invaluable. Free to participate.

Community band or chorus: Prior experience in playing an instrument is necessary for the band; for singing, it depends on the type of chorus. Some are auditioned, others are just thrilled by any participation. May require dues.

Shapenote singing: A more niche one and another of my personal favorites (I ignore the religious lyrics and treat them as poetry). This can take some time to pick up, but many places have a small monthly sing that is very welcoming to new people. fasola.org has lots of information about the tradition and where to sing. Free, optional donations accepted.

Library events: Find your local public library's website and look for a calendar or events page to see if anything appeals. Typically free.

Crafting groups: Yarn stores and other craft supply places often have regular open gatherings (typically free) and/or classes (may cost money for teaching and supplies).

Games: If you have a local game store, check their website for events. Or search "[location] [chess club]" or whatever is your thing. Usually free.

Dance: Depends on what is available in your area. A studio where I am has a monthly swing dance, with beginner lessons before, for $10.

Sports: I don't really do these but they presumably exist and can be found like the other things.

The important thing is to just go do the thing. It will probably feel awkward the first time--that's normal! These are all spaces where the point is for people to show up and participate. They want you to be there, and they want you to come back! Otherwise they can't keep existing. Several of these (contra dancing, shapenote, a lot of crafting groups) are especially excited about new people and younger participants and will be thrilled to teach you how to do the thing. And the only way to make it feel comfortable is to plow through the first awkwardness and go back until you decide if you actually enjoy it or not. When you find a thing you like, keep going, and after a little while you end up with a community of people to see regularly who share your interests. This is what humans are supposed to do.

[hannieween]

lights out chapter vii | teaser

✮ pairings: female reader x joshua hong ✮ genre: fluff, smut [18+] ✮ aus: boyfriend joshua, rockstar joshua, boyfriend jeonghan polyamorous relationship ✮ word count: 4k

✮ warnings: smut with plot, possessiveness, making out, dirty talk, dry humping, brat taming, bondage, dom joshua, sub reader. pet names: bunny, princess, baby (hers) babe, handsome (joshua and jeonghan)

✮ author's note: HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!! i love you all. i wish i could hug all of you. may you have a very prosperous 2025, i hope y'all get rich, be healthy and surrounded by love ♡︎

✮ author's note pt. 2: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!!!

starlight — teaser

Cardboard boxes were stacked in piles and pushed to the empty wall of your studio office. You stared at your surroundings, taking a moment to bid farewell to the space that served as a fortress through days and nights of hard work. You sighed, choking up a little when you remembered that this space used to be just a desk, a chair, and your computer.

This space had evolved with you, and now you were taking a leap into the next big thing.

You could hear the faint mumbles of a sweet voice and the lazy strumming of an acoustic guitar playing in the next room. If you stood still, you could hear Joshua singing, repeating the same chords when he apparently made a mistake, but to you, it sounded so perfect that you could not resist but be dragged from the studio to the bedroom.

Joshua sat at the foot of the bed, one leg curled on his side, propping the acoustic guitar on his thigh. His head was tilted downwards, so you could not see his beautiful face fully. His hair served as a light curtain over his eyes, which were drawn to his fingers, finding the chords again.

As soon as you walked into the room, he noticed you. His lips curved into a tiny smile that went unseen by you because he wanted to carry his tune again. His fingers worked through the strings of the guitar expertly, even better than when he was trying to get them before you stepped in.

You leaned against the doorframe, watching him play the bit that had drawn you to the bedroom. You were suddenly overcome with a warm fuzzy feeling inside your chest, the peace that flooded the corners of the apartment when Joshua was back home. It was the sound of his voice smoothing over you.

The strings of the guitar vibrated beneath his fingers, a look of realization on his face as he finished humming to the last words of the verse he had crafted, paired with the successful strumming of his fingers on the guitar. And when he finally lifted his gaze to you, there was a glint in his eyes, one that you loved to see.

“Hi handsome,” you mumbled, even though you lived together, you felt like you had not spoken to him in some hours while you packed the stuff from the studio.

“Hey beautiful,” he pressed his lips into a sweet smile, one that turned his beautiful eyes into half moons.

“I thought you were packing the kitchen stuff,” you said, moving from the doorframe.

“I finished ages ago,” he emphasized with a light chuckle, leaving the guitar aside as you approached him. “You were too preoccupied in there, so I didn’t interrupt you,” he took your hand when you were within reach.

You smiled in response, looking at the soft features of his face. “What were you doing?” you mumbled as he pressed his lips to your knuckles.

“I was composing something, I think it came out alright,” he replied, turning briefly to hit the stop record button on the screen of his phone.

“I liked the sound of that,” you complimented, liking that his hands found you as soon as you came closer to him.

“Yeah?” he smirked slowly. “Wanna give it a try?”

You matched his smile, but yours had a tint of shyness. “Sure.”

“Come here,” he pulled you to his lap, smoothly turning you over before you sat on the bed, right on the space between his thighs. “I’ll teach you.”

“This is an improper way to teach, Professor Hong,” you giggled, pressing your back against his chest.

“What can I say, you really have a knack for getting the most improper side out of me, Ms. Hong,” he frowned with faux chide, but looked cute at the same time; his eyebrows drawn inward, his mouth pressed into a line.

“Really, because I could say exactly the same of you,” you giggled, tapping the tip of his nose with your finger.

He blinked into a smile that took over his entire face. “Oh that’s not true,” he replied with a light giggle as well. “You were already very indecent when I met you,” he joked, knowing the reaction his comment would bring out of you.

“Indecent?!” you huffed, widening your eyes in indignation.

He laughed, tilting his head back as the sweet sound bubbled out of his mouth. “Yes, very,” he emphasized, pressing his large hands on your tummy to bring you even closer to him. “You are a very naughty girl.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to mask the smile that eventually broke in the features of your face. “Get to work, Professor Hong.”

“Right away, Ms. Hong,” he mumbled happily, grabbing the guitar and placing it on your thigh.

Keeping one hand on the body of the guitar, he guided your hand on the neck. “Place your index finger here,” he commanded with a soft tone, and you followed, pressing your finger down on the first fret, just where he instructed.

You would have paid more attention to his following instructions if it were not for the closeness of his mouth to your ear. When he spoke, his sweet voice made you want to melt into it.

“Now, again, you move your middle finger here,” he continued, simultaneously instructing you to strum the strings as you move your fingers on each fret, slowly piecing the song he composed.

“Like this?” you mumbled faintly, sneaking a swift look at his face.

“Just like that,” he nodded, not really noticing that you were now caught up in him, the features of his face, his beautiful hands guiding you through his song, and the warmth of his body sitting closely behind you.

“Sorry,” you smiled meekly when you accidentally missed one note.

“No, it’s alright,” he quickly put in. “You’re doing great, baby.”

But in fact, you were not doing great. You were clumsy, distracted; and you feared it showed in the movement of your fingers. “I’m terrible at this,” you said.

“No one is good at the first time,” he replied sweetly. “Let’s try one more time, alright?”

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded, biting your lip in concentration to get every note he had taught you. It was merely a ten-second bit from the song you had heard him practice, but difficult enough for you.

“Slowly, that’s right, baby,” he mumbled, and you knew from his tone alone that he was smiling. “See? I told you, you’re great!”

“I think I got it,” you said, pausing to look at him.

“You sure do,” he replied in praise, his eyes glinting again with that emotion you had noticed when you walked into the room.

You could no longer resist it, you closed the space between your mouth and his, pressing a quick kiss and backed away meekly.

“Kissing your professor is quite indecent on your part, miss,” he smirked.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” you sighed.

“Mmm, you just started something that you won’t be able to finish,” he mumbled bringing a hand to cup your cheek. “Kiss me,” he instructed with the same soft tone, but the firmness of his command was different, it ignited a part deep within you.

You hummed as his lips locked with yours, kissing you hungrily. His tongue outlined your bottom lip as his hand slid from your cheek to your nape, his fingers curling around your hair. “I love you,” he mumbled, breaking the kiss briefly.

“I love you,” you replied, feeling the moment slow down.

Joshua rested his forehead on yours, letting out a soft sigh that caressed your lips. “I think our practice session is over,” he said, grinning as he moved the guitar from your lap and placed it on the floor.

“What are you planning to do?” you grinned as well, knowing that look on his face.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled in between kisses, his tone aloof and his kiss sloppy. “How about we just make out and improvise from there?”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you replied, equally aloof.

Then, he lay down on the bed, his arms securing you by the waist pulling you on top.  A sigh from his part was muffled in your mouth when he felt your chest pressed to his, he could feel that you wore nothing beneath that zipper hoodie, and that just added to the anticipation building up inside him.

You brought a hand to his cheek, cupping it as you started dominating the kiss. Joshua closed remained with his eyes closed through it, letting you capture his lips with your own with gentle, but messy movements. The sounds were mixed with his sighs and yours, the wet sounds of your lips in his, and few tiny moans from you as you deepened the kiss.

His hands roved on your back, trailing down to the small of your back, where they rested momentarily. Another small moan from your part was muffled in his mouth, and that was the only confirmation he needed. He travelled further down, his hands fitting perfectly on your round ass to give it a gentle squeeze.

You moved your knees to each side of his hips, your hands travelling from his face to his broad shoulders, feeling his lean body over his white t-shirt. He swallowed back a tiny moan when you touched his bulging pecs in small motions, up and down while his hands moved from your ass to touch your thighs over your sweats.

Slowly, both your clothes and him became an obstacle between you, since you needed to feel his skin on yours, to see his beautiful body, to explore it inch by inch without his clothes on. But you continued kissing him fervently, sloppily moving your lips on his, enjoying his faint moans muffled by your mouth.

You paused for air, and he also breathed shakily as the tip of your nose bumped with his, drawing a lazy smile from him. Ignoring how flustered you were already, and how hot your face had grown, you reached out for his hands, which were parked on your hips and inching away from his face to look into his eyes, you placed them on your chest. You batted your eyelashes at him sheepishly, moaning sweetly when his hands cupped your tits over your hoodie, his thumbs effortlessly finding your pebbled nipples.

Instinctively, you pressed your crotch against his, grinding your hips with slow motions to relieve the tingling sensation bothering you. A sweet sound came out of you, sparking something in his eyes, as he kneaded your tits, pressing your nipples with his thumbs.

His gaze focused on your hand when you fumbled with the zipper of your hoodie, following it as it came apart, and slowly displayed your naked chest to him. You sat back on him, enjoying the way his big eyes darkened when you slid the hoodie off your shoulders and put it aside.

You leaned forward again, pressing your bare chest on him, making him release a sigh upon feeling your breasts, even if it were over his t-shirt. You grabbed his face, closing the space between his lips and yours with a tender kiss, slow at first, feeling your pulse quicken.

He tensed when you slipped your hands under the white t-shirt he wore, trying to get rid of it. “No, stop,” he murmured, his voice faint but it brought you to a halt in a split-second.

You froze, looking at the features of his face to understand why he was stopping you from undressing. “You want to do it?” you asked, your tone giving away that you were confused.

“Slow down, baby,” he said, showing you a small smile. “There’s no need to rush. Enjoy this.”

“But I want to make you feel good,” you mumbled, stammering over your words as your face burned with shame.

“I know, and I love that about you,” he said, his smile growing into a more reassuring one. “But let me be in charge, alright?”

“Alright,” you conceded, matching his sweet smile.

Then, he smoothly rolled over, taking your body with him, and placing your back against the mattress. You encircled his broad shoulders with your arms, just as he leaned over to kiss your face, pressing his lips on the apple of your cheek with a soft sigh on his part. He made a trail of kisses from there to the shell of your ear, bringing a tiny laugh out of you when his breath fanned over a sensitive area on your skin.

“I love you,” he murmured against your ear, smiling when your body tensed and your skin prickled.

“And I love you, Josh,” you replied sweetly, your eyes glinting with joy and adoration for him when he pulled back to see the tiny bumps in your skin.

“You’re so sensitive,” he said, bending to kiss you on the plain of your chest, his wet lips only making it worse for you because each kiss had you squirming under him.

Before you could even agree with him, his lips reached one of your pebbled nipples, pressing soft kisses that slowly evolved into grazing of teeth, bringing a small moan out of you. You held onto him, one hand on his nape, the other around his bicep, fingers digging into the hard muscle.

Discovering how responsive you were being, he slid the tip of his tongue on your areola, barely caressing it but getting your skin to prickle again. You released a short gasp as your thighs tensed up, and as he switched to do the same on your other nipple, your core was already fluttering, arousal sticking to your panties.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep the sounds to yourself. But then he started suckling on your sensitive nipple, the sounds he was making loud and wet, drool trickling on your skin. You gasped, the tension building up between your legs was irritating. “Joshua,” you called.

“Mm?” he replied, not bothering to lift his head or to stop kissing your tits.

“I need more,” you sighed, sneaking your hands beneath his t-shirt again, but not in an attempt to undress him, this time you just wanted to feel his skin, to give him but a slight taste of what you felt.

Joshua shuddered upon your fingernails grazing his back. “More?” he egged you on, but he made no motion to follow your requests, he just simply moved his kisses to the curve of your neck, where he placed another wet kiss on your sensitive skin.

“Uh-huh,” you mewled, closing your eyes to savor the euphoric feeling of his lips worshiping you. You slid your hands on his back, dragging the white t-shirt along. “Ne-need you.”

He let out a sigh, backing away slightly so you could peel the t-shirt off his torso. His hair got ruffled in the process which you brushed back with both hands as he leaned over you again. Joshua took your hands, lacing your fingers with his and placing them above your head.

“Easy, baby,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses on your bottom lip.

You sighed shakily. He was in charge, you reminded yourself. “Sorry,” you said meekly, letting him retake control, letting him do whatever he wanted to you.

“It’s okay,” he drawled, pressing his chest against yours, smiling when you let out a mewling sound again when your sensitive nipples brushed against his skin. “There’s nothing wrong with being a little needy, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched.

“I’ll take care of you tonight, bunny, don’t worry,” he murmured, his tone sweet but falling into the sultry one he always used in the bedroom. 

“Okay,” you replied, swallowing hard when he showed you a slight smirk.

Then Joshua lowered his hips between your parted legs, pressing your hands down the pillows as he supported himself with his elbows too. He dived for another kiss, his lips locking in yours hungrily, letting out a moan in your mouth and reminding you how much he loved kissing you.

It became asphyxiating: to be under the full weight of his body, the grip of his hands on you, kissing you relentlessly. But you loved every second of it, the taste of his kiss, the smell of the cologne impregnated on his clothes, his skin. You loved everything about him, it drove you crazy.

Thoughtlessly, you pushed your hips up despite the cage he had made with his body. The friction you got from rubbing yourself on the crotch of his jeans was delicious, so you did it again, grinding your hips with small motions.

“Brat,” he whispered reproachfully, but enjoyment flashed on the features of his face as you drew your eyebrows in, mouth parting to let out a whiny moan.

“God, Josh,” you gasped, closing your eyes, delighting over the much-desired friction you got from rubbing yourself on his crotch, slowly feeling his cock stir beneath his jeans.

“Are you gonna come like this, bunny?” he cooed, and you understood from his tone that he was teasing you.

“Uh-huh,” you parted your mouth, letting out a series of moans as pleasure bloomed inside you, finding a pace to roll your hips beneath him to reach your climax. You found his hard cock with your crotch, mewling as you rubbed yourself on him, desperation rising inside you as you rolled your hips harder.

You heard a light chuckle coming from him, and then he did something unexpected. He started grinding his cock on your pussy, rolling his hips expertly against yours in the same motion he did when he is inside you.

“Fuck, Joshua, yes, yes,” you mewled pathetically, taking in one deep breath before you came undone beneath his hard body.

Just by your moans alone, he could tell that you had reached your release. The sounds coming out of you were sweet and airy, the most angelic moans he had ever heard from anyone, they drove him insane. He swore that the sounds alone were so arousing that he could get hard just from hearing you.

Joshua stared at your face riddled by pleasure as you came down from your high, smiling softly at him when you opened your eyes. “Felt good?” he asked, feeling his own arousal begin to bother him, his cock stirring beneath the hard fabric of his jeans hindering him.

“Yeah,” you let out an airy laugh, thinking of how pathetic you may have sounded, or looked. “I’m sorry?” you raised your eyebrows innocently.  

“Are you going to behave now?” he asked with a sweet tone, releasing his grip from your hands to brush some rebellious strands of hair away from your face.

“Yes,” you replied, nodding your head obediently, but concealing a smile by biting your lower lip.

“Good,” he whispered, leaning to press a kiss on the tip of your nose. He sat back on his haunches, his fingers swiftly releasing the belt buckle and with one motion he pulled the belt from all the loops of his jeans, setting it aside on the bed, next to you. “I’ll use that on you if you don’t.”

A lazy smirk appeared on his face when he saw a fascination flash in your eyes. “I’ll behave,” you cooed sweetly. But you could not help but plan to retaliate somehow.

You jolted slightly when your phone started buzzing on the bedside table, the loud noise from it making you snap your hand to grab it. “Sorry,” you told Joshua, sneaking a look at his face and then at the screen, which was displaying Jeonghan’s name on it.

It was on instinct, almost, you swiped your finger on the green button, pressing the phone to your cheek. “Hi, babe,” you replied, the words flying out of your mouth before you even processed that Joshua was looking at you.

“Hey, princess,” Jeonghan’s voice was loud, you could swear that Joshua heard it too. “Are you busy? I’m on my way to yours, maybe we could-,”

“We’re in the middle of something here,” Joshua’s voice cut through Jeonghan’s and from his tone, you could hear the playfulness in it, but also a slight hint of annoyance.

You saw his hand reaching out to grab the phone and you passed it to him, thinking that he was going to say something else, but instead, he pressed the red button, hanging Jeonghan up and tossed the phone aside, heedlessly.

“So much for behaving,” he said darkly.

“I’m sorry,” you replied shamefully, but giggling when he just gave you a playful eye roll. “I just answered the phone without thinking!”

“Yeah, and now you’re going to pay for it,” the corner of his lips curved slightly.

You watched him sit back on his haunches one more time, but this time it was to get rid of his dark denim jeans. You fought the urge to undress him yourself, but noticing the glint in your eye, his playful smirk grew broader on his face. He climbed down from the bed, getting rid of all his clothes quite unceremoniously, robbing you of the pleasure of both taking his clothes off and enjoying the view of him peeling them item by item.

“Stay there,” he instructed when you made a motion to follow him by sitting up on the bed.

“But I want–,” you sighed in frustration before you could tell him that you wanted to please him. “Fine,” you huffed.

Joshua smiled at your mini tantrum, pressing one knee and then the other on the bed to climb on it. Your eyes followed him, every movement of his body made his toned muscles shift, his strong thighs calling your attention, quite nearly robbing it completely. Your gaze trailed to his legs, then up his body, glorious in his nakedness. And yours completely.

“Like what you see?” he asked playfully, following your gaze down his body. He was growing stronger, and it showed in the bulk of his biceps, his chest bulging. The muscles of his abdomen were soft, but well defined, same as the ones of his quads.

“Yeah, I do. A lot,” you replied, feeling as you did the first time you saw him naked. Your eyes locked with his, and your heart gave a leap when you saw the endearment showing in his eyes.

He showed you a smirk in response, biting back some playful quip as he grabbed the belt from your side. You had forgotten about it, confusion forming on the features of your face when he took the belt by both ends, straightening it out in front of you.

“Give me your wrists,” he commanded, motioning to your hands resting between your legs.

Before you decided on putting up a fight, make it more difficult for him to dom you, a sigh came out of you, thrilled over the fact that he was giving you something you did not know you missed. You lifted your hands, extending your arms out to him.

“Good girl,” he said, but grabbing your wrists with one large hand. He looped his belt around your wrists, once, twice, coiling the leather until it was firmly binding your hands together. “Lie down.”

You lay down, keeping your eyes on him as he crawled on top of you, taking your bound hands by his belt and forcing them above your head. Joshua slotted his hips between your parted thighs, making you whine slightly when you could not feel him freely because you still had your sweats on.

“You’re going to be good for me now, baby?” he asked, his tone honeyed but he knew just how enticing it was to you. 

“Yeah,” you replied, not hiding the excitement in your demeanor, looking at him with wide eyes, flushing as he smirked at you once again.

Joshua pressed his lips against yours, kissing you tenderly. “We have until Jeonghan gets here to have fun,” he said.

“He’s going to be mad that we’re doing this without him,” you murmured against his lips, squirming slightly when his hand moved to cup your chin, his fingers squeezing your cheeks.

“I don’t care,” he replied, giving you another kiss, this one was harder, hungrier. “Let him be mad all he wants when he gets here. You’re mine for now.”

✮ author's note: heyoooo!! i wanted to post the full chapter for joshie's birthday but just kept being interrupted by life and haven't finished writing it. but here is a teaser! not on joshua's bday but ig the intention is what matters? lol

i'll be back, but not with lights out, i need to post my collab pieces!

STAY TUNED FOR THE FULL CHAPTER!

toodles!

READ MORE | BUY ME A COFFEE? (●'◡'●)

© TO HANNIEWEEN — I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[szariahwroteit]

Doll House: A Jude Bellingham + Orginal Character Erotic Series.

18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 2

Tori adored teaching dance almost as much as she loved performing, but a last-minute call from another of the instructors meant she’d been tasked with taking the class instead, completely throwing off her dinner plans with Jude. 

Rather than having him collect her from her apartment, they decided that Jude would swing by the dance studio to pick Tori up before they made their way to his place, where his chef was set to prepare dinner for the two of them.

“Beautiful girls! One more run-through and we are done for the day.” Tori exclaimed to her class of preteens as she pressed play starting the piece of music they were dancing to over. 

The energy in the studio was electric as the music filled the air, a vibrant mix of rhythm and melody. Tori clapped her hands together, energizing her students, their eager faces lighting up with excitement. She loved moments like this, watching the girls, full of enthusiasm, moving in sync with the beat, their innocence reminding her of her childhood passion for dance.

As the music started, Tori took a step back, her eyes roaming over the eager faces, filled with determination as they followed her instructions. She couldn’t help but smile, swept away by their spirit. Each pirouette, every leap they executed, ignited the love she had for her craft—teaching them not only the moves but also the joy and confidence that dance could bring into their lives.

“Let’s focus on those transitions, girls! Remember to keep your arms fluid and your movements sharp!” she encouraged, her words ringing above the music, infusing her students with motivation.

Despite her excitement, Tori felt a longing in her chest. She had been looking forward to dinner with Jude, the thought of their intimate evening together floating in her mind like a sweet dream. But all of that anticipation had now transformed into a fleeting thought as she poured herself into the class.

“Five, six, seven, eight! And one, two, three… spin!” Tori counted, her body moving lightly along with the girls, demonstrating the moves with a grace she had honed over countless performances. The music surged, and she felt her energy rising, moving through the routine seamlessly.

As the final notes of the song echoed through the studio, Tori turned down the music and clapped her hands together, signalling an end to class. “Great job today, everyone! You’ve all worked so hard! I’m so proud of you!”

The girls erupted in cheers, giddy and full of laughter as they chatted and gathered their belongings. Tori smiled and waved them off, feeling the familiar warmth of pride fill her chest. 

Just as she was packing her bag, her gaze flickered to the clock on the wall. She hoped Jude had arrived by now. There was a flutter of anticipation in her belly at the thought of seeing him.

As she gathered her belongings and cleared what little mess the girls had left behind, Tori’s phone began to ring in her bag. 

She fished it out, her heart racing as she saw Jude's name flash across the screen. A smile broke across her face, and she quickly answered, eager to hear his voice. 

“Hi!” she said, trying to keep her tone light despite the rush of excitement. 

“Hey, beautiful! I’m outside the studio. Are you almost done?” Jude’s voice was warm and inviting, sending a thrill through her.

“Just wrapping up! I’ll be right out,” Tori replied, her heart fluttering at the thought of seeing him. She quickly finished packing her bag, her mind racing with thoughts of the kiss they shared the evening prior. 

“I can’t wait to see you,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. 

“Me too! I’m sorry about the change of plans,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jude reassured her, his tone light. “I’m just happy I get to see you. Plus, I’m sure your students needed you.”

Tori felt a rush of warmth at his words. “Thanks! They were amazing today. I love teaching them,” she said, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. 

“Sounds like you had a good time. I’m looking forward to seeing you,” he replied, and she could sense the readiness in his voice. 

“Definitely! I’m leaving the studio now. I'll see you in a second.” Tori said before handing up the phone so she could pull her sweats over the leotard she wore, before putting on her coat and sneakers so she could head out to meet Jude. 

The street outside of the studio was rather empty, barring a sleek black Mercedes parked at the curb, the low smooth rumble of the engine humming from the car before the driver door pushed open and Jude stepped out of it dressed casually in a black sweatsuit. 

Tori’s heart skipped a beat as their eyes met, his attire so much more relaxed than the tuxedo he wore the day before, but just as handsome. 

“Hi,” Tori greeted, her voice softening as she took in the sight of him. The way he stood there, exuding confidence and warmth, made her feel a rush of affection.

“Hi,” Jude repeated, his smile wide and genuine. He closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace and Tori couldn't help but inhale his musky scent. She melted into him, as his arms tightened before he released her from his hold. 

“Can I take this?” Jude asked, his voice calm and warm as he reached out, his fingers gently grazing Tori’s as he moved to lift her gym bag from her side. 

“Thank you!” Tori responded, a smile illuminating her face as she surrendered the bag to him. She observed with appreciation as Jude effortlessly hoisted the bag into the trunk of his car, his movements smooth and confident.

Gently closing the trunk with a soft thud, Jude walked around the car, he reached the passenger side and pulled the door open, a warm smile on his face as he gestured for Tori to climb inside. The late afternoon winter sun casting a golden glow over the city. 

Still dressed in her ballet clothes and feeling rather sweaty, she anticipated arriving at Jude's house so she could use his shower. The entire arrangement was slightly bizarre for the first time two people were hanging out.

Their conversation was light and flowing as Jude drove to his house, the traffic not as heavy as expected for a Saturday afternoon much to his delight. 

Tori was in slight awe as she watched the cityscape gradually give way to the suburbs, each house they passed seemingly bigger than the last as they neared Jude’s neighbourhood. 

After an Instagram search of Jude when she got in the night before, it became apparent to Tori that he was a big deal. He had millions of followers across social media and frequent endorsements with massive brands. The realization made her heart race with anxiety.

She hated to make assumptions, but it was seldom that men like Jude came without a flurry of women behind them, regardless of their relationship status. 

Victoria had learned that she was two years older than him, he hailed from the West Midlands and before moving to Madrid he had lived out in Germany where he also played soccer. 

Tori’s mind was racing with thoughts. What if Jude was just another entitled man who enjoyed the thrill of the chase? Dispelling the nagging doubt in her mind she focused on the moment. He had been nothing but genuine with her so far, and their connection felt real.

“So, what’s your chef cooking for us tonight?” Tori smirked, shifting the conversation into safer, more playful territory as the suburban landscape unfolded like a movie set outside the window.

Jude chuckled, glancing over at her with a playful grin. “Whatever you like, that's the beauty of it.” 

Tori raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh really?” 

He nodded, a twinkle in his eyes. “Absolutely. But I have a few suggestions if you don’t know what you want.” 

“What's your favourite meal?” she asked, leaning back slightly in her seat, eager for his input.

“It’s pretty basic but I'm a sucker for a steak,” Jude admitted, a hint of mischief in his voice. “But I think homemade pasta is also a solid backup.”

“I’m not sure if you mean to, but you sound obnoxiously rich right now,” Tori said teasingly, making Jude laugh as he turned the steering wheel, rounding onto another street, showcasing homes that looked as though they could grace the covers of Architectural Digest.

Jude chuckled, shooting her a sidelong glance. “Well, I assure you, I’m really not. I just happen to enjoy good food and have a great chef who makes it all happen. It does make things a lot more enjoyable, though.” 

Tori smiled, feeling more at ease with the playful banter. “If that’s the case, I’m looking forward to dinner.” She paused for a moment, a flicker of curiosity crossing her mind. “What else does your chef cook? Besides the pasta and steak, of course.”

He thought for a moment, a grin spreading across his face, clearly enjoying the conversation. “I try to avoid sugary foods during the season, but he’s a fucking fantastic baker.” 

Tori couldn't help but laugh as she listened to Jude go on about his chef, it was evident that he didn't lead the normal life of a twenty-one-year-old man, but he still seemed extremely down to earth. 

“This is me,” Jude said as he tilted his head towards a tall black gate, before turning into its driveway. 

Reaching for a small fob in the middle compartment of his car, he pressed it and the gate slowly rolled open. 

As the car moved slowly up the gravel driveway, Tori gazed at Jude’s house, a stunning masterpiece of modern architecture. Its sleek lines and minimalist design exuded sophistication, with large glass windows reflecting the soft glow of the setting winter sun. The structure was both imposing and inviting, with a sense of warmth despite its grandness.

The entrance was decorated with two elegant sculptures, and the subtle outdoor lighting highlighted the clean lines of the building, creating an atmosphere of serene luxury.

“Wow, Jude, your house is beautiful,” Tori gushed, her eyes wide with admiration.

Jude parked the car smoothly and turned to her, a proud but modest smile on his face. “Thanks. I wanted it to feel open and welcoming. It’s a bit different from what I grew up in, but I love it.”

As they stepped out of the car, the crunch of gravel under their feet echoed softly in the quiet evening. Jude guided her towards the front door, using his key to open it before allowing her to enter first. 

“I can give you a tour later, but for now would you like anything to drink?” Jude asked as he kicked off his sneakers. 

“Water is fine,” Tori replied, feeling a little flustered but excited. She took in her surroundings, the spacious foyer adorned with modern art pieces and a stylish chandelier that cast a warm glow over everything. 

Following Jude into the kitchen she watched as he grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator before he turned and handed it to Tori. 

Gracefully accepting the water, Tori trailed behind Jude as he guided her into his living room. The space was warmly lit, and filled with inviting furniture that highlighted a blend of comfort and style. She settled into a soft armchair, the fabric plush against her skin, while Jude took a seat across from her, his demeanour relaxed yet attentive.

Despite the plush comfort of her cushioned seat, Tori couldn't shake the clammy sensation clinging to her skin after a long day of dancing. The remnants of perspiration lingered, making her feel uncomfortable. She turned to Jude, a hint of shyness in her voice, and asked, “Do you mind if I take a shower now?”

“Of course. The guest bathroom is just down the hall,” Jude replied, his smile warm and inviting.

Tori felt a wave of relief wash over her. “Thanks! I won’t be long,” she promised, standing up and making her way toward the hallway. She could feel Jude’s gaze on her as she walked away, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in her chest at the thought of their evening together.

As she stepped into the bathroom, Tori quickly shed her dance clothes, grateful for the opportunity to wash away the day’s exertions. The warm water cascaded over her, soothing her muscles and letting her mind wander. She couldn’t help but think about Jude and how comfortable he made her feel, despite the initial anxiety she had about their relationship.

After a refreshing shower, Tori dried herself off and went to retrieve her clothes from her bag only to realize she’d left them in the living room with Jude. 

Opening the bathroom door, Victoria stepped into the bedroom feeling herself becoming slightly panicked.

Walking over to the bedroom door, she pulled it open and let out a sigh of distress. Tori stood looking out into the dimly lit hallway, feeling utterly exposed and at a loss for what to do. The soft fabric of the towel clung to her damp skin, offering little comfort as she weighed her options. She glanced nervously around Jude's house, its unfamiliar outlines and shadows amplifying her discomfort. Retrieving her bag and clothes from the living room seemed like an impossible task. The thought of wandering through the house, dressed only in a towel, sent a wave of embarrassment crashing over her. She knew she had to muster the courage to make the trek, but the vulnerability of the moment paralyzed her.

“Fuck,” she huffed as she crossed the threshold of Jude’s guest room into the long hallway, goosebumps covering the surface of her skin as she quickly made her way down it, attempting to keep quiet as she went. 

Making her way into Jude’s living room where she left her bag, Tori refused to lift her head as the murmur of the television and the soft glow of the screen filled the room. She could hear Jude’s voice, low and relaxed, as he chatted with someone on the phone. The sound made her heart race, a mix of excitement and anxiety swirling within her. 

Tori took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She could see her bag just a few feet away, but the thought of Jude catching a glimpse of her in just a towel sent her pulse racing. She hesitated, her mind racing with thoughts of how ridiculous she must look, how vulnerable she felt. 

“Okay, just grab the bag and get out of here,” she whispered to herself, steeling her resolve. 

With a glance toward the sectional where Jude sat, she darted forward, her bare feet silent against the cool floor. She reached her bag and fumbled with the straps, her fingers trembling slightly as she pulled it into her grasp. Just as she was about to retrieve her clothes, she heard Jude’s voice grow louder, and her heart dropped.

“Yeah, I’ll call you back in a minute,” he said, and Tori froze, her breath caught in her throat. She could hear him moving around, and she knew she had to act fast. 

In a panic, she stood up and quickly turned to head back toward the hallway, but as she did, she bumped into the edge of the coffee table, sending a small decorative item clattering to the floor. 

“Shit!” she whispered, her heart racing as she turned to see Jude’s head snap in her direction. 

“Tori is everything okay?” Jude asked sitting up, reaching for the television remote so he could mute it as he gave her his undivided attention. 

Tori felt her cheeks flush as she stood there, clutching her bag to her chest like a shield. The towel felt even more inadequate under his gaze, and she could feel her heart pounding in her ears. 

“Everything’s fine!” she stammered, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “I left my bag down here.”

Tori wanted the floor to open up and swallow her, it was only the second time of ever been in Jude's presence and she stood in front of him in nothing but a towel. The vulnerability of the moment was overwhelming, and she could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks. 

Jude’s expression softened a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “You know, you could have just called me,” he smirked unable to keep a straight face. 

“My phone is in here, too,” she explained clutching the bag a little tighter. 

“Then you could’ve shouted my name,” he teased, his tone light and playful. “I would have come running.”

Tori couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in her shoulders easing just a bit. “Yeah, right. I’d rather not have you see me like this,” she said, gesturing to the towel that felt like it was shrinking by the second.

“Honestly, you look fine,” Jude replied, his gaze steady and reassuring, although internally he willed himself not to make his gaze slip to her body. “But if you’re uncomfortable, I can cover my eyes until you leave the room.” 

Tori's laughter faded, replaced by a mix of embarrassment and relief. Jude's playful demeanour helped to ease the tension, but the heat in her cheeks remained. She could feel the weight of his gaze, and it sent a shiver down her spine, both thrilling and terrifying.

“Very funny,” she replied, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a smile. “Although, I think it's a little late to cover your eyes.”

Jude chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “Fair point. But I promise I’m not going to take a mental picture or anything,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just trying to be polite.”

Tori felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach, but there was something about Jude’s easygoing nature that made her feel a little less exposed. “Thanks,” she said, her voice softening. “I guess I just didn’t expect to be naked in front of you the first time we’re hanging out.”

“What about the second?” Jude teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

Tori laughed, shaking her head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I think I’ll stick to clothes for the foreseeable future.”

“You’re beautiful in and out of them,” Jude replied, his tone sincere, and Tori felt her heart skip a beat at the compliment. 

“Wow, smooth talker, huh?” she said, trying to keep her tone light despite the warmth flooding her cheeks and stomach. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Honestly, I’m just speaking the truth,” Jude said, his brow furrowed in sincerity as he looked directly at her. “But really, there’s no need to feel uncomfortable. It’s just a towel, after all. We’re all human, and these moments happen.” His tone was steady, aimed at easing the tension in the room.

Offering Jude a shy smile, Tori turned on her heels and left Jude’s living room so she could head back to the guest room to finally get dressed. 

When she returned she found that Jude was no longer lounging in his living room, making her way into the kitchen Tori couldn't help but smile as she walked into the room to find Jude enthusiastically talking to a greying olive-skinned man. 

“Tori, this is Chef Ruben,” he smiled as he turned to look at her before turning back to him. 

“Nice to meet you,” Tori said, her voice friendly as she extended her hand toward the chef. 

“Pleasure’s all mine, Tori,” Ruben replied, shaking her hand warmly. His eyes sparkled with kindness, and Tori felt instantly at ease. “Jude was telling me you were curious about what was on the menu tonight?”

“Yes, I’m curious! I’ve heard a lot about your cooking,” Tori replied, her enthusiasm genuine. She couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement at the thought of enjoying a meal prepared by someone who seemed to have such a passion for food.

Ruben chuckled, a warm, welcoming smile spreading across his face. “Well, you’re in for a treat! I’m making a herb-crusted rack of lamb with roasted vegetables and a side of creamy mashed potatoes. If you have room for dessert, I prepared a homemade salted caramel ice cream.” 

Tori’s eyes widened, and she felt her stomach rumble at the mention of the meal. “That sounds incredible! You’re making me hungry just talking about it,” she said, laughing lightly.

Jude leaned against the counter, crossing his arms with a smirk. “I told you,” he said, looking at Tori with a playful glint in his eyes. “Ruben’s cooking is legendary. You’ll never want to eat anywhere else after this.”

Tori chuckled, her excitement palpable. “I can believe it! You’re lucky to have such a talented chef at your disposal.”

Ruben waved a hand dismissively, his face lighting up with a grin as he turned back to the vegetables he'd been preparing. 

“Come with me,” Jude smirked as he held out his hand for Tori to take, leading her back into his living room to allow Ruben his space and give them more privacy. 

Although they had communicated a few times throughout the day, they had yet to bring up the kiss they'd shared the night before after meeting at Tori’s company's gala. 

As they stepped into the living room, Tori felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. The atmosphere was cozy, and the faint aroma of herbs and spices wafted in from the kitchen, making her stomach growl with anticipation. 

“So, what do you think of my humble abode?” Jude asked, gesturing around the room with a playful flourish. 

Tori looked around, taking in the elegant décor and modern furnishings. “It’s beautiful. Very… you,” she replied, smiling as she settled onto the plush couch. “I love how open and airy it feels.”

Jude chuckled softly as he sat down beside her, their knees nearly touching. “I wanted it to be a space where people feel comfortable. You know, a place where we can hang out, eat good food, and just enjoy each other’s company.”

The way he spoke sent a flutter through her chest. “I can definitely see that,” Tori said, her voice softening. “It feels welcoming.”

Jude leaned back against the couch, his gaze steady on her. “I’m really glad you could come tonight. I know our plans got a bit jumbled, but I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Me too,” Tori replied, her heart racing slightly as she met his gaze. The air between them felt charged, and she could feel the warmth radiating from him. “I was a bit worried I’d messed things up.”

“Not at all,” Jude reassured her, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch sent shivers down her spine, and Tori felt herself lean into him instinctively. “I think it worked out perfectly. We get to enjoy a great meal and each other’s company.”

Tori felt her cheeks flush at the intimacy of the moment. “You’re right,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m really glad I get to spend time with you.”

“Me too,” Jude replied, his voice low and sincere. He hesitated for a moment, then added, “About last night… I just wanted to say that I enjoyed the kiss. I didn’t expect it, but it felt right.”

Tori’s heart raced at his words. “I felt the same way,” she admitted, her cheeks heating up as she remembered the warmth of his lips against hers. “It surprised me, but it was nice.”

Jude's expression softened, and he leaned slightly closer, closing the distance between them. “I’d like to explore that more if you’re open to it.”

Tori’s breath caught in her throat. She had been thinking about it since they parted ways the previous evening. “I’d like that,” she said, her voice steady despite her racing heart.

Leaning into her lips, Jude’s eyes met with Tori’s as they slowly moved closer, their breaths mingling in the space between them. The anticipation hung thick in the air, electrifying and intoxicating. When their lips finally connected, it was gentle at first, a soft brush that ignited a fire within both of them. 

Jude's hand travelled to the back of Tori's neck, pulling her in deeper as their kiss intensified. Tori instinctively leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body envelop her. The kiss spoke volumes, conveying unspoken desires and promises that lingered just beneath the surface.

As they pulled away, both breathless, Tori couldn’t help but smile at Jude, her heart fluttering like a butterfly in her chest. She could see the hunger in his eyes mirroring her own, and it made her pulse quicken.

“So…” Tori started, her voice playful, trying to lighten the mood. “Is this part of your plan to keep me entertained while Chef Ruben conjures up magic in the kitchen?”

Jude chuckled, a twinkle in his eyes. “Maybe. But honestly, I just wanted a reason to kiss you again,” he admitted, his gaze piercing yet inviting. 

“I think I can get on board with that plan,” Tori replied, her playful demeanour having returned, strengthened by the immediate chemistry they had. 

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approaching from the kitchen broke the moment. Chef Ruben emerged, wiping his hands on a towel. “Dinner is almost ready.” He peered at them with an amused smile, as if he knew exactly what moment he had interrupted.

Tori felt her cheeks flush as she and Jude quickly pulled apart, both of them trying to regain their composure. The playful atmosphere shifted slightly, but the warmth of the moment lingered in the air.

“Perfect timing, Chef,” Jude said, a hint of laughter in his voice as he leaned back against the couch, trying to appear casual as Ruben turned and left the room.

Victoria chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement, turning to look at Jude as he stood to his feet holding out his hand for her guiding her into the dining room where Ruben had set two places at the table for them. 

Pulling out Tori’s chair for her, Jude gestured for her to sit down before taking his seat. A knowing smile on his face as he awaited their dinner being served. 

“Is this an everyday thing for you?” Tori asked as she took in the dining room before his eyes landed back on Jude. “Candle-lit dinners and gourmet meals.”

“No, most of the time my mum will cook for me or Ruben will just leave my dinner in the microwave for whenever I get around to eating it,” Jude explained. 

He understood how glamorous his life may have appeared from the outside looking in, and despite all he had, he still maintained as humble a lifestyle as a man in his position would. 

Time flew by as Tori and Jude sat in his dining room, the evening passing as giving way to the nighttime as they spoke about any and everything. 

Ruben had left around two hours prior after cleaning up the mess he made while cooking, before leaving their dessert in the refrigerator for them. 

It wasn't until Jude's phone rang in his pocket that Tori remembered her own, and when she pulled it out she was surprised to see it was nearing the hour of midnight. 

“Wow, time flew by,” Tori said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “I didn’t realize it was so late!”

Jude chuckled, a hint of surprise in his voice as he checked his watch. “Yeah, it’s easy to lose track of time when you’re having fun. I guess we got a little carried away with our conversation.”

Tori smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her at the thought of their evening together. “I enjoyed it. You’re easy to talk to.”

“Same here,” Jude replied, leaning back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “I enjoy your company.” 

Tori felt her heart flutter at his words. “Thank you, I've been told the very opposite before.”

Just then, Jude’s phone buzzed again, interrupting the moment. He glanced at the screen and frowned slightly. “It’s my manager. I should probably take this,” he said, standing up and moving a few steps away to answer the call.

Tori watched him, her heart racing slightly as she thought about how different their lives were. Jude was a rising star, and she was just a dancer trying to make a name for herself. She couldn’t help but wonder how or why their lives truly came to align.

As Jude spoke on the phone, Tori took a moment to gather her thoughts before standing to her feet so she could prepare to leave. The evening had been fun, but she didn't want to overstay her welcome. 

Grabbing the plates they ate from, Tori brought them to the kitchen so she could place them into the sink before going in search of her belongings. 

When Jude’s phone conversation came to an end, he returned to the kitchen, a slight frown still lingering on his face. “Sorry about that,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Business never sleeps, I guess.”

Tori smiled, trying to ease the tension. “No worries, I was just cleaning up a bit. I didn’t want to leave a mess behind.”

Jude chuckled softly, leaning against the counter. “You didn’t have to do that. But I appreciate it.”

“I just figured it was the least I could do after such an amazing dinner,” Tori replied, feeling a sense of warmth at the compliment. “Seriously, the food was incredible. I‘m lucky to have experienced that. But it's super late and I should probably get going.”

“You don't have to,” Jude said, his tone shifting slightly as he stepped closer to her. “I mean, if you want to stay a bit longer, I’d love you to.”

Tori felt her heart flutter at his invitation. The thought of leaving felt premature, especially after such a lovely evening. “I’d like that,” she said, her voice softening. “But I don’t want to impose on you, I've known you twenty-four hours and you've already dropped me home and given me dinner.”

“You’re not imposing at all,” Jude reassured her, his eyes warm and sincere. “I genuinely want you to stay. Plus, it’s late, and I’d feel better knowing you’re safe here.”

Tori felt a rush of warmth at his words, her heart swelling with affection. “Okay, I’ll stay a little longer,” she said, a smile breaking across her face. 

“Great,” Jude replied, his expression brightening. “How about we watch a movie or something? I have a few good ones lined up.”

“Sounds good,” Tori agreed, feeling a sense of comfort wash over her. She loved the idea of curling up on the couch with him, enjoying the warmth of his presence.

Jude led her back to the living room, where he grabbed the remote and settled onto the couch, gesturing for her to join him. Tori nestled in beside him, feeling the heat radiating from his body as they sank into the cushions. 

As the opening credits rolled, Tori found herself stealing glances at Jude, who was focused on the screen. She couldn’t help but admire the way the soft light illuminated his features, the way his lips curved into a smile at the funny moments in the film. 

Halfway through the movie, Tori felt a wave of drowsiness wash over her. She leaned her head against Jude’s shoulder, feeling safe and content. Jude glanced down at her, a soft smile playing on his lips as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

“Very,” Tori replied, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. She felt a sense of peace envelope her, the stresses of the day fading away as she relaxed against him.

As the movie continued, Tori felt Jude’s fingers gently brushing through her hair, a tender gesture that sent shivers down her spine. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and in that moment, the air between them shifted. 

Jude’s eyes darkened with desire, and Tori felt her heart race as he leaned in closer. “Can I kiss you again?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” Tori breathed, her heart pounding in her chest.

Their lips met softly at first, a gentle exploration that quickly deepened as the kiss ignited a fire within them both. Tori melted against him, her hands finding their way to his hair as she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. 

Jude responded eagerly, his hands roaming down her back, pulling her against him as the kiss grew more passionate. Tori felt a rush of heat flood her body, her senses heightened as they lost themselves in each other.

Pulling Tori into her lap so she straddled him, Jude wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close as their kiss deepened. Tori could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and it sent a thrill through her. She couldn't recall the last time she felt so desired, so wanted, and it both exhilarated and terrified her.

As they kissed, Tori felt the world around them fade away. The flickering light from the television was just a backdrop to the intensity of the moment, and all that mattered was the connection they were sharing. Jude’s hands slid up her back, his fingers going beneath her top as he groaned into her mouth at the realization she wasn't wearing a bra. 

Tori gasped softly at the sensation, her body responding instinctively to his touch. The warmth of his hands against her skin sent shivers down her spine, igniting a spark of desire that coursed through her. She felt emboldened, the initial nerves washing away as the kiss deepened and grew more passionate.

Jude pulled her closer, his hands exploring the contours of her back with a tenderness that made her heart race. Tori’s fingers tangled in his hair, and she felt a rush of exhilaration as they lost themselves in the moment, completely consumed by the chemistry crackling between them.

But as the kiss intensified, a small voice in the back of Tori’s mind reminded her of the speed at which things were moving. She reluctantly pulled back, breathless, her heart pounding in her chest as she searched Jude’s eyes for reassurance. 

“I should go,” she breathed, feeling a mixture of apprehension and desire, unsure of where the night would head if she remained in his presence. 

“Stay,” Jude murmured, a frown on his browline as he looked into Tori’s eyes willing her to heed him. “Please,” he added softly, his voice laced with sincerity.

Leaning down Tori pressed her lips against his once more, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as he stood to his feet with her in his arms. 

He moved as of she was weightless as he moved from the living room and upstairs to the upper level of his house. 

Pushing open his bedroom door without parting lips with Tori, Jude used his foot to close it behind himself, locking them away from the rest of their world. 

All rationale had left Tori’s mind and she and Jude indulged in each other, giving in to impulse and desire as they stripped one another until they lay tangled between the sheets. 

Jude feasted on her until she was a trembling mess in the middle of his bed. He used his mouth and tongue to render her speechless—he lost himself in the act, tasting and torturing her with his skilled mouth.

“Jude,” Victoria moaned into his ear, her legs wrapping around his waist as he sank into her inch by delicious inch, his hands splayed either side of her head as their eyes met.

“You're so fucking tight,” Jude groaned in awe of the way she felt around him, the heat and sensation almost overwhelming. Victoria's body responded to him, clenching and releasing like she was designed to fit him perfectly. 

Her back arched as he filled her completely, sending waves of pleasure coursing through them both. “Yes, just like that,” she encouraged her voice a sultry whisper that sent a shiver down his spine.

He took a moment to drink her in— the way her hair fanned out on the pillow, the flush of her cheeks, and the way her lips parted slightly as she struggled to find words between gasps. Every detail contributed to fueling a fire in him, compelling him to go deeper, to claim her in a way that left no doubt of his desire.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he breathed, starting a slow, deliberate rhythm. Pulling almost all the way out of Tori before easing back in, moving his hand from beside her head to pin her right leg to the bed, his grip firm on the back of her thigh. 

The shift in position conjured a dull ache that felt sinfully good in tandem with the pleasure coursing through her body. His girth and length surpassing any expectation she may have had. 

As he pulled almost entirely out before sinking back in, Victoria let out an unrefined moan, her grip on Jude's shoulders tightening as if she might fall off the bed otherwise. "Oh, fuck, yes...just like that," she whined into his ear, her hips bucking slightly to meet his thrusts, the ache growing with every inch that slid back into her.

Her fingers dug into his hair, not pulling but coaxing him closer, her lips finding his neck in search of contact. "You feel so good," she gasped, her teeth drawing along his skin. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

The pleasure was almost too much, her body trembling with the force of it, but she didn't want it to end, didn't want him to pull back just yet. Tori rolled her hips again, matching his rhythm with a desperate eagerness, urging him deeper, chasing that delicious friction that was fast turning into an inexorable need.

Jude snarled lustfully as he watched his length slip from her, her arousal coating his cock in a glistening sheen. 

Turning Tori over onto her stomach in one swift motion, he reached for a pillow at the head of his bed forcing it beneath her to create a deep, perfect arch in her spine that made her hips raise. 

Jude couldn't help himself, taking hold of his cock he used the tip to circle her slick entrance. 

“Shit,” Victoria cried out, her whole body tingling with suspense as Jude's thick cockhead circled her entrance, teasing her. She wiggled her hips instinctively, trying to urge him inside.

Jude wasted no more time, pressing the head of his cock against her pussy, pushing just enough to feel that gentle resistance, before easing in ballsdeep.

Victoria let out a throaty moan as Jude thrust into her with a force that made the bed tremor beneath the weight of bodies. She arched her back, pushing her hips against him as he began to move, his pace relentless and demanding.

Each deep, powerful stroke of his cock hit a spot inside her that made her eyelids roll shut. Tori's mind emptied of all thought, reduced to only sensations—the feeling of Jude's thick length thrusting into her, the sound of their harsh breaths and slick skin colliding, the way his hands gripped her hips and held her in place.

She wrapped her arms around the pillow, using it to steady herself as Jude fucked her with an intensity that left her breathless and overwhelmed. 

His thrusts picked up speed, becoming almost brutal in their execution, and Victoria met each one with an answering roll of her hips, lost to the pleasure that threatened to consume her.

When she felt Jude’s fingers come to grip the hair at the back of her head, all bets were off. Tori let out a cry of pleasure as her eyes rolled shut, the arch in her back deepening as her thighs began to tremble. 

Panting heavily, Jude gripped the back of Tori's head, tilting it to the side as he continued his merciless exploration of her depths. The new angle allowed him to go even deeper, the force of his thrusts hitting the spongy flesh of her cervix and sending shivers of pure bliss coursing through her. Her moans of ecstasy echoed through the room, fueling his own growing need.

As Jude's grip tightened, Tori's entire body went stiff, her cries becoming choked whimpers of pleasure. She'd never experienced anything like this before, Jude's size and strength pushing her to the very edge of what she could take.

“Cum for me, Tori,” Jude groaned, his pace slowing as he watched himself disappear inside of her, completely under her spell. 

"Tori," he groaned into her ear, his voice guttural and primal. The sound of his arousal hung heavily in the air as he pounded into her, her body moving in rhythmic time with his.

Victoria's mind shattered as Jude continued to take her, his relentless thrusts driving her to the brink. She felt so full, so completely filled and claimed by him.

"Yes, yes, y-yes..." she chanted brokenly, her words dissolving into helpless cries of ecstasy.

Jude's fingers dug into the flesh of her hips, gripping her as he laid into her, each stroke easing her closer to the edge. He could feel her walls spasming around him, her pleasure knotting tighter and tighter until it threatened to come undone.

She was going to come undone beneath him, and Jude was determined to be the one to send her over. He wanted to hold her in his arms as she committed herself to the pinnacle of pleasure. 

Despite the silent cry that fell from her mouth, Jude felt it as she came on him. Her arousal dripped down the innards of her thighs as she gripped the pillow beneath the sated body. 

Pulling out of Tori, Jude held his length in his hand as he eyed her sweaty body, between her legs flushed and slightly swollen. He watched as she turned over onto her back, a playful glint in her eyes. Victoria's lips curved into a sultry smile as she beckoned him closer with a gesture of her finger.

“Not yet,” Tori purred, her voice laced with mischief. She pushed herself up onto her knees, an inviting shine in her gaze as her tongue swiped across her lips. Jude's breath hitched in his throat, anticipation pooling in his stomach as he watched her.

With an intentional slowness to her movements, Tori leaned forward, her shiny raven hair cascading over her shoulders in a soft curtain that framed her face. She took her time, savouring the moment as she moved closer to his cock, barely an inch away. Her breath washed over him, warm and tantalizing, and she couldn't help but smirk at the way he tensed up.

“I want to taste you,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire. She opened her mouth wide, taking him in slowly, her tongue swirling around the tip before she sank deeper, relishing the sensation of him filling her mouth.

“Fuck, Tori,” he groaned, his hands instinctively tangling in her hair as she began to bob her head up and down, her mouth perfect seal as she showcased her talent. Her lips and chin glistened with drool, slicking his shaft as she pulled back, only to thrust forward again, taking him as deep as she could manage.

Tori could feel him throbbing against her tongue, the heat of him igniting a fire inside her. She revelled in the taste of him, the way he filled her mouth, an offering of pleasure she was more than happy to accept. Each thrust of her mouth was accompanied by soft, breathy moans that vibrated against his length, driving him wild.

Jude's fingers gripped her hair tightly, guiding her rhythm as he watched the bliss dance across her face. “Just like that, Tori,” he encouraged, his voice thick and deep with arousal. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

She picked up the pace, swirling her tongue around his shaft as she took him deeper, pressing down to the base. The sound of her wetness filled the air, a stimulating melody that only stoked the flames of his desire. Victoria loved watching Jude lose himself in the moment, the way his brow furrowed in pleasure and his jaw slackened, his breath coming in quick, erratic gasps.

She could feel his tension riding, his breaths growing more shallow as she wrapped her lips tighter around him, sucking hard while pumping the rest of him with her small, dexterous hands. His hand found her cheek, urging her to take him even deeper.

“Breathe through it, Tori,” he murmured, his voice throaty. “Give me your fucking throat.”

Just as he was about to lose his grip on control, she pulled back, her mouth popping off with a soft, erotic sound. Tori looked up at him with lust-filled eyes and licked her lips in a slow, deliberate motion.

Without a word, she parted her lips and tilted her head back offering herself to him. 

Jude's heart raced at the sight of her, so willingly surrendering to him, and he couldn't resist the urge to claim her once more. He moved closer, his length glistening as he approached her inviting mouth. The hunger in his gaze mirrored her desire, pooling in the air between them.

“God, Tori,” he growled, his voice low and rough. He took a step closer and positioned himself at her lips. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

With a firm yet gentle grip on her hair, he leaned forward, his cock pressing against her mouth. Without hesitating, she opened wider, welcoming him back inside. Feeling him slide into her mouth felt addictive, and she immediately went to work, sucking him in deep while her tongue expertly traced every ridge and vein.

“Fuck,” he breathed, the sensation exhilarating. “You drive me crazy.”

She made soft, sensual sounds, each one vibrating around him, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through his body. Jude began to rock his hips slowly, thrusting in rhythm with her perfect mouth, going deeper with each deliberate motion. The sight of her swallowing him, her eyes shining with intensity, only heightened his arousal.

“Just like that,” he groaned, losing himself in the rhythm of her mouth as she layered her movements with a tantalizing mix of speed and pressure. 

Victoria let him take control, relishing in the way he filled her mouth, the heat and weight of him overwhelming her senses. She could feel him reaching the precipice, his every breath quickening, the muscles in his thighs tightening.

As the tension mounted, she could sense his rising need. Just when he thought he would lose it, she pulled back again, teasingly bringing her tongue over the sensitive tip before letting him slip from her lips entirely. 

“Please, Jude,” she pleaded, her breath coming in bursts. “I want you to cum on my face.”

Jude's eyes darkened with desire, the raw urgency in her voice igniting something primal within him. “Come here,” he growled, his fingers curling into her hair, guiding her back down on him.

With a decisive thrust, Jude eased into her mouth once more, and Tori’s eyes widened in delight as he filled her instantly. She loved the way he took charge, how he lost himself in the pleasure. With each deep stroke, he seemed to pull her deeper into his world, a place where only he and she existed.

The heat of him was intoxicating, and her own desire soaring in response, each of his thrusts awakening a raw need inside her. She met him with soft, enthusiastic sounds, her moans sending vibrations through his hard cock, heightening the intoxicating pull between them. Jude looked down at her, his chest rising and falling with each heated breath, the way her face glistened with saliva driving him wild.

“Just like that, baby,” he growled, his control wavering. He moved faster now, a rhythm between domination and desire with every thrust. He watched as his cock disappeared past her luscious lips, the sight pure ecstasy. “You’re so fucking perfect like this.”

Victoria's desire erupted higher at his words. She pushed herself to take him even deeper, her throat working to accommodate him as she surrendered herself completely to the pleasure of the moment. Each time he hit the back of her throat, she felt herself flutter with excitement, her body yearning for more. 

Feeling a familiar tightness in his core, Jude knew he wouldn’t last long. Her compliance was like a drug, and the sight of her completely lost in the act—her eyes glazed over with pleasure—drove him wild. He groaned, his breaths rough and uneven, “I’m going to cum, Tori...”

“Please,” she urged with a sultry whisper around his pulsating length, her voice thick with desire. “I want it.”

That single command sent Jude spiralling over the edge. He gritted his teeth as he thrust one last time, burying himself deep within her warm mouth, his body quaking with release. “Tori!” he roared, surrendering to the pleasure that consumed him, his thick seed spilling as he held himself against the back of her throat. 

Victoria welcomed the warmth, her eyes shimmering with delight as she felt the salty essence hit her tongue, a warm splash of gratification that sent shivers through her body. She let out a soft, hungry moan as she savoured every drop, the taste of him only intensifying her desire. 

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” Jude panted, watching the way she licked her lips, ensuring she hadn’t wasted a single drop. The sight of her basking in his essence only fueled his need for her more, driving him wild. 

Tori leaned back, her lips still glistening, an alluring invitation in her eyes. “I’m not,” she smiled shyly. 

Taking her hand into his, Jude pulled her body against his once more, the warmth between them igniting again. "I think you are," he murmured, his voice a sultry growl that sent currents of anticipation racing through her.

He manoeuvred them both back onto the bed, their bodies colliding with a thud, as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. 

“When are you heading back to the States for the holidays?” Jude asked, his fingers softly tracing the skin of her back. 

“I’m not,” Tori revealed, her heart dropping as she thought about her family back home, or rather the current chasm between her and them. 

“What?!” Jude asked as if he'd just been told she wasn't human. 

“I’m staying in Madrid, I’m contemplating a last-minute New Year's trip with a few of the girls I dance with,” Tori explained, ignoring the dull ache in her chest as she offered him a soft reassuring smile. 

“What about you?” she asked intent on shifting the attention away from her. 

“I have my last football match of the year and then I’m heading back home to England to be with my family.” Jude revealed feeling bad about his plans to enjoy some time off with his family. 

However, an intriguing notion, though slightly unconventional, suddenly blossomed in his mind.

“After Christmas, I'm heading to Dubai with a few of my teammates for an awards ceremony, but I plan on celebrating New Year's there too,” Jude explained. 

“If you’d like, I’d be happy for you to join me.” he continued, feeling rather nervous as he proposed the idea to her. 

Victoria's heart raced at his offer, the thought of joining him igniting a spark of excitement within her. “Are you being serious?” she asked cautiously. 

“Why wouldn't I be serious?” Jude asked with a pout. 

“I know we are just getting to know one another and I’m already in your bed, but why?” Tori asked, her brow furrowing slightly. She wanted to be sure about his intentions but couldn’t deny the rush of excitement that coursed through her at the prospect of spending more time with him.

“Because,” he began, searching her gaze for the right words, “I want to continue to get to know you, whether it be in Dubai or Madrid.”

Tori had already let it slip that she was thinking about travelling for the new year, but the thought of going to Dubai with Jude was incredibly enticing. The atmosphere of a new city, especially one known for its opulence and vibrant nightlife, combined with the thrill of exploring more of their connection sent a rush of adrenaline through her.

“I’m intrigued,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “But what's the catch? This feels… too good to be true.”

Jude smiled, a mixture of confidence and assurity in his demeanour. “No catch. If at any point you want to leave you can, I don't expect anything from you, but I would like for you to join me.”

Tori hadn’t known Jude for any stretch of time, but from their first encounter, she’d found herself drawn to him. “If I say yes, you have to promise me I won't end up regretting it,” she said, her eyes searching his for sincerity. 

Jude leaned closer, brushing his lips softly against hers. “I promise to make it a trip you won’t forget,”

[rheya28]

Sol School of Fashion ♥ The Sims 4: Build // CC

Sol School of Fashion "SOF" is a well known fashion studio/school located in Del Sol Valley. SOF is a space that encourages boldness, creativity, and innovation. Sims can have access to a café, photo studios, a classroom, a meeting room, a lounge, as well as a customizable runway with a backstage dressing room that consist of all the fashion necessities needed to produce a professional fashion show event.

➽ Speed Build Video

➽ Rheya's Notes:

♥ Hi guys, today I present to you SOL School of Fashion "SOF". This build/project is extremely special as I collaborated with the lovely and talented @farfallasims who kindly curated all the looks for the 2023 SOF Fashion Show Event Looks Curated by: @farfallasims [ Look Book Link ] 25:23

➽ Important Notes:

● Please make sure to turn bb.moveobjects on! ● Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ● Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file ● Feel free to edit/tweak my builds, but please make sure to credit me as the original creator! ● Thank you to all CC Creators ● Please let me know if there's any problem with the build

➽ Lot Details

Lot Name: Sol School of Fashion Lot type: Generic lot type or Cafe Lot size: 40x30 Location: Starlight Boulevard, Del Sol Valley

➽ Mods:

TOOL MOD by TwistedMexi

♥ CC LIST:

Awingedllama : Boho Living, nostalgia living

Greenllama: The woodwind collection

Novvas: Holz Kitchen

Qicc: Sleep Hallway, Urban Bedroom

S-imagination: Nota

Sooky: Abstract framed posters -wooden frame

Sooky: Bon ton n1 ceiling lamp - Tall

Syboubou: Daguerre Reica Camera, Ballet mirror , fency

The Clutter Cat: Dandy Diary, Mellow moods

Aira : Artist in me

Anye: Zara Bathroom

ATS4: pot 4, pot 13, plant 16 Crafting room: dressform blouse, dressform male, dressform suit, folded fabrics, jar, paperstack, patterns, sewing machine

Harrie: Bafroom, brownstone, kichen

House of Harlix: Baysic, harluxe, brutalist, coastal, kwatei, octave, shop the look 2, spoons, Jardane, Livin Rum, Orjanic, tiny twavellers

Felix Andre: Berlin, Chateau, fayun, colonial, grove, kyoto, paris, shop the look

Brainstrip: my corner cc pack desk only

Charlypancakes: Munch, the lighthouse collection, miscellanea, modish, smol

Leori: Hipster loft

Illogical Sims: Home office

Kaiso: rustico living

Kate Emerald: Blissful baby Ottoman

Kiwisims4: Blockhouse hallway, Blockhouse Dining

Leaf Motif: Devon kitchen

Little Dica: Country side Cabin, Rise & Grind, sleek slumber

Madame Ria: Back to basics paint wall, Limber lumber

Madlen: Hiru misc set

Rusticsims: Mayaken, Modular life

Myls: Simple Clothes rack nordic

Mxims: LG

Myshunosun: Sol kitchen, Arrie Office, Gale dining, Lottie, Macaron kitchen, herbalist kitchen, tranquil bedroom

Peacemaker: Alesund, Hudson, Kitayama, Terra tiles horizontal/vertical, Vera Office

Pierisim: Coldbrew, David Apartment, Domain Du clos, MCM, Oak house, Tilable, unfold, Winter Garden

max20/maxsus: Poolside lounge pack

Sforzinda: Func EP02 Espressogrindomatic, espressoimpresso, cabin slats

sims4luxury: Mcgee&co Callhan rug

Sixam: Artz Living room, small spaces work from home, hotel bedroom, kessler kitchen, stylist wood livingroom, teen room

TaurusDesign: Eliza Bedroom, Elsa kids room

mycupofcc: Modernist

Tuds: 2ndWave, beam, cave, cross, wave

● DOWNLOAD Tray File and CC list: Patreon Page ● Origin ID: anrheya [previous name: applez] ● Twitter: Rheya28__ ● Tiktok: Rheya28__ ● Youtube: Rheya28__

[btsqualityy]

BTS Dating Series #18: Favorite Things

Members x Reader

Genre/Rate: 18+, fluff

Summary: Little things about one another that makes your heart flutter.

Warnings: None to note.

Kim Seokjin

"Finally," Jin sighed as he stepped through the front door of his apartment, hurriedly shutting the door behind him before kicking his shoes off and setting his bag down. He then raised his arms above his head, attempting to stretch out his sore muscles as he moved down the hallway into the living room. When he stepped into the space, he saw you laid out on your side on the couch, a book laid out in front of you.

It was a picture that Jin had seen at least 50 times by this point in your relationship but it was one that he never got tired of seeing. He knew that it took a lot for you to become comfortable enough to open up to him and to be your natural self around him unguarded, so he did his best to never take it for granted.

"Hey you," Jin spoke up, making you look up from the book and grin widely.

"Hi," you greeted him, waiting until he stepped over to the couch to pucker your lips and Jin instantly leaned down to press a soft kiss to them. "How was your day?"

"Good, long practice though," he sighed as he sat down next to you. "And what about you?"

"Ok, easy work day," you shrugged. "Then I came here, cooked some dinner, and then got absorbed in this book."

"I see that, you didn't even hear me come in," he murmured. "Which isn't good but I digress."

"The book is so good though," you chuckled. "You have to read it once I'm done."

"I will jagi, I will," he assured you before leaning down to kiss you again.

Min Yoongi

You were laid out on the couch that was placed in Yoongi's studio, watching with a small smile as Yoongi worked on tweaking his latest track.

Now, it wasn't the first time you had been in Yoongi's studio watching him work. In fact, it had become a regular occurrence since he was almost always working and you were more than content to sit there with him, watching.

The way that his focus never wavered, how he'd bite his lip and tilt his head as he tried to figure out how to fix whatever part was troubling him, it amazed you. You had never had such a passion for anything the way that he did about music so it left you in awe how much he dedicated to his craft.

"Hey," Yoongi spoke up, making your eyes widen in surprise as you broke out of your thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"You ok over there?" He checked in and judging by his smirk, you knew that you had gotten caught staring at him.

"Yeah, just admiring the view," you replied honestly with a shrug. "Don't mind me."

"Ok," he laughed. "Give me 30 more minutes?"

"Sure," you nodded, watching as he turned around to face the desktop once again.

Kim Namjoon

You hummed to yourself as you stirred the pot on the stove, doing a little dance in place as the music flowed from the speaker sitting on the counter next to you. You were so zoned out, that you jumped in place when Namjoon snuck up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Hey!" You squealed. "I didn't even hear you come in."

"The music is the culprit for that," Namjoon laughed. "How's dinner going? Need any help?"

"You could chop up those onions and celery for me," you said. "I can handle everything else."

"Ok," he nodded, pressing a kiss to your cheek before releasing you and moving over to the counter. You continued to stir the contents of the pot while he grabbed a knife and proceeded to try and cut up the vegetables as you requested, and you couldn't help but laugh at his attempts.

One of your favorite things about Namjoon was the fact that he always tried to help you, even if he was helplessly inept at whatever you had requested. Anyone who knew Namjoon knew that the kitchen wasn't his strongest suit but he was more than willing to jump in if it meant helping you out, and that presented itself in every facet of your relationship with him.

"Ouch!" Namjoon huffed and you broke out of your thoughts then, your eyes widening when you realized that he had sliced the side of his finger.

"Joon," you huffed playfully, grabbing a paper towel and wrapping it around his pointer finger. "You're gonna chop a finger off one of these days."

"Sorry," he murmured sheepishly and you just shook your head before leaning up and kissing his lips gently.

Jung Hoseok

You grabbed your phone off of the charger that was placed in Hobi's bedroom, deciding to go downstairs and watch some tv after your shower. As you walked down the stairs, Hobi was coming up and he smiled at seeing you.

"Hi Y/N-ah," he said. "Good shower?"

"Hey and yeah, it was good," you nodded. "Gonna go watch some dramas."

"Ok, I have a conference call with the members," he told you and you nodded in response. After pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, you both continued on your separate ways. Once you made it to the couch, you made yourself comfortable and turned on the television, instantly becoming absorbed in it.

Before you knew it, three whole hours had passed and you found yourself getting hungry so you got up and walked into the kitchen. When you did, you saw Hobi sitting at the kitchen table on his phone.

"Hi baby," he grinned widely and you couldn't help but to laugh at how happy he was to see you. But then again, Hobi was never shy about letting you know how happy he was to see you and it always made you feel warm inside.

"What's funny?" He wondered as you walked over to him, chuckling when you bent down and gave him a firm kiss.

"Nothing," you shook your head once you pulled away. "What did you wanna do for dinner? I'm starving."

Park Jimin

"Y/N-ah!!!" Jimin screamed as he rushed into the house and you looked up from your spot on the couch in surprise as he ran into the living room.

"Where's the fire?" You giggled and Jimin ran over to you, grabbing your hands and helping you stand up off of the couch.

"Guess what?" He said and you shrugged your shoulders. "Y/N-ah, we got nominated for a Grammy!"

"What?!" You exclaimed, a wide smile appearing on your face. "You're lying!"

"I'm not!" Jimin chuckled. "That's what the meeting we had today was about! We're nominated and they want us to perform!"

"I'm so fucking proud of you!" You squealed as you literally jumped up into his arms, laughing loudly as he spun you around. Jimin's heart was already doing leaps and bounds but seeing how genuinely excited you were for him and his members, it warmed his heart.

"I want you to be my date to the ceremony too," Jimin told you as he set you back down on the ground.

"Really?" You gasped in awe. "You're sure?"

"No better place for our official first appearance together than on the biggest stage in the world," he smirked before kissing you firmly.

Kim Taehyung

You slowly pushed open the door to the practice room, doing your best to stay as quiet as possible as the members were in the middle of rehearsal. You crept over to a corner, huffing to yourself as you watched Taehyung struggle to keep up with the rest of the group as they flew threw the choreography.

See, the thing is: Taehyung was sick as hell. You'd heard it in his voice when he told you good morning when you woke up together, you could see it in the way he moved as he ambled around your bedroom getting dressed and you could see it now as coughs racked his body.

"Let's take a break," Hobi spoke up as he motioned for the music to be cut off and once it was, he turned and looked at Taehyung. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Taehyung nodded, although he coughed immediately after.

"Could've fooled me," you spoke up, making everyone turn and look over at you.

"Y/N-ah," Taaehyung chuckled, moving over to you and pulling you into a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to bring you this," you said as you held up the plastic bag in your hand that held Gatorade, soup, and medicine. "Figured you could use it. I also wanted to make sure you were doing ok."

"You came all this way just to make sure I was ok and to bring me food and medicine?" He questioned with a grin. This wasn't the first time you had shown your care towards him; in fact, it was a regular thing with you but he was surprised that you had come all the way to the HYBE building just to do it.

"Well, someone has to do it because you're sure not," you joked, making him laugh before he kissed your cheek.

Jeon Jungkook

Your eyes opened slowly, the sunlight from outside filtering through the curtains and shining down onto your face. You sat up slightly then, glancing next to you and seeing that Jungkook was missing. It didn't take you long to figure out where he was though, because you could hear his voice flowing from underneath the bathroom door with the sounds of the shower head in the background.

You couldn't help but to smile to yourself as you listened to him singing The Truth Untold. Jungkook sung all the time around you, the man was like the literal definition of a songbird but you couldn't help but to feel like when it was just you and him, that he was always singing specifically to you. His voice always touched a certain part of you and then melted it, and you felt yourself melting into the sheets as you listened to his gorgeous tone.

"Mmmm," he hummed as he suddenly opened the door and stepped out, a towel wrapped around his waist. He stopped singing once he saw you were awake, smiling widely as he stepped over to the bed and sat down on the edge next to you.

"Good morning," you murmured.

"Good morning," he replied before leaning down and pressing a slow, deep kiss to your lips. "Sleep good?"

"I always sleep much better in your bed than I do in my own," you confessed with a small smile. "Especially when I get these wake up calls too."

"Wake up calls?" He wondered before he chuckled in realization. "My singing? I hope I didn't wake you up."

"You didn't but you even if you did, I wouldn't mind," you told him and he just responded by leaning down and kissing you again.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 19 - Free Use]

Pairing: sub!Taehyung x Domme!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, polyamory!AU

Kinks: living room sex, free use kink, guided male masturbation, handjob, edging, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, creampie, cock riding on the sofa, rough carrying sex against the window, semi-public sex ‘cause of the window, masochist!Tae, sadist!Reader, hair pulling, face slapping, degradation (slut), choking, “forced” finger sucking, subby boy tears, slight dollification, praise, squirting, very brief cunnilingus, lots of begging, he kneels at one point, strength kink cause of the carrying sex, soft & loving aftercare

Wordcount: 5.1k

a/n: inspired by this ask your idea was just too powerful, i was too inflicted by it not to write it gngnng this kink screams Sanguis!Tae so you are getting it with him gndfng have fun besties ❤

Taehyung has an apartment in Paris. Although “apartment” puts it lightly. It is in one of the city’s many old buildings, stretching over the last two floors and with a roof terrace nestled into the architecture. The apartment has high ceilings and old wooden floors. The furniture is a mixture of antiques and modern design pieces and wherever one might look, there is some sort of artwork presented. The main lights are rarely turned on because Taehyung has every room set up perfectly with ambient lights. On the first floor, one finds the entrance space, the main living room, the kitchen and a big dining room, a bathroom, a separate toilet and two guest bedrooms. Upstairs is reserved for a clothing room, another bathroom and the main bedroom while the rest of the rooms are turned into art studios of all sorts. The apartment is so distinctively Taehyung. Itis cozy, homey and filled with art history and you are currently spending your days in it. 

You and he left the estate behind to go on a romantic two-on-two trip to Paris. It is always bittersweet to leave the others behind, but you dearly needed some alone time. 

You have been in Paris for seven nights by now, tonight is the eighth, and you spent most of the time together. Ever since yesterday however, you and he have been spending less time together as normality in the apartment settled in. You didn’t mind. It is nice to live together and go about your day to day life. 

Taehyung has been at home for most of today, sculpting in his crafts room. You spent most of the day outside, cruising the secret shops of the supernatural world for some ingredients. One can never be stocked up enough for potion making.

It is already dark when you come home, locking the door and kicking off your shoes.

“Chéri, I’m home!” you call out in French. You are currently learning French and Korean with the help of your boys. Up until now, it’s been going really well. 

Taehyung appears in the hallway.

“Chèri, hello. How are you?” he greets you and says something you can’t understand quite yet.

“Say that again?”

He repeats it slowly, pointing at your bags.

“Ah! Yes, I got a few things. Seriously though, I underestimated how quickly natives speak. I felt lost sometimes”, you tell him in English.

“I understand, but you managed to communicate well?” he asks you in English as well.

“Yeah, thankfully. I can give you a haul of the things soon, but I really gotta pee.” 

“Don’t let me keep you from it. I shall carry the bags to the living room in the meantime. Or do you prefer them to be somewhere else?”

“No, the living room is perfect. You’re a darling. Thank you”, you say and hurry away before it is too late.

Taehyung is watching television again when you join him. You changed out of your outside clothes into a comfortable lounge set and freshened up. Taehyung put the bags on the coffee table, currently watching a French cooking show as he enjoys a glass of blood.

“That looks delicious.” 

“It does?” Taehyung asks, glancing at the blood in disbelief.

“No, not the blood. The food in the show.” 

“Ah, this makes more sense. Indeed, it looks rather appetizing. Shall we dine out tonight?” 

“No, it’s okay. I ate a burger before coming here.” 

“I see. Tomorrow then.” 

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

You climb on his lap, facing him. Taehyung shifts his eyes from the television to you. You take the glass out of his hand and put it on the coffee table. Then you turn the show off, looking at him with a flutter of your lashes.

“What is this?” he asks, studying your body. The lounge set you chose is expensive and a present by him. It hugs your curves seductively, making it difficult for him not to stare at your breasts. He isn’t subtle in his struggle. You like that he isn’t.

“I have a question for you”, you say, playing with his soft hair at the nape of his neck.

“You do?” 

You nod your head.

He cocks his left brow up, “go ahead, darling.” 

“Do you know the concept of free use?”

He widens his eyes, fingers twitching on your waist and thighs tensing.

“Darling you”, he begins, having to laugh breathily, “of course I do, but I do not understand why this is of importance right now.” 

“Because I’m going to free use you right now.”

“You are?” he croaks, tugging on his shirt collar because he suddenly feels hot beyond compare. 

“Mh-hm I am. I need an orgasm.”

You look into his eyes deeply. This is his chance to stop this. This is your silent, yet to him obvious, question for his consent. It won’t be spoken by you because you want to play into the entire free use aspect, but Taehyung knows your signs well enough not to need words. He can stop this right now and whenever he needs to. 

He doesn’t want this to stop. He is very down to fuck you. Very down. Ever since you sat down on his lap looking so pretty in your set, his mind has been spiralling.   

“O-okay”, he stutters, nodding his head. 

The consent was given.

“That’s what I thought. Not that I would have accepted anything else anyway”, you say and slip off his lap.

“Darling, heavens”, he gasps, stomach tingling unbearably. 

You open his pants, truly wasting no time. Taehyung moans softly, lifting his butt so you could undress him. You do it hastily, throwing his pants to the side. 

So now his lower body is bared while you kneel in front of him. He is completely soft, of course he is, and his breathing is still at a normal speed. You ought to change both of these things very, very soon.

“You’re so pretty when you’re soft, darling.” 

“Thank you, oh heavens.” 

“You know that I’m gonna have to make you hard though, don’t you?” 

“I do.” He opens his legs. “Do whatever you need to do, I can take it.” 

It is needless to mention that whatever is still in his borders of comfort, which you respect deeply. He feels safe in saying such big words and engaging in such a “dangerous” kink with you because of this respect. 

“Of course I’ll do anything I want to you, darling. You don’t have a say right now, remember?” 

His cock twitches slightly. You smirk, rubbing his inner thighs.

“Of course you know. The one who is in control is me and you are meant to be my little play doll.”

“Darling”, Taehyung whimpers, thrusting his hips against nothing. His cock twitches again, growing harder. 

“You’re my doll, Tae. All mine.”

His cock twitches into a semi hard boner, fingers gripping the edge of the sofa. You know exactly what to say to rile him up. Calling him a doll, reducing him to nothing but this will always be one of his weaknesses.

You purr, rubbing your hands over his sculpted thighs as you flutter your lashes up at him. His skin is so soft, the hair which covers it tickles your palms. You could eat him up.

“Isn’t that right, darling? Are you my pretty doll?”

“Yes, Owner”, he whimpers, nodding his head vigorously.

“Mh-hm you are, such a pretty doll. My pretty doll with his pretty, little doll cock”, you coo, letting your lips ghost over his cockhead without ever touching it.

It leaks and twitches as Taehyung whimpers above you. He is growing rapidly, breathing heavier. His hungry eyes are glued to your lips, every nerve in his body waits for the moment you decide to take him into your mouth.

Closer. Taehyung holds his breath.

Closer. Taehyung tries not to puck his hips up. A good doll would never.

Closer. He can practically feel your lips on his tip. The memories of all the times he was nestled in your warm mouth come rushing into his mind.  

Closer. Your breath tickles his cock. He throbs in anticipation.

Closer. Now. It is finally happening. Taehyung closes his eyes and rolls his head back in preparation.

“Actually. I changed my mind.”

He doesn’t want to open his eyes at first, scared to face his reality. In the end he has to however, facing your wicked smirk and burning eyes.

“I don’t wanna suck your cock, it’s boring.”

“What?” he gets out, eyes widening in pleading.

You stand up, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Masturbate yourself.”

It takes him a moment to conceptualise what you just asked him to do and once it finally sinks it, Taehyung swears he might never recover. He moans just for your pleasure, wrapping his left hand around his semi-hard cock to pump it quickly.

“No, no, no. Slow down.”

He obeys even if it means that there is something missing. He moves his hand at a normal pace, looking up at you like the good doll he currently wants to be. It feels good, but could be better.

“Slower.”

He obeys, eyes glazing over in agony. This isn’t enough. He is barely moving his hand around his cock, the stimulation is way too little for someone as needy as him.

“There we go. That’s more like it”, you purr, watching him hungrily.

“Owner”, he gets out, trying to make up for the loss of speed by keeping his touch focused on his tip.

“Is it not enough, mhm?”

“No”, he keens, shaking his head.

“Mhm, poor doll. How does it make you feel?”

“Restless.”

“Restless? You seem pretty restful to me.”

He squirms, widening his eyes in begging. It amuses you and so you chuckle.

“You’re funny, Tae.”

“Owner please”, Taehyung begs, fluttering his lashes.

But you ignore him, staying silent. You watch his hand as it touches his own cock. He is so slow. You know how much this agonises him. Taehyung might pretend to be a patient, proper gentleman but you know him, you know his most naked, disgusting truth. He is greedy, he is impatient and he likes it rough. You watched him jerk off a hundred times before, watched how he practically tortured his cock to an orgasm. This right now is a different kind of torture to him. The kind which makes him desperate.

Good. 

You can’t really explain what made you want to torture him all of a sudden. You blame the good day on it and your jeans rubbing your pussy as you walked around Paris. Or maybe it is Taehyung in his low cut shirt and hid dark hair messy. Something made you horny enough to want to be with Taehyung this way. To want to use him as you please. 

His cock is already harder than when he began. He is breathing heavier, eyes pleading you silently. 

“It’s working, isn’t it?” 

“Not enough.” 

“Poor doll. Does your doll cock need more?” 

“Yes”, he whimpers, growing harder. He squirms, “please.” 

“Mmh”, you bend down and grab his balls. They were squished on the sofa first but Taehyung lifts his hips in reaction, allowing you a good grip on them. You roll them in your fingers, fucking him with just your eyes. 

Taehyung whimpers, lips parted and droopy eyes staring into yours. Like this, you can smell his sweetened breath and taste the memory of all the kisses you shared. 

“Your balls are so heavy, darling. I want them to empty everything inside me.” 

His balls tighten, his poor cock throbs in his hand. Taehyung moans your name, chasing your kiss which results in you straightening up again. He whimpers, eyes glazing over. He wants your kiss like he wants air. 

“Faster.” 

He obeys gladly, writhing on the sofa. 

“More.” 

“___”, he moans loudly, throwing his head back in ecstasy now that it finally, fucking finally, is enough. It feels so good. His cock is hard instantly, pulsating between his long fingers. 

“Use your second hand as well.” 

Taehyung wraps it around his base, cursing in French because it feels way too good. 

“What did you just say?” 

“I said. Heavens on fucking earth, this feels good.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yes”, he mewls, rolling his hips up into his fists. His meaty thighs are trembling, his chest is heaving up and down quickly. He is throbbing like crazy in his hands, tip glistening in bliss.

"Take it away.”

“No, please.”

“Take it away. Now.”

“You’re cruel”, he croaks, obeying groggily. 

“Mhm I am. The cruelest”, you murmur, scanning your eyes over his leaking cock. His tip is flushed and his veins swollen. He is so wet, so hard. You can’t wait to sit on it. 

“Please, it hurts.”

“Poor you, awww.” 

You undress, only keeping your jewellery on. You feel so sexy like this and Taehyung’s hungry gaze makes these feelings even stronger.

You touch your own torso, feeling up your curves until landing on your tits. You knead them, purring softly. Taehyung opens and closes his mouth in hungry gasps, tongue almost dripping saliva.  

“What do you think of me, doll?” 

“That you are the most beautiful woman to have ever walked this earth.”

His praise pleases you, making your heart flutter.

“You know exactly what to say, you darling you.”

“Please”, he breathes, rolling his hips against nothing.

You close the distance and push at his chest to make him fall against the backrest. You climb onto his lap, wrapping your fingers around his cock. The other palm you present to him.

He eyes it in confusion, squirming under your weight because you are moving your hand around his length and it feels so good to him. Your palm is so warm, the pressure you use just right. 

“Spit on my hand”, you order, wiggling your fingers impatiently, “don’t let me wait.”

He obeys with a mewl, unable to catch his breath afterwards.

“There we go, so wet”, you purr, spreading it on his cock in slow, sensual strokes. 

Taehyung’s eyes fall closed halfway, his lips part. It feels so good to be touched. Your fingers and palm are so soft, stroking the most sensitive spots on his cock. Your pussy is on his thigh, marking his skin. So wet and warm. It drives him insane to be like this with you.

To make matters even worse for his poor sanity, you pucker your lips and spit on his cock in a thick, heavy drip. You pick it up and mix it with his own spit, using it to pleasure him.

Taehyung curses in Korean for a change, head dropping against the backrest and fingers dimpling your hips. 

“What did you say, darling?” 

“Fucking hell, it feels so good”, he croaks, squirming his hips needily.

“Mhhmh it does”, you coo, twisting your hand around his messy cock. “Now you’re getting wet. Your doll cock is so wet for me.” 

“Ah! Please!” 

“There we go”, you ignore him and lift yourself to align with his cock. You sink down, taking him inside easily. A deep purr rumbling in your chest lets him know how good it feels to you.

Taehyung shoots up in surprise, hands gripping your buttocks and eyes widening in shock. He wants to say something, but you silence him by stuffing your slickened fingers into his mouth. All four of them with your thumb under his chin. 

Taehyung gurgles, eyes going cross and mouth instantly working to suck you off. 

“Perfect, keep sucking”, you encourage him, moving your hips on him in a way which is pleasurable for you. Judging by his needy moans around your digits, it’s pleasurable for him as well but that’s not important right now. You are doing this for yourself, you are doing this because you want it. Taehyung is only supposed to be your dildo and a pretty thing to look at.

And oh how pretty he looks with his mouth gagged by fingers and drool dripping down his chin. His cheeks are flushed and wet from the tears he spills. Said tears also stick to his lashes in little pearls. You press down on his tongue, twisting your hand deeper. 

Taehyung gags, eyes going out of focus and body trembling. You let him suffer for three seconds, then finally pull out. Taehyung gasps for air, grasping your waist in relief. The relief isn’t for long and then you already have your wet hand around his throat, squeezing down on his veins. And Taehyung can’t keep up with all the sensations, body reacting against his control. 

He grows inside you, shaking as you make him see stars with only your hand. 

“That feels so good”, you moan, chasing the growing pleasure. You love when he fills you out to the very brim. The stretch is addicting and his size allows for your deepest spots to be pleasured as well. You chase the warmth by pressing yourself closer, clit grinding against his groin each time you roll your hips. 

Taehyung moans under you, fingers trembling around your waist and thighs shaking. He is very sensitive when he is with you. He is normally very proud of his stamina, but when you play him like this, he turns into an excited little teenager who climaxes after only a few minutes. He is giddy, turned on and completely ruined, trying to think of anything else to keep himself from climaxing without your permission.

The fire in your eyes and the strength of your grip lets him know that his disobedience would not be appreciated. Now granted, Taehyung loves punishments, especially your punishments, but he hates disappointing you. He hates it so much that he would rather miss out on getting punished than disobey you. Which makes this a lot harder for him.

“It’s too much. Too, too much.”

“I don’t care, shut up”, you spit and stuff your fingers into his mouth again.

Taehyung gags at first but begins sucking eagerly soon after, cock throbbing inside you and eyes spilling new tears.

“That’s better”, you lull your words, head foggy. The view is turning you on so much, sitting on his cock is so good. You can’t do that for long, you never can. You love being with him that climaxing is so, so easy. Knowing that he is close makes it even harder not to entirely break around him. But then. Why should you hold back? You have no reason to drag this out. You came here to get an orgasm nothing more, you don’t have to impress Taehyung.

You let go of your pride and fall into the sensations, rolling your head back and arching your back as you dance your hips on his in a fast, sensual rhythm. Your toes curl. His cock goes so deep, rubbing your favourite spots.

“That’s it. That’s fucking it”, you moan, smiling drunkenly as around you the air is dancing in ecstasy.

Taehyung’s desperate mewls around your digits are like music to your ears. He is probably crying right now, but you don’t care to check. You are high, so far gone in the warmth.

“You’ve got the best cock, doll. So fucking good…”

Taehyung is breathless, not only because you are stuffing his mouth, but also because of you. You are so beautiful, glowing in the ambience lights as you arch and bend your body in the most feminine and sensual display of pleasure. If only he could take pictures with his eyes. He is starstruck. He sucks on your digits with even more eagerness, running his hands along your body just so he could memorise it in the current position.

He cups your breasts, rubbing your nipples.

“Yes fuck”, you moan, arching into his touch. You tug him closer and slip your fingers free. Taehyung needs no words to understand, latching his eager mouth onto your nipples to pleasure them eagerly. He switches between both sloppily, soiling your chest with his drool.

“Tae, darling”, your voice is high in pleasure, body shaking atop of him. This is it. You slam your hips down, convulsing around his big cock.

Taehyung groans, dragging his slickened tongue over your nipple while his long fingers dimple your flesh.

“Now. Yes”, you keen, falling back as your high finally hits you.

Taehyung supports you easily, following your movements as his strong hands hold you safely. He sucks on your nipple eagerly, trying his hardest not to bite down on it. It is difficult because you have him so close to his own orgasm.

“Yes wow”, you come down, lifting yourself off of him instantly.

“No darling please”, he gasps, trying to tug you back.

But you act uninterested. He can sense in the way you move, see it in the way you breathe, that your orgasm left you shaken and that you are just pretending not to be affected. You climb off his lap, trying your hardest not to tremble.

“Darling”, he tries, hands slipping from your hips as you step back.

You don’t answer him, turning your back to him to leave.

“Jagiya”, Taehyung whimpers in Korean, grabbing your hand.

You turn, looking down at him.

“What? Can’t you see that I’m busy?”

He is panting, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. His cock is so hard and swollen and so, so clearly edged, still glistening from your juices.

“Please don’t leave me like this. Please.”

“Why shouldn’t I? I got what I wanted.”

“Please.”

You slip your hand from his shaky hold and turn to leave.

“Jagiya please”, he begs in both languages, falling to his knees and grasping your shirt.

“Oop”, you wobble, almost losing balance. You turn from the momentum, holding his grabby hands for support. “What is this supposed to be?”

“Please, I know you don’t want to leave either. I’ll be good, I’ll be so good to you please”, he begs, looking up at you snotty and teary eyed.

“If you actually wanted to be good, you’d let me leave”, you say, doing a shitty job pretending that he leaves you cold. He knows you so well. Of course you don’t want to leave. Slipping off of him was the hardest thing you ever did, but sometimes you just gotta hear him beg.

“Please”, he sobs, hugging your waist and burying his face in your stomach, “please, I’m begging you.”

You gulp, feeling dizzy. His arms stretch the fabric of his shirt, bulging and tensing from the strength he grasps you with. He looks so pathetic begging on his knees and you get off to it so fucking good.

“Let me go”, you order in faux annoyance.

“Please”, Taehyung pleads and increases his own patheticness by slipping his hands under your shirt to scratch his nails down your back. And as he does that, he tilts his head back, connecting his mouth with your pleasured cunt.

“Tae”, you gasp loudly, loosing balance for a moment which you find by grabbing huge bundles of his thick hair. He has so much of it that it spills out between your fingers in such thick bundles you cannot even see your fingers in his locks anymore. “Holy fuck, Tae”, you moan, throwing your head back as you stumble closer to his face.

His desperation is so obvious in the way he licks you. He drools like an animal, unable to decide whether to suck the soul out of your clit or lick her senseless. These are definitely not the actions of a gentleman, these are the actions of a gentleman ruined by pussy way too good. This is the kind of head only someone brought to his limits gives, of someone who thought he could handle being used but who ended up way too weak for his goddess of a woman.

Taehyung lifts his head when desperation hurts in his heart and cock, drool dripping from his chin and fangs on full display. Thick strings of spit still connect him with your cunt, they are so heavy in consistency that they almost look slimy in the lights, only breaking apart once he begs again.

“Please, I can’t do this please.”

You furrow your brows and tug on his hair. He moans, tilting his head back with a roll of his eyes and his messy lips parting. Like this, you bend down so he can taste the poison of your words on the very tongue he used to almost steal your sanity.

“You’re a fucking slut.”

“Yes, the biggest”, he agrees with you in a pitched voice, nodding his head.

You tug harder, eliciting a pained whimper from him.

“Exactly, the biggest, most pathetic slut ever.”

Taehyung spills tears and tries to beg again. In French this time around because you have his brain scrambled enough that he can’t decide in which language to think.

“Please I’m sorry please.”

“You should be. Pathetic slut”, you spit and release his hair just so you can strike him across the cheek.

Taehyung moans, cock twitching so aggressively you almost pity it. Look at it, looking so desperate for something to keep it warm. Taehyung chases your hand after the slap, eyes looking at you even if they are constantly tearing up.

“You liked that, didn’t you?”

He nods his head.

“Of course you did, you slut”, you say and slap his other cheek as well for symmetry.

Taehyung reacts in a curse, instantly following it up with a beg. Korean this time around.

“Please I’m sorry I-I’m a slut, I can’t do this please.”

“Fine”, you give up, “it’s not like I can get you to shut up.” You sigh in faux annoyance. “Go ahead, I guess. Get your reward.” 

“___”, Taehyung moans and is instantly standing up, swooping you off your feet just to push you down onto his thick cock. He bottoms out in synch with your back hitting the cold glass of the living room window, forcing a gasp for air out of you. You arch your back, grasping his hair just in time before he begins rutting into you like a needy animal.

“I love you”, he moans, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “I love you. I bloody love you.” 

You wrap your limbs around him, face nuzzling into his shoulder and toes curling in electric pleasure.

“I love you too”, you get out, fingers grasping his thick hair. “Keep going, you’re so good. Ah fuck, you’re so good.”

“Urgh darling, I’m yours. I’m so fucking yours”, he spits, obeying your orders with eager, restless hips.

It feels so good to finally move, to finally fuck you how he craved to do. He doesn’t do it for himself, he does it for you because he knows that you love it. You love when he is rough, when he is strong and fast and when he drills his huge cock into your dripping pussy until you feel like passing out.

“Yes mine”, you croak, pulling him closer with your legs, “grinds Tae, grinds.”

“Yes, Owner”, he obeys, burying his cock as deep as he can go before he begins grinding you on him. He moves his hips for it, using his strength to move your body in the same rhythm.

“Ah! Wow, holy fuck”, you get out loudly, dropping your head against the window as you writhe in his arms. You twist his hair, pussy throbbing around him.

“You’re beautiful. You are so beautiful. And you feel so good. Darling, you feel so good”, he chants, spilling tears at the view of you.

“This is making me cum again, ah!”

“Let go, I’m yours to use. I’m all yours, this is all for you.”

“Tae”, you arch your back, grasping his face as the last thing you do before you orgasm a second time. It feels so much more intense than the first one because Taehyung is fucking it out of you and he is so goddamn good at that.

“Yes, thank you. Oh darling”, he whimpers, trying to slow down.

“No faster! Now!”

“I will climax if I-“

“Shut up! Faster!”

“Empress”, he sobs and obeys, picking up the same speed than before.

“Tae!” you scream, writhing in utter ecstasy as he finally brings you to the peak you craved. You squirt around his cock, soiling his legs and the floor this way. And Taehyung is a goner. With his eyes rolling back and his head dropping into your breasts, he climaxes against his will.

“I’m sorry”, he whimpers, filling you with his hot seed until it leaks out of you.

You can’t be angry at him, not when you enjoy it so much. You believed this moment couldn’t get any better until you felt his cock paint your walls. Finally you feel it, finally he is emptying his balls into you. Just how you ordered him to do.

“Good doll, such a good doll”, you mewl, entirely gone in the blissful heaven you and he share.

“Again, it’s so good”, Taehyung wails because your praise ruins him. He thought that you would be disappointed, but you are proud. You wanted him to orgasm. Oh, he wants to fill you even more and he does, pumping into you until you feel warm in your stomach and his balls are truly empty.

He uses the last of his strength to hurry to the sofa and then he drops into the pillows with you on top of him. The two of you are filling the silence with heavy panting, staying glued together as your bodies are just a little stiff in shock. This was way more intense than you planned it to be. Is it truly this addicting to be with each other?

You are the first to recover just enough that you can at least lift your head. He meets your gaze with barely open eyes, messy hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

“Good boy”, you praise.

“I love you”, he gets out.

“I love you too”, you say and smile.

Taehyung retorts it, giving your hips a tender squeeze.

“Are you okay? I know I was mean to you. How is your face? Did I slap you too hard?”

“Everything you did was perfect. Thank you so much.”

“This is so good to hear”, you say and nuzzle your nose into his cheek with a cute sound.

Taehyung has to giggle because of it, face scrunching up into the brightest boxy smile and eyes closing. His chest fills with warmth, his stomach flutters.

“Wow, I’m so obsessed with you.”

“You are?”

“Mhm, so obsessed. I missed you today and I just…I saw you and needed you. I don’t wanna be apart from you, Tae darling. Being with you is paradise.”

“Yes it is”, he agrees and turns his head to steal a surprise kiss.

“Mhm”, you let out, startled at first before you purr and kiss him back. Your fingers lace themselves deep in his hair, he hugs you against his chest and like this, you fall into slow kisses and tender touches, making the paradise last so much longer.

[gummilutt]

Autonomous crafting for all teen+ Sims

I've never before been so happy to share a creation! Get ready to get crafting, because it's about to get autonomous! Released today in collaboration with the wonderful @joplayingthesims who has built a community lot for the mod, seen in the pictures below. Exciting!

In my game, I have a community lot with crafting stations for Sims who can't afford one, or don't have space for one. But as I visited it recently with one of my college students wanting to learn flower arrangement, I got a bit depressed by all the empty stations and the other visitors just standing around chatting. I wondered if anyone had added autonomy, and I came upon iCad's autonomy enabler. While neat, it only adds autonomy for the active household which is the opposite of what I wanted. So I made my own that enables it for visiting Sims as well, only to quickly realize how annoying that got. All these Sims asking me to pick a recolor for them, blergh! So I went on tweaking, fixing the annoyances as they came up, and here we are! Finally it is possible to have a lively crafting studio where all Sims participate, without being annoying for you the player! Are you excited? Because I am excited!

What does the mod do? - Enables autonomy on "make many" and "continue" (see readme for more info on why not make one) for all five original crafting types - Robots, toy making, flower arrangement, pottery and sewing - Does NOT charge your Sims money for background Sim crafting. Money sounds and visuals show for all Sims, but only your current households crafting charges household funds. - By default only autonomous on community lots. Has optional autonomy on residential/apartment lots, you can enable autonomy on those lot types by placing the Autonomy Toggler object somewhere on the lot (custom object made using parts of the FT crafting clutter, found in hobbies/misc for 1 simoleon). I set it up this way as residential autonomy sounds irritating to me, but I'm all about flexibility for the user. Perhaps you want to run arts classes at your residential playable school, or you simply like autonomy more than I do :) Please note that autonomy advertisement is tuned with community lot use in mind, so it might be higher than you'd want for residential. If there's interest I am happy to make a second version with lower advertising for those who primarily want residential use. If you are somewhat familiar with TTAB edits yourself, you can try changing attenuation code to low or medium to limit advertisement distance which will reduce appeal to Sims. VER 2: Toggler object now also works on community lots, turning off autonomy if present on community lot. Residential/apartment behavior remains the same as before. - Fixes annoyances with background crafting, such as selecting recolors and pop ups about progress - Changes inventory mechanics to allow for owned studio-type use, in case you'd like a friendly owner Sim present to provide instruction. Crafting now only goes to business lot owner if done by an employee, otherwise crafting Sim gets the object. Includes home business, so if it bothered you that family members don't get to keep their work, this also fixes that. If that part annoys you, see readme for how to remove this feature.

Download mod on simfileshare | Download ver 2 on simfileshare (New version out, fixing a bug reported by Nemertes. More info here)

You might say "Okay well fun for you Gummi, but I don't have a community lot with crafting stations, so why would I need this?". Well fortunately Joandsarah has the solution for that problem! Check out the cute crafting studio she built to give all of you a place to start community crafting! Available on MTS

Conflicts: Only known conflict is iCad's original autonomy enabler, you have to pick if you want hers version of autonomy, or mine :) Readme contains breakdown of the functionality of all parts, to help you decide a load order should you encounter conflicts. It should be possible to resolve conflicts though if there are any others, so please report them to me :)

Credits: @joplayingthesims for collaborating with me and providing a lot that you can get started with if you don't have one, iCad at @dramallamadingdang for the original autonomy enabling mod, @cityof2morrow who helped playtest the mod

If anyone else builds a community lot intended for autonomous use, I hope you let me know somehow so I can add links to it in my post :) If any other modders see ways to improve on what I did, please feel free to do so :) I am hoping to eventually post an update that sends all crafting to inventory to fix the make one issue, and the station clogging that happens over time.

[redroomreflections]

Hotel California | Track 1: Smoke and Mirrors

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 7k

Chapter 1/12

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: I was going to wait to post this since I have fifty-leven WIPs but to make up for me not being able to write for a while and also finishing two stories in the coming weeks - here we are. I'm nervous about posting this one for some reason. Hope y'all like it.

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

Track 1 - Smoke and Mirrors (each chapter is a track)

In the world of music, there's no denying that Velvet Rebellion's sound is electric, their melodies are undeniably addictive. But offstage, the drama and chaos surrounding this band have been the subject of endless tabloid fodder. It's a classic case of the music being sweet, but the rest of the package is a tad sour. Will their rock 'n' roll lifestyle ultimately overshadow their undeniable talent? That remains the question on everyone's lips.

The TV channel flicking produced a rapid succession of blips and static.

"You know, when it comes to Velvet Rebellion, it's clear that Natasha Romanoff is the best thing about the band. Her vocals are just on another level!"

"Oh, absolutely! Natasha's stage presence is incredible, and her voice, that raw emotion she pours into every note, it's what sets them apart. But let's not forget the rest of the band; they bring their own magic to the mix!"

Another press of the button. Another channel emitting the same rhetoric. 

"So, what are your thoughts on Velvet Rebellion, the band that seems to be taking the music scene by storm?"

"Look, I won't deny that they've had their moments. Natasha's got a powerful voice, and they've had some catchy tunes. But let's not forget, there's more to rock 'n' roll than just one person. We bring our own unique sound to the table, and we're here to show that rock isn't a one-trick pony."

Suddenly, the screen goes black. The television has been turned off. The room is silent. 

“Whatever,” The mysterious person tsks. There are better things to do. 

In the dimly lit room, the first flicker of a cigarette lighter illuminated a shadowy figure, and a guitar's haunting melody echoed through the air. It was a simple beginning, a humble birth of sound that would eventually become the anthem of a generation.

Images flashed in rapid succession—a chaotic whirlwind of memories and moments that had defined their journey from obscurity to stardom. The flashing lights of a small, dimly lit club, the very place where they had played their first gig, gave way to a sea of screaming fans, arms raised in fervent adoration.

“Bucky! Bucky!”

“Steve, we love you!”

Talk show interviews brought them into living rooms across the nation, their faces beamed into millions of homes as they shared their stories and their music with the world. The camera panned to Natasha, her fierce gaze unyielding as she answered questions with poise and grace.

And then, there were the guitars. Guitars being smashed in a blaze of glory on stage, a ritual that had become their trademark. The destructive catharsis of the act symbolized the release of their raw energy and passion into the world.

Groupies and fans clamored for their attention, their devotion evident in the longing looks and outstretched hands. Each face in the crowd told a story of how Velvet Rebellion's music had touched their lives.

Late-night studio sessions followed, with the band working tirelessly into the early hours, crafting the songs and lyrics that had earned them their place in music history. In the dimly lit room, the flicker of a cigarette lighter once again marked the beginning of a new song.

Magazine covers splashed with their images adorned newsstands across the country. Excerpts from clippings of their first studio album, "Velvet Love," told a tale of raw, unbridled emotion set to music—a story that had resonated with countless souls.

The montage painted a vivid picture of a band that had journeyed through the highs and lows of fame, never losing sight of the music that had brought them together. Velvet Rebellion had carved its path through the music industry, leaving an unforgettable mark on the hearts of those who had listened and loved.

*************

Sunlight filters through the curtains of Natasha and Wanda's cozy Los Angeles apartment. Disheveled yet determined, Natasha sits on the edge of her bed, cradling her guitar. She strums the strings absentmindedly, searching for that inspiration that once fueled Velvet Rebellion. Her fingers danced over the strings of her trusty guitar, each note a whisper in the quiet solitude of the bedroom.

Natasha's hair framed her face, and frustration lined her expression as she strummed the chords once again. The next album's melodies were meant to be born here. Yet, inspiration remained at arm’s length, teasing her like a fading dream.

"Come on Natalia," she whispered gruffly, remembering the name she had left behind long ago.

With a sigh, she shifted her gaze to the muted TV on the dresser. A NEWS REPORTER's face appeared on the screen, accompanied by headlines that could never escape the relentless clutches of the media. She searched for the remote to turn up the volume as the face of one of her bandmates, Tony Stark’s pictures appeared. 

NEWS REPORTER

(on TV)

“In a surprising turn of events, Velvet Rebellion's Tony Stark was arrested last night for public indecency.”

Natasha's eye-roll was instinctive. Tony always had a way of making headlines for all the wrong reasons.

NEWS REPORTER

(on TV)

“...fans and critics alike have noted the band's gradual decline, and it seems the once-revered punk rock indie sensation is now on the verge of falling apart.”

The reporter's words cut through Natasha's indifference, a scalding reminder of the shadows that had been gathering around them. She couldn't deny it; the band had been stagnant for too long.

Fury sparked in her eyes, and she clenched the neck of her guitar, momentarily abandoning the song. The Velvet Rebellion of yesteryears, the band that had ignited stages and won hearts, couldn't be reduced to this—a spectacle of controversies and dwindling star power.

Returning her attention to her guitar Natasha sighed. The room's stillness hung heavy as she gently laid the guitar down on the floor. It felt like a futile effort, the muse remaining frustratingly out of reach, leaving her with an empty canvas and an aching desire to create.

Her gaze dropped to the small, black notebook, its pages filled with aborted attempts to capture the essence of their experiences and emotions in song. But today, those pages mocked her, an unforgiving reminder of the creative void that had taken its home within her.

Just as her frustration reached its peak, the bedroom door swung open with a soft creak, and in walked Wanda, a bowl of popcorn cradled in her hand. She plopped down on the bed beside Natasha, her eyes rolling in a knowing, teasing manner.

“How’s writing going?” Wanda asked, grabbing a handful of popcorn to plop into her mouth. 

Natasha let out a weary sigh, her notebook momentarily forgotten as she shared her woes with her best friend.

“You have no idea. It's like I've hit a wall, and I can't seem to find my way around it.” Natasha said. “How are we supposed to come up with another album with no songs? It’s been two years. We’re going to be known as one-hit wonders.”

“First off that’s a bit dramatic,” Wanda attempted to calm her down. “We made the hot rock and alternative songs billboard charts for our debut. I think the momentum is still there.”

Wanda cast a glance at the muted TV screen, where a news reporter was still busy dissecting Tony's latest escapade. She couldn't help but roll her eyes, mirroring Natasha's exasperation.

“And of course, our dear Tony adds another branch to the publicity tree. It's almost impressive how consistently he manages to get into trouble.” Wanda shook her head. 

After placing her bowl of popcorn on the dresser, Wanda decided to abandon her sitting position and instead flopped onto her belly, propped up on her elbows. She grabbed Natasha's small notebook, a curious glint in her eyes as she skimmed through the handwritten lyrics and scattered notes.

“You know, Nat, I think I see where you're stuck.” Wanda hummed to herself for a moment. 

Turning her attention to Wanda, Natasha felt her frustration momentarily ebb away, replaced by curiosity.

“Oh?” Natasha eyed her. “Please, share your wisdom.”

Wanda's eyes sparkled with an unexpected idea, and she pointed to a particular verse in the notebook. Her voice took on a sultry, poetic quality as she suggested a new lyric.

“How about this: "In the shadows of desire, we ignite the night."

Natasha's eyes widened in surprise as the words resonated deep within her. She quickly reached for her instrument and strummed the guitar, incorporating the new lyric into the melody, and in that instant, it all fell into place. A smile grew on her face, and she turned to Wanda.

“Wanda, that's brilliant! Thank you!” Natasha leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “I know why I keep you around.”

Wanda beamed in response. 

"Speaking of," she began, her voice casual yet laced with an underlying purpose, "we've got a gig this weekend. It's a birthday party for Harley Jameson, you know, the producer's daughter."

Natasha's response was swift and uncompromising, her will clear in her refusal. Her head shook slightly as she firmly voiced her decision, her thoughts already drifting toward the disturbing pattern of her bandmates taking liberties with decisions without consulting her, the lead.

"Absolutely not, Wanda," Natasha declared, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. “Aren’t we better than performing for snot-nosed brats?

Wanda, ever patient and understanding, propped herself up on her elbows. 

“Well, when that snot nose brat is paying us fifty thousand dollars plus a retainer,” Wanda shrugs. “And all the booze and food we want.” Her words were measured, spoken with the calm that came from knowing this conversation was inevitable." Nat, remember," she began, "you're the lead, not the boss. We haven’t been taking gigs because you've been declining. You know we need to keep the momentum going."

Natasha's jaw clenched in frustration. She leaned back, her gaze shifting to the ceiling as she contemplated her response.

"There's a reason, Wanda," Natasha explained, her voice tinged with concern. "Our brand has taken a beating lately with all the scandals we've had over the years. It’s not a good look being so new. I want us to lay low for a while, let the storm pass."

Wanda sighed, her eyes reflecting her understanding of Natasha's concerns. But she also recognized the band's need to keep going ahead despite the challenges.

"Nat," Wanda said, her voice gentle and reassuring, "I get it, I really do. But we'll be fine. Harley's party should be a breeze, and I promise we'll stay out of trouble. We'll stick to the music, no antics."

Natasha's hesitation lingered. Ultimately, the trust she had in Wanda, her lifelong friend and partner-in-crime, began to outweigh her reservations. She finally nodded, a reluctant but willing acceptance of the gig.

"Alright, alright," Natasha conceded. “We'll do it. But just this one, and we'll play it safe."

Wanda's eyes sparkled with a victorious smile, recognizing that she had won this battle for now. With that agreement, they returned to their songwriting. 

**************

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the manicured lawn of Harley Jameson's grand estate, Velvet Rebellion gathered on the makeshift stage. Around them, staff and party planners began to decorate the backyard. Their instruments glistened under the setting and stage lights. 

Natasha, her guitar slung securely across her shoulder, couldn't help but notice Tony, seated behind the drum kit, his sunglasses doing little to hide the lingering effects of his earlier indulgence. She approached him with a stern expression, a hint of frustration in her voice.

"Tony, you better get it together," She warned. "We're not messing this up tonight."

Tony, ever the charmer, brushed off her concerns with an easy smile and a wave of his hand.

"Nat, I promise, I'm fine. See?"

With that, he launched into a lively drum solo, his sticks dancing skillfully across the drumheads. The rhythm was tight, the sound electrifying. Natasha couldn't help but acknowledge his undeniable talent, even as she sighed in resignation.

"Great," she muttered to herself, "the sunglasses are his secret weapon now."

Standing beside Natasha, Steve placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. His quiet and calming presence was a balm to her nerves.

"It's alright, Natasha," He reassured her, his voice steady and comforting. "We'll get through this gig, just like our old days. Tony’s recovering but he seems fine."

Together they glance back to their bandmate who was more than likely inebriated. Tony chugged a bottle of water, before crushing it and dropping it down onto the floor beside him. 

Natasha's gaze softened as she looked at Steve, a small smile forming on her lips. “Yeah, he’s the epitome of fine.”

“Okay,” Steve pulled her gently to the side. “What’s the problem?” 

“Nothing,” Natasha shrugged. “I just can’t help but think that gigs like this are beneath us. I mean we went from performing at the MTV Video Music Awards to this? A sweet sixteen?”

Steve looked at her. He had been through thick and thin with Natasha and knew the depth of her concerns. 

“Natasha,” He replied. “I get your worries, but I promise this is a good thing for us. Todd Jameson is one of the biggest music producers in Hollywood right now. There will be a lot of executives here just to support his daughter. Think of what that could mean for us.”

“Fine,” Natasha nodded. “But if he fucks up I kick his ass.”

“Oh, you bet. Right after I’m done kicking it,” Steve joked causing Natasha to burst into laughter. 

Natasha steps back over to the mic. “Alright let’s take it from the top.” 

As Natasha prepared to lead the band into their rehearsal of the first song, the peacefulness of the backyard rehearsal space was abruptly disrupted by the arrival of Harley Jameson. She swept onto the scene with all the extravagance befitting a Hollywood princess, accompanied by a harried-looking party planner and another woman, who appeared to be a guest.

Harley, the embodiment of a spoiled heiress, immediately began issuing orders with a sense of entitlement that left the party planner flustered.

"No, no, no! These decorations are all wrong! Change them around! The mirror ball should be over here. And I want a live peacock by the pool. It's not too much to ask, is it?" Harley demanded impatiently.

The party planner, clearly overwhelmed, tried to keep up with Harley's demands. "Harley, we only have a few hours before the party starts. It's going to be challenging to make all these changes in such a short time."

Harley huffed, uninterested in the logistical challenges she was causing. "I don't care about that. Just get it done. My dad said I could have whatever I wanted."

Meanwhile, Harley's attention shifted to Velvet Rebellion, her face lighting up with enthusiasm.

"Oh, my God! I've been dying to meet you! I'm a huge fan!" she exclaimed with excitement. “I’m so happy I could get you here.”

She bounded over to the band, seemingly oblivious to the chaos she was creating, and introduced them to the party planner and you.

"This is Velvet Rebellion!" Harley introduced with enthusiasm. "Steve, the keyboardist, Tony on the drums, Bucky on the electric guitar, Wanda, the second lead singer and bass guitar, and Natasha, the incredible lead singer!"

You and the other woman exchanged glances, your expressions a mixture of frustration and amusement at the whirlwind that was Harley Jameson. You gave a small wave, opting to be in the background of this exchange. 

Wanda, ever the peacekeeper, managed to maintain her composure and put on a friendly smile despite Harley's overwhelming energy. She nodded graciously at Harley's enthusiasm.

"Oh, thank you so much, Harley!" Wanda replied with genuine warmth. "We're thrilled to meet you too. Your party looks like it's going to be incredible!"

Harley's energy showed no signs of waning as she delved into the details of the band's performance. When Wanda mentioned their planned first song, "Smoke and Mirrors," Harley immediately piped up with an alternative suggestion.

"No, no, no," Harley interrupted with fervor. "I want you to start with 'Ink and Whiskey.' It's my favorite!"

Natasha, who had been preparing to protest the sudden change to their setlist, hesitated as she saw Wanda's meek demeanor. However, it was clear that Harley's demand had disrupted their carefully planned sequence.

Natasha began to voice her concerns, but Harley's retort was swift and smart-mouthed. 

“We’ve already planned this out for-” Natasha began. 

“Oh, you can change it, can’t you? It’s just a silly setlist,” Harly questioned. 

Before Natasha could respond, you intervened with a calm yet authoritative tone.

"Harley, let's tone it down a bit," You advised, your demeanor oozing an air of authority that surprised Natasha. Harley listened, her earlier defiance giving way to a more composed demeanor.

“Sorry, I’m just excited,” Harley shrugged. 

Natasha found herself intrigued by your presence and the respect Harley seemed to show you.

"Alright," Natasha conceded with a smile, "since it's your birthday, we'll start with 'Ink and Whiskey.'"

Wanda offered a nod of agreement, and the tension in the air began to dissipate.

Harley, feeling triumphant, turned her attention to the party planner.

"Sarah, darling, let's make sure everything is perfect. I want it to be a night to remember!" Harley changed the subject, pulling you both back into a conversation with ease. 

Sarah, the party planner, nodded and tried to hide her relief that the brief crisis had passed. 

"Of course, Harley. Everything will be just as you want it."

Natasha watched the exchange between Harley and Sarah, her curiosity piqued more by you. 

“Who’s the chick?” Natasha pointed over to you with a tilt of her head. She got shrugs from Steve and Bucky. Tony was way too distracted to answer as he flirted with one of the staff. Wanda squinted to see if she could guess. 

“I don’t know,” Wanda said. “She looks vaguely familiar, but I’m guessing it’s not her mom.”

“Interesting,” Natasha mumbled to herself. She shook her head. There was no time for whatever the thumping in her heart was proving to be. She was here for the band and for the music. Also for the money, she couldn’t forget the money. 

As the preparations for the party continued, your cell phone suddenly rang, breaking the conversation flow. You excused yourself with a polite smile and stepped away from the group, heading toward a quieter corner of the backyard a few feet away.

Natasha couldn't help but overhear snippets of your conversation, the tone of your voice suggesting a heartfelt exchange, likely with a significant other. Natasha discreetly glanced in your direction, her curiosity getting the best of her.

Your voice held a gentle warmth as you spoke softly into your phone, your words filled with affection and longing.

 "I miss you too, sweetheart. Yeah, the party's getting started here in a couple of hours. It's not the same without you. Can't wait to see you soon." You smiled. 

Natasha couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, but the tenderness in your voice painted a clear picture of a loving connection between you and someone special.

Meanwhile, Harley, always the inquisitive host, began questioning Steve and Bucky about the band and its music.

"So, guys," Harley started, her interest genuine, "Have you ever thought about going solo? I am dying to know the secret."

Steve and Bucky, accustomed to answering these questions, engaged in a friendly chat with Harley, even if they also found her annoying. 

As Natasha discreetly observed you from the corner of her eye, she couldn't help but be captivated by your natural beauty. You were dressed in a simple white t-shirt and form-fitting jeans, a look that should have been unremarkable, but on you, it was utterly captivating.

The way your hair was styled, framing your face in soft waves, added to your appeal. Your skin had a radiant glow, and your features held an understated elegance that drew Natasha's attention. Despite the casual attire, you exuded a timeless charm that was impossible to ignore.

Natasha found herself admiring the effortless beauty that seemed to emanate from you and she wanted to know more. 

Just as Natasha started to pretend she wasn't eavesdropping, you turned around with a warm smile, catching her off guard. She quickly toyed with her microphone stand, feigning indifference.

You found her reaction amusing but were soon drawn back into your phone conversation. Natasha couldn't help but wonder about the person on the other end of that call and what had sparked such a genuine smile on your face. 

She toyed with the mic stand for as long as possible, physically forcing herself not to look your way. It’s a few more minutes before you returned to the group. You turned your attention to Harley and Sarah.

"Harley, don't forget, you have that hair appointment in an hour," You reminded her, glancing at your watch. "We need to make sure you're all set for your big night."

Harley, momentarily distracted by the band's presence, nodded in agreement.

"Oh, right! Thanks, y/n. I'll head out now," Harley replied with a grin. She turned to the band and offered her farewells. "Catch you all later!"

With that, Harley and Sarah departed, leaving Velvet Rebellion alone in the backyard.

As the group began to disperse, you took a moment to say goodbye to the band. 

“See you guys tonight,” You said. “I’m sure you’ll do great. If you need refreshments just ask one of the staff and they will be happy to help you with anything you need.” 

Natasha responded with a small smile and a nod, a subtle acknowledgment of the brief but pleasant interaction.

Once you, Harley, and Sarah were out of earshot, the rest of the band couldn't resist teasing Natasha. Wanda, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, chimed in.

"Uh oh, I know that look," Wanda teased, earning a knowing chuckle from the others. Natasha's momentary fascination with you hadn't gone unnoticed, and her bandmates were more than happy to playfully nudge her about it.

“There’s no look, I don’t have a look.” Natasha rolled her eyes. 

“Sure, you don’t,” Wanda grinned. “Any bets on how long until she gets her number?”

“I say within the hour,” Tony raised his hand pulling out a single, crinkled five-dollar bill from his back pocket. 

“Fifteen says they sleep together after the show,” Bucky shrugged. Steve is the only one to remain silent. 

“I don’t know,” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “I think I’ll save my thoughts for later. The girl barely said two words to any of us.”

“Thank you,” Natasha said. “Now, can we rehearse like a proper band?” 

She tried to erase your image from her head as she positioned herself in front of the microphone. 

From the top. 

*****************

The night was alive with energy as Velvet Rebellion took the stage, the crowd gathered around, eager to soak in every note of their music. Natasha oozed confidence and charisma, a star in every sense of the word. The opening chords of "Ink and Whiskey" filled the air, and the crowd erupted in cheers. This birthday party was a rager if she’d ever seen one. Natasha always considered rich people stiff and uptight. Going to plenty of parties once their debut kicked off their careers. Stiff drinks, weird pleasantries, and even more drugs. She was being proven wrong with this particular shindig. 

She moved to the edge of the stage, her presence magnetic. She sang with a passion that could be felt in every corner of the space, her voice carrying the weight of their lyrics. The audience couldn't help but be drawn into her performance, and they eagerly joined in, singing along and dancing to the beat.

Wanda, standing beside Natasha, bled a different kind of cool and calm. Her steady presence provided the perfect balance to Natasha's fiery performance. It was clear to anyone watching that their dynamic was the secret to their success.

Natasha lowered her head, giving Wanda the floor to sing her part of the chorus. Wanda’s hands moved steadily between the chords as she sang into the microphone. 

Ink and whiskey, the pages of our hearts,  

Tangled in the chapters where love starts,  

In the darkness, our secrets we confide,  

With every word written, our souls collide

Natasha steps forward, moving close enough to the microphone so that she and Wanda could harmonize the last verse. Her eyes travel from Wanda’s, smiling as they share in the energy and joy of being on stage before she maneuvers herself to face the crowd. 

In the night's embrace, our love's sweet refrain,  

Ink and whiskey, like a runaway train,  

Through the highs and lows, we'll find our way,  

With every word we write, love's here to stay

In the front row, Harley danced with her friends, reveling in the music and the excitement of the night. The atmosphere was electric, and the joy was contagious.

As Natasha sang, she scanned the crowd, her eyes landing on familiar faces among the sea of B-listers and music enthusiasts. But the one that stood out the most was you. Your eyes locked, and Natasha couldn't resist a playful wink, a silent acknowledgment of your earlier encounter.

You raised your glass in a silent toast and clapped enthusiastically when the song came to an end. You weren’t a huge fan of the music genre but you could see why Velvet Rebellion was such a rising star amongst new artists. Their stage presence was undeniable, the song was catchy and the beat was electrifying. It helped that Natasha was cute. All good things in your book. You can’t take your eyes off the stage as they move into their next song. It’s a bit disjointed considering Harley made them change the setlist around the last minute but it seems smooth either way. Natasha dances a bit for this one, her body movements fluid and effortless. Almost as if she’s had some training. 

You’re momentarily distracted when a distant family member comes to say hello. 

The show must go on as Natasha continues to sing her heart out. 

**********************

The final notes of their setlist rang out, and the crowd roared in appreciation. Velvet Rebellion had given their all, and now it was time for the DJ to take over and keep the party going.

Wanda had convinced Natasha to stay a while longer, promising that the night was still young and full of possibilities. Tony, ever the charmer, remarked with a grin, "I see a few MILFs in the crowd that I wouldn't mind mingling with." He slipped into the crowd with ease, chatting up the first single woman he saw. 

Natasha, however, remained all about business. She stood at the bar, surveying the party and keeping a watchful eye on her bandmates. The chaos and revelry around her seemed to blur into a colorful swirl of dancing bodies and laughter.

It was then that you approached her, catching Natasha's attention. Your presence was a welcome change of pace, and Natasha couldn't help but appreciate the genuine compliment she received.

"You guys were incredible," You said with a smile. "I'm impressed."

Natasha, always a woman of few words in such settings, offered a gracious nod of acknowledgment. 

You extended your hand with a warm smile as you introduced yourself, "I'm y/n. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Natasha shook your hand firmly and replied, "Natasha. Likewise."

You couldn't help but notice Natasha's reserved demeanor. Almost as if she felt too cool to be here. 

"I couldn't help but wonder," You began, your curiosity evident as you raised your voice above the music. "why aren't you out there dancing like the rest of your bandmates?"

Natasha offered a wry smile and shot back, "I could ask you the same thing."

“Touche,” You nodded. “I’m not much of a party girl.” You turn towards the bartender. “Do you want a drink? Eric here makes the best mojitos.”

“Sure, I’ll have a sex on the beach,” Natasha asked. 

“You heard the woman,” You jokingly said to Eric as he began to make your drinks. As you focused your attention on grabbing a few napkins, Natasha gave you a once-over. Your party dress was a delightful balance of simplicity and style. The knee-length and backless dress showcased a flattering silhouette, hugging your curves in all the right places. The deep, midnight-blue fabric was decorated with tiny, shimmering glitter that seemed to twinkle with each movement you made. Its sweetheart neckline and delicate spaghetti straps added a touch of femininity to the ensemble, while the mid-thigh slit allowed for easy movement as you moved. The overall effect was a cute yet elegant dress that perfectly suited the festive atmosphere of the party.

Natasha's observant eye caught the jewelry adorning your wrist. It was subtle but tasteful, hinting at a level of refinement that didn't go unnoticed. It was at least half of her salary for tonight’s show. This only interested her more. She needed to know who you were. She wanted to know the mystery behind you and your name. 

“Here you go,” You step back over to Natasha to hand her a drink. “I hope I’m not being too forward.”

“Not at all,” Natasha shrugged. 

"You know, if you're looking for a bit more quiet, we could step inside for a breather." You suggested, tilting your chin towards the house. 

Natasha considered the offer, realizing that a change of scenery might be a welcome respite from the party's chaos. With a small smile, she agreed, "That sounds like a good idea."

You led Natasha through the sea of people and inside the mansion to a nearby office where the music's relentless thump was muffled, and the atmosphere was quieter. It was a welcome change from the frenzied party outside.

As you settled into seats close to each other on the couch, drinks in hand, Natasha couldn't help herself and began to ask you questions. 

“Why did you ask me in here tonight?” Natasha asked. “Not that I’m complaining. I have been invited into much worse places.”  

“Thanks, I think,” You chuckled. You sensed Natasha's curiosity and offered a simple explanation, your eyes holding Natasha's in an unspoken connection."I enjoy meeting new people," you confessed, your voice soft but sincere. "And I've decided I wanted to talk with you."

You took a sip of your drink, your gaze thoughtful. "I also wanted to apologize for Harley's behavior earlier. She can be... spirited at times."

Natasha waved off the apology with a small smile, understanding that spirited was one way to describe Harley's antics.

You went on to explain, "Usually, I don't speak up like that, but my uncle has a way of spoiling Harley. It's... complicated."

Natasha's curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "Your uncle? He’s Todd Jameson?"

You took a moment before revealing, "Yes. He and my dad are half-brothers. Making Harley my little cousin. I don’t admit it often."

The revelation left Natasha intrigued. She had heard the name Todd Jameson before, a figure of significance in the entertainment industry. The connection between you and Harley was now becoming clearer, and Natasha couldn't help but wonder about the family connection.

“That would make your dad…” Natasha began. 

“Nick Fury, the one and only,” You finished for her. “Different fathers. My dad is somewhere out there tonight. It’s a thing I don’t like to admit to strangers.”

“I get it,” Natasha nodded. 

The revelation about your family connection to Todd Jameson made Natasha pause for a moment. She had always admired the award-winning jazz player turned talent manager, Nick Fury, from afar. His contributions to the music industry were legendary, and Natasha couldn't deny that she was a fan of his music.

She decided not to fangirl, though, and instead offered a genuine smile. "Your dad is a legend. I've always been a fan of his music."

Your eyes lit up with appreciation. "Thank you, Natasha. I'll be sure to pass that along to him." You set your half-empty cup onto a coaster, before turning back to Natasha. “So, watching you on that stage. Not many people have that star power. I was wondering if you have experience dancing? You were incredible.” 

Natasha's eyes sparkled as she recalled her performance. "The way I danced on stage during our set, it's a part of who I am. I guess you could say it's a bit of my background showing through."

Your curiosity piqued, and you guessed, "Ballet, then?"

Natasha nodded. "Yes, I did ballet for sixteen years as a child. I even got into Juilliard."

Your eyes widened in admiration. "That's amazing, Natasha. How did you get into singing and music?"

Natasha took a sip of her drink and smiled as she delved into the story of how she got into music. It was a story that she didn't often share, but there was something about her conversation with you that made her feel comfortable opening up.

"It all started back in high school," Natasha began. "I was really into dancing, and it was an elective at my school. But then, one day, I decided to join the choir on a whim. And I fell in love with singing and songwriting. I grew up in a rough neighborhood. I needed something to keep me out of the house and off the streets."

She paused for a moment, reminiscing about those early days. "So, I started writing songs, and my friends Wanda and Steve would go over to Steve’s small bedroom. We'd play our rented instruments and experiment with different sounds. It was just a fun little hobby at first."

Natasha's gaze drifted, lost in the memories of those simple beginnings. "Then Bucky, Steve’s best friend well, he's always been a bit of a troublemaker, but he's got a talent for the electric guitar. And Tony...his dad's pretty wealthy and bought us all our equipment. Plus, he's good at the drums."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "It was a bit of a motley crew, but that's how Velvet Rebellion came to be. We started playing in small venues, dive bars, and country clubs. And somehow, we made it here."

Natasha's usually guarded demeanor had softened in your presence, and she found herself enjoying the opportunity to share a piece of her journey with someone who seemed genuinely interested in her story.

“I love that,” You nodded. You and Natasha share a smile before she asked. 

“Is your boyfriend here tonight? I don’t want to keep you too long,” She fished for more information. 

“No, no,” You shake your head. “No boyfriend. You?”

“Not really into monogamy at the moment,” She shrugged. She doesn’t know if this statement will bite her in the ass later but for some reason she trusted you. “Tell me about you. Are you in the family business or?”

"I've always had a bit of a connection to the music world," You began. "As a teenager, I sang a few backup vocals for artists my uncle produced. I guess you could say I almost pursued a career in music, but life had other plans for me. I got pregnant at seventeen. Dedicated to finish school and go to college."

You took a thoughtful swig of your drink and continued, "Now, I'm a publicist. I don't mean to brag, but I'm good at what I do.When I'm not working, I'm taking care of my daughter, Isabella. She's nine years old and the light of my life."

Your face softened as you spoke about your daughter, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and joy. "She's with her dad for the weekend," you added, "and we co-parent quite well."

Natasha was genuinely interested in your life outside of the party scene, and she couldn't resist asking, "Do you have any pictures of Isabella? I'd love to see her."

Your eyes twinkled with delight as you pulled out your phone and began to share a few adorable images of your daughter. Natasha couldn't help but smile as she admired the photos, enjoying this glimpse into your world beyond the music and the party.

“Here she is at gymnastics practice,” You flipped through a few pictures of Isabella’s smiling face. “And swim. She is a little spitfire and she wants to do it all.”

“Wow,” Natasha smiled as if Isabella were her own child. “Do you ever want more?”

“Maybe one day,” You said wistfully. “For now I feel pretty full with everything in life. You?” 

You noticed the change in Natasha's expression and asked, "Is something on your mind?"

Natasha sighed, leaning back into her seat. "I just don't know if I'm cut out for motherhood," she admitted. "I have a younger sister, Yelena, she’s attending the University of Cambridge in England now. She's even developed a bit of a British accent." Natasha couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.

"But," she continued, "I enjoy the fast-paced life, the music, the performances, and the constant movement. A significant other won’t quite understand that I don't always have the time. Not that I don’t ever want that someday but…” Her voice died down. 

You listened empathetically, understanding the complexities of Natasha's life as a musician. "I get that," you acknowledged. "But it's essential to find the right balance for you, whether it's in your music career, personal life, or something in between. My dad was able to do it. When he crossed over into hip-hop there was definitely a lot he missed but he still made things happen"

“Really? Well, I will have to ask him for pointers.” She grinned. 

Just as the conversation was reaching its peak, there came a polite knock at the office door. A member of the party staff popped in to inform you that they were ready to sing "Happy Birthday" to Harley.

You turned to Natasha with a warm smile. "It was nice meeting and talking to you, Natasha," you said genuinely.

Natasha, not wanting the connection to end, began, "You know, I'd love to..."

But before she could finish her sentence, your cheeks flushed, and you interrupted already knowing what she was going to say, your voice bold, "Are you going to call me, or are you going to leave me hanging in the wind?"

Natasha couldn't help but laugh at your sudden assertiveness. It was a pleasant surprise. "I’m not that type of woman," Natasha said. At your look, she laughed again. “You got me there.”

You returned her smile and handed Natasha your phone, saying, "You'll just have to trust me with your number instead, and I'll call." Asking for her number instead eased the pressure off Natasha, and also your nerves at hoping she’d call. 

You gave Natasha a wink and chucked a thumb over your shoulder to indicate you were going back to the party. Natasha nodded and watched you walk away. When her eyes trailed lower she doesn’t even feel guilty about it. 

Natasha left the office, rejoining her bandmates outside in the backyard, just as they were preparing to sing "Happy Birthday" to Harley. The festive atmosphere was in full swing, and the energy of the party was infectious.

As the crowd gathered around Harley, Natasha's eyes scanned the faces, and they landed on you, who was standing among the partygoers. Your eyes met, and you shared a knowing smile, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you had developed.

Tony, always quick to pick up on things, couldn't help but tease Natasha when he noticed her grin. "So, did you get her number?"

Natasha rolled her eyes at Tony's assumption but then burst into laughter. "No," she replied with a playful smirk, "she took mine."

The party was still in full swing when someone on stage stopped the music with a loud, "Hey, everyone! Can I have your attention, please?"

The spotlight shifted to the stage, and all eyes turned toward the source of the interruption. It was a friend of Harley's, and he had a mischievous grin on his face as he spoke into the microphone.

"I have a special surprise for our birthday girl tonight," he announced. "We have someone here who's agreed to sing 'Happy Birthday' to Harley, and I think you're all in for a treat."

A collective cheer and applause erupted from the crowd as they eagerly anticipated the surprise. The spotlight moved to you, highlighting your face and putting you on the spot. You managed to not look like a deer in headlights which was a feat in itself. Natasha's curiosity was piqued, especially considering you had mentioned you weren’t much of a singer.

You tried to protest shyly, but the crowd begged you to come up on stage. Encouraged by their cheers, you reluctantly made your way up to the spotlight.

Once on stage, you cleared your throat and took a deep breath, your nerves palpable. You began with a little birthday speech, your voice tinged with affection and humor.

"I want to wish a happy birthday to my cousin Harley," You began, your smile directed at the birthday girl. "Even though she's a bit of a brat," you teased, earning laughs from the crowd, "she's my brat, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Then, as expected, you began to sing "Happy Birthday." Your voice, which you had modestly downplayed earlier, was nothing short of remarkable. It was soulful, sweet, and filled with a depth of emotion that resonated through the entire backyard.

The crowd, including Natasha, was utterly blown away by the unexpected talent that you possessed. Your voice filled the air, making the birthday celebration even more special and memorable. It was a moment of pure magic, and Natasha couldn't help but be captivated by your incredible singing ability.

Natasha decided two things then and there. One, she really liked you, and two, boy, was she in for a ride.

---> next part

[impala-dreamer]

It's Fucking Unprofessional

A Story from The Boys Universe

~ While working as a PA for Vought, Y/N has made one promise to herself: to stay the fuck away from Soldier Boy. Some promises are too easily broken…~

Soldier Boy x F!Reader

2,434 Words

NSFW. Snark. Cursing. Assholery. Fucking. 

For @jacklesversebingo “You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions”

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

He was terrifying up close. 

It wasn’t just the knowledge that he could rip her apart with a simple flick of his wrist, or shove her so hard she’d splatter against the wall like a bug on a windshield. It was much worse than all that. It was the fact that he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. His green eyes behind that mask were piercing… the way his muscles pulsed beneath the suit was mesmerizing… the way he walked with that bow-legged swagger was sexy as hell. Being attracted to the epic piece of shit was way more dangerous than the threat of death.  

When Y/N got the job at Vought Studios, she made a promise to her diary and herself. In no way would she get so close to him as to give away the fact that her innocent pussy dripped whenever he was around. She would ignore him entirely. Besides, his behavior was reprehensible. His attitude toward women was disgusting. His ass was so perky and tight and… No. She was going to be strong. She was going to steer clear of all that nonsense.  

Not that he’d ever pay attention to someone like her. The key aspect of her job was to be neither seen nor heard; just a person waiting in the wings to hand off a prop, run and get coffee, and clean up the dressing rooms. It would be easy to stay in the shadows, completely off his radar. 

Soldier Boy was pissed. 

He may have actually been pissed as well as just angry: he stank of rye and stale cigarettes, and fumbled over his lines more than a few times. 

For over an hour, he held the crew hostage while attempting to film his required Anti-Drug PSA. Vought was trying to score some points with the public by helping out D.A.R.E. by pimping out their celebrity supes for commercial spots. Soldier Boy was next in line and very unhappy about it. 

After the twentieth take, he demanded caffeine and production halted until Y/N returned with a styrofoam cup full of black coffee. 

Y/N held her breath and tried to walk away without really looking at him, but Soldier Boy flipped. He sniffed the drink and sneered. 

“Is this hot?” 

Y/N stepped back as he stared into her eyes, daring her to say something. A wave of arousing fear washed over her as he slammed the cup to the floor. It splintered like rotted wood and the hot liquid went everywhere. 

“Iced!” 

She jumped. 

He raged on. 

“Iced coffee!” he screamed. “It’s not hard!” 

Nerves ran down her spine and Y/N moved to grab a rag from the craft table.

“It’s fucking unprofessional!” 

A knot formed in her chest and instead of shying away, she felt a surge of defiance. 

“You’re fucking unprofessional,” she ripped under her breath. 

Soldier Boy’s head cocked to the side. She felt his eyes on the back of her neck, digging in. 

“Excuse me?” 

Y/N turned back with the cleaning rag in hand. “Hmm?” 

His jaw clenched and his upper lip twitched. “The fuck did you say to me?” 

Batting her eyes innocently, Y/N shrugged and bent down to mop up the spill. “I didn’t say anything.” 

His anger followed her down, watching as she dabbed at the floor. Leaning close, he whispered a warning. “I have super hearing, you know.”

Y/N hummed as if she found him boring even though she was screaming inside. “That must be fun for you.” 

Again, his teeth gnashed together and she swore she could feel the air around them grow hotter. A deep growl rumbled in the back of his throat and Y/N met his gaze, unfazed but terrified. He was taken aback by her bravery and somewhat impressed by her attitude.

“You know-”

The director called for attention and Soldier Boy sat back up, getting ready while keeping one eye on the mouthy PA. 

“OK! Let’s run again!”

If he got through two lines in a row, it was shocking. More than once, he stopped just to glare at Y/N. She couldn’t tell if he was contemplating snapping her neck or undressing her with his eyes, so she kept her arms crossed and her expression cool. 

“If taking drugs is uncool,” he mumbled, laughing at himself, “then I’m the most uncool motherfucker on the planet…” 

Some of the crew laughed along, but Y/N sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. “You really are,” she muttered. 

His laugh died away instantly and he threw daggers with his eyes. “Fuck you.” 

Y/N cocked a brow. “Like I’d let you,” she laughed. 

Soldier Boy straightened up, surprised. His annoyance turned to interest and he licked his lips. “Oh, I think you’d let me.” 

She tongued her cheek and popped a hip. “You think?” 

“I know.” 

“Pfft.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.” 

His smile faded and she turned away, giving him a literal cold shoulder. 

The air shifted and her heart stopped when his big hand wrapped around her upper arm, jerking her back a step. 

His lips grazed her ear. “You wanna rethink that last statement, sweetheart?”

Y/N tried to wrench her arm away but his grip was absolute. She spun around to face him and nearly lost her footing. He was impossibly close and regrettably gorgeous. She gasped. 

“Get off me.” 

He blinked slowly and looked her over. He could hear her heart pounding, see the blood rush to her cheeks, smell her arousal. “You’re so… interesting.”

She swallowed hard. “W-What?” 

“Defiant and bitchy, but oh so hot for me.” 

“Fuck you, no I’m not.” Again, she twisted her arm to break free but it was no use. 

His fingers tightened, bruising her flesh. “You are,” he grinned. “I can smell it.” 

“You’re disgusting,” she spat. 

Behind them, the director tried to regain control. 

“Um- let’s uh- if we could just go one more time-” 

Soldier Boy shook his head. “No. We got it.” 

“We really didn’t,” the man pleaded. “I really think we should go again from the top.” 

“No,” he repeated, dragging his eyes down her trembling body. “That’s a wrap!” 

She wasn’t sure if he was carrying her or if they were simply moving too fast for her brain to register her feet on the ground. 

Soldier Boy broke the lock on a random office door and shoved Y/N inside. He flipped on the lights and kicked the door shut as he turned to smirk at her. 

“Now, where were we?” 

Y/N backed away, internally battling her desire and aversion. “I believe I was telling you what a piece of shit you are.” 

He laughed at her daring words. “You’re something else, you know that?”   

She shrugged, playing it cool. “It’s been said.”

“Yeah, but not by me.” With a smug smile, he pulled the mask from his face and ran a hand through his hair. 

Y/N felt her defenses crack. Her vision blurred for a second. “Um… I… really don’t care what you think, actually.” 

He clicked his tongue and took a step closer. “I think you do, actually.” 

Her heart skipped two beats in a row and then struggled to catch up. “Actually, you can fuck off.”  

“Maybe.” Soldier Boy grinned and closed the space between them. “Or…” He reached for her throat and her body tensed. Instead of a death grip, he slipped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her close. He was gentle, but she could feel the strength pulsing underneath his touch. “I can fuck you.”

She couldn’t think of a protest that would even remotely come off as true but it didn’t matter anyway. Before she could speak, his lips were on her and her mind melted. He slid his tongue between her lips and her breath stopped. He ran his left hand across her tits and her legs went weak. 

When he pulled back, she swayed forward, caught in his pull and utterly on fire for him. 

His laugh was smug. His lips were wet and plump. 

“Knew you couldn’t resist me,” he teased. “But it was a nice try.” 

Every bit of resistance faded into his grin and Y/N dove at him, grabbing a fistful of the fabric collar loose around his throat. He laughed into her hungry kiss and set his hands on her hips. He lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather, and slammed her down onto the desk like she was simply a toy for his amusement. 

He rocked into her and Y/N moaned loudly. His cock was hard and she reached down, rubbing him through the spandex tights. 

“How- how do these come off?” she whimpered, tugging at his bottoms. 

Another deep kiss blew her mind and Soldier Boy held her chin in two fingers, stretching her throat and setting her face where he wanted. She held the pose while he backed away and stripped for her. Layer after layer of forest green and woody brown fell away and Y/N clenched her thighs tight as more muscle was revealed. 

“Fuck… you’re gorgeous,” she breathed. 

He smirked and spread his feet apart. “I know.” Grabbing his dick, he stroked himself slowly and nodded at her. “Now you.” 

Y/N shivered and hopped down from the desk. Nervously, she tugged at the hem of her oversized periwinkle sweater and yanked it up. 

Soldier Boy sucked his teeth. “No. Slowly.”

She took a breath and started again, this time lifting away the soft polyester slowly and deliberately. Next came her jeans and he hummed in lustful admiration as she tugged the acid-washed denim down her thighs.  

“Very nice.” 

Embolden, Y/N turned and shook her ass for him as she unhooked her bra. 

“Go on…” 

She tossed the garment over her shoulder. 

“Keep going.”

Aching with anticipation, she slid her hands into her panties and inched them down, bending at the hips and showing him everything. 

“Fucking hell…” 

He was on her in a second; big hands tight on her hips, hard cock snug between her thighs. He settled there for a moment, letting her juices drip down onto his throbbing shaft. She leaned back and he scratched his fingers up her sides and scooped her tits into his warm palms.

“Fuck… your hands are so big,” she mewed. 

He jerked his hips and the tip of his cock slid against her clit. 

“Just my hands?” 

Y/N bit her lip and wiggled against him. “Let’s find out.”

He flipped her over like it was nothing and threw her down on the edge of the desk. She spread her legs wide and he set up camp between them. 

“You ready?” he asked, already lining up. 

She nodded breathlessly and arched her back off the desk, begging. “Do it. Please!”

It was almost painful the way he snapped his hips into her. His thick cock spread her apart and her flesh burned at the pull. She bit back a scream when he pressed all the way in; dropped her jaw when he tugged her hips down off the desk. His blunt nails sunk into her soft curves, nearly drawing blood. She held her breath. He thrust his cock deeper inside. She lost her mind. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” It was all she could say and it amused him like nothing else. 

With a grunt, Soldier Boy lifted her legs high and pushed forward, bending her in half. The new angle pushed him in so deep Y/N thought she could feel his cock tap against the base of her throat. She gagged and her eyes rolled. He laughed and dipped down to lick at her lips. 

“What a good little bitch,” he teased. “Taking my cock so good.” 

She moaned with each hard thrust and her tongue rolled out of her mouth. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. There was nothing but mindless, pounding pleasure and his bright green eyes. 

He ran his tongue up hers and hummed. “That’s a good idea.” 

In a flash, she was on her knees, swaying side to side as he stroked his cock. His fist was a blur, her eyes were white. 

“Open wide.” 

Y/N dropped her jaw and he slid inside. 

“Suck.” 

Her lips clamped down and she took a deep breath, pulling at his velvety skin. Her tongue undulated against the pulsing vein of his big cock and Soldier Boy fit his giant hand on the back of her head. He held her in place and bucked his hips, jabbing his cock down her throat. She choked on him, moaning in bliss and protest as spit spilled from the corners of her mouth and coated her tits. 

“Fucking perfect,” he grit, throwing his head back and enjoying her desperate whimpers and the tightness of her throat. 

Her eyes began to water and he could hear her lungs screaming for air. He set her free. 

“Fuck!” Y/N wobbled on her weak knees and nearly fell to the floor. 

Soldier Boy caught her quickly and set her back on her feet, bent over on the desk. Her tits smashed against the wood and he kicked her legs apart. 

“You’re one hell of a PA,” he praised. 

Her cunt pulsed as he ran the tip of his cock across its lips. “It’s… my… job…” 

He grinned. “Sure is.” He pushed inside. “Gotta give the talent your full attention.” He slapped her ass hard. “Give them anything they want.” He grabbed the back of her neck and lifted her off of the desk, arching her spine awkwardly. “Isn’t that right?” 

She moaned. “Yes!”

“Correct.” 

He let her go and she fell back down, just a ragdoll for him to fuck to his satisfaction. 

When he was done he slapped her ass, leaving a welt behind as a souvenir. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, already forgetting about her as he tugged his suit back on and fixed his hair. 

Y/N crumbled to the floor, her legs spread wide, her back against the desk. She sat there for a long while, feeling his palm print burn on her bottom and his cum leak from her cunt. He didn’t look back as he left, didn’t even shut the door. 

Soldier Boy disappeared down the hall and Y/N shook herself, wondering how the hell she’d broken her promise and let him get to her. 

Not that she was mad about it. 

Just sore. 

[allieebobo]

Do you have any if recommendation?

Ooh! I have really, really bad memory(!!) but these are current faves that I have played/replayed recently that I can think of. A lot of the authors are also THE BEST HUMAN BEINGS EVER. So, double recommendation.

I probably missed a bunch out, so take this as a non-exhaustive list! In no particular order:

(Edit: Added some descriptions but yeah I got a little unhinged so I'm sorry nothing makes sense or if the quality of the write-up went down over time/did not actually give you any useful info)

WIPs with demos

Citadel, @bouncyballcitadel (I think of all the IFs on this list, this one makes me sweat the most. And I've said it once and I'll say it again: the dialogue is so snappy and well-written, and characters are SO DAMNED LOVEABLE.)

Infamous, @infamous-if (I've been manifesting Band/Musician IFs for the longest time, and then this popped up! I've even played Choice of a Rockstar, that's how desperate I was... Anyway, this is legions better than that. Angsty ex routes are my kryptonite, and Seven is just. Inevitable.)

Defiled Hearts: The Barbarian, @defiledheartsblog (I went into this wanting something juicy and fun/historical—and it's all of those things, but I didn't expect it to be so damned funny, too. The ROs are all impeccable.)

Raiders of the Caravan and Apartment 3-3, @leftski-if (A'ight listen, fantasy slice-of-life is my fave genre, and these are IT. Like, everything I never knew I needed in my life, and SO cozy/wholesome, with a cast of characters that I want to befriend in real life.)

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: An Affair of the Heart @doriana-gray-games (First off, the customization in this game is INSANE, and the branching too. I've replayed a couple of times and the little variations I discover each time just blows my mind. Secondly, it's so funny and written so well. Ngl I'm not a Sherlock fan but that's just testament to how amazing this IF is.)

When Life Gives You Lemons, @when-life-gives-you-lemonssss (Modern slice-of-life with an adorable kid, a bunch of hot ROs, CC. Hill's humor, what can I say?)

Golden @milaswriting (Really interesting world-building, one of the coolest fictional cities I've read in an IF, AND I'm obsessed with the ROs, in particular K de la Renta. Also Mila is such an awesome writer, I'm beyond excited for @beyondthegame.)

A Tale of Crowns @ataleofcrowns (This game is beautiful, polished, and SO exciting. Honestly, it looks like the kind of game created by a whole-ass game studio and would cost $50 to buy, it's that good. I really got swept up by this IF—probably played it all in one go.)

Rougi @rougi-if (Again, another game with scrumptious visuals/UI and also is just so well-crafted. I love the premise too, it's so original and fresh.)

Scout: An Apocalypse Story @anya-dev (Unfortunately this one might be on hiatus but I am/was really, really obsessed.)

Wayfarer @idrellegames (Love the game mechanics of this one, and the visuals. Probably controversial, but I like the D&D / random dice effect. And I also like the fact that it feels like an old-school RPG.)

Chop shop @losergames (The premise is all I needed to be sold, really—I'd always wanted to buy GTA as a kid but my parents were like NO WAY. Anyway, this IF did not disappoint, and let me live all my childhood dreams.)

Edit: AHH! How could I forget, one of my recent faves, Folksaga @folksaga-if (Lush atmospheric writing, super unique premise—norse mythology, plus I'm head over heels for Katla).

Completed IFs

Butterfly Soup 1 and 2 @brianna-lei (these are completed and I will never not promote them. Honestly the most adorable, wholesome, funny sports/coming-of-age IF I've read)

Elsinore: After Hamlet @lapinlunairegames (Insanely cool premise, insanely cool execution)

The Thick Table Tavern @manonamora-if (I love bar/tavern games, and this one actually lets you mix drinks! Instant fave.)

Other HGs/COGs I love: Slammed, Tin Star, Fallen Hero, If it pleases the court, A Player's Heart (these last two are so underrated, though I guess cause it's mainly wlw)