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fushiguro-megloomy · 2 months ago

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strawberry wine

[part 2] pairing: modern au!viktor x artist!reader prompt: “if somebody were to kiss me, i’d want that person to be you” tags: you're jayces childhood bff, no use of y/n, alcohol, heavy kissing, drunk kissing, basically just a bunch of buildup towards a smutty fwb part two???, viktor being a menace wc: 4k notes: AU where nobody is sick or dying yay! also i think i managed to keep this pretty gn!reader but any future parts will be afab/fem art is from pinterest, dividers from chachachannah & webc00re

You never meant for things to get this far. You told yourself it was just a little fun, harmless and fleeting—nothing more. You had a career to focus on, friendships in the balance. But now, here you are, pacing the living room carpet thin, your cuticles raw from nervous chewing, and your thoughts spiraling into places you swore they’d never go.

It feels juvenile, almost laughable, like some smitten teenager waiting by the phone and sneaking kisses in shadowed corners. You were supposed to be above this, weren’t you? I mean, as a grown adult you should know how to keep it casual, uncomplicated.

But nothing about this is simple anymore. Not the friendship. Not the secrets. And certainly not the way your heart betrays you every time his name crosses your mind.

It definitely wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Moving back to the city hadn’t been on the bingo card for this year, but here you were. Your life had been tucked away in the quiet of rural landscapes, where your art had room to breathe—endless skies, rolling hills, and the kind of solitude that made inspiration flow without any distractions. But your career had expanded, and with that expansion came the relentless pressure of galleries, art buyers, and a future that demanded more from you than that peaceful escape ever could.

So, the city had called you back. Concrete towers, crowded streets, the city offered more. Shows. Opportunities. Jayce. The only thing about this cold, steel jungle that still felt like home. Jayce—your childhood friend, your constant in a world that had never stopped changing. Thrown together since you were practically in diapers, he was the one piece of your old life that had somehow survived the years and distance between you two. And now, after what felt like an eternity, here he was, sprawled across your tiny couch, looking too comfortable for someone who was just supposed to be a guest. The apartment was a bit small, as city apartments tended to be—packed between towering neighbors—but Jayce’s presence was the only thing about it that felt remotely like home.

"You know," he said, half-lounging. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

You didn’t look up from your canvas, your brush already dipping into the paints like second nature. “Who?”

“Viktor”

You paused, only long enough for your brush to hover midair before you flicked your gaze in his direction. “Ah, yes. The famous business partner.”

Jayce’s grin didn’t falter, but there was something softer behind it now. “Yeah, something like that. But seriously, he’s a good guy. Brilliant, actually. You two would get along.”

You didn’t reply at first. Instead, you let the brush finish its arc, eyes back on your work, moving with the rhythm of a familiar task. “mhm” you murmured, distracted by the way the strokes of paint were bleeding together. “If he’s anything like you, how bad can it be?”

But Jayce, of course, wasn’t done. His voice took on that soft tone he reserved for moments when he really wanted to get his point across. “I’m serious, okay? I want you two to meet. You both mean a lot to me, and I think you’ll really hit it off.”

You didn’t look up, but you felt a weight behind his words, pushing against you with silent pressure. “Yeah? I’m sure it’ll happen, then.”

Jayce’s eyes lit up, a flash of triumph in them, like he’d just won some small but important battle. “You’ll see. I’m telling you—when you meet him, you’ll click. I know it.”

You leaned back in your chair, releasing a slow exhale, the kind that said everything without saying anything at all. A nonchalant nod was all you offered, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of saying more. “Fine. Fine. I’ll meet him. But don’t make a whole thing out of it.”

Jayce chuckled, and there was an odd note of relief in the sound, like he’d just been granted some unspoken permission. “No big deal, I swear. But you’ll see. You two are more alike than you think.”

When you finally did meet Viktor, Jayce was practically vibrating, his energy as unsubtle as ever. It had been after one of your gallery openings, a night you’d half-dragged yourself through on fumes and politeness. Your heels had barely cleared the threshold of his apartment before the faintest twinge of suspicion began to creep in—something about the way he hovered, grinning like a man with a secret.

“You deserve a good meal after tonight,” Jayce had said, ushering you in with the kind of charm that usually preceded one of his schemes. “Thought you’d want to celebrate somewhere that doesn’t reek of overpriced wine and small talk.”

You rolled your eyes but let yourself be corralled, the promise of food outweighing the odd note in his voice. His large apartment, at least, was familiar territory: warm, cluttered with bits of tech and sentimental junk from years past, the faint scent of whatever candles he refused to admit he hoarded lingering in the air.

And then you heard it—the low murmur of another voice, sharp-edged and vaguely amused, drifting from the kitchen.

Jayce froze, his grin faltering for a split second before it reappeared, brighter than ever. “Oh, right,” he said, far too casually. “Viktor’s here.”

You blinked, narrowing your eyes at him. “You conveniently forgot to mention that part.”

“Come on,” he pushed, throwing an arm around your shoulders and steering you toward the source of the voice. “It’s no big deal. Just dinner. You’ll like him, I promise.”

And there he was, perched by the kitchen counter with a faintly perplexed look on his face. He was slimmer than you’d expected, pale and sharp-featured, with hair that looked like it hadn’t met a comb in days. His amber eyes flicked up to meet yours, narrowing slightly as if he were trying to solve a puzzle that had just been placed in front of him.

“Ah,” he said, his accent lilting and crisp, “so this is the infamous artist.”

You shot a glare at Jayce, who was already heading for the stove with the kind of forced cheer that made it painfully clear he’d orchestrated the whole thing. “You owe me for this,” you muttered under your breath, stepping further into the kitchen.

Viktor’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk appearing. “And here I thought I was being ambushed. Seems we’re both victims of his enthusiasm.”

Jayce turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand, his expression utterly unrepentant. “You’ll thank me later.”

The dinner was simple but undeniably good—Jayce’s doing, of course. The man couldn’t let anyone step into his apartment without insisting they be properly fed, and tonight was no exception. Roast chicken, buttery vegetables with rice, warm bread that filled the space with its yeasty aroma—it was the kind of meal that made you feel at home even when you weren’t.

Conversation flowed easily around the table, mostly carried by Jayce, but Viktor wasn’t exactly quiet, either. He had a way of chiming in at just the right moment, his dry humor landing squarely between Jayce’s more exuberant anecdotes and your own occasional contributions.

“You mean to tell me,” Viktor said at one point, leaning back slightly in his chair, “that Jayce still hasn’t learned to cook rice without burning it? After all these years?”

Jayce, halfway through explaining some disastrous culinary attempt from his youth, turned to glare at him. “Excuse me, this rice was cooked perfectly.”

“It was fine,” you agreed, though the memory of a slightly crunchy bite or two made your lips twitch in amusement.

Viktor’s amber eyes sparkled as he gestured broadly. “Oh, fine! A glowing review, truly. Don’t let it go to your head.”

Jayce groaned, but there was no real bite to it. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” Viktor said, raising his glass in a mock toast, “here I am. Invited to dinner. Again.”

Jayce just rolled his eyes and went back to his story, leaving you to glance at Viktor with a small smile. He caught it, of course, and gave a little shrug as if to say, what can you do? For all his sharp humor, he was easy to talk to, his wit balanced by an underlying warmth that kept him from coming off as too cutting.

Which was why you were only mildly surprised when the spoon incident happened.

Dinner was winding down, Jayce had disappeared into the kitchen to fuss over coffee, leaving you and Viktor to handle the cleanup.

He moved with a surprising ease, balancing a stack of plates in one hand, his cane steady in the other. It was a casual sort of competence, as though he’d long since adapted to whatever limitations life had handed him. You hadn’t thought much of it, impressed by how naturally he maneuvered, until the soft clatter of a spoon hitting the floor broke the quiet rhythm of tidying.

“Ah,” Viktor said, glancing down at the rogue utensil with a faint frown as he set down the plate stack. “Of course.”

You paused mid-step, glancing between him and the spoon. “Need a hand?”

He tilted his head, his expression a little too innocent. “If it’s not too much trouble. You know, the leg and all...”

“Oh, for—” Jayce’s voice floated from the kitchen, half-annoyed but not quite committed to intervening.

You sighed, setting down the napkins you’d been folding. “Yeah, sure. I’ve got it.”

But just as you crouched down, Viktor shifted. A casual tap of his cane sent the spoon skittering across the floor, its metallic clink faintly echoing as it landed farther away.

You froze, staring at the spoon in disbelief, then turned your gaze to him slowly. “You’re kidding.”

Viktor’s lips twitched, the faintest glimmer of amusement flickering across his face. “What?”

“You just—”

“What?” he repeated, wider-eyed this time, his free hand gesturing vaguely toward his cane. “I’m handicapped.”

Jayce reappeared in the doorway, a coffee pot in hand and a look of pure exasperation on his face. “Viktor.”

“What?” Viktor said again, his voice laced with mock indignation. “I am!”

Jayce muttered something unintelligible as he poured coffee, his focus shifting between you and Viktor like he couldn’t decide which one of you deserved his scolding more. Meanwhile, you straightened, crossing your arms as a grin tugged at the corners of your mouth despite your best efforts.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” you said, stepping across the room to retrieve the spoon—again.

“Very generous,” Viktor agreed, his tone breezy. “Honestly, it’s quite inspiring. Jayce, you should take notes.”

Jayce groaned, setting the coffee pot down with a little too much force. “You’re both ridiculous.”

But you were already laughing, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. As you returned the spoon to the table with a pointed look, Viktor gave you a small, almost triumphant smile. And maybe, you could see what Jayce meant when he’d said you’d get along.

The first time you realized you might feel more than just friendship for Viktor was when you noticed the way your sketches had started to change.

It had been weeks—maybe even a couple of months—since that dinner with Jayce, when you had awkwardly danced around each other, getting to know one another. The initial weirdness had faded into easy companionship, and you found yourself spending more time with Viktor than you expected. You hadn’t quite noticed it happening, but somewhere along the line, you’d become an unintentional trio. Jayce had been bursting with barely-contained glee at how easily the two of you seemed to get along, and it made your chest warm, knowing how much that mattered to him. It felt... right, this newfound ease between the three of you, a quiet sort of harmony that made you smile more than you expected.

But as the days passed, something shifted without you realizing it. You were at home one evening, flipping through your sketchbook, the soft pastel dust smudging the edges of the pages as your fingers moved. The forms you’d drawn were abstract models, capturing shapes and shadows in a fluid, organic way. It wasn’t anything new—nothing that stood out. But then, you stopped.

There, in the shadows of the page, you saw it.

The subtle arch of a jawline. The curve of lips that you knew too well. Even the moles, small and almost unremarkable, but there they were—on the page, right beneath your fingertips. You blinked and flipped to another sketch, only to see it again. A line here, a shadow there. It wasn’t him exactly, but it was.

To the untrained eye, maybe it wouldn’t have been obvious. Hell, maybe even to you on any other day, it might’ve gone unnoticed. But now, in the quiet of your studio, the shapes were almost unmistakable. The soft angle of his nose, the way his eyes looked when he was thinking too hard, the way his smile would pull up on one side when he was being particularly smug.

You frowned, setting the sketchbook down, your hands hovering above it as if it had betrayed you. Was this some kind of coincidence? Or was it something more, something you had been avoiding realizing? You’d never consciously set out to draw him, but there he was, tucked into the lines and curves of your art like an uninvited guest you hadn’t known you were entertaining.

It was ridiculous, you told yourself. Of course it was just... coincidence. But even as you tried to convince yourself, there was a small, unspoken truth sitting in your chest, heavy and undeniable, and the first time you realized Viktor might see you as more than just a friend was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it hit you all the same.

He mentioned a piece you’d shown him, his tone thoughtful. “You’ve been doing something different lately. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s a change. It’s...” His gaze flickered to yours, then dropped back to the floor, but the brief flash in his eyes sent an unexpected flutter through your chest. “...more. More than what you usually show.”

The words themselves were harmless, even complimentary, but it was the way they hung between you that made something inside you stir—something you couldn’t name, not yet. You didn’t think much of it at first, but the way his eyes lingered just a second longer than necessary made your breath catch. The way the corners of his mouth lifted into a half-smile, not teasing, but... fond.

It was a simple thing. A fleeting moment. And yet, it lingered in your mind as you retreated to your apartment, your thoughts whirling with the possibility that Viktor—your friend, the one you had so casually laughed and bantered with for months—might be seeing you differently, too.

The shift was subtle, but it was there. And it unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

Everything came to a boiling point one night at your apartment. You’d ventured into town earlier that day, mostly for a change of scenery, and happened upon a small farmers market. You couldn’t resist grabbing a few bottles of strawberry wine, its sweetness and fruity undertones practically calling your name. Jayce had scoffed at it when you got back, claiming it was too sugary to have any real punch. “There’s no way I’ll even get drunk off this,” he’d muttered with a dismissive wave.

An hour later, he was sprawled out on your pullout, snoring softly with a stupid grin plastered across his face. You and Viktor stood nearby, both trying—and failing—to suppress your amusement at how quickly Jayce had succumbed to the wine’s effects. For all his size, Jayce was a surprising lightweight.

“I swear, every time,” you said, laughing quietly.

Viktor, leaning against the doorway, gave a soft chuckle. “Some people just don’t know when to stop.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing over at the slumbering man. “Guess we let him sleep it off.”

“Let him have his beauty rest,” Viktor teased, his voice light as he nodded toward the bottles. “We can always finish it ourselves.”

So you did, winding up on the roof with the cold night air around you. The worn-out couch up there had seen better days, but it was still enough to settle into and talk, a simple quiet comfort settling over you both. The soft glow of string lights and the silvered moonlight made the world feel like it was wrapped in a quiet hush despite the never ending sounds of the city. You both settled into the couch, the cushions sinking in the middle, which pushed you just a little closer to Viktor than you'd anticipated.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was easy, like you had spent years in it. You noticed how close you were sitting now—your thighs pressed together, and when you passed the bottle of wine, your fingers brushed his. A small spark of awareness ran through you each time, and you tried to ignore it, feeling your face warm despite the cool air.

The wine was sweet, fruity, and a little stronger than you expected, especially when you found yourself reaching for another sip and another, the soft buzz in your head gradually growing stronger.

By the time the bottle was halfway gone, you were both leaning more heavily into the couch, and you couldn’t help but giggle at how little wine was apparently needed to bring Jayce to the brink of passing out. You felt... lighter. Almost giddy, as if the laughter that came so easily was spilling out along with the alcohol. And Viktor, sitting just beside you, didn’t seem to be immune to it either. His face was flushed in the soft light, his lips curling into an easy smile.

“You know,” you said, leaning back and feeling the warmth of the couch soak into your bones, “I don’t do this enough. I’m so... wrapped up in work and life and... I just forget to relax.”

Viktor tilted his head, eyes slightly narrowed as he watched you. “Relaxing can be overrated,” he said with a smirk, the words a little slower than they’d been earlier. He took another drink from the bottle, his thumb brushing against the glass in an unconscious rhythm. When he passed it to you, your fingers brushed once again, and you lingered just a bit longer than necessary.

“Well, maybe for you,” you chuckled. “But, for me, it’s like... it's like a luxury, I guess. You know? I don’t remember the last time I just sat with someone and... and didn’t feel like I had to be somewhere or do something.”

“You eh–... don’t have to worry about that here,” Viktor said quietly, his voice light, with that usual teasing edge. But something was different in his tone, something that made the words feel heavier than they should have been. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but the air seemed to shift, the quiet between you stretching into something almost… charged.

You took another sip, your hand a little unsteady now. The whole situation felt absurd—awkward, even, yet strangely intimate in a way you hadn’t expected. Your gaze drifted toward his lips without thinking. It was brief, but enough to send a flutter through your stomach, and suddenly, your mind couldn’t focus on anything but that soft, confident curve of his mouth. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was something else entirely, but you couldn’t seem to think straight anymore.

Viktor shifted closer again, and the couch beneath you groaned as it sank with the weight of it. The space between you closed, and you could feel the warmth of his body pressing against yours shoulder to shoulder, like the alcohol spreading through you, making your pulse quicken.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. His presence was a solid thing beside you. His eyes were locked on yours, studying, but still so calm. You could feel the punch of his gaze on you, like it was seeping through your skin, sending heat rushing to your cheeks. It wasn’t just the wine now—you could feel it all over, heat blooming beneath your skin, making you fidget slightly.

“Sometimes… you get caught up in what you’re doing, and you forget about everything else,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the way your nerves were tightening your chest. “I’ve been focused on my career and—god, I’ve probably been a little… I don’t know, closed off.” You laughed lightly, but it was nervous, unsure of where this was even coming from. But suddenly all your senses were barraged by him, his smell, his eyes.

“I just—I haven’t thought about it. Relationships, I mean. Not in a long time. I don’t know if I’m even ready for anything like that. Not now, not with everything I’m doing.” You trailed off, self-conscious, suddenly feeling like you were saying too much, rambling without stopping. The words seemed to just slip out of you, tumbling over each other.

You took another shaky breath, your heart thudding in your chest as you tried to make yourself stop, but you couldn’t. It was like you were helpless.

“And, I mean, if anybody were to kiss me…” You faltered, realizing too late just how much you were giving away. Your pulse quickened, your thoughts jumbled as your mouth just kept moving. “I would want that person to be you.”

The air between you thickened, the silence stretching long and heavy. Your heart pounded in your chest, a nervous rhythm that drowned out everything else. You waited for him to say something, to break the tension that was suffocating you. But there was nothing. Just the weight of his gaze on you, steady and searching.

When you finally dared to glance at him Viktor's expression was unreadable. One thick eyebrow was cocked slightly, and his mouth hung open just enough to suggest he was about to say something, but didn't. He was so close but somehow the distance between you felt infinite.

You opened your mouth to say something, to fill the silence, but before you could speak, his hand moved, his fingers brushing against your jaw in the gentlest touch. The sudden warmth of his palm made your breath catch, and before you could even fully process it, he was pulling you in. His lips met yours, soft at first, as though testing the waters, as if the moment itself was delicate. But that softness didn't last, between the buzz of alcohol, the closeness, the heat between you—it all blurred together. The kiss deepened, quickly turning urgent, hungry. His hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the bottle slipped from your grasp, its clang against the concrete floor echoing in the quiet of the rooftop

You didn't care. You were too lost in the feeling of him against you, his lips moving against yours with a desperate kind of need. The kiss grew messier– clumsy, teeth scraping, tongues tangling. You could taste the faint sweetness of wine on him, the mix of flavors making everything feel dizzying overwhelming.

You found yourself gripping his shirt, pulling him closer, as if trying to merge your bodies together, desperate for the contact, for whatever it was that had been building between you two for so long.

The next day was a harsh slap of hangover reality. Your head pounded, your mouth was dry, and every time you glanced at Viktor across the room, your stomach flipped in a way that had nothing to do with the booze.

Jayce, of course, was none the wiser. He chatted away over breakfast like nothing had changed, blissfully unaware of the shift that had unraveled everything you thought you’d had under control. And you? You were wholly committed to keeping it that way. It was a one-time thing, you told yourself. Just a fleeting, drunken thing—something you could both quietly bury and move on from.

At least, that was the plan.

Until it happened again. And then again.

Now it feels like a thread being pulled tighter and tighter, until you’re not sure if you’re going to unravel completely or snap under the weight.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. But here you are. And you don’t know how to stop.

©lilsworks 2024

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane #viktor #arcane #viktor x you #arcane x you #arcane fanfic #viktor fanfic #fwb #friends with benifits #viktor x y/n #arcane viktor #arcane fic #viktor fic #arcane x reader #lils work #mine #strawberry wine

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ybklix · 3 months ago

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𝑨𝒓𝒕 𝑫𝒆𝒄𝒐

♱‧₊˚. pairing: dom!hwanghyunjin x sub!femreader 𓈒 ୨९⟡₊⋆∘ synopsis: An eccentric and peculiar artist, whose art is well known for its captivating and erotic method, is fascinated by you, who naively thought you just accepted a small job for him. ೨౿ ⋆ ˚｡ genre — warnings: MDNI, smut, shibari ropeplay, dubcon, bdsm, sex toys, impact play, spanking, edging, overstimulation, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ word count: 9.3k

♬⋆.˚ art deco by lana del rey ♥︎ closer by nine inch nails ♥︎ tear you apart by she wants revange ♥︎ red lights by stray kids

(𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 '𝟮𝟰) ₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚. 04: artist

wen’s note: bitch christian grey who, also red lights is a rope bunny slut wbk

The distant scent of cigarette smoke hit your face along with the cold night breeze. You shrank into your jacket, feeling your whole body shiver with cold as you waited for the driver you paid for in an app, to wait outside the large chateau property in the middle of nowhere.

It was cold and you felt the anxiety that there was no one left but you.

You heard footsteps behind you and with a shiver you turned, seeing how from the darkness and dim light emerged the bearing of a tall man in a suit.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t recognize him, someone like him would stand out anywhere. Hwang Hyunjin. A handsome adult with long black hair as shiny as night and slitted, villainous eyes in contrast to the rest of his smooth, harmonious face with beautiful bushy eyebrows, a straight nose, and full lips. He was so beautiful and handsome that he also became the model sometimes.

Hyunjin came out for fresh air and he noticed you, he had noticed you from the gallery, the young girl making little notes. Hyunjin had counted the journalists in his exhibition and knew their names and faces but you… he had never seen you, you were too young to work in journalism or as a critic, and yet you still took your notes.

Hyunjin approached you, playfully puffing on his cigarette.

“What did you think of today’s exhibition?”

You looked at him, surprised, you had never been that close to him or talked to him directly but you certainly knew his voice from the one or another interview you saw on the internet. Ah, the great exhibition today by Hwang Hyunjin, you were grateful and amazed that you had gotten a spot to be able to attend. His latest art exhibit, a compilation of sculptures, paintings, and photography inspired by 1920s nightlife, Art Deco, The Great Gatsby, Fitzgerald and Zelda, Hemmingway, Lempicka and Picasso, in a place perfectly with an interior design exactly referring to that era. Hyunjin never did small exhibitions or hung around in small galleries, if he exhibited his art he did it big, in the famous Hwang chateau with a very strict list of upper-class guests, it was not only an exhibition, but a fashion show and almost a carpet event as his dress code was strict and even the most important fashion magazines and designers attended.

You were surprised that he suddenly walked up and spoke to you. You had been lucky enough that the university had gotten you a very coveted spot at the event. You had enjoyed his art… you just couldn’t lie about feeling a little uncomfortable seeing it for the first time in person with your own eyes. His classic and characteristic section of somewhat erotic photographs of women being tightly bound. The photos showed naked and semi-naked women with their red, slightly purple limbs, signs of how truly tight the ropes must have been. But Hwang Hyunjin was praised for his play with eroticism and a popular fetish practice.

In fact, there were so many unsolved rumors and mysteries regarding the uproar of those photographs, of which you were very curious about.

You had to be honest, you were in front of the artist himself, which is very busy and coveted in the art world, you didn’t have that opportunity every day; plus it was what you did, you wrote your most honest thoughts.

“I thought it was beautiful, wicked, perverse and devious.”

You added a bit of mischief and sarcasm in your tone, throwing in a few popular adjectives of which they catalogued his art over the years, an amusing reference that Hyunjin understood perfectly and you were relieved that he did, as if you had instantly connected. He laughed playfully, forming a smile that showed his teeth and narrowed his eyes.

“Wicked and devious, who are you, The New Yorker?” he took another puff of his cigarette, “They called me wicked and compared me to a politician, how dare they, fucking bastards. I prefer the version of The New York Times.”

Erotic and provocative. An artist born to succeed. Art whose photography arouses more than one feeling. Once in their lifetimes, unique art that happens once in many years. The one Hwang Hyunjin. Young and ambitious.

You smiled, as he was clearly just playing along and feigning an angry tone.

“By the way, I’m Hwang Hyunjin” he added more softly staring at you, stepping on the butt of his cigarette.

“I know, nice to meet you, Mr. Hwang.”

He raised his dark eyebrows as he licked his lips, waiting for an answer.

“And… you are…”

“Y/n” you replied, repeating it with your last name.

Hyunjin looked you up and down for a few seconds and your compliance vanished from you in seconds, now you were nervous, feeling penetrated by his gaze in that cold, dark night. You couldn’t lie, Hyunjin was fucking hot and handsome, his scent exquisite and his presence out of this world, he was worthy of a work of art on his own.

“Mmm… I see” he met your eyes again, “Did you come as an enjoyer or a critic?”

“A little of both” you said proudly with a smile.

“Mmm, you can never be both” cold weather steam now coming out of his mouth every time he spoke, “You work for some magazine… are you waiting for someone? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a face like yours before…”

You almost fell at his feet at his soft rambling tone of voice, you almost believed him and fell for his charms that you were sure was just another one of his moves as an artist. So you just let out a soft chuckle, but his face reflected subtle genuine confusion.

“No… I’m here for college, I also study art, I got on the list… I have a little blog of my exhibition reviews.”

Hyunjin listened to you carefully, “Ah… I had no idea a college girl would come…” he whispered almost to himself, “And a blog? Like… written? People still use that?” he added amused

You smiled, “Well so far it’s going well.”

“I’m glad. You’re going to write about this? What’s it called?”

You knew exactly what to write about, a charming, playful artist with a mysterious haze about him, you were not to be fooled by his charms…. Hwang Hyunjin was still hiding things.

“Sure, it’s called Red Lights.”

“Ah, of course I’ve seen it, you do those reviews?” your eyes reflected mild surprise, “I liked that write-up about Lee Felix’s fashion collection… but I don’t remember seeing you there on your blog.”

You lightly bit your lower lip feeling a little flattered that someone like him would read something like that, maybe it came to him because of the last review you did of his exhibition months ago that you saw online.

You called his art and method erotic, like many other major media, but it wasn’t just because it was nude… it was because there really was something erotic about it. First, the bondage of the woman was shown, and in another photograph the genuine and true face of pleasure itself, a twisted pleasure, a wicked smile, and shiny tears. That left as much to the viewer’s imagination as the popular belief that it was evident that Hyunjin was pleasuring or performing sexual acts on his models. In your writing, you revealed that Hyunjin himself had exposed liking that sort of thing, such as discipline and light physical abuse. You did not call him a sadist as such since it was just a pair of nudes and ropes tightly bound a woman’s body and upper limbs and their faces with tears of joy. You mentioned the mystery that the photograph captured and left a faithful follower of Hyunjin wondering how it was always a different woman. He had no fixed muse, despite also expressing how romantic he was.

You suddenly felt insecure remembering your review of him, you left more questions than answers but you couldn’t help it. No one really knew Hyunjin outside of the public eye. He could be whatever, his attitude now could just be part of his technique, he was a spontaneous artist, many times compared to Helmut Newton, but you weren’t sure about that, Hyunjin’s art was more haunting and in color.

“You haven’t seen me because I never show my face. I only write. But my instagram is there.”

Hyunjin let out a giggle and you blushed instantly, your body heated in embarrassment, why would you say something like that to an artist much older than you that you had a certain social media. A notification on your cell phone interrupted you, the driver texted that he was close to arriving.

Hyunjin thought it was cute that a beauty like you wasn’t a bit snooty and showing your face, making short art information videos, as it was obvious you had little influence, attending fancy events, dressing well, but still kept to the old method of simple writing. Maybe you were the one looking for a real position in one of those magazines. Maybe you were a beautiful girl stuck in the present day with an old soul.

He couldn’t deny that you had absolutely captured his attention. He was smitten. You were young and smart, but care and rough sex could make you dumb, which was what his deepest, most perverse thoughts hid.

“Sure, a face like yours is unique…” you smiled shyly, ”I’d remember and recognize it everywhere.”

The driver was getting closer and closer to his destination. Hyunjin licked his lips softly and a silence formed in the cold night. He questioned… whether to do it… when every girl he chooses, he studies and gets to know her first, but you arrived so spontaneously, dressed in a Maison Margiela by Galliano that gave those touches of a classic 2000’s Dior.

He acted impulsively.

“What are you doing this Monday afternoon?”

Your heart raced. If he said so, you’d cancel anything.

“Nothing in particular, I’m going to college early.”

“Are you interested in modeling for me?”

Monday, but what a strange and rushed day. Hyunjin didn’t even have plans to start his work at once, but he didn’t want to let you go. He wanted you in his art, somehow something about you connected so much with Art Deco.

The car stopped in front of you right with the descriptions that came in the app. Hyunjin didn’t think you would leave so suddenly, he didn’t even contemplate it.

You thought about it… modeling for him… it meant posing nude? And if the rumors were true… you would be subjected to sexual activity. It was the perfect opportunity to see with your own eyes and fully experience the true process and method of Hyunjin’s art.

“Can I ask you something?”

Anything, Hyunjin thought. He nodded, sensing that the situation was being rushed since you had to get into the car.

“Can I write about it?”

“Deal” Hyunjin didn’t even think twice about it, he would see how he would manage, “I’ll send you the details later. See you soon.”

You got into the car and Hyunjin closed the door for you, bowing with a tender smile that you caught a glimpse of from the window. You wondered if he was staying alone in the huge chateau.

You would finally find out what’s really going on behind the camera.

Only Hwang Hyunjin could make your Monday so fucking interesting. You were about to spend the afternoon with him and that made you nervous, despite having received all the information in the e-mail where it was specifically worded by Hyunjin’s staff that it would be a simple portrait modeling.

You were slightly disappointed, not because you expected to be tied up and have sex with the most handsome man your eyes have ever seen, but because you wanted answers to all the questions that caused a buzz in the art community, you thought you would be special and be the first to write details about working for Hwang Hyunjin, because every woman he photographs are young and unknown to the public and not much is known about them, not even Hyunjin shows them in his exhibitions so that the public knows that they are real, that they existed and are not just art captured from him… or maybe they were just that. By working for him you became his property and immortalized as such, maybe the beautiful twisted women were others in their daily life.

Still… you hoped you could ask him a few questions and maybe he might reveal something.

Hyunjin was specific with your makeup, natural, with subtle gold with silver glitter eyeshadow and thin-pencil eyeliner. His team showed you in the email the example and sent you exactly the right eyeshadow, foundation, soft blush in a cool pink shade, and the perfect nude shade of silky lipstick. You complemented the makeup hoping it would be what Hyunjin had wanted. He had also been specific with the clothes, nothing that would make marks on your skin, from tight underwear or clothes.

You arrived at the address Hyunjin gave you. A lonely loft building, owned by Hyunjin, where he had his photography equipment and a small studio. Upon entering it was nothing like you expected, everything was perfectly decorated, you should have seen it coming from him.

He greeted you with a smile and you were surprised how he became more handsome in two days… or you were beginning to see him differently after your little paranoia you kept looking for things about him, you couldn’t deny it, he had a unique beauty and charming personality without even trying, something that captivated you and trapped you.

But it was very well known that Hyunjin was a guy who loved to party despite being reserved, he was the perfect combination of a partying artist, lonely, mysterious, and romantic, all his love life was very well hidden, and nothing was known about him romantically other than his art, lifestyle and the way he expresses himself.

Hyunjin saw you with a sparkle in his eyes, knowing you would document everything later. His plan was to go moderately slow, though he couldn’t wait and was itching to tie up your body until you were bruised. But first, he would charm you, with little details and photo shoot appointments, and before you knew it, he would be offering you something much more interesting. He recognized that the process could take days, weeks…

“Welcome. You look beautiful, my godiva. I’ll show you around.”

“Godiva?”

You followed Hyunjin and he turned with a tender smile continuing his walk. Hyunjin looked so good, wearing all-black attire, a thin turtleneck sweater and pants that matched his manly long legs, with his hair slicked back and ring details on his long fingers and a watch on his wrist.

“It is one of my favorite paintings with a story, a pretty and kind woman whose kindness and heart changed her ambitious husband’s mind and helped the village, in exchange for a shameful sacrifice, you know the story?”

“I know it, yes… why did you call me that?”

“Do you want an explanation for everything, don’t you, sweet girl?” he looked at you amused, “Because you are my kind woman. For today. My muse.”

You felt a good shiver. You were happy but at the same time you thought maybe then it’s something he says to every woman who passes through here or works for him. Just another part of his tricks.

You didn’t understand why you were suddenly making such a big deal out of it, it wasn’t like someone like Hyunjin was magically going to fall in love with you.

Hyunjin showed you around, telling you details and stories while you listened to him carefully… but there were times when you got lost in the movement of his lips, you couldn’t help it, so full, so kissable; he noticed it and an occasional mischievous, shy smile escaped from him, normally he felt like he had the highest ego… but with you, it felt like the innocence of a first date.

“Wouldn’t you be taking notes of everything I would tell you?” he paused in his talk to tell you.

You opened your eyes slightly, you knew exactly what to write. Your evening with a real artist, an attractive and charming one, all your college girl classmates would go crazy. Anyone who saw Hyunjin would have a crush on him.

“Oh, I’ll remember everything, don’t worry Mr. Hwang.”

Hyunjin licked his lips, arousing his senses that you spoke to him formally.

“God, I wish I could give you something better to remember tonight” he whispered, his eyes glued on you then averted, you had heard him. “Call me Hyunjin.”

Next was your photoshoot of which you hadn’t felt nervous about until he was attractively setting up his camera, you hadn’t even prepared yourself… the whole damn time you were thinking about his other kind of pictures, the erotic ones, how he tied with his nimble, long fingers and what was really going on for women to have that fucked expression on their face. You only knew that Hyunjin himself talked about that very thing three years ago, that he traveled to Japan to relax, to find inspiration in the little things, and that suddenly one day he discovered the art of shibari, the Japanese rope play and that he learned it from scratch; months after that trip to Japan the world got the first photographs.

It couldn’t be possible… that it was you who was lusting after Hyunjin, and if that was his plan or how he used to do it, it was working, you didn’t care. His clothes were tight on his manly, slender figure… and his thighs thick, but you couldn’t help but notice the large bulge that formed precisely there, the bulge of his notorious cock, which was right there, impossible to miss and without needing to be hard, you cursed mentally, thinking it must be big.

You started to get hot, sweating slightly from your lower back, the dirty thoughts were happening at an incredible speed in your head.

He approached you, ready for the pictures and noticed the faint red color on your cheeks; he smiled smugly, as he had done nothing but exist and you were already all flushed.

You confessed to him that it was weird being the model because you used to be the artist, but he took it upon himself to help you.

You tried on different outfits that suddenly didn’t feel like you. And after a while, you thought you were done when he suddenly ordered you in a harsher tone of voice:

“Wear this Versace, now. I’ll take pictures of you.”

You were surprised because he had all along been polite and didn’t order as such… but you liked how his voice suddenly got thicker as he ordered you something.

The shoot was officially over, and after that and with timid steps, you were ready to get back into your clothes again, Hyunjin was tidying up his photography equipment a bit when he stopped you.

“Where are you going? Stay dressed like that” he ordered you again and then realized his tone, “You can keep the dress… it’s made to fit you. Okay, any questions now that we’re done?”

Too many, but you had no idea how to phrase them.

“It’s night now, would you like to go out to dinner somewhere taking advantage of that pretty dress you have on, sweetie?”

He was driving you crazy, ordering you around but then talking cute to you while looking this handsome and asking you out. You didn’t turn him down.

On the way to the restaurant in Hyunjin’s car there was a tense atmosphere somehow, but he softened it with small talk, he really liked to talk, he was tender.

You arrived at a fancy place, you weren’t ready for all that but you let yourself go, just walking beside him felt good already.

A delicious dinner, a couple of drinks, and you and Hyunjin were getting to know each other more and more and becoming more comfortable with each other. Even comfortable enough to ask him:

“So… how do you do it?”

“Do what?” he replied with a smile.

You looked at him with your eyes narrowed.

“Your… photographs…”

“Well, with a camera” he joked, “What photographs?” Hyunjin noticed your slight uncertainty to answer in seconds and understood. “Ahh, those photographs. You’re dying to know, aren't you?” he said smugly.

“Of course not…” you jokingly replied.

It was all giggles, until he got serious, took from his glass with champagne and, with the glass near his lips said:

“Do you want to find out for yourself? I bet you want to try.”

A wicked smile formed on Hyunjin’s face each time you got closer to your destination. He had fantasized about it but he didn’t want to seem like a pervert or rush things with you… but you agreed, you did it and now you couldn’t believe it.

You were more and more surprised because it had been 20 minutes since you had left the city and just driving out of town. Twenty more minutes and Hyunjin finally stopped the car in the middle of nowhere, in front of a traditional Korean house.

A part of you trembled that you felt it in the foreground, that it was you who now let out tears of pleasure as you had fantasized as a handsome, older man like Hyunjin. But another part of you hoped it was only information told.

Hyunjin opened the car door for you and you looked at the place… truly a house in the middle of nowhere among the trees. You felt a chill and the cold of the night on your skin, thinking then that’s where it all happens, where other women have been before you.

“This hanok belonged to my grandfather and he passed it down to me. I’ve kept it ever since. I learned a lot from him, I owe my love of the art to him.”

Hyunjin spoke sincerely. You admired the nice garden.

“It’s nice and peaceful.”

You were trembling with nerves.

Finally, you entered the main room. Everything was still so traditional, with wood everywhere, but you noticed the little modern details Hyunjin added. Every one of his places was just like another art exhibition, decorated with paintings.

“I use it to relax, I get distracted here for a really good time and it's ideal for inviting my friends over… and well, this is where I usually practice bondage.”

You nodded, avoiding looking him in the eye. You wanted to leave. Since you knew the place you could leave; you were biting your lip in constant regret that you were actually going to be tied up. But you wanted to leave because you were embarrassed, not because you didn’t want it—the unique sex experience.

“Come here. You wanted to see it for yourself.”

A couple more rooms with sliding doors. You arrived, but Hyunjin paused with his hand on the door.

“So that you know absolutely everything…” he spoke, looking you in the eyes again.

You nodded, you were anxious and slightly excited but you were beginning to accept your fate —which you weren’t complaining much about—. Hyunjin continued:

“Usually this is where I take the pictures, I like to play with the scenery and re-decorate it, that’s why you see different scenery” he pointed in front of a spot in the room with more photography equipment. “Before entering the model is given a consent form that they decide whether to sign or not, it talks about agreeing to pose nude, to have risqué photos taken even on her genitals, and to abide by my orders as well as choosing a safe word in any case she feels uncomfortable or doesn’t have as much tolerance for pain. I like to play with them, dress them, tie them up, and let the art perform itself.”

Your breath shortened. It was so twisted but coming from his lips, voice, and serious tone… why it was so hot and mesmerizing.

It was a small disappointment that before you there were multiple women and you could almost imagine their naive and excited faces before walking through that door. The contract thing? Slick and dirty.

“Can I see it?” you said suddenly.

He raised an eyebrow in confusion looking so attractive, there was something about his bearing that looked commanding all of a sudden, as if his eyes became sharper and his body more desirable. You were impatient, at least you wanted to kiss him, you didn’t understand why so much desperation.

“The contract” you sentenced.

Hyunjin chuckled and walked over to a desk, pulling out two sheets of paper from some folders and handed them to you.

You bit your lip as you held them… thinking that maybe you were getting excited in vain, that after all, he wasn’t inviting you to be one of his models and that he hadn't even given you the contract nor did he look like he intended to give it to you, just because you asked.

The contract was specific and explicit and talked about you agreeing to be Hyunjin’s submissive for as long as he chooses by being inside that property. In the end, it said something that made too much sense, that after the shoot and when all is concluded, the model should only approach and address him professionally and under no circumstances divulge what she experienced and did. The model has the right to attend the event where her photographs will be exhibited and is obliged to use an artistic name or pseudonym. And it ended with an impressive amount of money with which she would be paid.

You sighed softly as you finished reading. It sounded private and serious from what you said:

“I won’t write about this.”

“Wise decision. But because I like you so much I can give you the exclusive and you decide already whether to write or not, sweetheart.”

You didn’t even have time to think when Hyunjin took the papers from your hand and slid the door open, revealing a long rectangular room decorated in classic wood and well-lit, with a sweet and mesmerizing scent, everything was spotless… but in the room, there was evidently sex practice furniture.

“Obviously everything is clean, it’s rigorously cleaned every time the mess is finished, and you’re lucky that the chairs and stuff are new.”

Lucky. You were at a loss for words. It was real. It was what he liked to do. You didn’t judge him, it was so normal, just another way he lived his sex life. But it was unknown to you, at least living it or actually seeing it and the unknown gives you that certain uneasy feeling.

Hyunjin took a step forward staring at you still holding the papers in his hand.

“Do you want to give it a try? Do you want to sign the contract?” he brought his face close to yours with a smug smile. “It can be for artistic purposes, just so you understand the art you’re so curious about” he crooned, playfully.

You shuddered and maintaining eye contact you nodded shyly. You knew exactly what you were agreeing to, there was no need to play dumb, you wanted it, you wanted it ever since you saw him when you entered his loft.

“You can sign later. I’ll get you dressed” Hyunjin spoke, in a more cheerful and excited tone.

He was just as, if not slightly more impatient than you. He hadn’t felt this aroused in a while, most of the time he did get aroused but it was more like pleasure play, he found satisfaction and didn’t get too involved, he was more dominant and knew how to control it… he was’'t sure if he could pull that off with you just now.

You went back to giving a visual tour of the place as Hyunjin walked to another door that appeared to be a closet. You sighed as soon as you saw that it was a closet, with lingerie, sex toys and his ropes.

Hyunjin approached you, holding a silky white babydoll and thigh high sheer stockings also white. He held your face for the first time, making your heart almost stop as you saw him so close and felt his warm hands and cold rings on your cheeks.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m going to dress you in white because…. you have that energy in you so pure and wise, you’re as beautiful as a woman waiting dressed in white at the altar, anyone who marries you will be a lucky fucking son of a bitch. So just for tonight be everything to me, my object of pleasure, my lover, my wife.”

Hyunjin caressed your cheek and you felt your knees go weak at hearing him and seeing the gleam in his dark eyes, you didn’t even have that silly thought that he might have told someone else, you didn’t care, at least you were the one hearing it and living it right at this moment, with him.

“Undress, love, now” he ordered you softly, sliding the zipper of your dress and he took two steps back and moved a little away from you.

His piercing gaze watched you standing there and a subtle wicked smile twitched the corners of his lips. You did as he ordered and as soon as your dress fell to the floor the sensitive spot on your pussy throbbed in excitement, there was something in the atmosphere and in the room beyond your arousal and his incredible sexual energy, something about the place made you feel haunted, as if the silence of the night had a supernatural erotic power on you, you were as uneasy as you had ever been.

Hyunjin licked his lips, watching you take off your last little garments, your underwear. You were so wet, that you felt your wetness slide into your folds as you took off your panties. This time, his cock was unbelievably hard at the sight of your naked body. Hyunjin’s world stopped for a second as his cock throbbed in complete pleasure, and he paused to watch you carefully without missing any detail about you, from your shy and slightly nervous expression to the shape of your neck and how it connected to the delicacy of your shoulders and collarbones, showing your chest and breasts… the shape of them, your nipples, your delicate limbs, your abdomen and the sweet juicy skin of your pubis… every detail, down to the moles on your body. He was satisfied.

“You are beautiful,” he told you, moving closer to you.

Up close he became more absorbed and managed to perceive the scent of your perfume, delighting himself in it. He bit his lower lip and couldn’t resist how soft your exposed breasts looked, so he brought both his hands to your tits, making you shudder slightly, massaging them gently, with the babydoll on his broad shoulder. You too bit your lip in pleasure to stop a sigh. You saw his big hands grab your breasts, move them and play with your nipple and in the process you noticed the huge erection in his pants and then you saw his face, thinking he was even bigger with a hard cock, you wanted Hyunjin now, you needed him, you needed to feel him inside you, in your hands, in your mouth… He was so close to you… you could appreciate his so manly features perfectly marked, like his nose and sharp jaw and his lips, you wanted to kiss him and have him take you at once, you felt he could fuck you right there, you were already so ready for his cock to slide into you without even truly touching him.

He repeated your act, he saw your breasts and enjoyed the feel of your tits adjusting to his hands and then he watched your sweet face holding back and he smiled.

“You like that, bunny, huh? Answer everything I tell you.”

“Yes” you sighed.

His giggle again appeared and what started out sweet became more and more intense, squeezing your breasts with intensity and treating them rougher, ending with a rough play towards your nipples that made you sigh.

“Arms up, my baby doll, I’m going to dress you.”

He took his hands off your breasts leaving you with a void as it felt too good, he was stimulating you and turning you on more. Hyunjin put the silky robe on you and took the opportunity to caress and squeeze your ass, taking you to heaven. He got down on his knees and put on your stockings, caressing and squeezing your thighs, until he couldn’t resist, he lifted the robe covering your pussy and his face was in front of your mons pubis, Hyunjin finely ran his fingers on your slick once, and then did it deeply again, earning an unexpected shudder and soft moan from you.

“Shit, you’re so fucking wet, baby.”

He smirked and went to the closet again, finally pulling out the ropes. You didn’t move an inch.

Hyunjin began untying and preparing them, standing in front of you at a distance and looking so fucking sexy as his hands and arms wrapped around the rope.

“Do you know why I chose this place? A house in the middle of nowhere?” he commented, a flirtatious tone in his voice preparing the long rope.

He looked at you and you shook your head, he smiled running his tongue along his cavity, satisfying him as you were suddenly at a loss for words as you had gone from being bubbly and chatty with him to showing yourself just the way he liked it: submissive. A submissive with the big eyes of a frightened bunny, of a prey about to be devoured, of a helpless woman about to be fucked hard.

“Because I took so much admiration for this practice in Japan and my first bondage I did when I was young in a traditional Japanese house, the place inspired me too much and I remembered I had this house a bit abandoned… but the best part of it all is that you are free to make all the noise. You can cry all you want, no soul but me is going to hear you scream.”

Your skin stood on end, the last sentence had been dangerous in every way, hot, commanding and when you least knew it, he was already close to you rolling up his sleeves and ready to start the real attraction.

“Turn around and put your arms behind your back.” he ordered, in a rougher way and intimidating you with his gaze.

You obeyed him and stood staring up at the traditional walls of the room and felt the sensation of the soft rope passing through your arms and Hyunjin placing it in front of your body, encircling your breasts and abdomen, and going up your shoulders. You were so excited that if you opened your mouth you feared a moan would come out of it.

“So… what’s going to be your safe word?” he questioned in a rough, seductive voice and you felt your first squeeze in your arms through the ropes. “Or will you make a bad girl and not need it? That never happens…”

You hadn’t thought about it… was it so painful as to require a word? You thought you were holding on. You will.

“There will be no safe word” you mentioned in a shaky voice.

The next squeeze and the first strong tie in your arms.

“You are a little sick. I adore it. You want to be all spunky girl” he kept on tying, each time squeezing tighter and drawing your arms tighter together, “Let’s see how that works out for you, honey.”

And suddenly, it wasn’t the intensity of the bondage that surprised you, but the way he began to tease you, feeling his warm breath behind you, his heavy breathing, and his erection rubbing against your body.

“Tell me, my dear, have you tried submission and bondage before…?”

“No.”

He tied hard. Squeezing around your breasts, marking them on the babydoll.

“It will be an honor to be the first. But I won’t be gentle, I never am. Do you like rough sex?”

“I-I don’t know.”

You weren’t even beginning to think straight, your pussy was throbbing painfully down there, you were afraid you were going to start dripping from how turned on you were and he was just tying you up and rubbing his erection against you. All you could think about was how good his long fingers must look holding the rope and skillfully tying you up, you wished you had eyes on your back right about now.

“You don’t know?” he tied tight close to your hands, finishing. “You’ve never been fucked hard? Or don’t tell me you’re a virgin?”

You swallowed nervously, gulping saliva that burned in your throat from how enormously aroused you were, your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

“I’m not…”

“Oh yeah? Who was the lucky guy who entered paradise between your legs for the first time?”

Hyunjin stepped back, appreciating the beauty of the bonds in your arms, leaving you immobilized and staggering. He walked to the front of you with a predatory gaze, admiring his creation now on the front of your body, your breasts well marked on the fabric and your abdomen bound in a figure.

“Remember to answer everything, I thought you would be a good girl.”

You looked into his eyes, your big, merciful eyes, full of pure sexual ecstasy.

“My first boyfriend, when I was 19.”

“How is he now?” Hunjin ran his hands through your hair, pushing it a little away from your face, “Knowing he won something wonderful in life, your purity.”

You felt slightly humiliated, you were facing him, in a slightly curved position because of the tight bonds that bothered your arms, which bothered your circulation a little.

“He’s fine, I think. He studied law.”

“Too bad for him, he lost you, but now you’re mine.”

Hyunjin walked out of the room to return with his camera in hands.

“There go the first pictures, hun..”

Flash behind your back, this time Hyunjin didn’t bother to change the setting of the place, he had never shown the place as such, he always decorated it in a way that suited the concept of his exhibition, but you had been so spontaneous, you weren’t even planned for weeks like all his models, the concept was the simple nature of desire, erotic and experimentation.

Then he took pictures of your body in front.

“Fuck they look so good, so homely and domestic. I love it” he mentioned looking at the pictures.

He put the camera away leaving it on the floor carpet and moved your body from your shoulders forcing you to take a few steps, all the way to the center under a bar with chuncky metal hooks hanging from its ceiling.

“You seemed to get so excited at the idea of being tied up. But let’s steady your position, sweetheart.”

Hyunjin hooked you from the rope that ran behind your shoulders and left you hanging, just touching your toes to the floor. You felt strange and excited, unable to move and hanging there like nothing.

He smiled again, satisfied and wicked and his erection throbbed in pleasure at the sight of your state, helpless and bound.

“You still want to know how I take my pictures” he whispered hotly in your ear.

He gently pulled away until you felt his hair brush against your cheek, being in that position and tied up was making you uncomfortable but there was something so hot about it.

“Yes, Hyunjin.”

At this point you couldn’t say no to him and you weren’t thinking clearly, other than the feeling of your limbs and body tied, dangling and your throbbing cunt.

“I know absolutely everything they say about me, but although it may surprise you I never fuck my models, I don’t even kiss them, but I do like to play with them, with their pleasure and temperament, I enjoy taking them to the extreme and having them explore the very capabilities of their body…”

Hyunjin spoke close to your face, like a villain telling his plan to the poor helpless and immobile victim.

“Oh, honey, but I asked you if you like rough sex because I plan to fuck you” he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

He turned away to go back to his kinky closet.

“Wooden paddle or leather?” he hummed for himself, “What will I beat your cute ass with?”

You began to move your hands in desperation looking for a release. It was starting to bother you but you didn’t want to complain, you wanted to truly feel that rare and erotic experience.

Hyunjin approached you, with a vibrator and his leather spanking paddle.

“You’re a good sweet girl, let me get you ready.”

He ran his hand in your folds and you moaned instantly, shuddering, he played with your clit and he bit his lip, getting lost in the soft, sticky, warm feeling of your pussy lips wrapping his fingers. It was feeling so good, you were so needy. Your nipples hardened and your body sought to move in pleasure.

“Go on, sweetheart, make all the noise you want, don’t be afraid to enjoy absolutely everything.”

You let out a choked moan, you pressed your hands against each other unable to move your limbs, it was feeling like heaven itself to be touched by him as you looked into his eyes, his sultry gaze and wicked smile.

“God, you are so wet, are you liking this, my bunny?”

You nodded, desperate.

“Yes!” you moaned in pleasure and surprise as you spoke just as he thrust two fingers into you.

His fingers were perfect in you, so long reaching a soft spot inside you as he stirred them deep in you, almost as if exploring then slowly penetrating you. Hyunjin felt his erection to the fullest, if it wasn’t for his very good control and management of his body, he would be whimpering with excitement, everything about you made him so fucking horny.

But then he left you an emptiness, as he removed his fingers from you. You opened your mouth, breathing was becoming a difficult task, Hyunjin took advantage of your expression and stuck his fingers that were in your pussy to mouth.

“Taste yourself. I bet you taste so good my little doll” he removed his hand from your mouth to hold the sex toy, “Alright, this goes inside you.”

You whimpered in pleasure moving your legs in desperation as you felt the vibrator slide deep inside you, you watched as Hyunjin pushed it into you settling it into a delicious and strategic spot. You again noticed his huge erection and had a great need to touch it… but you were right in that painful situation with your limbs without proper circulation. He placed the single sofa of the room right in front of you and sat comfortably as if having a girl tied up and hanging was the most normal thing on a Monday night for him. Hyunjin placed his calf on top of his thigh, watching you. He stirred in place as sitting made the fabric of his pants squeeze his erection tighter and he grunted softly.

In his right hand he held the small vibrator control and didn’t hesitate to use it, with a single click and a wicked grin on his part, the toy began to do its thing inside you making you moan breathlessly.

You bit your lip hard and swirled your pelvis in pleasure, cursing softly as your walls vibrated, you felt it tingle in you, your labia majora were already a mess. Hyunjin pressed his lips together, examining how you writhed in pleasure with the limited body parts you could move, your head, your neck and your lower limbs.

“Now… tell me that story you didn’t finish, how your love of art was born.”

“What?” you whimpered.

You didn’t think he was serious, he was overstimulating you.

“Do it. Now. I want to know,” he ordered roughly. “Tell me, now.”

You whimpered feeling every great change of vibration and movement in you. You didn’t think he meant it and could hold a conversation having you as a rag doll dangling in front of him.

“I tol-d you that my fa-father had a replica of a painting… by Norman Rockwell in his room… and…” it was hard to speak, between whines and sighs, combined with the guilty pleasure of the pain of not being able to move. “It was fun to look at it… I liked it.”

“Just that? I want more details. I feel you know everything about me; but what do I know about y/n?”

Hyunjin switched the stimulation mode to simulated thrusting motions. Your poor body writhed and contracted, you felt excitedly trapped with nothing you could do about it. You were agitated, excited, with your slightly watery eyes and your pussy getting wetter and wetter.

“Fuck” you whimpered and he smiled, “The painting was done by a friend of his…”

“What was his name?” Hyunjin loved playing with you, for an incredibly smart woman, the sexual pleasure was making you silly and he was barely into foreplay.

“Jack… Bahng… and my father noticed the admiration I suddenly had for paintings and took me to my first gallery when I was twelve in New York…”

Hyunjin thought the last name sounded familiar, but he played with you, interrupting you and increasing the intensity of the thrusts that tickled your cervix almost bringing you to orgasm. You squeezed your legs together, it was painful and pleasurable, you felt you couldn’t cum because the position was uncomfortable so you were building the intensity of your climax.

“Whose gallery was it?”

“John Currin, November 2015… mmm, fuck, Hyun-”

“Focus, honey, you’re telling me something? John Currin, doesn’t he also do nudes? I think you like a certain kind of art, you little slut.”

“Mmm…” you didn’t even know what you were talking about, you started to stammer breathlessly, “But… they’re exaggerated or funny paintings sometimes. I attended with my father, his friend and his son, his son is also an artist and he taught me how to paint and from there, from there it was…”

“Aw, you’re daddy’s little girl? Who is your daddy’s friend’s son? Was he the one you said between drinks was your first crush?”

So many questions that were suddenly so hard to answer; this time you didn’t, you were about to burst into your first orgasm, you could feel it, you bit your lip and rolled your eyes softly.

“Don’t you dare cum, I haven’t authorized you yet. Hold it” he spoke annoyed, “You have to answer what I ask you, don’t make me beat you and punish you with the fucking wooden paddle.”

“What?” you stammered, desperate, watching his expression, his smooth thick black eyebrows furrowed in anger.

“Who was the guy who taught you to paint?”

Shit. You wanted to cum already, you were at your peak that you accidentally cum whimpering his name, which Hyunjin disliked completely.

“Chris-Christopher Bahng, ahh.”

This time he was genuinely pissed off.

He turned off the vibrator while you thought you fell into a small release but you were still trapped with pain in your body.

Hyunjin walked towards you and grabbed you roughly by the face.

“I ordered you not to cum.”

That wasn’t what he was truly angry about, it was that you whimpered another man’s name while cumming and it was someone he knew well.

“Christopher Bahng?” he claimed to you in annoyance, releasing you from the hooks and holding you up to lay you down moderately roughly on the floor. “Isn’t he a professor at your university?”

You nodded, exhausted. Christopher had been your first innocent love but it was obvious he was someone older and you were a child, after fifteen you never saw him again and came back reconnecting with him as you remember him, looking the same and teaching art. In fact, he was one of the most important reasons why you attended those important art events, he would get you places, but you used to say it was college support, because in part, it was true. He was just so good to you.

“Use your words.”

You had fallen sideways, turning your back to him and you were giving up feeling your arms, you wanted to be untied already.

“Yes, he is, he’s my teacher now.”

“Unbelievable, you go from Rockwell to Nabokov. You like older men, don’t you?” he spat, taking his camera to photograph you from that angle, with your bare ass, your wet thighs, your numb white arms. “That’s why you’re here, seducing me. Do you know how old I am?”

His choice of words, his tone, he was playing with you. Hyunjin photographed you on the floor, one last time before inflicting physical pain, before leaving your ass red-purple and sore. It was so dirty and hot that you thought for a second that they could be interpreted as the pictures of a helpless victim.

“Yes, I know.”

“I’m older than you, I should have known better bringing in someone so young, sleeping with her seniors for fun. And how old is Chris now?”

“I don’t know… 33, 34.”

“And did you enjoy fucking your teacher, you fucking slut?” he whispered, putting his body over yours without crushing you, to then roughly pull the toy out of you causing you to moan, “Did he enjoy being reunited with his little girl?”

You turned your neck to look at Hyunjin, he was getting the wrong idea, he was breathing heavily against your skin.

“It’s not like that, nothing happened.”

“You know how much it infuriates me that you whimpered his name while you were cumming like a fucking whore, writhing for him, huh? You were thinking about him? When you’re supposed to be mine tonight.”

You were about to answer, but Hyunjin turned your body leaving you face down and began to spank your ass violently with his strong, heavy hand, making you scream and whimper.

“I’ll show you that you’re mine, fuck, I don’t just want you to be mine tonight, I want you to be mine forever” he babbled, giving you spank after spank.

Your body contracted at each stroke, your arms sought to move and you moved your legs but Hyujin held them tightly to stop you from resisting. Your cry and his hand hitting your skin were present in the room, you could even feel the firmness of his rings digging into your skin.

“Hy-Hyunjin!” you couldn’t with the pain that was uncontrollably arousing you, you felt sick, your buttocks were burning but your clit was throbbing again.

“You fucking like this, don’t you, little slut? You like being treated like what you are, huh?”

He stopped spanking you to play roughly with your pussy, penetrating your entrance and stroking your labia hard. You whined in pleasure, the pleasure seemed painfully eternal with Hyunjin. And minutes later, you cum on his fingers unable to resist. He couldn’t resist how swollen and juicy your cunt looked either, so in one swift movement, he settled his body to lick and revel in your juices. You were desperate, you wanted to move, you wanted to touch him, you wanted to see his handsome face as he ate your pussy but you were limited from so many things; still Hyunjin continued, running his hot thick tongue in your cunt.

“Mmmm, fuck baby, you’re—so fucking delicious, I can’t” he moaned, sucking on your labia and cumming slowly and painfully in his pants, unable to hold it in any longer.

He continued to make a series of movements in a rhythm that blurred your vision and brought you to orgasm after orgasm. You were exhausted, sore and hoarse. You had been used.

Hyunjin was hard again, ready to do one last thing before he untied you completely. You felt his mouth pull away from you and heard the sound of a belt buckle and zipper being pulled down. You knew it, you were just slightly recovering when you felt his hot wet tip rub against your puffy pussy lips. He settled your body so that you were supported on your knees; he kept teasing you with his hard member in you, which made him moan until he finally pushed his entire length into you.

New tears began to flow from you. Hyunjin was huge. He was tearing you apart, but his warm cock inside you filling absolutely everything made you feel so whole.

He held on to the ropes, as if he was riding, he began to fuck you and ram you hard, bumping skin against skin.

“Hyunji-n, Hyunjin” you whined his name.

The gasps from both of you filled the room; his cock pounded every part of your insides. His movements were fast, beastly and violent but they left you so satisfied that you came twice in the process and he still continued in you until in sensual moans, he finally filled you with his cum.

Hyunjin pulled out of you to appreciate your used entrance and, out of breath, began to quickly untie you. It was unbelievable, you had not used any safety words or begged for him to stop.

He knew he was rough and that had to untie you soon, otherwise, the ropes would leave more serious marks, of which serious marks, only your ass suffered, red and swollen with signs of bruising. And you had resisted every damn spanking of which he lost count and only hit you for his slight sadistic pleasure of feeling your soft skin being abused.

Finally, your arms could breathe, but you felt a tingling in them. You were just adjusting again when Hyunjin turned your body to see your flushed face covered in tears and light sweat on your forehead.

You groaned in pain as your bottom brushed the carpet. Hyunjin unfastened your rope and robe, leaving you naked and wearing only your stockings.

He began gently caressing your breasts and waist.

“A photograph is not enough to capture you, my dear. I need to immortalize you with my oil painting. I need to paint you. I think I’m in love.”

You watched his face, with your breathing and heartbeat agitated and altered and you also noticed his visible cock, veiny, wet, shiny, erect and big.

You blinked, feeling your eyelashes still wet. Wanting to believe he was serious. Wishing it. That he could be in love with you.

He leaned toward you, brushing his nose against yours and for the thousandth time in the night, he broke every one of his rules with a model:

“Kiss me.”

You joined your lips, his kiss soothed every physical ache in you and the sensation was just as you imagined, dreamy, velvet lips deft in their movement.

The kisses escalated to be more and more sizzling, his hands kept massaging your breasts and his lips started to slide down your neck, you were obsessed with Hyunjin’s lips, your weak arms found a way to caress his hair.

He slowly separated from you. Looking at you with his typical mischievous and tenderly wicked smile.

It was a night to remember, a night you body will remember, but you got the feeling that is was just the beginning.

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @lolareadsimagines @lailac13 @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @oddracha @hyune-sssne @velvetmoonlght @shadowhunterathene @compersian @binniesbabe @strayywayy @isabel-018 @paborachaslvt @tirena1

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haridraws · 2 months ago

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holiday gift season approaches.

do you know a FANTASY GAME ENJOYER? or someone with a YEARNING for d&d but no opportunity/ time to schedule it?

may i suggest.... my books

Where can I obtain these: Consider US & UK indie bookstores!! But, many places, like Forbidden planet online for less than a tenner. or Target.

Into the Dungeon: FUN. SILLY. Dungeon crawl! Get loot! Get eaten!

Into the Tower: Juicy fantasy novella vibe. Multiple unique endings. Wizard tower! Weird magic! Romance and horror options if you want!

BOTH: Standalone, quick reads, <1 hour to play once, no experience needed

Replayable. Achievements. Easy and hard modes

Meet creatures, kiss monsters

guest art I'm OBSESSED WITH. LOOK AT IT

Grainy VINTAGE (2018) photos of Felix Miall & Letty Wilson's inks

^ You might recognise these as the artists for many-award-winning ttrpgs including Heart: the city beneath and Wanderhome...

into the tower pics by Shazleen Khan, Faye Stacey & Sajan rai, THERE ARE LITERALLY SO MANY MORE BUT MOST ARE SPOILERS. CAN'T BELIEVE I GOT TO WORK WITH ALL THESE COOL ARTISTS TBH

Age rating FAQ: can I give Into the Dungeon to (or play with) nerdy children? yes. encouraged.

Number of players: solo, unless you read them aloud and get people to vote on their choices (I LOVE DOING THIS WITH CYOA BOOKS)

You can see more info, links to buy, character previews and a lil chart comparing the books here.

#reaching the end of the year like 'oh god forgot to remind people my books exist'#it's SO fun to hear from readers about these and i would LOVE to keep making them. and tragically that requires Promotion #ttrpg #solo rpg #gamebook #choose your own adventure #into the tower

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imaginative-joy · 2 months ago

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I was asked to be a guest artist for the @twosidesfanzine recipe book zine and it was with great enthusiasm that I illustrated an Emperor's New Groove themed piece!

The only real prompt I had for this piece was that it had to include the associated recipe (meat pies) and something with the diner from the movie. Otherwise, I was free to be as zany as possible. So I went all out with the craziness! This was an extra-complicated piece with the background, perspective, and multiple characters, but ultimately a good challenge and learning experience. Plus, any excuse to draw the Emperor’s New Groove characters is a good excuse! I kept telling people that drawing Yzma a little off-model is okay so long as she’s scary beyond all reason 😂

@phoenix-downer asked me to participate, and I’m grateful to have had the opportunity! Thank you!!

#the emperor’s new groove #emperor’s new groove #sokai #two sides zine #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts 3 #emperor kuzco #Yzma #kronk #disney #fanart #kingdom hearts fanart #art #zine #kingdom hearts zine

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gremlingottoosilly · 3 months ago

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Model!Reader X Mafia!Konig?

Getting accepted for one of the biggest model agencies in the city should be your golden ticket to relative stability, but you can't really shake the feeling that something isn't right here. It's not like you're ungrateful for the opportunity - it's just... a bit unusual. You heard of the type this agency had for their models, and you aren't exactly that. You had your fair share of gigs at other agencies, of course, but they were different - everything was different. Becoming a top model overnight isn't something that happens in real life, and you sure as hell weren't in a fairy tail. As much as everything felt like you are. Dressed up like a Cinderella, waiting in line of other princesses. The ball was the Spring Fashion show - everything was light and pink, so everything was not in style for the agency. It looked like actual clothes, something a normal person would wear, and not an artistic statement that high fashion usually deals with. You heard some news that the agency and the brand were bought out by some anonymous investor a few months ago - maybe they wanted new faces? You feel like a magical fairy when you take a few steps on the stage, so nervous and excited at the same time. Then you fall. It felt so orchestrated, so fairy-tale-like. You were going through the stage, turning around in front of some important guest - a guy who looked way too dangerous to be interested in fashion but was regarded with so much fear by the show organizers that you felt unease even looking at him - and then your heel cracked. The same heels that probably cost more than your life, cracking and sending you flying off the stage. In the guy's arms. Somewhere in the back of your mind, it did feel a little bit staged. He supports you gently, propping you on his lap like a broken doll. Gently caresses your twisted ankle before forcing your face into his shoulder as he twists it back in place. Chuckled a little as you yelped, cried, and sank your teeth into his forearm - his deep German voice said something about a lion cub having teeth, and you immediately wanted to punch him. Or, maybe, curl down on his insanely big and muscular thighs and just sleep. Konig props you to sit on his lap through the rest of the show, pouring a cocktail of alcohol and something else - something numbing, nice, and velvety - into your throat, even as you mumble some nonsense about minding the calorie intake. Konig thinks to himself - god, he really needs to fire the fucks who run this agency all over again. He didn't ask them to make you this skinny; he has to put some meat over your bones, as much as the model world fucking hates women with normal bodies. Oh no, his beautiful little lioness would need some thighs and a nice belly that he can squeeze and chew on during some intense sessions. When Konig bought this agency, he didn't think of actually taking models for himself - this man has no time for sex lately, even with women stupid enough to throw themselves at someone as dangerous as him. He certainly wasn't caring enough for beauty - not with his burning pile of insecurities and inability to actually talk to a pretty girl in a non-threatening setting. He had to physically stop himself from recoiling each time you tried to talk to him - and especially every time you'd smile at him, since all he sees are mean pretty girls from his school.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #mafia!konig

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vespertiliosworld · 6 months ago

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Friends

Damian Wayne x Reader

Note: If I made a mistake, please forgive me, English is not my native language.

『••✎••』

You don't even know how you managed to be friends with the little arrogant Damian Wayne. Among the art of the students in the small gallery opened by the school, the arts of the two of you were the most striking among everyone.

You always saw drawing as the best way to express problems. The view 'Art is for people' was valid for you.

On the other hand, the view that 'Art is for art's sake' was more appropriate for Damian. I don't think this arrogant demon will care about people.

Nevertheless, you became friends, You spend many time just talking about art, after that Damian realized that, you are different from others. He appropriated your knowledge. He was start to get interested with you. He was listening your talks closely.

That boy never stopped rattling about you. Especially to Tim. He never miss an opportunity to telling him to how smart you are and your being better Tim, without doing anything. He kept talking about you while criticizing Tim. This take Dick's attention.

Dick get suspended about Damian's attention to you. Even Jason, realized Damian's interest on you. That was unexpected. Of course, Damian was growing, of course he was going to get some love interest but you were the first civilian one, Damian liked.

Just think about that little gremlins just standing there, his arms wrapped around his chest, looking Tim by with his eyes before starting to compare you both and praise you.

While time passes you two get closer. He was now judging every single person who try to flirt with you. He wasn't thinking that anyone can be good for you but him. He invited you to an art gala.

It was simple and quick. You two was sitting on grass at school. You were looking to social media and showed him to an art gala. "Look at that! Most important artist were coming."

He turn his gaze to your phone from his book with frown eyebrows. "Tch, I know that. My family are going to." He said this like nothing.

You turn your phone to yourself. "Gosh! You are so lucky." I whimper to him with a bit jealousy.

He closed his book and turn his eyes to you. "If you want, you can come to."

You look him with widening eyes in disbelief. "Really? But I'm not invited and also I'm not important person like other guests." You turn your gaze back to your phone hesitantly.

He shrug his shoulders. "I bet, you are more intelligent more than others." His eyes catch your hesitant. "Just come with me. It's better to talk with you than talking to my father's adulatorys." He grimaced at the thought.

You chuckled softly. "I can't say no to this opportunity." You take a deep breath with happiness. "What should I wear? Like a long dress?" You looked at him with teasing gaze.

He rolled his eyes. " Just don't exaggeration."

You looked at him giggling. "But I was thinking of coming in a gold-plated dress." You patted his arm jokingly.

His lips curled to up, a little smile's shadow appeared. "Then maybe I should send you a dress so you don't have to do that," He said teasingly as he turned his gaze back to the book.

You turned your head to him with a slight chuckle. "Don't worry, I won't embarrass you. Still, thank you for inviting me." You looked at him with a warm smile.

When Damian's eyes fell on your smile, he couldn't help but feel proud of himself. "I know." He said simply. Before getting up from where he was sitting, he looked at you. "We will pick you up at six on Saturday."

You nodded and smiled. "Okay."

He reached out his hand to to lift you from the grass

***

You started to think about what to wear with worry from the morning on that day. Until a box arrives for you. After receiving the box from the courier, the note on top caught your attention. 'Wear this. -Damian.'

When you opened the box with a smile, there was a dress exactly as you wanted. It was absolutely beautiful, just your style. The thought of Damian getting it for you excited you. After putting on the dress and wearing short heels, you spent a few hours doing your makeup and hair. You were excited and a little worried because it was the first time you would be in such an environment. You were also thinking about not embarrassing Damian.

But when the doorbell rang, you hurried forward in your heels. As you opened the door, you were met with Damian's green eyes. His hair was slicked back, and he was wearing a stylish suit. From head to toe, her green eyes scanned you. "Looks good."

You looked at him with a smile. "Thank you, you look very handsome too." You tensely pushed your hair behind your ear. "I'm very nervous ." You admitted.

He raised an eyebrow and reached out his hand to you. "There's no need to get tense for a few snobs. Just ignore them."

You took his hand and left the house. Alfred was waiting for you in the car. Damian, as a gentleman, first helped you get in, and then got into the car himself. After entering, you looked at Alfred. "Hello, Mr. Pennyworth, it's a pleasure to meet you," you greeted him with a soft voice and a smile.

He gently bowed his head and looked at you in the mirror, greeting you. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, young lady."

When the car started to going, you started feeling more tense. You tried to calm down by looking at the hands you placed on your knees. Damian noticed your situation and reached out, wrapping his little finger around yours. Although he didn't like physical contact, he always did this when you needed it.

When you smiled at him, you noticed that instead of looking at you, he was looking out the window. Still, the small touch was enough to relax you. When you arrived in front of the gala, Alfred had already gotten out and opened your door for you. Damian get out car reached out his hand for you to hold.

After holding his hand and getting off, you lowered your head uncomfortably because the lights of the cameras of the journalists and reporters around were very bright. Damian, on the other hand, continued to walk upright and strong as if accustomed to this attention.

You relaxed when you entered to art gala room. Damian was still holding your hand, his eyes quickly found his father and directed you in that direction. When he stood in front of his father, he was confident and resolute. "Hello, father. This is my friend, Y/N."

When Bruce's eyes shifted to you, he looked at you with a gentle and rich smile and reached out his hand. 'Nice to meet you, young lady. Damian mentioned you very much."

You smiled at him and reached out your hand to him. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce's eyes briefly turned to Damian before shaking your hand. "I wasn't actually expecting Damian to make friends, he's usually quite selective." He drank the champagne in his hand and turned to Damian. "How about introducing your young friend to your brothers? They should be around."

Damian frowned. "They are annoying, we'll look at paintings instead." Without thinking, he rejected his father and dragged you towards a random painting.

As your eyes wandered around, he stopped in front of a beautiful painting. When your eyes were fixed on the picture, you carefully examined it, squinting your eyes. "Aren't brush strokes very simple? As if it's done without any emotion." You whispered to him.

When Damian's eyes shifted to the painting, he received a scornful look. "You're right, it is. Even when I was five, I could have done better than this."

You chuckled lightly and looked at him. "Ah, definitely." You moved on to another painting. "This one is more beautiful, I can see the artist's nervousness in the hardness of the brush strokes."

He shook his head. "The brush strokes are too harsh for a picture of a cheerful girl swinging on a swing," he said as he examined the painting.

You looked at him with a smile. "Perhaps he painted this picture with the hatred of his childhood." You came up with an idea.

Damian looked at you. "Maybe." After a while of silence, he turned back to the painting. "You know, I'm glad you came today. If you hadn't come, I might have thought about stabbing someone."

You looked at him with a slight chuckle. "You probably would."

As a slight smile formed on Damian's face, he took your hand and pulled you out to the balcony. "Come on, it's too stuffy inside."

When you stepped out onto the balcony, the sun was setting. Gotham had a rare clear sky, and today was one of those days. It was just you and Damian on the balcony. You took a deep breath and smiled as you looked outside. "The weather is nice."

Damian stood next to you with his hands behind his back and looked up at the sky. "It is." When a strange silence passed among you, Damian felt the need to speak. "You know, you're one of the tolerable rare people."

You turned to him with a slight smile. "Thank you, you are also a good friend."

When his eyes shifted to you, the ghost of a smile played on his lips.

After a brief silence, this time you spoke. "You know, your father is very attractive."

Damian took a breath filled with frustration. "You're starting to being annoying now."

You chuckled lightly. "But he is. Is he single?"

Damian turned his stern gaze to you. "Maybe I should stab you."

You chuckled softly, of course he wouldn't do it.

『••✎••』

Thanks for reading♡♡

#damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian al ghul x reader #damian wayne #damian x reader

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tusswrites · 1 month ago

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Sold For A Soul (i)

pairing: jeon wonwoo x idol female reader (idol AU)

genre: strangers to lovers

synopsis: “Just so you know,” he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity, “I’d do anything to keep you close like this. Just come to me , when you have bad days like this . I want to be the one who gets to hear your complaints and worries. I want to be your rock. I want to start loving you , and to show you what love feels like. It’s not the worst feeling in the world, to be vulnerable.” or

making bargains with the devil in exchange for a chance to glory. lies, deception and uncovered feelings in a world of glitz and glam.

word count: 14k+

warnings: mentions of mistreatment, profanity, cheating (not between Y/N and Wonwoo) , eating disorder, nothing in detail but brushed over implications of abuse, power play, self loathing reader, mentions of toxic family, a lot of angst before the rainbow

rating : 18+ (no actual smut but yeah, suggestive content)

a.n. : my baby is finally being posted! truly grateful for haneul @chanranghaeys for suffering through actual garbage into producing this..thanks to eunha @svtiddiess for having to unintentionally be my beta reader for several scenes, and to kat my love @hee0soo for getting roped into it. also indi for everything you said to give me the courage to actually pen this down.

behold the masterlist that lies here!

disclaimer: I am sorry it took over two months to post this after the teaser came out! This has been in my drafts for over two months and long before, existed in my head. please understand that almost every incident in this fic, although it is set in idolverse, is fictional. unless stated otherwise, everything comes from my head and articles I have read through reddit regarding the entertainment industry in general. If you notice any similarities, please realize that it's purely coincidental, i had no intention on making a fic through anything that happened in kpop this year or the year before. however, there are some heavy topics mentioned here, so please heed the warnings and proceed with caution. if you comment , send asks or reblog with thoughts, know that for every one of these i am screaming into my pillow and kicking my feet out of giddiness!

It was never meant to come down to this. You were supposed to be a lawyer, following the predictions of Doljanchi after having picked up a mallet, destined to lead a life weighed down by the same misery that burdened your father, and his father before him. If a genealogical study were to be taken, it could be proven that the gene of misery passed down through the L/N blood. Shouldering the weight of a thousand suns on your shoulders, you’ll push your way forward, trying to attain even a bit of nirvana in this lifetime.

Which brings you here, to this dingy, roach-infested dorm, beds overlapping each other-nowhere suitable for young women to sleep. You have no time to wallow in your misery at this absolute shitshow of a place; you can only rush in haste, packing your bag and running out the door and into the sleek black van that will transport you to your destination.

Music Bank MC Hong Eunchae is on a world tour overseas, as are other popular artists, which leaves space for smaller company artists to fill up the slot as guest MCs, even if it’s just for one week. It’s a bloodbath getting a position in the nation’s finest music show as an MC and interviewing other big artists. You were never interested in the first place. In fact, your bandmate and second youngest, little Sorin, had jumped at the opportunity to take this position, excited at the prospect of being near her all-time favorite band, Seventeen. You have nothing against them; you know they’re popular, but that’s just about it.

Years of singing, dancing, and rapping have desensitized your overall love for the art form of music. You take no pleasure in keeping up with trends and fads. Your company however prohibited Sorin from her dream role and instead forced you into this. You hadn’t missed Sorin’s sidelong glance; you know she is upset, but there’s only so much you can do, after all. In your head, you promised her an autograph to make up for your company’s lack of empathy.

Music Bank’s dressing room for the MCs was much grander than you could have imagined, your stylist was thrilled at the idea of more space without having to jab elbows with one another. With your makeup fixed upon your face, you rush off to don the outfit that was picked out for you, only to be dismayed as you watch the blouse—a little too bold to call it a blouse—turn out to be a tight corset, purposefully two sizes too small for you. Any mishap and you could be bursting at the seams, your boobs spilling out, and putting on a free show on live TV.

You sit down to peer over your script, pondering over the several social cues you have to follow. A laugh after Seungcheol-ssi recited his ‘scripted’ joke? Shaking your head you continue to read through, bemused at all the ill witted acting you have to do. Notwithstanding the cringe that has to come from your mannerisms ( you have to tuck your hair behind your face and bat your lashes when Mingyu-ssi makes eye contact with you?) ,you are overtaken by the sudden shaking feeling that you were being watched. Never one to escape the overthinking allegations of your brain, you simply shrug it off and keep scrolling through.

But no, there’s a certainty that has come over you. You were being watched and that thought was rattling you.

Your adrenaline on high alert, you jerk at the intrusion of someone in your personal space,and do the first thing that comes to your mind, watching in horror as you fling a six-foot boy onto the ground. The boy looks up at you in slight bewilderment, surprised by your strength to push him like a can of potatoes, while you stare amazedly at your hands. Where was all this superhuman strength when you needed it earlier?

“ I am sorry I know this looks bad I-”

Oh it did look bad. For you, the company, the fans. Because what possessed you to shove a Jeon Wonwoo onto the floor? Why had said man been peering over your shoulder in the first place?

Questions. So many questions and so little answers.

“Please don’t press charges, I can explain,” Wonwoo hurriedly says, his eyes staring worriedly at you, bottom lip drawn tight.

You say nothing, instead reaching out a hand to help him up. You get pulled down slightly due to his weight, but he manages to hold you just in time, getting steady and standing still.

“Look this is going to sound stupid but I didn’t intend to scare you you know? I was done with hair and makeup a little earlier than the boys and I had some time to kill and so I wandered. I saw you holding the booklet labelled ‘Seventeen’ and I just wanted to see our script- and-” —I know it sounds super stupid, but I—well, I—” His hands flail in all directions, trying to nail down one emotion.

“I am sorry, but I didn’t think you’d turn around this fast, I was going to tell you I swear.” his nervous rambling continued.

Awkward silence lingers.

A conversation you had with your younger bandmate minutes prior to accepting this role pops off in your head.

“Sorin, I am really, really sorry about this. I had no choice; please understand. I’ll get you an autograph if I see Wonwoo sunbaenim, though?”

“Can I have an autograph?” you finally muster

Now it’s his turn to stare at you, befuddled, as if you had grown two heads. You hadn’t spoken a word till now and he did not expect this to be your opening line. Were you a fan? Hope rises. When he had still not uttered anything, you begin- “Look, umm, that’s fine, haha.” You begin, cringing inwardly at your tone, awkward and forced, trying to diffuse the tension. The boy raises an eyebrow, clearly unsure whether to laugh or be concerned. You can feel your heart racing, and the weight of the moment presses down on you.

“I don’t mind, but can you please sign something for me? My little bandmate is a huge fan of yours and she would be ecstatic if she got one.”

He looks a little forlorn as he replies, “I am sorry, we are not allowed to give out autographs as per company orders.”

You are a little upset, but you can understand. Hybe did have strict rules about artist security.

Seeing your downcast eyes, he comes up with an idea.

“How about this? Can you do a TikTok challenge with me for 'God of Music?' I’ll get you that autograph. The company has been on my back, trying to get an idol to do this challenge with me. I think it’s fair that I give you an autograph after that? I’ll just say it's a tit for tat situation? ” He looks hopeful.

You simply nod, a little disappointed at the prospect of doing a TikTok challenge. You weren’t a huge fan of this trend that made other idols dance to your group's songs, and you sure as hell weren’t interested in doing another group's song, especially one as hard as Seventeen's. But you have no choice. This is the only way you can get Sorin to be a little less hostile with you—she could hold a grudge for days.

Wonwoo’s methods for teaching you the steps are a huge contrast to your hostile choreographer who has no patience for your inability to remember steps as quickly as your bandmates do. Wonwoo is patient and understanding of your long limbs, probably owing to his own long limbs. You quite welcome this style of teaching, as opposed to merciless taunting and jeering of your slow pace in nailing a step right. For every mistake, all Wonwoo does is giggle and although you should be offended, you can’t find it in you to be.

The Music Bank interview went better than you’d like to give yourself credit for . “So Wonwoo-ssi, " That was Dokyeom-ssi mimicking the voice of Santa and taking over the interview. You panic a little, Dokyeom ssi speaking wasn’t part of the script. The director behind the camera looks bewildered as do you. But years of media training did prepare you to prolong a poker face so you remain infixed, even with the fact that Mingyu standing next to you couldn't remain still for a single second. Seventeen were thirteen men and this was a tight fix for several men. No sooner had you entertained the thought when you felt a slight shove from your left and there you were, getting pushed again.

A hand comes from behind, to get you to remain still, for which you are grateful, you didn’t want to fall face flat on live TV. You turn around and shoot Wonwoo a thankful smile, gladly reciprocated by your new acquaintance.

You come back home ,finally crashing after five straight hours of practice for a comeback that was still not approved by the management, exhausted and hungry.

That very night, SNS went viral. Pictures of you spread across the internet, capturing the moment you were mid-fall, with Wonwoo’s hands securely holding your waist. Cropped images of his face, paired with 10x zoomed-in shots of his hands wrapped around your hips, flooded timelines everywhere.

“It’s so obvious Wonwoo has a crush on her; just look at his eyes. The eyes never lie.” —carathoshiminwon97

“Look at the way he is looking at her in worry. Me when?” -aespasnakekyeomie

Yn you lucky bitch -@svtiddies

“I want someone to look at me the way Wonwoo looks at Y/N. “ junslastlimbofinesse

I have no idea who I want to be . Am I jealous of Wonwoo or Y/N?” confusedbisxeual

“I had no idea that a HYBE idol’s dating life would become public, especially for someone like Jeon Wonwoo. Man’s secretive as hell.” —sawdeintellgraphhwahwa88

“It’s over, y’all. My heart is in a million pieces. My bias is gone.” —wonnieismyhusband

“Aww, my eyes are blessed with the double visual attack! Y/N and Wonnie for life! Fighting!!!” —multistanarmycarat

“Happy for you, but also sobbing in my room! 😩💔 Can’t believe I’ll never be your one and only! #DramaticFan”

Fanarts, tiktok and reel edits, fanfiction even? In just a matter of moments you were being circulated everywhere. You don’t miss the vile shit either. There are AI images of you and Wonwoo, morphed and pasted into the most repugnant poses. You scroll past, heart sinking and disgust never leaving. The pros and cons of being an idol you guess.

There are some nasty comments, too. You choose not to linger too long on them, though words like “slut,” “untalented,” and “nugu group” stand out. You figured as much.

“PD-nim wants to see you in his office now.”

You freeze midstep. It’s not the first time Kim Hangyuck has asked you to come visit his office privately , but after your last stunt you’d reckon he’d have some shame before calling you in this quickly. Was what you did last time not enough for him?

“Unnie, this is exciting news. Do you think he called you over to give news about a comeback?” That was Chul, the maknae of your group, excitedly jumping in glee at the hopes of a prospective comeback. Poor innocent child . The plethora of information you held back from her to protect the youth she will otherwise not have.

Giving her an easy nod, you walk with trepidation to his office, a prayer in your heart and head held high. Men like him can smell fear from far away, eagerly stamping over it.

“Come in.”

You hadn’t even knocked. Which probably meant he was spying on you all this while.You’re not in the least surprised. Sounds just like him.

Upon entering you're greeted by one of your nightmares in human form seated behind a chair, fingers tapping impatiently against the table. For what reason. You hadn’t even taken two minutes to attend to his whims and calls. Not like you could.

With a condescending nod, he signaled you to come closer. Anxiety rose high but you pushed it back down, inching closer to his table. Every moment in his proximity kickstarted your fight or flight response.

He slides a photocard across the table and you glance down to see oh-

“Jeon Wonwoo” he slurs out.

You know. You’ve been trying hard to drive his image from your head after that unfortunate meetup backstage. The photocard across the table wasn’t helping much with that affirmation. Confusedly you turn back up to look at his leering gaze right on your cleavage. With as much discomfort as you could try to hide, you stand straight, never giving him that satisfaction again.

“Han Sung-Soo from Pledis called today. He asked for your number. Looks like someone here caught the eyes of a handsome young man.”His beady eyes glint at you expectantly as if he was passing the good news except you feel nothing of that sort.

“I don't’ understand -”

‘Well, you’re in luck, gorgeous- “ you wanted to gag. Nicknames from him reflexively brought out such reactions. -Wonwoo here says he hopes that you will go on a date with him.”

You don’t want to go on a date with Wonwoo. You have nothing against him but you also have nothing for him. Why waste time on another man that was sure to break your heart in more ways than one?

“I don’t-”

“Well lucky for you, I said yes”. You don’t have it in you to lose energy. This is typical of Kim Hangyuck. Making decisions in your personal life with no thoughts whatsoever to ask you. He leans back, looking shamelessly proud of himself.

“I thought we were not supposed to be in a relationship based on our contracts.”

“Is that why I caught you with your boyfriend the other day?”

You gulp. What?

“Don’t act so surprised gorgeous, remember what I told you? I have eyes everywhere. Everywhere.” A shiver of disgust coursed through your veins, any second longer with him, you were going to throw up in his face.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Go on a date with him, lure him by your beauty, entice him enough to make him your boyfriend.” You could see the smug grin on his face like he was proud of his terrible idea.

You want to refuse but the consequences of defying an order run far deeper than you could possess to think right now.

“Why?”

‘Because gorgeous, we need funds. If you girls want the next comeback out soon, we need the publicity to attract fans to Blush Girls. This way, if we leak the news of your relationship to the press, a scandal breaks out and we gain something from this. Don’t forget this is someone from Hybe Labels. He’s high profile.”

“I thought he asked for my number because he liked me . If this is a romantic relationship, isn’t this breaching the contract of trust Hybe will endow upon me?”

He shrugged, least bothered about your emotions here. Obviously your thoughts don't matter.

‘I don’t care Y/N . Seduce him, get him in your bed, make him fall in love with you and get into a relationship with him. This is the only way ‘Blush Girls’ will get a breakthrough. Follow the plan or I will scrap your project. No comebacks, instant contract termination." Venom oozed out from his warning. He was every bit the cruel man to carry out that threat. You knew it. You couldn’t let down your members like this because your morale came in the way. You owed it to them at least.

“Fine. One date. But I get to choose the restaurant and I want Yoon to accompany me .”

“Nice try, gorgeous. We have already selected the restaurant for you. It’s on us. Victor will be accompanying you. We need to keep an eye out on you at all times.”

Victor was a pervert. During your trainee days you kept a knife under your pillow, for fear of that sleazy man. Unfortunately, the company refused your demands to fire him despite the multiple protests by artists. He was also Hangyuck’s right hand. His extra pair of ears and eyes. You knew exactly why he was accompanying you.

“Alright”. You agree. You have no choice after all.

Shaking hands with Kim Hangyuck on this deal feels like signing off your soul to the Devil.

The first date comes before you have time to reflect on it or find ways to escape the plan at all.

It started off awful. You began on the wrong foot, clad in a busty outfit that left little to the imagination, especially for someone like Victor, who required none. Your protests against your outfit were silenced with a strong threat from your manager, quelling any audacity you had to question management's generosity in providing you with a ‘branded’ dress and paying for this date.

Makeup had covered his handprint well, but you had enough rage to flip a table. You arrive at the designated restaurant, surprised at the luxury of it. With the cheap budget decisions your company made over and over again, you didn’t think they had it in them to indulge in fine dining.

Wonwoo greeted you at the table with a ninety-degree bow.

Sorin had told you he was older; just like a Naver search had confirmed. As your senior artist, you were supposed to bow to him, and this was an informal meeting? Then why was he bowing?

As if to mend the awkwardness, Wonwoo extends his right hand to shake yours in a cordial gesture, leaving you even more confused. Who shakes hands before a date?

The date was extremely awkward, for lack of a better word. You were very uneasy.

Victor was set to accompany you as mandated by PD nim, but his beady eyes never left your body, making the air feel thick with discomfort. You kept trying to sit up straight every time you unconsciously bent down to look at the table, only to meet Victor's leering gaze on your cleavage.

“So, how was your day?” Wonwoo asked, hoping to break the silence between the three of you.

“Good,” you replied curtly.

“O-okay. Cool.” Dead silence followed.

He called a waiter over and placed his order. You opted for just wine. He looked a little bewildered at your choice to abstain from eating but made no comments, sending the waiter away with both your orders. And Victor’s, who hadn’t made a move except to continue undressing you with his eye and order off the whole menu.

In a true heroic moment, Wonwoo intervened, gently ushering Victor out. You watched with mild curiosity as Wonwoo slipped a few thousand-won bills from his pocket into Victor's stubby hands. Victor flashed a grin, showing his yellow teeth, and walked away from the table. Wonwoo returned, sending a charming smile your way.

Finally noticing your agitation with your dress, Wonwoo stripped off his jacket and handed it to you.

You were unsure of what to do with a new piece of fabric.

“Ahh, he’s probably uncomfortable with the jacket behind him,” you thought. Taking it from him, you place it on your lap, clutching tightly. He dropped his chopsticks mid bite, staring at you in astonishment.

“What?”

“Y-you—”

“I?”

“Nothing.”

He went back to his stew, and you returned to your wine.

“So, how’s the wine?” he asked, once again trying to strike up a conversation.

“It’s nice. Tastes like wine.”

“Ahh, okay.”

More silence followed.

Was it your turn to ask something for a change?

“How is yours?” you ventured.

“My what?” he countered.

“Your wine.”

“I didn’t order wine. I ordered soda.”

“Oh.”

Nobody utters a single word after that.

Safe to say, dinner wasn’t going too well.

But Wonwoo is a gentleman, so after dinner—however awkward it was—he offers to take you home, silencing all your formalities as you begin to look for Victor. Wonwoo tells you he has left. Your company was not going to take too kindly to sending off your bodyguard, you could only hope the greed in Victor , satisfied at the bills thrown his way, would silence his complaints.

You know you shouldn’t trust Wonwoo over another man, but you’d take any man over Victor and Hangyuck, and that was saying something. Feeding your location into his GPS, you embark on the long, awkward journey back home.

The location you recited to Wonwoo is a lie.

This was not the exact location of your dorm, but you’d be damned if you showed a HYBE artist where Delaware Labels housed their trainees. It was enough to attract a lawsuit—not the kind of publicity your company was willing to take.

Wonwoo catches on pretty quickly when he parks the car in front of a park that has no building in plain sight.

He fixes you with another look that prompts you to chant your real address this time. You cringe as he nears the poor excuse for a building where you live, shoulders drawn tight.

Sorin, in her endless gushing over her dream man and explaining Carat lore, had always claimed that Wonwoo was hot but naive as hell.

With firsthand experience, you'd confidently say she was wrong about that. He looked carefully into your eyes reading every micro-expression on your face like a book. When he stopped the car at your entrance, he turned to look at you. You glanced down at his jacket, still clutched in your hands, and, as if remembering to return it, you placed it on his lap.

“Oh,” he exclaims, taking the jacket from you. It was meant for you to cover up, but you clearly hadn’t caught onto the hint, and he was too shy to ask you to, believing it would make things more awkward.

“Y/N,” he finally croaks out from his perch on the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel and his body turned wholly toward you.

You look back at him, blinking at the earnest expression in his eyes.

Was he going to do something like kiss you? God, you hoped not. He had been decent so far, and you didn’t want that to be ruined by some unwanted advance. Was that his payback for his good character? Was that why he sent Victor home? Oh, how things were clearing up.

“Y/N?” this time his head was tipped to the side, a questioning look dancing across his eyes.

In true fashion, you had assumed the worst and drifted off into several meaningless thoughts. His name calling brought you back to the present. You cock an eyebrow , waiting for a response.

“You know,- he starts -“when Seventeen started out, we had a small dorm too. There wasn’t enough room and way too many young boys. We didn’t have any active listeners or great brand deals; we just had each other. We made the best of it. It’s a gradual curve, you know? Release comeback after comeback, with no wins, working your ass off, and one day that hard work pays off. Now I’m not scared to admit it, but I love your group’s songs; I bought two of your albums, and my bias is you.

You jerk your head at that and feel a small blush creep up his face, his eyes darting around nervously , hesitant to look at your face. Cute.

The kindness bestowed on you by a total stranger was not lost on you, your eyes watering reflexively at his sudden graciousness.

Seeing your red rimmed eyes, Wonwoo panics, offering any consolation to get you to stop crying- tough luck. You kept sniffling, but no tears streamed down thankfully.

“I can’t go home like this," you state woefully. “They'll think something happened to me and I can’t afford them questioning me right now."

Wonwoo nods sympathetically.

“Can I drive you around the block?” he asks with a hopeful look on his face.

Well, the night is still young.

“Yes, that would be nice, thank you.”

You settle back as Wonwoo reverses the car, your breath hitching as he casually drapes an arm around the back of your seat. His focused gaze shifts behind him, steering the car with practiced ease as it glides smoothly in reverse and into the chilly night.

“Fighting, Y/N.” he sends you off an hour later with a big grin on his face and the leftovers of the food he had ordered for you at the restaurant , despite your refusal to eat. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you walk home, a dopey grin on your face and a bag filled with food.

Tiptoeing into the dorm, you’re surprised to see none of your hooligan bandmates asleep except for Chuul. They were actively awaiting your return. A warm smile spreads across your face as you share the boxes of leftovers, watching in amusement as they all dig in, your heart full . Diets be damned.

You need to take these empty containers and throw them in the trash bins outside the building before your manager finds them in the dorm though.

To an eager crowd of four, you announce your date was ‘great’, even though that is the last you will go on a date with Wonwoo.

You had followed the company’s orders; a couple of photos were taken—they could go viral or not; you don’t care. But in an ideal world, you and Jeon Wonwoo will never date.

“So, Y/N, how’d the date go last week?” Hyanyuck asked, his tone deceptively casual as he strolled into the rehearsal room a week later. His presence always felt like a storm cloud, ominous and charged with tension.

“It went badly, I don’t see a spark. I don’t think this will work. Sorry.” You focused on massaging your sore wrists, a futile attempt to ease the cramps that Vogueing had inflicted on you.

“She’s lying. Wonwoo-ssi had texted her the next day, and she still hasn’t responded,” Sorin chimed in from across the room, her tone sharp and teasing.

Your heart dropped. How did she know? Why was she going through your phone?

Hyayuck's smirk deepened as he turned to you. “So you lied to me?”

“It’s not like that, I—”

“Silence.” He held out his palm like a judge passing a sentence. “Give me your phone.”

“I can’t do that.” You felt a mix of defiance and dread, but your phone was swiftly passed to him by Yoonha, who shot you a triumphant look. Betrayal coursed through your veins.

As Hyanyuck scrolled through Wonwoo’s messages—sweet good mornings, soft concerns— all unanswered by you, your stomach churned with anxiety. Each text felt like a thread tightening around your heart, especially as Hyanyuck began replying with cringeworthy flirtations. Your cheeks burned reading what he wrote over his shoulder as he set another date.

You’d never text like that. Who even called someone “darling”? This was wrong—leading Wonwoo on like this was unjust. You resolved to confess everything to him tomorrow, the date Hyanyuck set for your next meetup. You couldn’t betray someone like this.

From the texts, it was clear Wonwoo was a little unsure about the sudden enthusiasm.

“Is this really Y/N?”

“Yes, yes darling. It is me. 😉😘”

You cringed again

When the second date arrived, it was oddly intimate. Victor was absent, leaving you and Wonwoo alone to navigate the currents of this charade. You slipped into your favorite pink dress, a small source of comfort knowing the stylist gave you freedom to choose your own outfit this time. Her way of apologizing for your obvious disinterest and being forced to do something you didn’t want to.

Wonwoo looked stunning in his olive green shirt, rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearm veins that gave anyone a good charity view. Under any other circumstances you’d have fallen for Wonwoo, and you can’t deny a handsome man when he was placed in front of you like this.

As you sat across from him, the atmosphere felt heavy. You glanced at your untouched plate, lying as still as your resolve to maintain this facade. This time he was visibly uncomfortable being the only one who ate. Wonwoo chewed nervously, and the sound seemed amplified in the silence between you.

Taking one more sip of your wine, you cleared your throat and he looked up mid chew, eyes widened like boba balls between the mandu in his mouth. Cute.

“So, I—” you stammered, anxiety prickling at the back of your mind. You rubbed your clammy palms against your dress, the fabric doing little to quell your unease.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, inviting. You wished he was a little more inattentive and distracted like everyone else.

“Listen, Wonwoo-ssi, this is a setup. My company, uh, Delaware, is struggling to push their artists to go viral, and they used me to date you—to create a scandalous relationship that would get people talking. You know by now any publicity is good publicity.”

You expected anger or disbelief, but what met you was something far worse: a flicker of sadness in his eyes. It struck a chord deep within you, the weight of his disappointment settling in your chest like a stone. “I understand,” he said, his voice cracking just slightly, as if he were trying to hold back a tide of emotions.

The air between you thickened with unspoken words, and a part of you ached to take it all back, to rewrite this moment. You could see the hurt etched on his face, and it twisted something inside you.

Returning to the practice room later, dropped hastily by a Wonwoo that refused to look at you, you come back to see your members practicing dance to a new song.

You find maknae Chuul in the middle dancing provocatively to steps not age worthy and an overwhelming sense of protectiveness surged within you. This wasn’t right—how could anyone allow a child to perform something so suggestive? You strode forward, determination fueling your steps.

“Uh, no, Chuul cannot be doing this.”

Ampers, the choreographer, raised an eyebrow, his irritation palpable.

“And why should I listen to you?” You stood firm, the adrenaline coursing through you. “Because it’s my job to protect my members, especially the minors, I am the leader of Blush Girls.”

A silence fell over the room, heavy and electric. Ampers’ hand shot out, and the slap resonated like thunder, shocking everyone into stillness. You felt the sting, both physical and emotional. It wasn’t just the pain that hurt; it was the weight of the moment, the knowledge that you had challenged authority in a world where no one dared to.

Ampers was an eccentric man; no one dared to question his decisions—not even the CEO, and that was saying something. There were a lot of shady rumors about him being a drug lord or an underground mafia leader. Given the amount of leverage he had over Delaware Labels, you didn’t doubt it.

Eunsae and Mishal’s faces turned to rage, Yoonha’s expression shifted to one of shock, and the rest of the room held its breath, stricken. You turned to comfort Chuul and Sorin, their tears igniting a fierce protectiveness in you.

Eunsae rushes in with a pack of something cold, icing your face with tender urgency, but the sting lingers—both from the slap and the fact that Yoonha’s gaze bore into you with envy.

“You’ve stolen my best friend, too,” she murmured, the jealousy lacing her voice sharp enough to cut.

In that moment, you felt the weight of your choices, a complex tangle of emotions you couldn’t untangle. You wanted to protect them all, yet here you were, caught in a web of your own making, trying to figure out where you fit in this chaotic world.

You should have known Ampers’ pride was too high for him to go down without a fight.

Social media exploded. You watched as you, the darling of the nation for your unique beauty and obvious spotlight for a three second viral moment turned into a pariah overnight.

Multiple newspapers splashed your face across their front pages with the headline “K-Pop Star Under Fire: Workplace Harassment Reveals Idol’s True Nature.” Accused of harassment. You? What had you done to deserve this?

The article detailed how you, a visual member of a nugu group, had been accused by anonymous staff members of “bad behavior” and “rude remarks,” claiming your members lived in fear of you. It was a twisted narrative that made your stomach turn.

What stung even more was that all the fans who had once supported you now turned against you. Your relationship with Wonwoo became a target; all the dance challenges you’d done together were scrutinized and ridiculed. You were slut-shamed and deepfaked in the most grotesque ways. The sheer ferocity of the backlash was horrifying. The very people who had cheered for you now called you the vilest names online.

Your members walked on eggshells, unsure of how to act around you. All you did was feel hollow, surrounded by people yet truly alone. Then, your phone rang. It was your mother. Your heart sank.

“Eomma, hi.” your voice quavered.

“What did I tell you about keeping that tongue of yours in check? Now look at what you’ve done. If you get dropped by your agency, know that you’re not welcome here. I cannot afford to take care of a useless daughter and a useless husband.”

The “useless husband” in question was your father, who had become a quadriplegic after a heroic accident to save your mother’s life. Her gratitude had morphed into bitterness, and she had turned into the most spiteful woman you knew. Sometimes you couldn’t believe the hateful words that left her lips. There was tough love, and then there was this—whatever twisted means it took for her to show she cared. You have grown up raising yourself. Your mother was aloof, a total nightmare. Her yells echoed in your mind even now. Your older brother had gone no contact the moment he turned 18, and it hit you hard. It was up to you to help the family. Your aspirations to become a lawyer were met with disdain; she wanted easy money, not hard-earned success.

She had pushed you into pageants and modeling—things you hated, all driven by the toxic culture. Your mother had practically whored you out, contacting agencies to get you into acting or modeling owing to your obvious beauty. When that failed, she forced you into auditions at Delaware Labels, prohibiting you from attending college. The agency took one look at your face and signed you up, ignoring your protests that you couldn’t sing or dance. It was the only time you ever saw her smile at you. Wanting to see more of that smile, you signed a seven-year contract, effectively ending your dreams of law school and subjecting yourself to a regime of extreme diets and pain. The only blessing in your life had been your former friend Julie. When she left, you were left with four other young girls to protect from the industry’s evils.

“Eomma, it wasn’t my fault.” you pleaded with the woman that birthed you.

“You think I will believe your word against a well-established man in the industry? You lied to me about dropping out of law school. I had to do it for you when your manager called to tell me you were caught sneaking out for evening classes.” Her voice dripped with contempt, as if she abhorred you.

Typical of your mom.

“Y/N, I have no money. If I die today, your father—”

There she went again with her blackmailing. Her ability to drag your sick father into any argument was astonishing.

A nation was against you, your family was against you, your own band members were against you. And yet your agency stayed silent. There was no letter to warn the fans against the malicious rumors. No effort to clear your name. Nothing.

Pledis had contacted Delaware to inform them that while it was too soon to release a post clearing the mess and wipe Wonwoo’s name linked with yours, there would be no further relations between you two. Which explained the dead silence from his side.

Since you weren't the actual problem here, your company had no choice but to let you continue with practise as usual. The CEO hadn’t announced a comeback date yet but hopes were rising for one. Your publicity, albeit a negative one had given the public to raise eyes toward you, the next comeback was a sure step to bag some fans. Which meant the company was working hard to produce good music. You hoped they didn’t end up with some hard notes for you, given as you still couldn’t actually hold notes either.

After five days of radio silence from Wonwoo you had begun to move on . Hating your heart for even hoping he’d call to ask. Of course he thinks you were the one at problem here too.

However, today, your phone rings with a strange text from an unknown number. You were used to the spam texts from creeps, but this was a strange number signed ‘WW’. Which, if your Carat memory was right, was Wonwoo’s signature to end every text.

A small crack comes through and you dare to hope.

It was Wonwoo. He was outside your dorm and he wanted you to meet him downstairs.

You were stupid if you missed that chance.

Wonwoo leads you to the nearby park, well sheltered by a canopy of trees, illuminated by the small fluorescent street lights that were dimming at its ends.

And this time, he’d brought a picnic basket with him

“I made this for you," he says, shoving a messily assembled sandwich into your hands, all smiles and squinty eyes, you can’t help but crack a smile. An action that brings him to further his smile, you reciprocating thoughtlessly.

Well you can’t excuse not eating after he prepared it for you.

The last time someone cooked for you was when you were 13, before your grandmother passed away. When it was clear you had attained some cooking knowledge , your mother had made you in charge of cooking all the meals at home. Even when you went home for the holidays, it was you doing the cooking, never the other way.

You suppose you could eat just this once , if not for you at least for him. You could always expel it later.

You didn’t have to wait for later. One bite in and you were spitting it out.

Wonwoo watches with the cutest face you have ever seen on a grown man, unknown pout on his lips and furrowed eyebrows at your blatant disrespect spit out what he had lovingly taken time to make.

“Wonwoo-ssi” . “Did you umm- did you eat this’ “No, I wanted you to have the first bite.” Of course he did.

You were not going to hurt his feelings like that. You were not that cruel despite what the tabloid told. But you could make him taste and see what he’s done.

“Can you take one bite” you insist, pushing the sandwich closer to his mouth.

In a way to see what the hullabaloo was all about , he takes a tentative bite of the sandwich and you watch as his face morphs from doubt to disgust. His pout intensifies.

“ I thought I did good.”

“What did you even put in here”, your amusement never failing to make an appearance. “All the fancy stuff Gyu uses.”, he answers, shoulders tilted up with certain pride.

“Like what?” you were curious.

“This is my first time cooking ever.” He admits ashamedly and you are no longer surprised. That explains the undecipherable saltiness to this sandwich.

“So I decided to be a little fancy and reached into Mingyu’s seasoning cupboard. There’s every kind of powder including the pink season. I added that to give some color and make the sandwich pretty to look at. “ He finishes triumphantly with an innocent grin.

You are touched . Truly. But-

“Pink stuff?” “Wonwoo-ssi just how much of the pink stuff did you put there?”

“A lot’ he was staring at you with a cocked brow , offended you would question his cooking skills like this.

“Wonwoo-ssi-’

“Please, just call me Wonwoo”

“Alright Wonwoo, that pink stuff- you air quote is actually salt. Himalayan salt.”

You wait for one beat. Two beats.

“Ohhhh— “ he draws out at the realization of a look of mortification coming at him.

His eyes scrunched up cutely, you catch his adorable cheeks bunch up and you want to comfort him like you would baby Chuul when she was this upset. Except he was no baby.

So you resort to laughing.

You are in awe of this man who you try so hard not to like is slowly working his way up to being a friend. A good friend even.

After a good five minutes of shared laughter that trickles to small squeaks , a small air of awkwardness hung in the air.

But this time he is prepared to counter that.

“Can I ask you about what went down the other day?”

“When?”

“I have seen the tabloids Y/N. What went wrong with your choreographer?”

Oh. You did figure he would eventually ask, you didn’t expect it this suddenly though.

“Do you want my version or the truth?”

‘But isn’t your version the truth?” You freeze, your eyes misting up immediately.

Seeing your face he tentatively reaches out, and seeing no resistance from your side, rests a palm on your knee. Your knee was beginning to heat up.

“ I- I did nothing wrong you know?” “Trust me Y/N I know that.”

You are touched at a strangers' choice to believe you over your own mother.

As a child you were the quiet one while your brother relentlessly bullied you. Of course your mother sided with him. This is the first time someone wants to listen to your side of the argument.

Before you ask him to explain , he beats you to it, “I know you hate dance challenges, your body language screamed as much but you did that to give your bandmate my autograph didn’t you? S-sorin right? Your eyes widened. “Oh my you know her name? She is going to be so ecstatic about this I have to tell her right now.”

“See? Even now you are thinking of ways to make someone else happy. So tell me what really went down?” You recount the whole situation to him, opting to leave out Chuul’s name and her dancing being the whole reason, you don’t have to give up her identity like that.

“And I know that’s what bring the fans but - I-” “You know if you are uncomfortable about something, you have the right to state your reasons not to do it. “ He states gently," The company cannot just force you .”

You snort out a laugh . Oh this fool. If only it were that simple

You say no more opting to end this conversation there. No need to get things all mushy now.

Not wanting to delve more into the awkward air, Wonwoo cleared his voice and you knew he was going to bring up another topic

He talks about his upcoming tour and you listen in awe as he describes their travel around the world.

One perk you had hoped to get as an idol was to do world tours, in hopes of traveling around and seeing new places.

Unfortunately, Blush Girls was too nugu to make it past the small company curse. Delaware was also very low on funds, often shamelessly resorting to request you to get your way through some potential investors. You were numb at this point,a bin used by men, to get bills thrown at your face only to be dipped away by Delaware as part of the compromise you’d made with them.

‘So, what does flying feel like?”

‘Well I can’t help you there, I don’t have wings Y/N.” he chuckles softly.

“No, I was walking about an aircraft, how does it feel to fly in the clouds?”

You see the small look of shock before he instantly wipes it away “Yo-you’ve never been on a plane before?”

You shrug dismissively. There were small concerts and festivals in Japan you could have gone to. Establishing yourself in the Japanese market would have given you a leg up for sure to come out of nugudom. You worked overtime to provide the funds for Delaware, you were sure of that, your body and throat ached to fill the void. But greed triumphs over integrity you suppose. You could only watch in sadness as men dipped into the hard work you invested in and left you even more void, shallow soul and mind.

Sorin watched from the window as her celebrity crush, the man that filled her childhood bedrooms, sat there on the park bench with the dopiest grin she’s ever seen staring at her unnie.

It’s not fair. You didn’t even know him like she did. She was the one who gushed to you about how much she was sure she was going to marry Jeon Wonwoo one day. And now there sat the man of her dreams, a palm pressed against his cheek, staring at you.

You who had lied and said there was ‘absolutely nothing’ happening between the both of you. Of course you’d get the man too. Just like everything in Sorin’s life she wished to have.

After a night of easy conversation and shared laughs, you sneak back into your dorm , waving goodbye to the boy slowly worming himself into your heart.

You hoped everyone was asleep, rehearsals started early tomorrow and Ampers had quite the mood these days. You didn’t want to poke the bear with overtired girls at the dance practices.

But you were wrong.

The door is forcefully opened by a livid Sorin who scornfully looks at you as you do your walk of shame back to your bed.

‘Slut” you overhear her mumbling. Your heart sank. Who taught this child that word?

Ever since she was denied the Music Bank position her behavior had spiraled, and you understood teenage angst but when met with open disdain, you hoped for a chance at grace.

Nothing much changes after that. Wonwoo and you exchange texts on your phone although you space out your replies from a day to a week.

You cannot lead him on but the temptation of texting him is so strong that you cannot ignore it either.

The hate online from netizens die down a little bit. Soon you are no longer the poster child for bullying owing to the actual controversy of plagiarism from “Chorstify’. Good days were coming.

Or so you thought.

The Mama Awards rolled out , and for the first time in two years since debut, Blush Girls had received an invitation. First time for a Delaware Labels group, and no thanks to the immense publicity this year has bestowed upon you.

Wonwoo texts you a ‘see you there’ even before the announcement and you are even more confused. How did he know? Was he perhaps involved in Blush Girls getting an invitation to an award show destined to be swept off by big labels?

You sigh. For an ‘acquaintance’ he sure did a lot more than you would have expected someone to. You should pay him back, you think. No one does favors for free. But how do you pay a rich million dollar earning idol? And how do you pay at all when the company refused to pay your group, heaping a bigger trainee debt? You only know one way of payback that you had learned from your mother- giving up your body.

“Men only want one thing” your mother had warned you.

Hair and makeup went quickly for you giving you more time to loiter around and hopefully catch a glance of ‘Big Cobra’, your childhood celebrity crush. The only dream artist you actually hoped to collaborate with. When Delaware did accept you,you had hoped you’d be given a rapper position but one look at your visuals and your soft voice, they had laughed at your request, calling you unfit for such a position.

You had been eavesdropping your manager’s conversation with your idol, giddy with the prospect of him dancing to one of your earlier songs. What an honor! Except-

“Who’s Yoonha?” Cobra ssi bellows out through the other door. Yoonha also had big admiration for him. You wouldn’t actually mind if she was the one who got to do this dance challenge with him.

There’s a slight crumpling of papers rustling and you can only imagine Yoonha’s face card being shown to Cobra. What follows next, changes the trajectory of your vision for the idol of your dreams.

“Nope, she’s too ugly.”

“But she is such a huge fan of yours, this would lift her spirits.” Your manager protested on her behalf.

“Everyone is a huge fan of me Dongyun-ssi . Give me a pretty woman. Don’t you have a Y/N in your group? Give me someone that looks beautiful. Or get me a younger one. I need to establish myself in today’s generation before they forget me.”

You feel no elation at hearing your name spoken in such praise. Only pure disgust.

“How about Sorin? Here, this is her ”

“No she’s too ugly too. I want the pretty one. She looks youthful enough. What is her name?”

She’s Y/N but she has been punished by the agency for her recent remarks, she is not allowed to film challenges till one month is up.” “Fine, I’ll do it with the other two chicks here but remember, you owe me a big one. I happen to gain nothing from this since I cannot dance with the visual.”

Over your dead body. No way were you going to allow a grown man who’d openly demanded for a child 20 years his junior , to collaborate with the other members he had insulted. No way in hell.

So you resort to snitching on him and telling Yoonha and Sorin to avoid the dance challenge.

To your utter amazement, Yoonha and Sorin defied your orders to not dance with Big Cobra ,instead calling you out on jealousy. What jealousy? If only they understood.

As Seventeen takes the stage, your mind struggles to focus. Whatever happened a few moments prior backstage has soured your mood. You knew you’d get in trouble with your company later for all the bad reactions you were showcasing to several cameras but you didn’t fucking care. The disgust you feel was too intense to mask.

A hand crept up into your peripheral vision and you catch a glimpse of Eunsae watching you with concern etched on her face.

“You know unnie, I know you are the leader and it's part of your role to take care of us. But sometimes, I wish you’d tell us too. I am not a child anymore. I know everyone around us are monsters. I just don't get why you have to bear this all alone. Something happened backstage and that’s clearly made you upset. Please tell me what happened. I thought you were happy BigCobra ssi would agree to do a dance challenge with us. Your face shows otherwise ”

Sometimes you don’t understand why you kept a lot of things from your members. At least the older ones. You had lived your entire life being an adult in the situation and wanting to shelter your members from all of it, but these ladies were all growing up. They were not children anymore. At least not Eunsae.

So you spill.

By the time you are done recounting the story to Eunsae, you see her face has darkened, disgust apparent in her face too.

“He did what now?” she interjected.

You say nothing, your silence speaking far more, conforming your thoughts.

Eunsae had biblical anger displayed on her face. Her jaw clenched tight with anger, her fists tightly holding on your wrist. You felt the same way.

“And you still let them go ahead unnie?” she pressed.

“I mean they didn’t really give me an option . Yoonha was convinced I was jealous of forbidding her.”

Eunsa rolled her eyes at that.

“Typical Yoonha” she muttered.

The next day Twitter went viral with a picture of Eunsae’s rolled eyes and you whispering in her ear amidst Seventeen’s special stage

Typical media and fan behavior, making noise out of nothing.

But this time the hate wasn’t just directed at you, your bandmate was included. Very quickly a warning was issued by your company threatening strong actions against malicious rumors against your labelmate and you. The last scandal you want to be involved with is fighting a large fandom of a popular boy group.

Only if Eunsae knew you had to sacrifice a part of you to get that post up and running up on the world wide web.

Chuseok holidays rolled out and while everyone went home, you found yourself alone. Your mother had claimed she was taking your father to a hospital, there is no way she can house you.

“Your meal plans cost extra," she said, chucking you as just another burden.

With the girls gone, Victor was in charge of keeping you company and you wanted no opportunity to share the same air as him.

Maybe you could surprise your mother, perhaps with a surprise meal you'd cook. She wouldn’t turn her own daughter away would she?

You wished you hadn’t taken your own advice because on opening the room to your childhood home, you are greeted by the sight that will forever be imprinted in your memories.

Your mother wrapped around Hyangyuck, your PD. While your sick father was in the other room, blissfully unaware.

“Y/N wait- it’s not like that.” your mother’s face paled as she stammered out an apology.

You were done. Honestly this explains why you got selected despite your lack of talents anyway. Your mother had probably gotten her way around Hyangyuck with her connections to secure your spot. The realization burned.

You didn’t know who your own married mother was..

Not knowing what to do , where to go, you stand at the crossroads . The dorm was empty, Victor was insufferable, and home—home was a twisted illusion. A sudden beep pulled you from your thoughts. A text from Wonwoo. It was the sixth message he’d sent in a week. Peering down at the screen, you read his invitation: “Want to go hang out? If you’re in the mood.”

You scoffed, not in the mood for anything. But the thought of spending time at his apartment—away from this mess—was tempting.

Lucky for you, Wonwoo was accepting of that too.

You had been looking for a chance to repay him back for all his kindness anyway

Wonwoo’s apartment was just as you’d imagined it. Cute and demure. Very minimalistic with the exception of the kitchen- stacked with all the fancy kitchen equipment you could ever dream of. ‘Mingyu’s sanctuary’ he’d called it. You chuckled to yourself, remembering Wonwoo’s disastrous sandwich-making fiasco. He was definitely not the chef in this partnership.

Wonwoo offers you some clothes- probably an ex’s. A shorter someone because they fall ankle length. Wonwoo takes a good look at you and pursues his lips.

“Stop laughing!” you called out, feigning annoyance.

“I didn’t laugh,” he protested, though the twinkle in his eyes betrayed him.

“Your face says otherwise!”

As if that grants him the excuse, peals of laughter ring out , his palms doing nothing to stifle the obvious joy in his voice.

After the laughter drowns out you take a good look at him. Wonwoo is sitting by the fireplace, palm pressed to his cheek, elbow resting on the arm rest, softly glancing at you in a look of pure adoration. A look you can’t decipher . You couldn’t help but wonder why someone would look at you that way.

A confident strut to your otherwise beating heart you walk over to where he sat. Leaning down to meet his gaze, you turned on the sultry charm you didn’t know you possessed, and his uncertainty morphs into something akin to eagerness. Although you have never given him the inkling that you do like him, he was sure he did. Anyone with eyes could see that. But this forward action from your side for once? Very welcome in his sight.

Leaning closer to him, a hairbreadth away, you press your lips against his.

For one second nothing happens and you tense. But Wonwoo bridges the gap before you back away, an arm around your waist pulling you impossibly closer to him, cradling your waist. Instinctively, you jerk again, tickled at the sensation. But he’s quicker, placing the other arm around your left hip, now in a lock against your hip , drawing you closer and onto his lap. You don’t fight it, immediately settling onto his knees and gliding over to his thighs, brought forward by Wonwoo’ quick hands. Hands that had moved to your ear, his finger fondling with the star earring dangling from your right ear. Your hands seemed to have a mind of their own too, hands edging dangerously close to his chest. A beat later you place it against him, reveling in the hitch in his voice, fueled to take it further and pressing even harder against him.

Wonwoo shyly asks for entrance and you grant it to him. A dangerous thing to do because the next second you are at his mercy. He dominates the kiss and you have to ground yourself against his shirt, tugging on it impossibly hard. Any whimper you have is swallowed by Wonwoo’s strong tongue game.

A kiss he very much enjoys till his lost thoughts come back to him a minute or two later, and realization dawns.

He pulls back first leaving you suspended in a swirl of emotions—sadness mixed with a tinge of regret. His eyes searched yours, studying your expression for any sign of interest, but he found only confusion.

“I am sorry-”

“Why did you kiss me, Y/N?” His voice was quiet, almost vulnerable.

“ I wanted to pay you back?” your voice ringing on hollowness.

He tips his head.

“Pay me back? How? Why” His brow furrowed in confusion.

The silence stretched, wrapping around you both like an uncomfortable shroud. You felt the weight of your own words, the lingering truth of how you’d tried to manipulate the kindness he had shown you.

“So that kiss-”

“Look, it’s late in the evening Y/N, you were already upset when you came in and It’s my fault I shouldn't’” “No it’s not yours it’s mine” “Why don’ we sleep on it, hmm? Maybe after a good nights rest we can talk it out. How about that?” There is a small smile on his face but you’re not blind, it’s forced.

He leads you to his bedroom and ushers you around it.

“If you need anything, I’ll be in the next room.”

“Where are you going?”

“”I’ll be right next door Y/n. In Mingyu’s room. He’s not home anyway.”

“I am sorry I took advantage of your kindness. I know you don’t like me like that and I-”

“Wait, do you think I don’t like you?” he asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his tone. “Y/n, I like you. Too much. But I’m scared you don’t.”

The admission hung in the air, thick with unspoken feelings. The silence turned awkward, and he finally backed away, breaking the spell. “I’ll take Mingyu’s room. You can have my room.”

And he leaves you, with an empty heart. Truly the daughter of your mother as much you both would like to deny it. Whoring yourself out for a place to spend the night, seeking validation in the most twisted ways. You spend the whole night tossing and turning, your brain won’t shut up, your mind is not at ease.

You didn’t sleep a wink last night, fabric bunched up under your uncouth sleeping habits. Alert at the sounds of pots and pans clucking you spring up and make it to the kitchen, where you get to behold Wonwoo in all his morning glory, bleached hair sticking up in every odd direction, face marred with several lines creased by the pillows.

"Good Morning” he calls out cheerfully, and you jump a little, you didn't think he was a morning person to be honest.

You call back and exchange pleasantries, still over the edge of what happened last night.

“Coffee?”

You shake your head. He shrugs and follows you to the breakfast table.

“I ordered some breakf-”

“Oh, I am not hungry .”

He looks a little annoyed, like he wants to say something but he thinks the best of it and for that you are grateful.

You watch again, as he eats his pancake, a part of your stomach grumbling at you for denying it food. Meanwhile you sip mindlessly on the coffee, disgusted at its bitterness. After breakfast, a blanket of thorn air shrouds around you both and you sit basking in it, watching Wonwoo clear the table, noiselessly wiping down the countertop.

He watches you fiddle with your thumbs and sighs, coming closer to stand next to you.

You can’t keep quiet any longer. You jump right onto it. “Did I do something wrong? Did you not want it? Oh no, you didn’t want it, did you? I just—you had that look and I—”

“Y/N, stop.” Wonwoo clicked his palm against yours, his grip firm but gentle, preventing you from delving further into panic. “You are spiraling .”

“I did like it, alright? Too much. But this isn’t how I wanted it to happen. We should both feel it.”

“Oh, that’s alright. You can take as much as you want from me. What I say doesn’t matter at all.” you softly speak out.

The shock on his face revealed the depth of your words. His eyes look around your face, waiting for a punked moment. Nothing comes out except your earnesty.

“Okay, we need to talk.”

Still not letting go of your wrist, he carefully led you through his apartment, eventually guiding you onto his bed.

“Sit.” His command was gentle yet firm, and you plopped down on the edge of the bed.

He sat across from you, eyes intense, leveling you with a look that felt like it could pierce through your defenses.

“What you just did—you can’t just do that, Y/N. That’s not how this works. I want you, and I know you know that. But this—it can’t happen unless you feel it too.”

You remained mute, lost in a sea of conflicting emotions.

“When we like someone, it’s a two way street. Unless both parties enjoy it, you shouldn’t do it. Every time I see you, my heart races- he reaches out, placing your palm against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingers. “I get butterflies. You make me want to work hard to earn your love. You’re smart, kind, and beautiful. Sure, you can be a little aloof, but I find that really cute about you. I can’t do anything with you unless you feel it too. It should never be about me alone. You matter too, Y/N.”

He insists, earnest eyes boring into yours, to drive the point inside.

Words you had never heard before, words that felt foreign. When did you ever matter? Who had you ever mattered to?

You were suddenly transported back to that sunny day when your brother left. All four feet of you clinging to his leg, pleading for him not to go. At fifteen, you had endured enough emotional abuse from your mother, desperate for him to take you along.

Kicking his foot ,he had sent you tumbling to the ground, and you watched him walk away, backpack slung over his shoulder, leaving you alone. That was never the action of someone who did something to someone who ‘mattered’.

“Which is why I want to ask, Y/N—do you feel anything for me at all?”

He inched closer, his gaze locked onto yours, a mix of urgency and vulnerability shimmering in his dark eyes. “I need to know,” he whispered. “Because every time I’m around you, it’s like I can’t breathe, and I don’t want to ignore what this could be. It’s eating me alive.”

His hands fidgeted nervously, and he ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain some composure. “I don’t want to pressure you, but... if you feel even a fraction of what I do, please just say something. It’s been driving me crazy, and I just can’t hold it in anymore.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and he leaned in slightly, searching your eyes for any hint of an answer. “Just be honest with me. Please.”

You-

Your instincts screamed to run away. This level of vulnerability was foreign to you. But your heart demanded you stay.

“When you’re near me, my heart—” you softly whisper, like the words feel foreign to you, staring into his dark, shiny orbs. “It races too. I feel something. I can’t explain it, but there’s something.”

Initially, you had dismissed it as mere attraction. But the more you saw him, the more you realized you felt it? You felt this pull, a gentle tug in your heart that he was here. That he genuinely liked you for you, and that was honestly so confusing. Why would he ever? But also, you liked it. You liked being seen for who you really were, flaws and all, without the masks you usually wore. It was a strange comfort, this connection you were building.

“Please be patient with me. I know I want it, but I don’t exactly know what I want. I had nobody to look up to and learn what love feels like.”

“Honestly, Y/N, if it’s with you, I can always wait, baby. You are worth the wait.”

You froze.

“Oh no, did I say something triggering? I am sorr—”

“What did you just call me?” Your voice quivered, the weight of his words hitting you hard.

“Baby?”

One tear fell, then another, until a torrent of tears cascaded down your cheeks.

“Eomma please, just one hug. All my friends have mom's who hug them. Why can’t you hug me atleast once?” Your eight year old self had come out of the quiz as the only one who had all the answers and had received three gold stars. Holding all three gold stars in huge triumph you held out your report card in hopes that she would put it up near the refrigerator and give you a hug, that being your only demand.Except your mother had thrown the kitchen towel angrily across the table, slammed a fist on the table and-

“Not now Y/N, I don’t have time for your kiddy games.”

“Earth to Y/N.”

“No one’s ever called me that before.” you finally state.

“What? Baby?” he recounts.

Yes.

“That’s impossible. What about your parent”- you shook your head fiercely causing him to change his tactics.

“Was that why you were crying love?”

You shakily nod. Is this what catharsis felt like? Crying but empowering?

“Aww love” he cooed. “No one has to endure that alone you know.”

“How about we have some breakfast and then we cuddle and sleep? Your eyes tell you haven’t slept a wink last night”

“I’m not hungry.”

“All right then. I have a plan.

“ I am listening.”

“Let’s cuddle.”

“What is that supposed to do?”

“It is stress relieving. Trust me on this.”

“Are you a cuddler Wonu?”

He looked a bit embarrassed to admit but the answer was there in his actions- crossed out arms and pinkening cheeks. He takes a defensive stance in his next words, A cocky eyebrow perked up. “Maybe? Mingyu gives the best hugs”. He looks off in the distance as he says it, like reminiscing a past memory.

Lazy grin in, you expect him to unfold. After a squirming session of three seconds total, he comes clean. “Well yesterday I was a little upset and Mingyu was there. And he- well- you know how he is. He gives the best hugs alright! Don’t judge me. If you had to be smothered in his arms you’d know how safe it is! All I am saying is, we could do the same thing. You’ll get to enjoy what a real cuddle session looks like ”

Never would you have imagined a tall, big man absolutely folding himself at the prospect of recounting a great cuddle session with his ‘homie’. Can’t say you are not enamored though.

You watch fondly as he fixes the pillows and settles down.

“Come here, he croons out, arm extended and invitingly calling you over. You crawl over the sheets, ready to settle down and hug him, like you’d hug Chuul when she came to your bed at night after a nightmare or when the homesickness hits too hard.

“What are you doing?”

“Uuhh hugging you?” Were you doing that wrong too?

“No I don’t mean you hug me , I want to be the big spoon.”

“What’s a spoon got to do with hugs?”

His mouth opens wide as he stares at you in shock. Seriously, what is happening?

Wonwoo manhandles you to mold you into the position he wants you to be in, on your side while he engulfs you from the back. The heat radiation at his proximity from your back and the warmth omitting from your heart was cocooning you from both sides.

Wonwoo’s body is solid and comforting, the best combination right now. You softly breath in his familiar scent, the musk of a strong cologne.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” you replied, a smile creeping onto your face. “It feels nice.”

He chuckled softly, and the sound reverberated through you. His fingers found their way to your waist, gently tracing circles on your skin. The simple gesture sent shivers down your spine, and you leaned back into him, craving more of that warmth.

“See? This isn’t so bad,” he teased, his breath tickling your ear.

“No, it’s really nice,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly.

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the weight of the day melting away as you enjoyed the intimacy of the moment. Wonwoo’s arms felt like a protective cocoon around you, and you found yourself relaxing more with every passing second.

“Just so you know,” he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity, “I’d do anything to keep you close like this. Just come to me , when you have bad days like this . I want to be the one who gets to hear your complaints and worries. I want to be your rock. I want to start loving you , and to show you what love feels like. It’s not the worst feeling in the world, to be vulnerable.”

His words sent your heart racing, and you turned slightly to catch his gaze. The look in his eyes was a mixture of warmth and determination, and you felt your heart swell. In that moment, everything else faded away—your worries, your past—and all that mattered was the warmth of his embrace and the connection building between you.

“Thank you for everything Wonwoo,” you whispered, feeling grateful and vulnerable all at once.

“Always,” he replied, tightening his hold around you, making you feel cherished and safe in his arms.

You both wake up around midday. Wonwoo pecks your nose and leaves to fend off to do some errands leaving you back on the bed, lethargic at the lack of food catching up to you.

( TW: Eating Disorder mentioned, unhealthy diet habits mentioned . Reader has an EXTREMELY fucked up mindset against food. Be warned)

He comes back carrying take out in his hand. Great, in your haste you had forgotten to ask him if he had eaten at all. How pretty selfish of you. ‘Typical Y/N’ your mom’s snarky voice entered your head. ‘Always thinking about no one else but herself’.

You watch him unpack the food, setting aside a grand feast of chunky beef ghalbi, a crimson shade of kimchi and white rice sprinkled with furikake. The smell of succulent meat permeates the air and a deep part of you craves for it. It’s been over a year since you last allowed your body to have the luxury to indulge in expensive meat. You watch as he neatly arranges the containers and draws out two plates from the kitchen, along with two wine glasses. You hope to God he doesn’t ask you to eat with him, you have no active lies to cook up, it’s clear he’s caught onto the pattern. He pops open the wine bottle, fizzing out the soda and you watch as he carefully pours two glasses of wine onto the awaiting cups.

He beckons you over to the table as he slowly lowers himself , expectantly awaiting your arrival any minute. Not wanting to disrupt his anticipation, you saunter over to him. Maybe you could drink a glass of wine with him and call it a day.

You should know by now Wonwoo was always a step ahead. He pulls out a chair for you , tilting his head expecting your rear to make yourself comfortable and dive into the feast ahead.

“I already a-” "Sit down, Y/N." His voice is assertive — a rare tone coming from someone as soft-spoken as Wonwoo.

You gulp a bit hoping to save some time and he knocks against your knee pit effectively sending you toppling backwards and into his strong arms. They wind around you and he places a small nip on the lobe of your right ear, nuzzling his nose on your chin.

You watch as his right hand takes out a pair of chopsticks dipping into a plump slice of beef, immersing it in a thick paste of soy red sauce and bringing the meat closer to your mouth. That was held shut.

Tight.

You shake your head avoiding the tantalizing piece of meat set in front of you to tempt you into succumbing and eating something.

“Y/N please eat” You shake your head again. You can’t. Why doesn’t he understand?

“I am not hungry” “I call bullshit love, you haven’t eaten anything and your gurgling stomach is testimony to that, no- c-covering it won’t hide those noises , love.” He teeters between a dominant tone and fits of chuckles at your hurried attempts to muffle the mighty roars your stomach makes at the sight of your favorite food.

“Remember you are nothing more than your face, you are just a caricature of a persona I drew up for you, without this body to assist , you are worthless. So avoid eating at all costs. Your body pays for all the bills here so work hard to remain thin. You got me pig?”When assigning different roles, you were the only one who was given a visual role, the company calling everyone else ugly just because they had failed their weekly check ups.

During trainee days you were all subjected to the most humiliating ways to check weights . At the end of each week, the CEO would arrive with his side goons for weekly reviews and gift the winner with the lowest weight. In a truly fucked up mindset, all of you competed for that gift. It was only after your closest friend Julie was taken out of the program by her mother who scorned the system, you realized how young teenagers were suffering from unhealthy eating habits. At the price of your body, you were able to find a leeway in the contract putting a stop to these weight surveys on kids. They still had strict diets but their weight was not monitored as strictly like you had feared. You watched with glee as baby Chuul and Sorin start gaining some color in their cheeks .

The price to pay was Yoonha abhorring you when the roles were given out and she was considered over the weight limit to for the standard rate for a visual (still underweight on a doctor’s scales). That was the day her hate for you grew, she believed you played this to take this opportunity from her. If only she knew the sacrifice you made for her to live out what you wanted to.

There’s a voice in your head repeatedly warning you to not fall for your cravings and a voice outside it beseeching you to just eat it.

“Y/N just open your mouth okay? I will feed you, come on now just say ahh. “ You shake your head violently, trying to trickle down from his strong grip. He’s taking none of your nonsense tonight.

“It’s just one bite love. One bite. That’s all. If you don’t like it you don’t have to eat and I won’t force you. “ Yeah it’s just one bite.

Except-

“One bite is all it takes for you to lose the image the group is built on”

The voices in your head were winning this round .

“Y/N “ He worriedly calls out.

“I can’t. They said I can’t” You finally state.

“Who said you can’t eat baby?”

You melt at the nickname and he smirks against your shoulder.

“Baby, listen to me“ You turn around to look at his eyes, rounded and worry etched at the edges of his soft glance.

“Why can’t you eat baby?” You continue to stare back at him.

‘Are you allergic to meat?” You shake your head.

“Do you not like this?” You shake again. You can’t lie about that.

“When was the last time you ate and be honest with me please”.He implores softly. You can’t help but shed a tear at his soft heartedness. All this harsh exterior but you have yet to meet another man who’s shown this much affection to you.

You refuse to give an answer. It’s probably for the best you think.

Sighing at your silence he shifts you to be a little more comfortable.

“Listen to me. This body you have, all it asks is for a little respect. Just do the bare minimum: feed it something to keep you nourished and moving forward. How are you supposed to make progress if all you do is starve? One bite never harmed anyone, but going several lacks will definitely take a toll.”

You see no lie in his statement despite the several voices of protests in your head.

It’s been four days since you had eaten a bite after the cake you ate last for Mishal’s birthday live. You had offered to throw it out before the staff did, except you and Mishal snuck into a bathroom stall and scarfed the whole thing down, greedily feasting on red velvet gooey deliciousness.

‘Here just look at the food. Don’t you want to smell it?”

Your eyes watered again at the senses flooding your mouth and eyes, there was an aroma wafting in the air, the glisten of the red beef against the twilight hue percolating through his high rise widows. Placed before you, the dish glistens with saucy goodness, white sesame seeds scattered artfully across the surface, while green scallions are peppered around the edges. You can’t help but yearn for it, your hunger intensifying with every glance. Ignoring the blaring alarms wailing in your head, you finally dive forward and take a nibble of the beef.

Succulent meat falls right off the bone and gets swallowed by your mouth wholly, the caramelized glaze dribbling down your chin. Wonwoo delicately wipes it away and you moan involuntarily as the taste hits the roof of your mouth.

Wonwoo lets out a throaty chuckle, opting to peck your cheek when a warm blush overtakes your face . You hadn’t meant to do that.

“That good eh?”

You simply nod, opening your mouth like a baby bird for one more bite pouting at him when he takes too long in your opinion.

‘Coming pretty baby”

With his tender loving care the hunger in your stomach slowly ebbs away but streams of tears flow down heartily.

No one has ever fed you as far as you can remember. Your bitchy mother certainly didn’t. Your father was prevented from it. You had always craved an affection so fickle as being fed that when the first person to feed you was a boy who you had sworn to close your heart to, you couldn't help the small cracks that formed.

Your bites had turned into full on gobbles , hunger overtaking your senses . Seemingly , Wonwoo didn’t seem to mind continuing to feed you despite multiple attempts of objection from your end.

“I am eating too pretty girl , don’t mind me feeding you. Look at your round cheeks filled with food , I can’t help but admire your -“

Ignoring the temptation he comes forward and places a long smooch on your cheek drawing out the long ‘mwah ‘ sound , hoping that with this you can understand just how much he’s in love with you and cares for you .

Your eyes close at the tender gesture, the tears still ebbing. You cannot be bothered to care and wipe them away , the catharsis of just letting go and enjoying something you had denied for so long brings euphoria into your life .

Maybe if you analysed it, anyone could guess that a part of you was regressing at the affection of being fed by someone else , your mouth still conditioned to opening up every time he brought a bite close to you ,despite the knowledge that you are way over your limits

When all is said and done , he slouches on the chair taking you with him , causing you to slump on him like a dead weight . You try to take this opportunity to save yourself and heave out the food before the effects of your gluttony shows on your face but he’s quicker than you , bringing his legs around yours, wrapping them around your shin and preventing any methods of escape you had in mind to empty the content of food.

“Just stay here for a little while more love “

You don’t argue this time after debating with the voices. . It’s the least you could do for your precious body - to feed and nourish overworked organs . The only fodder they had these days was the stress you caused.

You stick around for a little more time in Wonwoo’s apartment, still not having left the secluded space of his arms. Nobody could ever prepare you for how much of a yapper Wonwoo really was. There you sat, on his lap, filled to the brim with food you loved, watching endearingly as the man you were slowly and quickly catching feelings for, filled every second with his deep rumbly voice talking about his childhood. “And we took Bohyuck to the hospital and that's when he knew shit was up. He confessed right before they injected him, serves him right for lying to us and making Eomma cry. I was worried too-”

Before he could continue with his brother's antics, the door opens and you see someone emerge from one of the rooms. Not really comfortable around others, much less a man such as thee Kim Mingyu, you jump up and quickly bow, your manners never forgotten.

Wonwoo rushes to follow suit, standing up as Mingu rounds the corner of the countertop making his way to get a glass of water. You are a little miffed. Mingyu has not acknowledged your presence in the slightest, choosing to ignore your bow or small ‘hi’.

Instead he takes one look at the night suit you were wearing, furthers his head to look at Wonwoo and ask, “Woozi really?” and turns around to leave pronto.

Wonwoo, as though sensing your uncomfort, rubs his chin on your head and tells you to ‘ignore him, he’s just cranky’.

The dark feeling settles down in you, that you’ve done something wrong. You can’t place what exactly but if Wonwoo tells you to ignore it, what better to than just shrug it off and move forward?

The next week passes off as some of the best moments in your life. Wonwoo, you were beginning to realize was an absolute sweetheart of a person.

Maybe if you sat down for a single second and pondered, you’d reflect that you were moving too fast too quick, one minute you had started as fake dates, the next minute your heart knew no endless joy like the euphoric high you were riding now in the attention of a boy who has stolen every waking second of your thought.

Wonwoo pampered you like no other, in a way you didn’t think was possible for someone to take care of you. Diets be damned, rules be fucked, under the canopy of his house you both camped in a safe haven basking in each others presence. Night times were your favorite part of the day, you loved being spooned and coddled. Wonwoo, had big muscular hands that wrapped around you, always pulling you close to his chest, the best cacophony of sounds that could push you to blissful sleep .

If not for the demons that rang out in the sanctuary of your mind, riddling you unable to sleep, paralyzing your thoughts and stripping you off peace.

A.N: my lap crashed y'all! but I wanted to post this fic as my birthday gift and i made it somehow wohoo.. ignore the typos lol, i'll come back and edit. i was racing against time.

if you like the fic please comment, reblog or send an ask! comment below to be added to the taglist

taglist- @skzbangchanniee @everythingboutkpop @fxckingshame @ariananotgrandeee @veryveryveryberry

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purplepickles · 1 year ago

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“Under The Covers”

Pairings: Central cee x black fem reader

Genre: fluff

Authors Note: it’s my first time writing on tumblr so bare with me I also haven’t haven’t written anything in like years I used to a Wattpad author in like 2017-2019😭 so imagine what I used to be writing. It’s not my best peice of work but it’s progress kinda messy icl in terms of storyline but it’s something anyways I hope everyone enjoys it 💗

You had just signed a contract with vogue for a new segment they were trying out for they’re YouTube channel called “Under the Covers”. It was in a podcast style in a bedroom setting hence the name and basically talking about the latest fashion trends tips or anything black girl related.

You were so grateful for this opportunity never in your life would you have imagine a little black girl from London was able to sign a massive deal with vogue. The topic of todays video was maintenance. How you maintain standards for yourself if that means relationship, mental or physical health. So instead of it being in their studio you wanted your video being a bit more homely so why not in your home. The producers had set everything up in your room making sure everything was ready for filming but this video was going to have a little extra twist. You were going to have your very first guest and they how they managed to maintain their life and overall humbleness with the fame he had gained over the years.

You kept your relationship on the down low on the respect of each other careers and not wanting to surround your relationship over it. You were actually calm with that but he wasn’t liking seeing people he fucked with in your dms with heart eyes.

Little did Yn know he was going to announce it in their video together.

“Okay I’m going to count down from 5 and we’ll start filming” said the producer

“Hi Vogue it’s me Yn/ln and welcome to our new segment called Under the covers where uncover beauty secrets fashion and every black girl related. But today’s video things are little different we’re in my actual bedroom and I have a special guest with us he’s one of my favourites rappers right now a current world wide sensation Central Cee”

“I didn’t know I was your favourite artist”

“Yes you did you’re also my most listened to artist on Spotify we’ve defo talked about this”

“Mhmmm”

You rolled your eyes and continued with the video

“Anyways let’s get straight into todays topic: maintenance. How to do maintain eye yourself to keep your life somewhat stable”

“I guess keeping my mum,my brothers, my fans and my girl happy innit. If they’re happy I’m happy” said central cee never straying away from eye contact from the love of his life

“And what you say is the hardest one to keep happy and why” Yn was very curious about this who knew where this could go

“My girl defo she’s says I’m annoying I think she hates me”

The way your head slowly snapped

“Did you not say at Amelia Dinner Date you like girls you hate you”

“Yh I did I turns me on but she’s just something Yk I’m just infatuated by her but maybe I’m a bit delusional when it comes to her yk idk if that’s a good thing or bad thing. Kinda new to this love thing and not messing up yk I don’t wanna get it wrong again I really like her”

That was probably the most beautiful thing he’s said in a while she didn’t know he felt like this she sometimes she can be a bit rude and her sarcasm can be taken the wrong way but she thought he knew between the lines that she didn’t hate him she lived more than anything.

“I think you should talk to her about your feeling more Yk. Don’t be shy on opening up more Yk. When you feel ready ask her what she thinks it’s possibly lacking” she smiled at him with reassurance hoping that he could through her eyes that’s it okay and she was listening

“Yh your right imma tell her right now!”

Yn chocked on her drink. He could not be serious. She should’ve known this boy was up to something

“As in right now!? I’m sure she’s busy” you said trying to get to him to change his mind

“Nah she’s not im calling her rn”

For someone who didn’t like interviews this but sure had a lot to say

Ring

Your phone was on the other side of the room Ringing none stop.

Everyone was looking at you. You knew the producers were loving this but you were not this was too much.

Ring

“Yn are you gonna pick up you phone”

you usually loved his smile but this was just devious.

“Do I have to” you were just dreading this

Everyone shouted yes. You rolled out bed and a grabbed the phone

“Hi baby”

“Hi cench, now can we get back to the video please”

“Yes Cench we can. You wanna cuddle too?”

The video was going well there was laughter within the whole room. You asked him the question that you were assigned to ask him everything was going great. You loved being under your lovers arms. Maybe letting people in wasn’t so bad.

“Thank you vogue for this absolutely-

A knock on the door you both looked at door and someone opened to little boy running in crying and jumping to Oakley’s arm. How many surprises could one video take you said to yourself in your head.

“What’s up little man” Oakley now went into full father mode his whole rapper persona was switched and all he cared about was understanding why his little boy was upset

“Had a bad dream” said the little one

“How about we say goodbye to vogue and make some hot chocolate” you said while trying to tickle him

“Right I think me and vogue has had enough surprises don’t forget to like subscribe and hit that notification and stay tuned for next weeks video about Motherhood and Careers with a icon mother and billionaire. Bye guys”

#central cee #central cee x reader #centralcee inagines #central cee x you #central cee x Yn

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krirebr · 2 months ago

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I Know I Should Know Better 7/End

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Female Reader

Word Count: ~3.6k

Summary: Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it?

Warnings: Angst, adult themes, explicit language, anxiety, but mostly, it's a goddamn happy ending, you guys!! Finally!!! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Holy shit. I can't believe it. We've made it to the end of this series. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's been along on this ride. Your support of this story has really bowled me over. I so hope you love this ending as much as I do.

For this one, especially, any comment, reblog, or ask will mean so much to me. I can't wait to talk to you all about where we leave our sweet beans.

Curtis stood on the front step of your house, waiting to be let in. He'd never gone in this way before, not even the first time. But he didn’t work for you anymore. He was the boyfriend now. A guest. So he'd play by the rules he'd always been so annoyed with Colin and Johnny and the like for flaunting.

It only took a few minutes for Jensen to open the door. “Hey man,” he greeted warmly. “You know you don’t have to stand out here. Come on, get in.” Curtis followed Jake in, then stood somewhat awkwardly in the entryway. Luckily, Jake kept talking. “I should’ve texted you, but I was really sorry to hear how that whole thing went down. It wasn’t fair to either of you.”

“Thanks, Jake,” Curtis said sincerely. “I appreciate it. And I’m sorry, for all the secrecy.”

Jake shook his head. “No, don’t be sorry. You didn’t owe me any of that.”

Curtis gave a slight nod. “I hope you at least got a promotion out of it.”

Jake ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, kind of. Although I’m sort of pulling double duty right now while we try to find a new driver. But I think the trip went well, so…” he trailed off and shrugged. “You found something, yet?”

Curtis just shook his head. Honestly, he’d barely started looking for his next job. He’d been tired of personal security for a while now, and this seemed like a good opportunity to see what was next. Figure out what he actually wanted. Growing up in foster care, he’d been too aware of how easily things could be taken away, so as soon as he’d started making money, saving had been a priority for him. He had a decent rainy day fund set aside now. He figured he might as well make use of it. And if he got to a point where he needed to pick up a short-term gig here or there, he was sure, with all of his connections now, that he’d be able to do that. “No,” he said, “I think I’m gonna take my time.”

“Nice,” Jake nodded. “Good for you. Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I always liked working with you.”

That got a genuine smile out of Curtis. “Thanks, Jake, you too.” He glanced around your house anxiously. He thought he heard Michelle in the living room, but he didn’t know who else might be here, occupying your time. “Everybody still busy with her?”

“No, the stylist and makeup artists left a couple of minutes ago. I think she’s just getting dressed now, in her room. You should be good.”

Curtis nodded, patted Jake on the shoulder, and made his way through your house.

Two weeks apart. They’d been filled with constant texting, evening phone calls, as much checking in as he could manage in your busy schedule. Hearing about your appearances, junket days, meet and greets. You were finally back, as of that morning, but he still had to steal time for your reunion before the last of your late-night talk show appearances. Your schedule never stopped.

He took the stairs up to your bedroom two at a time and gave a light knock once he got to your door. It immediately swung open to reveal you standing right in front of him in your underwear. He barely had a moment to process before you were throwing yourself at him, filling his arms with you, burying your face in his neck. “I’m so happy you’re here,” you breathed.

“Yeah,” he whispered, holding you as tight as he could. “Me too. Me too.” He shuffled you further into the room so he could kick the door shut behind him and then stood there with you in his arms for as long as you both needed.

You finally pulled away and he took his chance to look around. A rolling rack of clothing your stylist must have brought over was against one wall. Two outfits were laid out on the bed. Your suitcase was flung open in the far corner of the room, items spilling out of it. And then he took you in. Your hair and makeup were already done, but if he looked very closely, he could see the barest hint of bags under your eyes. Your smile was a little sad and you were picking at your nails, seemingly without realizing it. “How are you doing?” he asked, softly.

“I’m alright. I’m– I don’t know. I’m really tired, but,” you looked around yourself, “I’m happy to be home.”

He nodded. The exhaustion was radiating off of you. You’d told him in one of your late-night phone conversations that you’d barely slept on your trip. He wished he could wrap you up and tuck you into bed right now. “Were you able to sleep on the plane at all?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s just been,” you shrugged again, “too much to think about.”

He opened his mouth to ask what was on your mind, but you were already turning away. You went to the foot of your bed and stared at the outfits laid out there.

“Which do you think?” you asked, your hands on your hips.

He looked at the two outfits. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for. He didn’t feel like he really knew clothes well enough to offer any sort of an opinion. One was a dress, low-cut and mid-length, maybe. The other was a pair of shiny black pants, although not leather, and a billowy metallic tank. Each outfit had a corresponding pair of sky-high heels sitting at the foot of the bed. “What are you gonna be most comfortable in?” he finally asked.

You sighed ruefully. “Yeah, I'm sure jeans and a t-shirt would go over real well.” After a moment of thought, you picked up the pants and blouse and started putting them on.

You were both quiet as you put on the finishing touches. He helped you with the necklace and bracelets, his big hands carefully opening and closing the clasps.

You stepped away and turned to him. “What do you think?” you asked, a touch of shyness in your voice.

He closed the space between you and put his hands on your hips. “You’re beautiful,” he said, sincerely.

You just looked at him for a moment, studying his face for something, he didn’t know what. Finally, you asked, “You really do love me, don't you?” with just a touch of awe in your voice.

“Yes,” he said without a moment of hesitation, trying to infuse that one word with all of his certainty.

He'd only told you he loved you a few times, since that first time, not wanting to overwhelm or pressure you. He knew he'd jumped ahead. You hadn't said it back yet which was fine. He understood. You'd get there when you were ready. But even if he was trying to go at your pace, he never wanted you to doubt him.

You kissed him unabashedly at that and it did something to settle the worry he'd felt since he laid eyes on you. You pulled back and grinned, the first real smile he'd seen from you since before you left for New York. “I'm gonna get yelled at for messing up my lipstick, but I don't care,” you said, before going in for another, shorter one. He gripped your hips tighter as you pulled your head away, giving him a knowing smirk. “Come on, I’m sure I’m already running late.”

He didn’t let go. Something about this time, just the two of you, felt too precious. “I don’t work for you anymore. I’m the boyfriend now, so I don’t fucking care if you’re late.”

You laughed, big and loud, and it quieted the rest of the unease he’d been feeling about how you were doing. When you were done, you leaned into his chest and just stood there. “I missed you so much,” you whispered.

“I missed you too,” he whispered back wrapping his arms around you. He took a deep breath, savoring the fact that you were there, in front of him, in his arms. Right now, he had you.

And then, of course, there was an impatient knock on the door. “I'll be right there!” you called out, then knocked your forehead against his shoulder, taking a deep fortifying breath.

“Hey,” he said quietly, “you're so good at this. No matter what, this is something you can do. I've always admired the way you handle this stuff. OK? You can do this.”

You sighed and nodded into his shoulder. He was quiet for a moment, thinking. You’d talked, a little, about how upset you’d both gotten the night before you’d left for New York. He couldn’t help but feel that maybe in his frustration and desperation and worry, he’d come on too strong. He knew you weren’t upset with him, but– “I just want you to be happy. No matter what that looks like, I just want to help you get there.”

You moved your head from where it was tucked into his shoulder so you could look him in the eye. “I know,” you said, gratefulness shining in your eyes. “If I know anything, I know that.” You kissed him again, short and soft and sweet. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

It was an odd experience, climbing into the back of your SUV instead of sitting with Jake in the front. Michelle sat in the middle row, acting pointedly cold to him. That was fine, honestly. He wasn’t quite ready to forgive her for the things she’d said when the news of your relationship broke. He didn’t know when he would be. You deserved better.

You were very quiet. He wanted to ask, again, about what was on your mind, but he didn’t want to do that with an audience. So he held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, and didn’t move a muscle when you rested your head on his shoulder.

Curtis couldn’t stop fidgeting. He was sitting by himself on what he used to derisively think of as the boyfriend couch. Michelle was on the other couch, focused on emails as always, while Tanya hovered in the middle of the room. There were snacks and drinks laid out on the green room’s coffee table that he was welcome to now, but he hadn’t touched them. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, filling up the big TV on the wall as you chatted with one of the countless late-night Jimmy’s. You looked okay. A little stiff. A little tired. But that was probably only because he knew all the signs to look for.

You’d covered all the benign greetings and small talk and were now getting into the meat of the interview. Whichever Jimmy this was reached across his desk and held up a black paperboard-backed picture of you, twelve or thirteen years old, complete with braces and awkward pigtails. It was from that fucking show.

He saw the anxiety flash across your face, quickly followed by your cheerful mask, although he didn't think he imagined the way it was more strained than usual. Tanya saw it too, judging by the way she took a step forward.

Jimmy was blathering on about the recent influx of TV reunions and reboots and wouldn’t it be fun, wouldn't everyone just love it if there was some sort of reunion for this? The audience roared in agreement.

You forced a chuckle that wouldn't have fooled anyone, pure panic in your eyes. And then you looked directly into the camera and Curtis knew, he knew, that you were looking at him. He tried to send you all of his confidence, all of his support, all of his love. All of his certainty that however you wanted to handle this, you could do it.

He was fooling himself, he knew, but he was sure that you felt it, because in the next moment you took a deep breath, turned to Jimmy, and said, “No, I don't think so.”

Jimmy just gaped at you for a second, clearly taken aback by you suddenly not playing along. He tried to cover with a good-natured laugh and “What? Oh no! Why not?”

You didn't match his tone. You responded seriously, “I really hated making that show.” There were a few audible gasps from the audience, but you ignored them. “Everyone did. It was a miserable place to be. Everyone hated each other. Everyone fought all the time. For seven years! I was a child and no one protected me from that. I went to work every day, as a child, in the most toxic environment. But I was making money. So I guess it was ok.

“And now, god, it’s been ten years! And everyone just keeps bringing it up. It’s all anyone wants to talk to me about. And I just can’t talk about it anymore. I really can’t. I’m not gonna do it again. I’m done with that.”

“What the hell is she doing?” Tanya muttered next to Curtis, who was standing up now, unable to take his eyes off you. Whatever you were doing, it was incredible.

He could tell that the host wanted to break in, he kept looking wildly off-camera to someone for help, but you just kept talking. You wouldn’t stop.

“There’s just– There’s so much I don’t want to do anymore. I’m not doing ok, you know? I mean, you must know. It’s all over every gossip site. I’m not ok. I haven’t been ok for a very long time, maybe ever. But I just keep going forward in the same way, because that’s all I’ve ever done since I was a kid. That’s all I’ve known how to do. But I think– I think I’m done doing that now. I want to figure out how to be ok.”

Curtis took a step closer to the screen. “Holy shit,” he mumbled, deep pride filling his chest, “she’s doing it.”

“What is she doing, Curtis?” Tanya asked, somewhat hysterically.

He ignored her. He couldn’t see or hear anything other than you.

Back on the TV, Jimmy cleared his throat and opened his mouth, trying to somehow stop his show from careening wildly off the rails. But you put your hand up to stop him.

“Please, Jimmy, I know. You asked a simple question and you got all this instead,” you laughed, unabashed, and there it was. There you were. Curtis beamed at seeing it. “Just let me say this one last thing.” You looked directly into the camera again. “I– I am really proud of this movie. We worked really hard on it, and I hope you go see it.”

A laugh escaped Curtis. God, you were so good at this, knowing exactly what you were contractually obligated to do. He glanced quickly at the other end of the green room. Michelle was standing now too, her mouth wide open in shock, while Tanya looked like she might have a stroke.

“And I think–” you continued. ”I think it might be the last movie I do for a while. The last anything. We'll see.”

A wave of murmurs went through the studio audience. Curtis had fully forgotten they were even there during all this, they’d been so quiet since you’d really gotten going, just as enraptured by you as he was.

“Ok,” you said, with a sheepish smile. “That’s it. I’m– I’m done.” Then you stood, took off your mic pack, gently laid it on the chair, and walked off stage.

As Jimmy awkwardly threw to a commercial break, Curtis raced into the hallway. He walked towards the stage as fast as he could, intercepting you about halfway there, a lost-looking PA trailing behind you. You looked a little shell-shocked but good. You looked so fucking good.

He gently touched your face with both hands as soon as you were within reach. “Holy shit, that was incredible. You’re incredible. I can't believe you did that. I'm so fucking proud of you.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your voice a little shaky, your eyes a little watery. “I didn't– I wasn't planning to. But then he asked about the show and, I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about all of the things you're always telling me. About living my own life and what I'm worth. And I just thought, ‘What if I actually do what I want for once?’ And, yeah.” You shrugged.

“Fucking incredible,” Curtis whispered and leaned in to kiss you. It was soft and a little desperate and so, so happy.

So of course it was cut short when Tanya called out your name. You both turned around to look at her standing at the end of the hall, looking harried. “What was that?! How on earth am I supposed to clean that up?!”

“Tanya,” you said, your voice shockingly calm and firm. “Stop. There's nothing to clean up. You're fired.”

It took everything inside of Curtis not to whoop with joy or pick you up and spin you around. But, shit, he wanted to. He really, really wanted to.

Your gaze moved to where Michelle stood behind Tanya. “Sorry, Michelle,” you said with a frown, “you too. I don't think I'll need a team or an assistant for a while.”

“You need to stop and think about this,” Tanya said, her tone placating.

“I already have. Thank you both, sincerely, for everything you've done for me, but it's time to try something new.” And then you grabbed Curtis’s hand and led him back down the hall.

You quietly got your things from the green room and changed your shoes, then brought Curtis outside through a side door, far away from where fans were gathered, expecting you to run into your SUV.

You took a deep breath as soon as you hit the fresh air. “I kind of just want to walk around for a while. That ok?”

“Yeah, whatever you want,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. There were a few hours before the show aired on the East Coast. A few hours, hopefully, before the bomb you’d just set fully exploded. A walk sounded nice.

You headed away from the studio and Curtis was content to follow your lead. You didn't say anything, which was fine. He figured you had a lot to process.

After several minutes, you let out a long, deep breath. “Holy shit. I can't believe I just did that. Holy shit, Curtis, I just quit!”

“How are you feeling?” he asked, carefully, wanting to make sure you weren't wracked with regret.

You took your time answering. Then finally, “So relieved. Just so fucking relieved.”

He stopped you from walking, using his grip on your hand to turn you to face him. “I hope you understand just how incredibly proud of you I am. How brave I think you are.”

“Curtis,” you said quietly, ducking your head, clearly overwhelmed.

“I mean it,” he said as he squeezed your hand and started walking again.

After several more minutes of companionable silence, you slowed down a little. “So, where do you think we should go?”

He shrugged and glanced around the area. “I don’t know. I could eat. Think you can get away with ducking into a burger place?”

You laughed and he stopped short at how nervous you sounded. “No, that’s not– I didn’t mean–” You shook your head and he turned so he was fully facing you. “I don’t know, it’s just– You said a year, remember? Back on my couch, you said I should take a year.” You were avoiding his eyes now, and you sounded so shy.

Your couch. That night, however many months ago. When you’d let him really see behind the mask, and he brushed his fingers against yours for the first time. As he realized what you were trying to ask him, the weight of it, the enormity of what you were offering, all he was able to do was whisper, “I remember.”

“Ok, well, I thought that maybe we could do that. Take a break. Go somewhere maybe, if there was somewhere you wanted to go.”

It took him a minute, as he was flooded with so many things—how much he loved you, how much he wanted to do for you, give to you, how happy he was in this moment—but once he found his voice, he gently grasped your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Wherever you are,” he said, with the most conviction he thought he had ever said anything. He leaned in and kissed you. It was short and more chaste than he wanted, but he was too conscious of how out in the open you were. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. “Absolutely anywhere you are.”

You threw your arms around him and moved your head so your lips were right next to his ear. And then you said, so so softly, so that it was just for him, “I love you. I'm so in love with you.”

A warmth he didn’t think he’d ever felt before filled his whole chest. All he could do was just hold you, right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, murmuring in your ear just how much he loved you, too.

Eventually, you’d start walking again. You’d find a little restaurant to duck into for a bite to eat. He’d make you put your phone on speaker as you told Lloyd and Wilford they were fired. And you’d figure out what came next, where you would go, what the logistics of quitting actually entailed. Then you’d get an Uber home and show each other with your bodies just how much you cared.

But for now, he just wanted to hold you in the middle of the sidewalk.

I love you all. Thank you so much for reading. 💜

Tag List

@stargazingfangirl18 @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @before-we-get-started @veltana @andydrysdalerogers @royalwriteroftheuniverse @whosana-maria @dancer3205 @ijustneedpopcorn @mrsevans90 @pekusofixus @i-can-do-this-all-dayy @jamneuromain @kmc1989 @geminiflanagansblog @stcrrjoon @blogbog710 @blackhawkfanatic @ronearoundblindly @king814318 @zaraomarrogers @steviebbboi @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @brandycranby @missaprilt23 @quebruv @marvelouslyme96 @yenzys-lucky-charm

#curtis everett x reader #curtis everett #curtis everett x you #curtis everett x female reader #bodyguard au #snowpiercer #chris evans fanfiction #fanfic #bodyguard!curtis everett #bodyguard!curtis everett x actress!reader #reader insert #i know i should know better #kris wrote something

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marcelloshdz · 2 months ago

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couples quiz

summary: you and marcello are the featured guests on the upcoming episode of the GQ "couples quiz." requested by anonymous. marcello x female!singer reader. this ended up being quite long, but i hope you enjoy! <3

“and there we go! you look stunning.” your makeup artist said to you.

“thanks to you.” you smiled at them. you were on set with GQ, getting ready to film a video with them. they’d invited you and marcello you partake in one of their “couples quiz” videos, and the two of you jumped at the opportunity.

you were led to the set, taking your seat as you waited for marcello to join you. he smiled at you has he walked over to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek before taking his seat across from you.

“you guys ready?” the producer asked, and you both nodded.

“so ready.” you said with a smile, as some members from the crew handed you your question cards.

they counted down, and began rolling, you and marcello putting on your best faces and beginning the video.

“hey there, i’m y/n l/n,”

“and i’m marcello hernández,”

“and this is the GQ couples quiz.” you said in unison.

“alright, who wants to start?” you asked.

“ladies first.” marcello said with a smile.

“well then, alright.” you settled the question cards in your hands, reading him the first one. “okay, this is a simple one to get us started. what is my favorite nickname for you?” you asked.

“you call me cello a lot. or cellito, if you’re feeling flirtier than normal. but you’re also very heavy on the babe or baby. sometimes honey, which i personally love.”

“hmm, good to know.” you laughed before moving on to the next question. “oh, this is a good one. what was the first song i ever played for you?”

“i don’t want to give too much away, because as far as i know, it’s unreleased, yeah?” he asked, and you nodded.

“it is.”

“but, i can say that you wrote it shortly after we made it official. so, almost four years ago. and, it’s about me.” he said, with a smirk to the camera.

“that is correct. at this point, i’m not sure i wanna release it, and instead just keep it between the two of us.” you said to the camera. you then moved on to the next question. “what is my favorite date we’ve been on?”

“ooh, i know this one real well, because you tell this story all the time to people we meet.” he laughed, and you blushed. “it was when we were first dating, we were both in LA for work, and had coinciding days off. i took you to griffith park, we had a picnic, and we made friendship bracelets for each other with our initials on them. then, after lunch, we drove up mulholland, parked at one of the overlooks, and laid on the hood of our car while we watched the sunset over the city. it was very romantic. that was the night i asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“i never told you this, but i’m sure i was already falling in love with you at that point. it was only like, a month or so after we started hanging out and talking, but i was already locked in.”

“honestly, so was i.” marcello said, echoing your sentiment with a smile.

“next question; what is my favorite sketch of yours?”

“you always tell me you have multiple favorites, and they change like, every month.” he laughed before answering.

“that is true, but i do have one all time favorite. one that i, without question, would top tier marcello sketches. and we’re not talking update features, because i love all of those. just live sketches.” you explained.

“okay, that helps me a bit. i’m gonna go with either fusion scientist, or the age of discovery.” he said.

“it is fusion scientist, but i’m only gonna give you half a point because you hesitated.”

“aw man.” he laughed.

“although, i do also love the age of discovery. there’s something about fusion scientist that just always gets me. i had genuine tears in my eyes the first time i watched it, and am still bitter it was cut for time.” you clarified.

“that one was really fun to perform. it was so ridiculous and goofy, but i loved it.” he explained.

“and thats why i love it too.” you said. “alright, next question. oh, this is a good one; what is my favorite gift you’ve given me?” you finished the question, and watched his eyes flit to your hands, landing on your ring finger on your left hand. he reached out to you, and you placed your hand in his, smiling as he pressed a kiss to the ring.

“this right here.” he said as you held your hand out to the camera for a close up. “i got you that ring on our first anniversary. it’s our birthstones in a heart shaped setting.”

“not only is it my favorite gift you’ve given me, but i think it’s my favorite gift i’ve ever gotten, ever.” you said. you finished out your questions, tallying up marcello’s score. “alright, we are sitting at a nice round 20 points.” you said to the camera.

“well, good for me.” he said with a laugh. “alright, my turn. first up, what sports did i play growing up?” he asked you.

“soccer was your main sport, and you played it throughout high school and college. but you also played baseball, and dabbled in golf, and sometimes fishing?”

“wow. yes to all of those. um, i don’t think i want to play this game anymore.” he laughed.

“hey, we’re only one question in. don’t get too discouraged.”

“next question; who has been my favorite host to work with so far on snl?”

“either pedro or benito.” you answered, and he nodded. “those were really big episodes for you, and i know you had a good time getting to write and work on pretty good sketches during those episodes.”

“those were both really good, and i enjoyed them both a lot. but, if i had to pick, i would pick benito over pedro.”

“oh, tea.” you gasped through a laugh.

“only because of the age of discovery sketch. that sketch being entirely in spanish, and all the love we got on it, it made me really proud. pedro was also part of that episode, so that still counts.” he explained. “what is my favorite food?” he asked.

“anything cuban or dominican. chuletas, tostones, literally anything else. you’re very easy to please.” you answered immediately. “c’mon give me a challenge.”

“yeah i should’ve skipped that one.” he laughed. “next one. oh, here’s a good one. what was i wearing on our first date?”

“you were wearing a dark blue cardigan, over a white t-shirt, with blue jeans, and white sneakers.” you answered. “i had a picture of us from that night as my phone wallpaper for a long time, it’s practically burned into my brain at this point.” you said. “do you remember what i was wearing?” you asked him

“you were wearing a black, like, lacy top, with a white skirt and black platform loafers.”

“actually,”

“what?!” he said loudly, feigning offense.

“no, i’m just kidding. that was right.” you laughed.

“i was about to be so mad.” he laughed. “alright, next one; where was our first kiss?” he asked.

“our first kiss was on the beach in miami. you were home, visiting family and some friends. you asked if i wanted to come see you, and of course, being as down bad as i already was, i immediately jumped on a plane with zero hesitation. we had just finished lunch, and we were hanging out on the beach near where you grew up. we were sitting there in silence, listening to the waves crash on the shore, when we turned to each other, and we kissed. i remember it being really awkward, and us almost missing?”

“i do remember that as well.” he laughed. “but look at us now, so it must not have been too terrible.”

“it was a first kiss, so you kinda expect it to be awkward. but it was good in the long run.” you said, and marcello nodded, smiling at you. before continuing through the next couple of questions.

“alright, i think this is my last one.”

“and, not to brag, but i am only one point behind you.” you said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“well, then this will count for two points.” he said, clearing his throat. “which one of us made the first move?”

“you did.”

“wow, that was fast.”

“you did! we were at an snl after party, after dua lipa’s episode. which, i was invited to by her, by the way.” you said, matter-of-factly. “we were both at the bar, waiting for our drinks, and made small talk. we hung out for a bit, and by the end of the night, you were already asking for my number. barely two days later, you were asking me to go out.”

“and you accepted without hesitation.”

“well, yes, but this isn’t about me.” you teased, and marcello rolled his eyes at you.

“well, that was my last question. our final scores are 21 to 20, y/n only getting extra points because i played multiple sports growing up.”

“and for that, i thank you.” you laughed.

you filmed the outro for the video, saying good bye and thanking the future audience for watching. there was a loud “CUT!” from behind the camera, and the producers and crew were thanking you and marcello for such a fun episode.

“thanks for having us! this was a lot of fun.” marcello said, and you nodded in agreement. the two of you headed out to your car, making your way to a nearby restaurant for lunch. you got your food, and sat down at a table, replaying the events of the afternoon.

“we should do more things like that. i know we pride ourselves on having quite a private relationship, but it was a lot of fun.” marcello said to you.

“it was! but i feel like youre just suggesting that so you can redeem yourself and let the people know that you know me better than i know you.” you said to him.

“no, why would you ever think that?” he asked sarcastically. you just laughed and shook your head. the two of you finished your lunch, enjoying your meal and being with each other. truthfully, marcello knew you better than you knew yourself, and vice versa. and that made you happier than you could ever put into words.

#marcello hernandez #marcello hernandez imagine #marcello hernandez imagines #marcello hernandez x reader #marcello hernandez x f reader #snl #saturday night live

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tbgblr2 · 4 days ago

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A Halloween to remember

This is a story I was asked to write for @tara-b who asked me to write an account of the day her twin sons were born on Halloween 2023. Part detailed by her, part artistic licence I hope you enjoy the story.

Here we are again… 31st October, 2023. Halloween. Once again we’re putting the finishing pieces together for our party, which we have ran for family and friends since we got married 3 years ago.

However there’s a difference right now… I’m pregnant. Really pregnant in fact, due tomorrow and might be having contractions really pregnant. To make matters worse we’re expecting twins… and my belly certainly doesn’t hide the fact.

But I can’t just stop and give up on the party, we’ve confirmed to everyone we were still going ahead and the guests are starting to arrive.

I’m out in the back garden blowing up an inflatable spider…. To be honest a big breath in and a big breath out is really helping the pains I’m feeling. Just have to get through the next few hours, we can wave goodbye to the guests, fill up the birthing tub and relax into it, get the birth I’d dreamed of. Only a few hours.

In through your mouth… hold it a second… and breathe out. It’s not efficient to blow up a balloon, but it certainly helps.

I stand up and groan, one hand supporting my back as I realise I was stooping over. The other holds the spider. It looks like it’s done. Just need to set it down over…. Shit. That was a feeling of a gush. My panties are soaked… it’s running down my leg. My heart races… that must have been my waters. Must have been my waters… oh hell… babies are coming, babies are coming… it’s all so real now.

The spider just gets dropped where I stand and I figure I look like a deer caught in the headlights as my eyes shoot wide. I look around. No one saw me. Good… good. Hopefully we can stick with the plan. Can’t let the party be ruined.

I walked inside to find my husband and our neighbour chatting in the kitchen - they were plating up canapés ready to take in for the rest of the guests. We got on well with our neighbour… he was a nice guy. Both he and his wife had offered to babysit for us when the babies were born.

“You look like you’re ready to pop any minute now” he grinned as he saw me approaching. I don’t think he realises just how true that statement is.

I was dressed as cleopatra with my husband as Mark Anthony. My dress had a cut out for my belly - there was no way the standard costume could fit me in my current state. Our neighbour opened his arms wide to give me a hug - he quite liked giving hugs and if I’m going to be honest, he gives really good ones - and took the opportunity to rub my belly. I know some people may consider that a bit forward, but we’d already discussed this in the past and he actually had a way of making the babies calm down inside of me so I wasn’t going to complain!

“Little angels kicking up a storm today?” He enquired after a few seconds of contact.

“Yeah, something like that…” I didn’t go into too much detail but I was scared that he would feel a contraction. Pretty sure it would feel a lot more different to what a kick felt like from the outside.

My wince gave it away as I visibly saw my stomach tighten. I watched his eyes blink and he pulled his hand away. “Braxton Hicks” I grunted, a little winded. He nodded understanding. He and his wife had 2 children of their own and they had seen all this before - though not 2 at once !

“Look after yourself and don’t work too hard” he said as he grabbed 2 plates and went back to the main room leaving just my husband and I in the kitchen.

We kissed. “You sure you’re ok? You look a little flushed?” He asked. I smiled and gave the best effort I could under the circumstances.

“I’ll be ok” I said “just very pregnant if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh… I’ve noticed all right!” He was grinning as he kissed me, and for that fleeting moment everything was all right in the world. “We finish this party, get rid of the guests and I promise it’s just you and me together until the babies come.”

I grinned “I like that idea, I like it a lot.” I emphasised the belly by pressing my hands into the small of my back and sticking it out with a groan, masking the start of another contraction. Was I imagining it or were they getting faster… no… can’t be.

“Duty calls… let’s go meet our guests” my husband smiled as he grabbed the other plate and walked through leaving me alone.

As I stood in the kitchen, readying myself for the onslaught of people and well wishers, I rubbed my belly. “Just hold out a little longer… mammas got to do some things then you can have your grand entrance. Please little babies… please “

The first few hours were manageable. The constant moving from guest to guest took my mind off my predicament, and I began to wonder if it was just a false alarm after all. I had a few glasses of water and I’d learned during my midwife appointments that hydration levels could affect things later in pregnancy. I was certainly the definition of late pregnancy at this stage.

As the party goers got more and more drunk as the night wore on, the well wishers went from “you look glowing” to “let me touch your belly for good luck” like I was some sort of Buddha statue. I laughed along with it with good grace, but as the night wore on the contractions came back with full force and it took a lot of careful avoiding to make sure no one saw anything too obvious.

My husband was certainly getting into the party spirit. He had promised to have a drink but not have too much just in case we did need to leave the house in an emergency but after the 10th person asked him to “wet the babies head” with them… he started to misbehave as well.

There was a sudden crash as a bowl we had set out got knocked over and smashed. Instinct had me rush toward it to clean up the mess but my husband was quicker and shooed me away. “Can’t have you bending down in your condition. I’ll clean this up, can you go fetch another bowl from upstairs.” We had some spare cutlery and crockery stored in a cupboard out of the way.

It was when I turned around he tapped me on the shoulder causing me to flinch. “Darling… I think you may have had a little accident. You’ve a wet patch on your skirt”. I gasped at the revelation. I was almost certain it was my waters. Perhaps the initial gush wasn’t all of it and I’d continued to leak for hours… or perhaps it had always been there and people either hadn’t noticed or were too polite to say. Either way I went red with embarrassment and said I would get changed when I went for the bowls.

I made my escape without much fuss. Completely forgetting the bowl I scrambled into the en suite bathroom. My hands slipped under my skirt and pulled down my sodden panties which slapped to the floor with the added weight of the liquid they were doused in. I don’t know if my body saw this as a sign, but I suddenly had to push and I almost doubled over with the unexpected sensation.

I went with it, closing my eyes and widening my stance involuntarily by sidestepping, grunting as I strained with effort. I gasped and strained again. Finally the contraction ebbed away and I had to re-assess the situation.

I had left my phone downstairs and shouting down would cause a panic no doubt. I would do this myself and surely my husband will come to check on me soon. I used the time I had to get out of my dress and bra, turning on the shower to full force. I checked the temperature just as the next contraction started and I stumbled in, turning my back to the shower jet and spreading my arms and legs like a starfish to brace me.

Prior to the need to push coming over me, I’d wondered if there would be obvious sensations to tell me to push… all I can say is that given the option between pushing or walking (or basically any other activity that I could possibly do) at that time… I had no choice.

The roaring water encouraged me to let go, I roared with it. I yelled. Part of my brain presumed the whole house would come running at the commotion but there was nothing. Another push - keep going girl, this is all on me now - and I felt weak at the knees with the effort. I had to get down to the ground before I slipped or fell.

My brain was focused on the need to push, and before I realised I was on the floor with the shower water gushing over my head. I can’t actually remember climbing down but logically that’s what must have happened. My feet were flat on the floor but something came to me. Leverage. My legs swung up at my hips and braced against the wall of the shower. It gave me something to push against.

A side effect of the reposition was that the shower water - once blasting me on the back and top of my head, instead washed my belly and between my legs. Good for making sure there was no mess… I’d seen the blood and who knows what else coming out during birth videos I’d watched… but part of me was worried for the baby with the water streaming down my belly and between my legs - right into the path where they babies were going to come from.

I shook my head. Idiot. Babies are born underwater. These babies were going to be born under water. I guess I kind of get a water birth after all.

Logical thought left me again as the contraction ramped up and once more I was left with the entirety of my conscious thought being “PUSH!” I closed my eyes and yelled out with abandon, I could feel the movement of the baby passing through me. I realised I couldn’t see… couldn’t check how well I was doing, couldn’t judge how much of the baby I’d pushed out. I had to rely on the feelings and the power of touch.

My hand groped down between my legs and I was honestly expecting to feel the head there… I mean it was certainly painful enough to warrant the labour being progressed almost to completion… but as my hand groped down I felt closed lips. I slipped my finger between the folds and that’s when I felt it… my first baby. It was certainly an alien feeling compared to years and years of exploration I’d done with my fingers before getting pregnant.

Still… feeling something there certainly had me buoyant. I knew I was doing it. The first baby was coming. I was going to be a mother. The contractions came thick and fast, at least in my opinion, as they seemed to be on top of one another with hardly time to catch my breath before the next hit me… but I was getting rewarded for the effort. I proved once more with my fingers, and as the burning sensation between my legs was testament to… the baby was starting to emerge.

Push, push, push again. Rest whilst I can, push once more. I was lost in it. I lost count after 10 sessions of pushing, my mind was too focused on the thought of getting the baby out than keeping track.

My grunts, roars, and occasional screams still went unanswered by my husband or any of our guests. How long had I been gone for. Was it minutes… was it hours… no don’t think, just PUSH!

I felt the head with my hands as I realised just how wide I’d been stretched when I got the ring of fire. They call it that, it might as well be the crotch supernova. I was crying at this point, though the tears were unidentifiable among the shower water. I wanted to push but I recalled from a video about panting through this stage, trying to avoid a tear by going to fast. I opened my mouth wide and blew out. Hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo… then a gasp as the head reached the tipping point and shot out of me.

When I felt the… what could only be described as a ‘twang’ of my stretched lips springing back to place as the widest part of the head passed through me, I made a sound which I can only describe as a banshee wail. It knocked me senseless, to the point of where I lay sprawled on the ground of the shower panting heavily wondering just what happened.

Then panic set in. I hadn’t thought this through. Someone needed to check the cord was free… and there was no one here. I yelled out my husbands name, and there was no answer. I didn’t know what to do… what if I hurt the baby. I reached forward but couldn’t tell what I was feeling. The only mirror in the room was mounted on the wall and there’s no way I can do the acrobatics needed to get a glimpse between my legs. I felt my heart beating faster and faster when suddenly I felt a gushing release and then the baby was out and on the floor of the shower. Whilst in my panicking state I hadn’t realised the baby had turned and after the contraction forced out the first shoulder the rest came easily.

That’s it. I’d done it. This squalling, wriggling thing between my legs was my baby. My first child. I was a mother. I’d done it. I’d survived.

I rolled and adjusted my body to get onto my knees and that in turn would let me pick up the baby. I was very careful not to step on or damage the umbilical cord. With the baby in my arms I crawled on my hands and knees over to the bathtub where I grabbed onto the side with my free hand and finally managed to get to my feet. Turning off the shower to avoid any more water spraying on the floor I stumble into the bedroom, in a complete daze.

I knew from watching the preparation videos that the placenta would come out soon and as I didn’t have any tools to cut the cord I just flopped down on my side on the bed and admired my baby with him still attached. That child had so many kisses in its first few minutes of life…

Until the contraction brought me back to reality. The realisation that I was having twins and I’d need to do it all over again. I’m not afraid to say that my spine turned to ice in that split second moment of realisation.

I checked the bedside clock. Only 30 minutes had passed since the bowl was smashed. To me it felt like it could have been hours. Hopefully only 30 minutes or maybe even less to go. I was already stretched, I hope the second baby follows the same path as his… I guess big brother.

The next contraction had me feeling like pushing again so I hefted up a leg and pulled it back whilst I was on my side. I’d seen that position on a video, but for whatever reason I just couldn’t get it to feel right. After a few false starts, I decided to go on my hands and knees, straddling the first baby. I don’t mind saying that I was a bit concerned about slipping and squashing the baby, but unless he has his cord detached there was nowhere else really that it would stretch to.

So that was me for the next contraction. Knees and elbows dug into the mattress, my fingers finding a pillow to grab and squeeze and the baby seeming to drift off to sleep underneath me. I suppose the poor dear has had a trying day.

Until of course I was forced to yell out. This startled the baby who in turn screamed at the top of his lungs at having his sleep disturbed. That’s when the bedroom door opened.

My head darted to the side to see my husband partially silhouetted against the door. He yelled out and dashed into the room when he saw what was happening.

“You didn’t tell me!” He yelled.

“I couldn’t… no phone, couldn’t move. Baby… baby coming.” You gasped out as I closed my eyes, scrunched my hands into the pillows and heaved an almighty push.

“What can I do” he asked. The situation certainly catching him off guard.

“Can you…” I couldn’t get my words out between the need to push. I focused on that and left the sentence unfinished. After gathering my breath once the contraction disappeared I quickly managed “cut the cord and get the first baby.”

He nodded and dashed out of the room to get the birth bag we had prepared. I looked down at the wriggling infant below me and couldn’t help but smile at what I’d managed, that perfect little baby that we had made. Soon the need to push was back again though, and I was back to focusing. I didn’t realise my husband had returned to the room brandishing a bad of surgical clamps and some scissors. He stopped dead in his tracks as he got behind me.

“Baby’s… baby’s head. It’s there. Baby’s head.” He was stuttering and stammering at the shock, or perhaps wonder of seeing my lips parting, bringing forth new life. I could only grunt in acknowledgement as the contraction still had me seized it’s its grip.

I could feel the burn starting. I knew the head was filling me and I couldn’t stop it progressing to its inevitable conclusion. I felt him behind me, my eyes clamped shut focusing on both the pain between my legs and the need to make sure I stay supported by my arms in case I collapse on the baby beneath me. There was a tug, another tug, and I sensed, more than heard a snip as the first umbilical cord was snipped.

“Get… the… baby.” I gasped, my hand waving to the child below me. My husband grabbed our son and held him to his chest.

“Can I help with this one?” He seemed eager. I quickly shook my head.

“Get that one somewhere safe he won’t roll off then come back… I’ve… got this” the last 2 words were strained as the need to push overcame me. As my husband stepped to swaddle the first baby and lay him down the head of our second child emerged more and more.

I was sure these were not identical. Sure this one’s head was bigger. Sure I was putting in more effort… but knew deep down that it was just because I was simply exhausted. Still, I knew what needed to be done, and set my mind to it, focusing on nothing else but the sensations of the stretch.

Suddenly cool hands were supporting the burning sensation between my legs. I gasped at the sudden sensation, not expecting it. A finger slipped around the circumference of the head, gently stretching my skin. Another big push. Another… I felt the hands pushing back my lips, and then with a yelp, the second head was free.

I couldn’t do anything else but cry. The tears were streaming down my face, the exhaustion, the overwhelming sensations, they were nearly at an end. I recall the time between the head and the rest of the body coming out earlier, the panic whilst I felt around for the cord. There was no delay this time - my body wanted this baby out. Another long, involuntary groan and the body of our second son slipped into my husbands waiting hands.

I managed to get back onto my haunches as the baby was passed between my legs into my arms. The tears were still streaming down my face as - when I looked up - I realised the same was true of my husband.

He wiped the baby down who burst into his own fit of crying… with the first baby going too. It was a bit of a cacophony in our usually quiet and serene bedroom.

To say the guests were shocked at the new arrivals would be a bit of an understatement.

#birth kink #birth #labor kink #fpreg #pregnancy

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grlsbstshot · 21 days ago

Text

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: A year has passed since Imani and Jameson's painful breakup. Once again, fate draws the two together again...but it's not as joyful reunion as either thought they'd have.

Warnings: smut (18+), toxic relationship, mentions of therapy, out of control drinking, and emotional breakdowns, sex (p in v, creampie, dirty talk) -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 8k

Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes:

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

Anaïs Lucas sat at her writing desk, the faint scent of her signature jasmine lingering in the air. The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of the antique clock on the wall. She flipped through the pile of papers in front of her, gaze landing on the embossed invitations for Jameson’s album release party.

Pride made her smile. Her son had an advantage when he got into the industry, yes. He had her name and his good looks but nobody could ever pretend her baby couldn’t sing or that he didn’t work his ass to keep what he got. After he announced he was pushing back his album last winter, Anaïs watched people doubt him. Come January 2026 – a few short weeks from then – they would know that he was worth the wait.

She picked one up, running her fingers over the gold lettering.

You are cordially invited to the premiere of Midnight & Dawn A celebration of James Lucas’ third album

It was elegant, timeless—everything she’d expect from her son’s team. Yet, as perfect as it seemed, something was missing.

Or rather, someone.

The party was in a matter of days and she knew for a fact that Imani wasn’t on the guest list. It made sense. The two had broken up and hadn’t so much as whispered each other’s name in public. Imani had moved on. Jameson had moved on. The cute little girl she’d seen him out with – but had yet to meet – seemed to be distracting him just enough.

But she knew her son. She knew what he wanted. She tried not to be that kind of mother but she couldn't help herself. He was her only child and she wanted him to be happy. She just wouldn't be mentioning any of this to Toni, Imani's aunt and her closest friend.

Anaïs reached for her phone, dialing a number she knew by heart. “Anderson? It’s Anaïs.” Her voice was warm but commanding, the kind that left little room for argument.

Anderson Allen was the head of public relations at Jameson’s label. He had insisted on signing a deal with a label that didn’t feature his mother but it didn’t mean that she didn’t have connections. “Ms. Lucas! What a surprise. How can I help you?”

“I was getting ready for Jamie’s party,” she began, her tone casual but deliberate. "But I heard that the guest list wasn’t complete. You all work so hard over there. I would hate for an omission to ruin the party."

Anderson hesitated. “Omission?”

“Yes. Imani St. Cirie,” Anaïs said smoothly.

The pause on the other end of the line was longer this time. “I—I wasn’t sure if that would be appropriate, given their history. Jameson hasn’t mentioned—”

Anaïs cut him off with a light laugh. “Oh, Andy, let’s not overthink this. Imani is an important part of Jameson’s life, personally and professionally. Inviting her would be…a gesture of goodwill. Besides, I’m sure she’d appreciate the opportunity to celebrate his success.”

Anderson’s voice was cautious. “I suppose we could add her to the list…”

“Wonderful,” Anaïs said, her smile bright. “I’d like to personally handle delivering her invitation. Consider it my little project.”

“Of course, Ms. Lucas. I’ll have one prepared and sent to your house immediately.”

“You’re a gem, Anderson. Thank you.”

Anaïs ended the call and leaned back in her chair, a satisfied expression on her face. She didn’t need anyone’s permission to do what she believed was right for her baby.

When the invitation arrived later that afternoon, Anaïs carefully wrote Imani’s name on the envelope in her graceful script. She slipped it into a sleek courier envelope and sealed it with a flourish.

“Deliver this directly to Ms. St. Cirie,” she instructed the courier who arrived at her door less than an hour later. “Make sure it’s in her hands before the day is over.”

As the courier left, Anaïs poured herself a celebratory glass of champagne. She wasn’t blind to the complications of Jameson and Imani’s past, but sometimes, fate needed a little help—and Anaïs Lucas was more than happy to provide it.

The studio was alive with energy, even though it was just the two of them. EJ asked for them to run through the albums again. They'd been previewed for the label, accepted, turned in, and there was release party planned for the next night...but still. He wanted to hear the album one more time. Jameson didn't hesitate to go. As the final song climaxed, EJ poured whiskey into two glasses. He slid one across the console to Jameson, who sat slouched in his chair.

“To the masterpiece,” EJ said, raising his glass. “A double-disk album. That’s some legendary-level ambition from my boy.”

Jameson laughed, shaking his head as he reached for the glass. "Very glad I could surprise you all."

EJ snorted. "Hey! I believed in you always. It was touch and go there for a while for everybody else. When you pushed the album back, them niggas started getting nervous. But I knew...my boy was gone get into his bag. I just ain't expect two damn albums at once."

Jameson smirked, tapping his glass against EJ’s before taking a sip. “Here’s hoping they don't flop.”

“Flop?” EJ scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re about to shut the whole industry down. Tomorrow night’s party is gonna be the start of something huge. We need to celebrate. Let’s go grab a drink. Celebrate properly.”

Jameson shook his head, setting the glass down as he finished off the amber liquid. “Un-uh. I’m good, man. I’m tired as fuck. You kept me chained to the recording booth most of the year. I'm going home. Getting in the bed.”

EJ smiled at his friend. “You sure? A little fun won’t kill you.” “Yeah, I’m sure,” Jameson said.

With nothing left to do, EJ finished his drink and threw his hands up. "Alright. I did my best. Aye...I'm proud of you."

Jameson wrinkled his nose, standing from his seat and grabbing his jacket. "Don't get soft on me and shit."

EJ followed his movements, a serious expression on his face. "I'm for real. I was worried about you. Not because of the album. Just because you're my friend. You came out the other side of that shit and I'm proud. I was glad when you stopped drinking every day and started getting fresh air but...therapy? Channeling your shit into music? Camille? You’re looking ahead. I'm happy for you, man."

Even without him saying her name, she lingered between them. Imani was the unspoken, untouched aspect of his life that he still couldn't face. Still, he knew EJ meant well so Jameson smiled. “Thank you. For everything. You been solid while I got myself together. I owe you, E.”

It was a rare moment when the two stopped teasing each other enough to express what they felt. If Genie was his sister, EJ was his brother. He didn’t know who he’d be without either of them. Before he could change his mind, Jameson leaned in and gave EJ a tight hug. It only lasted a second but he could feel the other man hug him back.

“Alright. Enough of that.” EJ muttered, breaking away and shoving Jameson’s shoulder playfully. “Go home. Go be boring. I’m going to kiss my girlfriend until she blushes.”

He still couldn't wrap his head around EJ and Genie. When Genie had shyly told him she was dating EJ, his first reaction had been disbelief. He never felt a vibe between them but over the next few months, EJ had proved he was crazy about Genie. So Jameson stepped back. He didn't kick up a fuss or cause a problem. When he found time to get out of his own head, he was happy for them.

It was an innocent statement but Jameson recoiled, holding his hand over his ears. “Ew. Don’t tell me nothing you and Genie got going on.” He quickly picked up his jacket, shrugging it on while EJ laughed, calling out to him.

“You better lock Camille down so you can learn from us!”

Jameson walked through his front door and immediately noticed something was off. The lights in the dining room were dimmed, candles flickering on the table, and soft jazz played from the speakers. He’d left the house silent and dark before going to meet EJ. Only three people had a key beside him. His mother, who was not going to set a scene. Genie, who never used it. And EJ, who he just left. Jameson rounded the corner of his living room, entering the kitchen. There stood a woman, at his sink, with her back to him. He recognized her immediately. The messy way she piled her dark brown hair on the top of her head gave it away.

Camille.

There was something about the way she carried herself—an effortless elegance like she owned the space around her. As one of the most famous young models in the industry, Camille was a striking woman. She held her head high no matter what, her posture perfect. She moved around his kitchen as if this was her home. It was the same way she had approached him – like he was already hers. He admired it, even if it reminded him of someone else, someone he couldn’t quite shake.

“Camille?” he called, dropping his keys on the counter.

She jumped, whirling around with wide eyes. She was wearing an apron with splashes of water on it over her sleek black dress. “You’re…You’re home early.” There were plates on his table, a romantic dinner for two was the obvious aim and he softened. They were casual. Beyond casual but she always took care of him.

Jameson raised an eyebrow, slipping back into the moment. “Am I not supposed to be here?” He asked her, shrugging out of his jacket as he moved further into the kitchen. “How’d you get in?”

“EJ came to let me in before he met you.” She said softly, her gaze following his movements – lingering on his forearms before she turned back to turn the running water off. “H-He was supposed to keep you out for another hour.”

And then it all made sense. The fact that he’d called him out at all to ‘listen’ to an album they’d been listening to for almost a year. Then to want to go out for drinks afterward? His best friend was trying his hand at matchmaking and Jameson couldn’t blame him. Camille was good to him. He’d be a liar to say she wasn’t.

“Ah,” Jameson said, nodding his head. “So, that’s why he was so insistent on hanging out tonight.” He stepped closer, tossing his jacket onto the counter before leaning against it, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Sorry I ruined the surprise.”

Camille pouted but the second she got a good look at him, she brightened and the annoyance melted away. “I thought we could celebrate your album being finished. Just the two of us. I’m happy for you.”

Jameson smiled, feeling a flicker of warmth in his chest. “Thank you. Thank you for coming. Thank you for caring.” He reached out, tugging her closer using the apron. “What’s for dinner?”

“Caprese salad, seared scallops with risotto, and white chocolate raspberry cheesecake.” “Sounds very impressive.” “It is. I slaved over a stove for you.” “I’m flattered.” “You should be. Not all of my friends get this kind of treatment.” “No?” “Un-uh.” “Damn. I must be really good in bed.”

Camille burst out laughing, slapping her hand against his chest. “You’re aight.”

“That wasn’t a no so I don’t think I was wrong.” Jameson teased her, leaning in to kiss her cheek softly. He released the apron before wrapping his arm around her to untie it. When he brought the strap over her head, he tossed it onto the kitchen island

“Jameson! We have dinner. I already prepared the–” “Put it in the oven. We’ll eat it later.”

He didn’t have to explain any further. She watched him pluck a fork from his kitchen drawer and then she went to do exactly as he told her to do. Jameson waited patiently, taking a seat on a bar stool and pulling the cheesecake toward him. Once she was done and the food was set aside, he patted the stool next to him. “C’mon. Get off your feet.”

In her Chanel dress and high heels, Camille made herself comfortable.

They settled at the kitchen counter, side by side on barstools, sharing bites of the rich dessert. Jameson fed her from his fork, kissed her, and put aside the fact that he felt a twinge of guilt for bringing her into his house. This was good. He was moving forward as EJ said. There was nothing wrong with that.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jameson told her softly, offering her another bite of cheesecake. When she took it, he followed it with a kiss. Light and sweet. She leaned into him, silently asking for more. Instead, Jameson offered her more cheesecake. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”

She glared at him before his confession became clear. Cami gave him a bright smile, her tongue cleaning the whipped cream her mouth left behind on the fork before she spoke. “There is really nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Imani ran her hands over her dress as she looked over her appearance in the mirror. She did a small turn to the left and then the right to see. No flaws. She looked damn good as usual. She sported a new blonde hair color with hints of pink, a brown sheer dress that accented her curves and left little to the imagination, and her wrist and neck were dazzled in diamonds. It was perfect. Undoubtedly, a ten out of ten. Yet, she sighed and turned her body once more like something would change to make it even better.

“Girl, if you don’t get out that mirror and go to that party, I’m a drag you there myself.” Her hairstylist said. Imani chuckled. “You look good. Now go get your man.”

She waved the woman off. “It ain’t even like that!” She hadn’t seen Jameson since their break-up last year. She only knew him through TV screens, magazines, and as a voice blaring through the club speakers. He was no longer the man that held her at night, told her she was beautiful or showered her with kisses. For the first time since they met, he was James Lucas. And she hated it.

Imani said her goodbyes to her glam team as she sauntered to her door and then to the SUV. She slipped inside then the driver shut the door behind her. She pulled the ring on her ring finger on and off then on and off all over again.

It was the ring that Jameson gifted to her for Christmas last year. She pulled it out of her jewelry box when she was anxious, only wearing it at home to avoid speculation from the media and her fans. It was her stress reliever that no one knew about. But tonight, it served a different purpose.

She wanted Jameson back. Bad. And Imani believed wearing his ring to his album release party would show him that she hadn’t forgotten about him. How could she? He was all she ever thought about. She thought she did the right thing when she ended things with him. They were just going to end in heartbreak like they always did. Imani thought breaking the cycle would solve everything. Yes, she was heartbroken when it happened but she always believed she would get over it and feel better. But she didn’t. She never felt more alone.

For the first three months after their breakup, she distracted herself with work. She dove head first into Diary’s promotional rollout. Anything her label or management wanted her to do, she did it to avoid being with her deafening thoughts of regret and being alone. But her promo tour only lasted for so long. Then she tried partying. She tried drinking. She tried being with other people, but they never lasted long. All she did was compare them to Jameson.

Despite all her efforts, nothing and no one could fill the void in her heart left by Jameson. His memory lingered in every corner of her mind. She wrestled with herself over the thought of reaching out to him, hesitant and afraid of what she might find. What if he had moved on? What if he wanted nothing to do with her anymore? She knew little about his current life, only catching glimpses through a few tabloids. According to them, he now resided in the bustling city of New York and was dating a woman named Camille, but they didn’t seem serious at all. Maybe she still had a chance.

When she received a mysterious invite to his album release party, it felt like fate. A sign that she needed to make a move and get him back. She couldn’t let fear hold her back this time. So she booked a flight to New York with her trusted glam squad to help her and now her plan was underway.

She was still fidgeting with her ring once they reached the club. The blinding lights of the paparazzi never phased her. She didn’t mind the attention. But tonight, their presence only added to the growing uneasiness and heat rising in her skin. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself not to let them distract her from her goal — winning Jameson back.

With a sigh, she stepped out of the SUV and was immediately swarmed by a frenzy of flashing cameras and shouting reporters. The familiar chaos only felt like an obstacle in her path.

“Imani, you look stunning! Love the new hair.” “Are you here to see James?” “How do you feel about him and Camille? Do you know that they showed up here together?”

The last question nearly stopped her in her tracks. Her heart fell back into the abyss of despair that hope once saved it from. Jameson and Camille? She thought they weren’t serious, so why the fuck was she at the party with him? Fuck! Imani should have stayed home. Too many eyes were on her to turn back now. Instead, she simply smiled at the question and entered the club.

After she was inside, she made a beeline for the bathroom, ignoring all of the eyes and whispers. Imani needed to take his ring off before anyone noticed. She walked inside, thankful that no one was in there. Then she closed and locked the door so no one could see her lose it.

She felt like such a fool. There was a war raging inside of her. Of course, he moved on. It had been a year. Did she expect him to wait forever? But the other side screamed, how dare he move on? He told her they were soulmates. He said he would never give up on them. Was it all a lie? “Just twenty minutes.” She mumbled to herself. “I can do twenty then I’ll leave and go home.”

Imani exhaled deeply. She pulled the ring off of her finger and shoved it into her clutch. She unlocked the bathroom door, opening it, only to be met with Genie.

She stared at her like a prey making eye contact with its predator. Her mind had been so clouded with thoughts of Jameson that she didn’t even think about their storm of friendship. She hadn’t seen Genie since last year. She ignored her texts and phone calls like her best friend was a scorned lover. One day, Imani was going to explain, she just didn’t imagine that day to be today.

The two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Imani finally parted her lips to speak. “Genie, I-” She couldn’t even get her sentence out before the woman moved past her and into the bathroom. Imani sighed, deciding that tonight wasn’t the best time to discuss their broken friendship. She walked back into the club and looked for Toni, the only one she talked to during the whole year. Her energy turned into a dark cloud and she needed someone to brighten it if she was going to make it to twenty minutes.

He heard the whispers before he saw her. Imani had shown up.

And finally, he saw her.

For the first time in a fucking year, he laid eyes on her. Not a picture. Not an interview or a photoshoot. He saw her.

Relief hit him so hard that he exhaled sharply. She was okay. After Christmas last year, she had essentially disappeared from his life. He didn’t call, he didn’t text, he had even chosen to unfollow her on Instagram but Jameson quickly found out that he wasn’t the only one left behind. Genie had lost Imani as well.

The two didn’t talk anymore. He had nothing to go by that she was okay. The blogs reported every lover and every move she made…but none had been able to tell him if she was genuinely doing okay. He could see for himself – in the flesh – that she was doing damn good.

She was standing alone in the quickly filling club, framed by the soft glow of lights. He could see her observing the crowd, looking for someone. Was it him? When their eyes met, she seemed frozen. Her eyes went wide and he knew immediately she wasn’t looking for him.

He felt a hand against his stomach and immediately broke eye contact with her. Camille was gazing up at him, a question in her eyes. Jameson had to steady himself before he smiled at her. “I’ll be back.” He heard himself tell her but knew that he shouldn’t leave. He did it anyway, walking across the room as every thought in the world passed through his mind.

The relief that he felt ended, replaced by anxiety. Why did she come? Was she trying to support him? Was she curious about the music? Did she want to rub it in his face that he had lost her? Did she want him to see how fucking good she looked? All of the questions he asked himself set him on edge but he didn’t stop moving in her direction.

His eyes ran from her blonde hair down to her tan dress. And a wave of lust hit him.

The fabric clung to her body. It was barely there. He could see her body, sculpted abs and thick thighs. Perfectly measured underwear that hid…Well, he knew what it hid. He was so intimately acquainted with her body that he could find her in the damn dark. He couldn’t think like this. Jameson shook his head to clear the thoughts but flashes of memories raced through his mind. Late nights with him sinking his teeth into her thighs as they trembled, the way her abdomen contracted when she was coming around his fingers. The way she called out for him, the word ‘Daddy’ fell from her lips. All of it came rushing back to him with stunning clarity. Shit! No. No!

He wasn’t doing this. Camille was watching him. He had to get right. So many fucking therapy sessions and he was backsliding into chaos already.

By the time he got to her, he had control of himself again. “Hi.” He said softly.

He watched as she slowly turned to look at him. There was no ignoring one another. Not right then. Her lips curved into a smile but he knew right then that something was wrong. It didn’t meet her eyes. She didn’t light up the way she usually did when she was happy.

“Hi, Jameson.” “Thank you for coming. It’s nice to see you.” “I…It’s nice to see you too.”

A lull of silence hit them and awkwardness set in. Before, they could talk about anything and everything but now? He didn’t know what to say.

EJ found Camille standing near the edge of the room, sipping a glass of champagne with practiced ease. She looked every bit the supermodel she was, tall and poised, her sleek black gown clinging to her statuesque frame. But her eyes—dark, searching—betrayed her. She was watching Jameson, observing the way his gaze seemed to drift toward Imani no matter where she stood. Even when he excused himself from her side and greeted other partygoers, everybody in the room knew where he was going.

EJ stepped up beside her, his presence casual but deliberate. “You’re handling this well,” he said, his tone low enough to keep their conversation private from prying ears.

Camille turned her head slightly, offering him a polite smile. “Handling what?”

He gave her a knowing look, one that made her sigh and take another sip of her drink. She broke the pretense that nothing was happening. “You’re not blind, Camille. You see the way he looks at her. And the way she avoids looking at him. There’s history there—deep, messy history. You’ve got to know that.”

Camille’s expression didn’t waver, but she set her glass down on the nearby table, folding her hands neatly in front of her. “I know,” she said simply.

EJ raised an eyebrow. “And you good with that?”

She shrugged, the movement graceful but dismissive. “What am I supposed to do? Pretend it doesn’t exist? Jameson’s been honest with me about Imani. I know what she means to him.”

EJ leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. “What she means to him and what she still means to him might not be the same thing. I’m not saying this to scare you off, but if you’re serious about Jameson, you need to be ready to fight for him. Because that connection they have? It’s not something that just disappears.”

Camille tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “Do you think I’m not serious about him?”

EJ hesitated, then shook his head. “I think you care about him. I think you’re good for him, too. But I also think Jameson’s still figuring out what he wants. And if you’re not careful, you might end up hurt. She’s got this... gravitational pull on him, sure. But it’s not healthy. You’ve seen how far he’s come this past year. That’s because of you, Camille. Not her.”

Camille’s lips curved into a small, wry smile. “I appreciate the concern, EJ. Really, I do. But I’m not here to fight anyone for Jameson. If he wants to be with me, he knows where I am. And if he doesn’t?” She spread her hands, her tone light but firm. “Then I’ll let him go. I’m not the kind of woman who clings to someone who doesn’t want to stay.”

EJ studied her, a flicker of respect crossing his face. “You’re a lot calmer about this than I expected.”

Camille chuckled softly, her gaze drifting back toward Jameson, who had finally approached Imani. “I’ve spent my entire career competing—for jobs, for recognition, for respect. But love? That’s not something you should have to fight for. Either it’s there, or it’s not. And if Jameson’s heart is still with Imani, then there’s no point in pretending otherwise.”

EJ nodded slowly, impressed by her composure. “Fair enough. Just... be careful. He’s a good guy, but if things get messy—”

“They won’t,” Camille interrupted gently. “Because I won’t let them. I care about Jameson, but I care about myself too. If he can’t give me what I deserve, I’ll walk away. Simple as that.”

EJ exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Camille smiled again, this time with a touch of warmth. “Thanks, EJ. But don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, no matter what happens.”

EJ glanced back toward Jameson, then back at Camille. He nodded, a silent acknowledgment of their conversation, and stepped away, leaving her to watch Jameson from afar, her expression unreadable.

“You look good.” He said softly, immediately regretting the words. “I mean, I like your dress.” Nope, that was fucked up too.

“Thanks,” Imani looked at his outfit. It was already difficult for her to face him, but did he have to look handsome too? This may have been the second hardest thing she’s ever done. “You look uh—you look nice too.”

He peered down at his fit. All black, Gucci. Jameson lifted his hand, pressing it to his sleeve as if he just realized he was wearing clothes worth five grand. “Thank you. It’s just…something thrown together. I’m glad you came. Really.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I did too. Congrats on the album, Jameson. I’m—“ she paused, searching for the right words to say. “really happy for you.”

“Really?” He tilted his head, peering down at her. “Then why do you look upset?”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.” Imani answered quickly. She wasn’t fine at all. She made the wrong decision to come to this party and now, she had to face a best friend who probably hated her and an ex she was still in love with. She was mentally kicking herself. But he didn’t need to know that.

He knew it wasn’t true but he couldn’t exactly call her on it. That wasn’t his place anymore. “Mhm.” He said softly, giving a nod. “I…I really do hope you’re okay, Imani. Things ended between us but I want you to be happy. Always.”

“I..I want you to be happy too,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m glad to see that you are. I really am.”

“Thank you. It…it took a while to get back to being happy.” The conversation between them was so fucking stiff and he hated it. He watched her fold her arms against her chest, knowing there was a wall between them. They talked to each other like strangers. Once upon a time, he could tell her anything. They could say everything to one another – except the shit that really mattered. And now they couldn’t say anything at all. “Finishing the album helped. Wouldn’t have been able to do that without a lot of people. You included.”

She nodded. “Well, I’m glad I could help. I can’t wait to hear it.” Imani smiled. “Uh, I’m going to go look for Toni now. I’ll see you around?”

He opened his mouth to say something – anything – but instead, he felt a hand against his arm. Jameson turned to look down at her, surprised by her presence. “There you are.” She said softly.

Imani looked between the couple, still with a smile that he couldn’t tell if it was fake or not. “Hi, I’m Imani.” She reached her hand out. Her eyes glanced down at his wrist. She looked back at Jameson with narrowed eyes. The watch on his wrist looked like the one she had sent him a year. Why the fuck was he wearing that? While he was with another woman?

His head turned so quickly that he almost sprained his damn neck. He watched as Imani introduced herself to Camille, in such a friendly way that he was almost offended. Damn. She could at least pretend to be jealous. Camille gave her a smile in return and reached out to grasp Imani’s hand and Jameson inhaled sharply. He did not see this coming and he wasn't sure if he liked it.

“Nice to meet you.” She said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Imani let go of Camille’s hand. “Nice to meet you as well. You’re very pretty.” She looked back at Jameson. Then at Camille. “Well, I’m going to leave you guys to it. Have a good night.” She said, turning around and walking away quickly before she could hear another word from either of them.

It took a minute for Genie to pull herself together. When she passed Imani, it had broken her heart not to say anything but she couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe any of this shit. When Jameson and Imani broke up, her heart broke for them both. She didn’t know the details but knew it was bad. Jamie was drinking heavily and Imani was out of contact. But she kept trying. She would start by sending a message every week. Then it became every single day. She wanted to be there for Imani. She begged her to reach out if she needed anything…and she never did.

It was like she lost her best friend. At first, Genie grieved. Every time something wonderful happened with EJ, she wanted to pick up the phone and call Imani…but she knew she wouldn’t answer. Then the grief turned into anger. She resented being so easy to forget.

“I shouldn’t have come,” she finally said, her voice shaky as she approached EJ. She could see his jovial attitude shift when he saw the look on her face. “I don’t know what I thought I’d feel seeing her again, but this wasn’t it.” She hadn’t even known Imani would be there but she knew that maybe there would be a good chance. Still, seeing her again had been a shock to the system.

EJ ushered her from the main floor, getting her comfortable in an isolated corner as he watched her with a steady, concerned gaze. “You wanted to see your best friend. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“She’s not my best friend anymore,” Genie snapped, then immediately winced at her attitude. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap at you. I just…” She blinked back tears, pressed her hands against her temples. “I mean... she was. For so long. But now? I can barely look at her. She completely shut me out.”

EJ leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’s probably not anything you did, baby. Maybe Imani needed space. It had to hurt ending things with Jay.”

Genie looked up at him, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. “Of course she’s hurting. I know that. I just... I’ve tried, EJ. I’ve called, texted, even sent emails. Nothing. And now, after all this time, she shows up here, at Jameson’s party of all places, looking like she’s completely fine. Like she doesn’t even care that I miss her.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and she quickly turned away, pretending to adjust the strap of her dress. EJ sighed and crossed the room to her, his movements slow and deliberate, giving her space but offering his presence.

“She does care,” he said softly, though there was a flicker of something sharper in his tone. “You don’t just forget someone like you, Genie. Maybe she’s just... not ready to face everything yet.”

Genie let out a bitter laugh, swiping at her cheek. “It’s been a year. How much longer do I have to wait? How much longer do I have to pretend it doesn’t hurt that she’s just... gone?”

EJ placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding her. “You don’t have to pretend with me. You’re allowed to feel this. It’s okay to be angry, to be sad, to miss her. Just don’t let it eat you up inside.”

Genie turned to him, the tears finally spilling over. “I don’t know how to let it go. She was my person, EJ. And now, it’s like I don’t even exist to her.”

EJ’s jaw tightened as he pulled her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her tightly. He couldn’t help the frustration bubbling in his chest—not just for what Imani’s absence had done to Genie but for the pain she had caused Jameson too. He didn’t say it aloud, but part of him felt like Imani had been selfish, leaving behind the people who had loved her most.

“You exist,” he murmured against her hair, pushing aside his bitterness for Genie’s sake. “And you’re not alone. I’ve got you.”

For a moment, Genie let herself believe him. In the quiet of EJ’s arms, she let herself grieve, not just for the friendship she had lost but for the part of herself that felt like it had been left behind with Imani.

EJ held her tighter, his mind drifting back to Imani’s face at the party. He’d keep his thoughts to himself, but if she ever wanted back into their lives, she’d have to prove she deserved it.

Imani’s patience was wearing thin, and she couldn’t last another minute in this crowded club. What the hell was she thinking, flying thousands of miles to see a man she hadn’t spoken to in a year? She shoved her way through the throngs of people, not bothering to find her aunt in the chaos. All she wanted was to escape, to retreat to her hotel room and try to make sense of everything.

As she burst through the club doors and into the cool night air, Imani finally exhaled the breath she had been holding since running into Genie. But it didn’t bring any relief. Everything felt like shit and it was all her fault. The weight of loneliness settled on her shoulders like a familiar burden, one that always found its way back to her despite her best efforts to keep it at bay. But this time it hit harder than ever before and threatened to swallow her whole.

Before she could fully immerse herself in the depths of her sadness, a familiar voice jolted Imani out of her thoughts. “Mani? Leaving so soon?” It was Jameson, accompanied by Camille, their arms entwined as they walked towards her. Imani’s heart dropped at the sight, knowing that she was once in Camille’s place. A pang of envy and longing washed over her, but she quickly masked it with a forced smile. “Oh, I’m not feeling well, so I’m a head out,” she lied, trying to sound nonchalant. Jameson’s eyes narrowed slightly as if he could sense something was off. But then Camille leaned in closer and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, distracting him. “I know y’all ain’t out here to bring me back.”

Camille’s laughter tinkled through the air, her eyes sparkled as she glanced at Jameson. “No, we decided to leave early.” she said with a grin playing on her lips. Imani squinted at Jameson, studying his facial features intently. There was something off about him. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Why are you leaving your album release party so soon? Is everything alright?” Imani’s voice was gentle but curious, her gaze searching Jameson’s face for any clues. “I’m just tired,” he answered, but there was a slight quiver in his voice that betrayed his words. Imani could see the lie in his eyes, but she knew better than to press the issue. That was Camille’s job now.

“Jameson and I are going to go get some rest,” Camille said softly, doting on a 6’3 grown ass man like he was a baby. She wanted to hate it...but she knew she'd done the same when they were together. Imani’s eyes flicked back to Camille as she pat his chest and gazed at him. She tried to think of something to say next to the couple, but she was too focused on the way she said his name. It replayed over and over again in her mind. Her stomach was in knots at the sound of it.

She was reminded of all of the times she used to call him that. Then she looked back at Camille. She was still looking at Jameson with the same look Imani used to have. Imani hated how he could invoke that look in another woman. She was the only one who should get to experience the look of love, lust, and admiration. She hated him for it.

Where the fuck was her driver? She pulled her phone out of her clutch, opening it with her Face ID. She tapped over onto her call log, realizing that she never fucking called him. Imani was in such a rush to get away from the couple in the club that she forgot to do it. And yet, she still ended up face-to-face with them again. Fate wanted to torture her tonight.

Imani quickly tapped the contact name and asked the driver to come get her. Luckily, he was just around the corner. There was silence between the three of them. Everything she planned on saying to him before her arrival was thrown out of the window when she first arrived. It all had fallen to shit. Now, her imagination filled those spaces of broken words. All she could see was Camille and Jameson, full of lust, in his house together doing what she would have done to him after his album release party.

Thankfully for her, Imani’s driver finally pulled up and disrupted her thoughts. He got out and opened the door for her. She walked over to the SUV, stepping inside of the car. “I’ll see you guys later…” She said, looking over her shoulder. She hoped her words never came to fruition.

“Be safe and have a good night,” Jameson said lowly, watching her leave. She nodded, sitting down in the passenger seat of the vehicle. The driver closed the door. Once he pulled away from the curve, she pulled out the ring again. She toyed with it in her hands. Imani went into this party, hoping that the ring would spark a new meaning. She had no idea that meaning would be that it was her only connection to Jameson.

"You too quiet." Jameson muttered, pulling his hand from Camille's mouth. She gasped for breath when he did, immediately moaning out his name. "That's much better."

"Yes, baby. Right there. So good."

She was breathless as she clung to him. They were in the middle of his bed, she was on his lap -- long limbs wrapped around his neck and hips as she ground her hips against his.

Jameson groaned, feeling Camille's tightness stretch around him. Her enthusiasm was always a turn on and he let out a long, slow moan as he thrust deeper. Each powerful stroke, sending vibrations through her body that made her whimper in delight. Every time she moved on top of him, her breasts bounced enticingly against his chest, sending shivers down his spine.

"Ooh! D-Don't stop. Jamie! Just like that..."

The scent of sweat and sex filled the air as they moved together in perfect harmony. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, mingling with their heavy breathing and tender moans. Camille's nails raked down his neck and back, leaving small trails of pleasure and pain that only fueled his desire further. He gripped her hips tightly, holding her close as they lost themselves in each other's touches.

He lifted his head to capture her mouth, tongue brushing against her own as he plunged deeper into her mouth -- imitating their movements. Their tongues danced together sensually while their bodies moved in rhythm on the bed beneath them. As he felt himself nearing climax, Jameson pulled back from the kiss to look into Camille's eyes - filled with lust and desire - before letting out a long growl.

"You like that, baby?" She asked him softly and Jameson nodded, words escaping him as his grip tightened on her hips. They'd been sleeping together long enough that she knew what it meant. She pushed her hands against his shoulders, legs unwinding from around him as he went crash back onto the bed. "Go ahead. Give it to me, Jamie." she whimpered.

Camille's nails dug into Jameson's skin as she rode him, leaving small crescents that stung but only made him harder. He groaned deeply, his hands finding purchase in the sheets as he arched his hips and thrust into her. He felt every curve of her body against him, every undulation sending shockwaves through his dick.

"That's what you want?" He asked her through gritted teeth. "Yes!" She responded, nodding her head. "I deserve it. I'm your good girl."

He couldn't take it much more. His head fell back onto the bed, eyes closed, but his hands knew where to go. He lifted them from the sheets, grasping her hip with the left and relentlessly rubbing at her clit with his right thumb. Camille's legs tightened against his outer thighs as she crumbled forward and came on top of him with a shout.

With a final thrust, Jameson cried out as he came inside her, their bodies trembling together in unison. As they came down from their high, Camille cuddled against Jameson's chest, their hearts beating in sync. She nibbled on his earlobe softly before pulling away slowly with a satisfied smile on her lips.

He sat in the dark in his living room, the only light coming from the faint glow of the city through the curtains. The house was silent, save for the occasional creak of the old floorboards settling. Jameson fiddled with the watch on his wrist, loosening the band and twisting it around, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it off.

Camille had gone to sleep hours ago, slipping into sleep with the ease of someone unburdened. For a couple of hours, he managed to forget…everything.

But when it was over, and Camille’s breathing had evened out beside him, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The weight of his thoughts returned with a vengeance, and they all centered on one person.

Imani.

The way she had looked at the party—poised but distant, like she was shielding herself from the room, from him—was burned into his memory. He couldn’t stop replaying the moment she left, her face unreadable as she slipped into the car. He had been overwhelmed by her presence, thrown off balance by the sight of her after so long.

When she had walked away, leaving him and Camille standing there, all he could do was grab a passing glass of champagne. Then another. He had swallowed down two before he realized what he was doing—regressing, using alcohol to dull the sharp edge of his emotions.

He had told Camille he wanted to leave. She didn’t hesitate, her concern for him evident as she agreed. But as they made their way out, they ran into Imani on the street.

The moment replayed in his mind like a loop he couldn’t escape. The brief, stilted conversation. The way she looked at him like she was holding back a storm of emotions. And then she was gone, slipping away into the night.

Her face was trapped in his mind now, every detail vivid and unrelenting. The way her lips pressed together as if holding back words. The flicker of something—pain? anger?—in her eyes. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

All he wanted to do was fix it.

But that wasn’t his job anymore.

He brushed a hand over his head, exhaling sharply as he tried to shake off the thoughts. The urge to call her was overwhelming, a near-physical pull, but he knew it would be a mistake. One glimpse, one rushed conversation, and he was right back where he’d been months ago—thinking of her, wanting her, needing to know if she was okay.

He needed to get a damn grip.

Jameson sat up, running his hands over his face. The watch shifted on his wrist, its weight a constant reminder of the past he couldn’t quite let go of. The room felt too quiet, too still, and his thoughts too loud.

He stood, padding softly out of the living room and into the kitchen, boxers slung low on his hips. He poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, staring out at the city lights.

He had made progress this year, clawing his way out of the darkness that had consumed him after their breakup. He had rebuilt his life piece by piece, and Camille had been a steady presence through it all. But tonight had unraveled something in him, and he hated that it was Imani who had the power to do that.

He sighed, setting the glass down. He couldn’t keep letting her haunt him like this. He wouldn’t.

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