#one piece of furniture at a time lol

[jtl07]

little one has taken to calling me at bedtime to say goodnight. i may die of the cute and the love.

[cornley-amateur-drama-society]

Chris, Sandra, Robert, and Vanessa as YouTubers

(because the idea was living in my neurons and firing them constantly)

Chris is so one of those guys who acts out his favourite scenes from plays and movies and TV shows.

But, more importantly,

He is watching stage performances and ripping into them with a zest that scares new viewers.

(There is a drinking game floating around with older viewers based on what Chris says or does, such as pinching the bridge of his nose at least three times in the span of two minutes or if he starts a sentence off like, “Hm, right, well then.”)

He's talking about Shakespeare, he's talking about Wilde, he's looking at off-Broadway and off-West End up-and-coming shows

He's looking at what's promising (u&c shows), what's timeless (older, well-known shows), and what he appreciates about them or what he thinks is outdated or sucked in execution (all).

Once a month, he'll perform a scene from a play he wrote himself.

There are several plays he's penned from which he chooses each month, performing scenes that are disjointed, so his ideas cannot be potentially stolen.

He does have a Patreon, the patrons dubbed “The Screen Beans.”

One of the things he does every other week is a live Q&A while he does mundane things like cleaning his office or making a meal or holds yarn for someone off-screen.

There are fancams in the #ScreenBeans tags across social media of his lives due to Chris' much more laid-back personality.

(Laid-back is a relative term here. He is still very conscious of what he says and does, however he wears his glasses or forgets to shave a few days before the lives or is wearing cosy-looking handmade jumpers.)

His Instagram account is active, and he posts at least thrice a week. Each post is something specific for the day, like #HoratioMondays, #WednesdayViewings, and #SaturdayShots.

Horatio is a beloved feature of his channel. A nearly completely black cat with white spots on the end of his tail, over one eye, and on one paw, the little guy is missing half of one of his ears. He has brilliant green eyes, though, that look like emeralds when the light hits him right.

Chris had, in his late-teens one night walking to his flat, stumbled across Horatio as a small, weak, and thin kitten. He instantly picked him up and took him back to his flat. Though there were two other roommates there, Chris was positive that they would be fine with it.

(This was in part due to having seen Kevin's family cat in the family pictures around the flat, and also knowing the Patels since he and Kev were in Primary. Their other roommate was a friend of a friend named Max Bennett, and he was surprisingly easy-going and adored animals.)

Horatio Mondays are of the now almost twelve-year-old cat going about his life.

Sometimes they're videos of him staring at a bug on the window or of him dropping one of his toys into his mini water fountain and then releasing the most pitiful and cooked yowl for Chris to rescue it.

Other times they're pictures of him curled up on the little bed Chris has for him in his office, slightly messy selfies of the two of them together, or pictures of Horatio dressed up for whatever holiday or event is approaching.

Wednesday Viewings are sneak peaks into what his video on Friday will be about. Sometimes it's a shot of the title card of the movie or TV show. Others it's an artfully done picture of a book of a play open with several pens and sticky notes scattered in and around it.

Saturday Shots are just pictures of anything particularly interesting Chris did during the week, or pictures and videos taken during a stroll in the park near his flat, or pictures with his friends at cafés or theatres.

Many people are surprised by who Chris is friends with, not expecting to see the Sandra Wilkinson, the Robert Grove, and the Vanessa Wilcock-Wynn-Carroway with him.

Well, okay, Sandra and Robert make sense given that both of them are well-known acting vloggers, too. But it always throws new viewers off to find out that Chris and Vanessa are engaged.

The two of them are very good at keeping their accounts separate and compartmentalized.

Once they announce their engagement on both of their channels, however, the divide they had slowly erodes away and Vanessa can be seen occasionally in his lives, sometimes even joining in for a few minutes. She also starts to feature more heavily on his Instagram page, along with her cat Othello.

(Screen Beans are shook to find out that Chris had been hiding an entire whole ass cat from them for years. Especially one as fluffy as Othello. When asked about it in a live Q&A that he did on Instagram after his engagement announcement video went up, he chalked the lack of Othello up to the fact that he can close his office door while he films. And that Othello likes to sleep most of the time on his and Vanessa's bed or hang out with her while she works on a new pattern or design or challenge.)

Chris posts his videos every Friday, and they range between three minutes long to over an hour and a half if he's dissecting a film/TV show/play.

[sysig]

Feeling and looking good 🌈 (Patreon)

[foxlightnights]

NEW FLOORS

[acourtofquestions]

KINGDOM OF ASH (by SJM)

Chapter 48

THE FAMILY REUINION🥹😆😭🫶& MY SOULLL

But when they reached Princess Hasar's battle tent, when they had all gathered around a map of Anielle, they had only a few minutes of discussion before they were interrupted. By the person Chaol least expected to walk through the flaps.

A moment later, Chaol was glad he was sitting down.

Nesryn breathed, "Holy gods."

Chaol was inclined to agree as Aelin Galathynius, Rowan Whitethorn, and several others entered the tent.

They were mud-splattered, the Queen of Terrasen's braided hair far longer than Chaol had last seen. And her eyes ... Not the soft, yet fiery gaze. But something older. Wearier.

Chaol shot to his feet. "I thought you were in Terrasen," he blurted. All the reports had confirmed it. Yet here she stood, no army in sight.

Three Fae males-towering warriors as broad and muscled as Rowan—had entered, along with a delicate, dark-haired human woman.

But Aelin was only staring at him. Staring and staring at him.

No one spoke as tears began sliding down her face. Not at his being here, Chaol realized as he took up his cane and limped toward Aelin.

But at him. Standing. Walking.

The young queen let out a broken laugh of joy and flung her arms around his neck. Pain lanced down his spine at the impact, but Chaol held her right back, every question fading from his tongue.

Aelin was shaking as she pulled away. "I knew you would," she breathed, gazing down his body, to his feet, then up again. "I knew you'd do it."

"Not alone," he said thickly. Chaol swallowed, releasing Aelin to extend an arm behind him. To the woman he knew stood there, a hand over the locket at her neck.

Perhaps Aelin would not remember, perhaps their encounter years ago had meant nothing to her at all, but Chaol drew Yrene forward. "Aelin, allow me to introduce"

"Yrene Towers," the queen breathed as his wife stepped to his side.

The two women stared at each other.

Yrene's mouth quivered as she opened the silver locket and pulled out a piece of paper. Hands trembling, she extended it to the queen. Aelin's own hands shook as she accepted the scrap.

"Thank you," Yrene whispered.

Chaol supposed it was all that really needed to be said.

Aelin unfolded the paper, reading the note she'd written, seeing the lines from the hundreds of foldings and rereadings these past few years.

"I went to the Torre," Yrene said, her voice cracking. "I took the money you gave me, and went to the Torre. And I became the heir apparent to the Healer on High. And now I have come back, to do what I can. I taught every healer I could the lessons you showed me that night, about self-defense. I didn't waste it-not a coin you gave me, or a moment of the time, the life you bought me." Tears were rolling and rolling down Yrene's face. "I didn't waste any of it."

Aelin closed her eyes, smiling through her own tears, and when she opened them, she took Yrene's shaking hands. "Now it is my turn to thank you." But Aelin's gaze fell upon the wedding band on Yrene's finger, and when she glanced to Chaol, he grinned.

"No longer Yrene Towers," Chaol said softly, "but Yrene Westfall."

Aelin let out one of those choked, joyous laughs, and Rowan stepped up to her side.

Yrene's head tilted back to take in the warrior's full height, her eyes widening-not only at Rowan's size, but at the pointed ears, the slightly elongated canines and tattoo. Aelin said, "Then let me introduce you, Lady Westfall, to my own husband, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius."

For that was indeed a wedding band on the queen's finger, the emerald mud-splattered but bright. On Rowan's own hand, a gold-and-ruby ring gleamed.

"My mate," Aelin added, fluttering her lashes at the Fae male. Rowan rolled his eyes, yet couldn't entirely contain his smile as he inclined his head to Yrene.

Yrene bowed, but Aelin snorted. "None of that, please. It'll go right to his immortal head." Her grin softened as Yrene blushed, and Aelin held up the scrap of paper. "May I keep this?" She eyed Yrene's locket. "Or does it go in there?"

Yrene folded the queen's fingers around the paper. "It is yours, as it always was. A piece of your bravery that helped me find my own."

Aelin shook her head, as if to dismiss the claim.

But Yrene squeezed Aelin's closed hand. "It gave me courage, the words you wrote. Every mile I traveled, every long hour I studied and worked, it gave me courage. I thank you for that, too."

Aelin swallowed hard, and Chaol took that as excuse enough to sit again, his back giving a grateful tinge. He said to the queen, "There is another person responsible for this army being here." He gestured to Nesryn, the woman already smiling at the queen. "The rukhin you see, the army gathered, is as much because of Nesryn as it is because of me."

A spark lit Aelin's eyes, and both women met halfway in a tight embrace. "I want to hear the entire story," Aelin said. "Every word of it." Nesryn's subdued smile widened. "So you shall. But later." Aelin clapped her on the shoulder and turned to the two royals still by the desk. Tall and regal, but as mud-splattered as the queen.

Chaol blurted, "Dorian?"

Rowan answered, "Not with us." He glanced to the royals.

"They know everything," Nesryn said

"He's with Manon," Aelin said simply.

Chaol wasn't entirely sure whether to be relieved. "Hunting for something important."

The keys. Holy gods.

Aelin nodded. Later. He'd think on where Dorian might now be later. Aelin nodded again. The full story would come then too.

Nesryn said, "May I present Princess Hasar and Prince Sartaq."

Aelin bowed—low. "You have my eternal gratitude," Aelin said, and the voice that came out of her was indeed that of a queen. Any shock Sartaq and Hasar had shown upon the queen bowing so low was hidden as they bowed back, the portrait of courtly grace.

"My father," Sartaq said, "remained in the khaganate to oversee our lands, along with our siblings Duva and Arghun. But my brother Kashin sails with the rest of the army. He was not two weeks behind us when we left."

Aelin glanced to Chaol, and he nodded.

Something glittered in her eyes at the confirmation, but the queen jerked her chin at Hasar. "Did you get my letter?"

The letter that Aelin had sent months ago, begging for aid and promising only a better world in return. Hasar picked at her nails. "Perhaps. I get far too many letters from fellow princesses these days to possibly remember or answer all of them."

Aelin smirked, as if the two of them spoke a language no one else could understand, a special code between two equally arrogant and proud women. But she motioned to her companions, who stepped forward. "Allow me to introduce my friends. Lord Gavriel, of Doranelle." A nod toward the tawny-eyed and golden-haired warrior who bowed.

Tattoos covered his neck, his hands, but his every motion was graceful. "My uncle, of sorts," Aelin added with a smirk at Gavriel. At Chaol's narrowed brows, she explained, "He's Aedion's father."

"Well, that explains a few things," Nesryn muttered.

The hair, the broad-planed face ... yes, it was the same. But where Aedion was fire, Gavriel seemed to be stone. Indeed, his eyes were solemn as he said, "Aedion is my pride." Emotion rippled over Aelin's face, but she gestured to the dark-haired male. Not someone Chaol ever wanted to tangle with, he decided as he surveyed the granite-hewn features, the black eyes and unsmiling mouth.

"Lorcan Salvaterre, formerly of Doranelle, and now a blood-sworn member of my court." As if that weren't a shock enough, Aelin winked at the imposing male. Lorcan scowled. "We're still in the adjustment period," she loudly whispered, and Yrene chuckled.

Lorcan Salvaterre. Chaol hadn't met the male this spring in Rifthold, but he'd heard all about him. That he'd been Maeve's most trusted commander, her most loyal and fierce warrior.

That he'd wanted to kill Aelin, hated Aelin.

How this had come about, why she was not in Terrasen with her army ... "You, too, have a tale to tell," Chaol said.

"Indeed I do." Aelin's eyes guttered, and Rowan put a hand on her lower back. Bad— something terrible had occurred. Chaol scanned Aelin for any hint of it. He stopped when he noticed the smoothness of the skin at her neck. The lack of scars. The missing scars on her hands, her palms. "Later," Aelin said softly. She straightened her shoulders, and another golden-haired male came forward. Beautiful. That was the only way to describe him. "Fenrys ... You know, I don't actually know your family name."

Fenrys threw a roguish wink at the queen.

"Moonbeam."

"It is not," Aelin hissed, choking on a laugh.

Fenrys laid a hand on his heart. "I am blood-sworn to you. Would I lie?"

Another blood-sworn Fae male in her court.

Across the tent, Sartaq cursed in his own tongue. As if he'd heard of Lorcan, and Gavriel, and Fenrys.

Aelin gave Fenrys a vulgar gesture that set Hasar chuckling, and faced the royals. "They're barely housebroken. Hardly fit for your fine company." Even Sartaq smiled at that. But it was to the small, delicate woman that Aelin now gestured. "And the only civilized member of my court, Lady Elide Lochan of Perranth." Perranth. Chaol had combed through the family trees of Terrasen just this winter, had seen the lists of so many royal households crossed out, victim to the conquest ten years ago.

Elide's name had been among them.

Another Terrasen royal who had managed to evade Adarlan's butchers.

The pretty young woman took a limping step forward, and bobbed a curtsy to the royals. Her boots concealed any sign of the source of the injury, but Yrene's attention shot right to her leg. Her ankle. "It's an honor to meet all of you," Elide said, her voice low and steady. Her dark eyes swept over them, cunning and clear. Like she could see beneath their skin and bones, to the souls beneath.

Aelin wiped her hands. "Well, that's over and done with," she announced, and strode to the desk and map. "Shall we discuss where you all plan to march once we beat the living shit out of this army?"

[hannieehaee]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS

18+ / mdi

summary: being besties with two of the most popular idols in korea always came with a few rumors here and there, but what happened when one of your platonic besties suddenly started acting a little friendlier than usual? or worse, what happened when they both turned their affections to you?

content: idol!au, hybeidol!reader x idol!mingyu, hybeidol!reader x idol!jungkook, 97liner!reader, friends2lovers, not mingyu x jk (they just share u like all besties would<3), not that much plot, afab reader, smut, oral (f and m receiving), body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 8.2k (10k+ including kofi/patreon exclusive drabble)

a/n: the teaser for this got way more attention than i was expecting lol i hope u guys enjoy the final product!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Do you think the company would get mad if we did a live together right now?", Jungkook pondered out loud as the three of you sat on different pieces of furniture around his large living room.

"Yeah."

"They didn't seem to mind when Jungkook and I did it that one time," disagreed Mingyu.

"Yeah, but I'm the girl. I'm the one who wakes up to new dating rumors every time we hang out publicly."

"Yeah, but people must know we're just friends by now, right? It's been years."

That much was true.

You weren't sure of the exact date, but your friendship with both boys predated the overall international success of Kpop as of recent years. When you had met both boys, they had barely battled their way through puberty – though you weren't faring any better at the time.

The media enjoyed making the three of you a subject, knowing that you were evidently the closest out of all members of the popular 97s friend group. Being the only girl integrant, it was common for people to have the misconception that you were romantically involved with either Mingyu or Jungkook, seeing as you were often spotted in public with them.

You'd gotten used to the rumors and hate that came attached to being their friend, now usually leaving those things in the back burner rather than letting them bother you. By now, the three of you were a bit more careless about being seen together. Being seniors in the industry, those things didn't matter much to you anymore, but being seen inside Jungkook's house would surely stir up the worst rumors to date, so going live with him was entirely out of the question.

It did bother you sometimes; the double standard. While Jungkook and Mingyu could even interact in public or mention each other freely, any time you did so you were met with hate from either fandom, sometimes even your own. It also made you worry about your future. Could you ever be in a relationship without facing the brunt of all the hate that would come your way? At 26 years of age, it was a frustrating reality to think about.

Jungkook got up at some point to go fetch some more bottles of soju. Apparently the seven bottles the three of you had drank collectively weren't enough for the large men you were drinking with.

While Jungkook was gone, Mingyu got up from his seat on the couch opposite to you and took a seat down next to you, invading your personal space like he usually did.

"Worrying your pretty little head about something?", asked Mingyu as he leaned over you, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

"It's nothing."

"C'mon, what's up?", his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

Invading your space and being overly touchy usually meant that he was tipsy. But to be fair, you were a bit tipsy too.

"Do you ever think about dating?"

"Who? You?", he chuckled.

"No, dumbass. I mean in general."

He seemed to sober up a little at the mention of the subject, straightening up a bit as he sat sideways on the couch so he could look at you fully.

"What's got you thinking about that?"

"I don't know ... I'm 26 now. Isn't it time I started settling down? Have someone filling up the other half of the bed," you pondered, feeling a bit pathetic as you did so.

Mingyu let out a quiet sound of confusion, eyebrows furrowed and head leaning to the side in question.

"Isn't that what me and Jungkook are for?"

Not taking him seriously, you chuckled and took a swing of your almost empty bottle of soju.

"I'm serious, Mingyu. I mean a romantic relationship, where, you know, it's just us and we do couple things and we settle down and all that stuff."

"What can you do with some guy that you couldn't do with us?", he grabbed both your drinks and set them on the table.

Suddenly, his demeanor seemed a bit more serious, which confused you.

Where the hell was Jungkook with those drinks?

"I- Are you serious? Do you need me to tell you?"

"Yeah, I mean, why would you need to look for some guy if you have us?"

Oh. He was serious.

"Because we're friends?," you were beyond confused, "I can't go out with you romantically, or move in with you, or," you gulped, "or sleep with you."

"You can't?", he scoot closer to you.

"Mingyu ..."

"I just mean ... Why would you go after some loser when we can just take care of you?", his hand went back to touching you, though this time it ran up and down your thigh rather than your arm. That false semblance of innocence was gone, "You want someone to keep your bed warm? You don't even have to ask ... I'll do it- we'll do it."

Through his short speech, he got closer and closer, just as the air in the room got heavier. The atmosphere itself shifted dramatically, specially with Mingyu so close to you.

Mingyu was the touchiest man you'd ever known. Being his best friend, you had fallen victim to his touchy demeanor endless times, but never like this. Never while his eyes were hooded and heavy with some emotion you'd never seen in them before.

"Gyu, I-"

"Can I show you?", he rasped, eyes now on your lips.

"Y-you're drunk," you were sure that must've been it. The combination between drinking and talking about dating must've short circuited his brain.

"Just tipsy ... Tipsy enough to get the balls to tell you how much I want you ... but lucid enough to remember how many times I've thought about this."

The hands on your thighs moved to your waist, closing in on you, slowly pulling you toward him. By the end of it, you were halfway sitting on his lap.

"You've thought about this?"

Your nervous hands went to his shoulders for support, easily giving in to him.

"So many times. Jungkook too," he chuckled as he began burying his head in your neck, lips ghosting the sensitive skin.

Lacking any control of your body, you repositioned yourself to allow him better access to you, now fully on his lap as he sat sideways on the couch, arms wrapped fully around you and face buried in your neck.

"Gyu, I-"

"Yeah? Is this okay? Is it okay if I kiss your neck like this? This is what you wanted, right? Someone to take care of you?", he mumbled as he made his way to your ear with breathy kisses.

You were burning up, completely powerless to Mingyu. It was kind of embarrassing how easily you gave in to him. How you had been entirely unaware of his want for you until five minutes ago, yet you were now pliant in his hold, willing to listen to his senseless argument about him and Jungkook being good replacement for a relationship. You also had that to think about – the Jungkook aspect of it all.

The reminder of Jungkook's presence woke you up a bit, remembering that you were literally sitting on your best friend's lap while in your other best friend's living room.

With half a mind to let Mingyu do whatever he wanted to do with you, you powered your way through your decision to pull him away from your neck.

"Gyu, wait. Kook could get here any minute-"

"Don't stop on my account. Seemed like you were having fun without me."

Your head snapped to the door at the introduction of the raspy voice of your best friend, finding said friend leaning against the doorframe with a few drinks in one hand and a few ramen cups stacked on the other.

"Jungkook-"

"So, can someone catch me up?", he got closer, dropping off all the food he was carrying on the table and sitting next to you on the couch.

The position made it so that Jungkook was technically sitting behind you. Since you were on Mingyu's lap and sitting sideways on the couch, you were now being sandwiched by both boys. Jungkook still kept a small distance, making you have to turn around in Mingyu's hold to look at him.

While you probably embodied the image of a deer caught in headlights, Mingyu seemed completely relaxed, hands still comfortably on your waist.

"I was actually just catching Y/N up," said Mingyu, an overly cocky tone in his voice as his hands continued to feel up and down your waist.

"Oh? Without me?", chuckled Jungkook, leaning a bit closer.

"What the hell is happening?"

"How much did you tell her?", Jungkook ignored you, staring directly at Mingyu. His eyes would occasionally trail down to Mingyu's hands on your waist, a sour look overtaking his face.

It seemed like you had missed a few chapters in the friendship; there was some unspoken agreement between the two in which you were the main character. While it bothered you to think that they'd discussed you in private, the enigma of it all also excited you. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was the way in which Mingyu's entire demeanor had become possessive when you brought up dating. The reason didn't matter when you were already beginning to heat up.

"Just caught her up a little on the, uh, situation," said Mingyu with an unrecognizable glint in his eyes, "Did you know she was thinking about dating?", he asked Jungkook, ignoring your presence while still having his hands on you.

Mingyu's hand had made it under your shirt by now, feeling the warm skin of your back.

"Oh? Since when?", he finally turned to you, scooting up a tiny bit more.

Due to his new proximity, you turned your head around, facing Mingyu again. That proved to be a mistake, as Mingyu was even closer to you. Jungkook also took advantage of this, braving a few more inches in closeness and letting his face come closer to your neck. He pushed your hair aside for better access, simply breathing against you as he awaited your answer.

Responding was the hardest thing in the world. Your mind was simply not working at the moment, the situation being far too intimate for you to fully function. On one side you had the huge hunk of a man that was Mingyu, warm hands against the bare skin of your back all while you sat on his leg. On the other, you had the gorgeous embodiment of a boyfriend that was Jungkook, whose fingers were now slowly running up and down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake while he nosed at your neck.

You had your two gorgeous best friends giving you the best type of attention all while your brain fizzled with your tipsiness.

"Answer him, baby," murmured Gyu.

"I- I just," you sighed when Jungkook began leaving feather-light kisses on your neck, "just thought about maybe getting b-back in the market? To meet someone and-"

"But you have us?", Jungkook sounded genuinely confused, seemingly unable to understand the platonic nature behind your friendship.

"That's what I said!", added Mingyu.

"But I want a boyfriend, n-not-"

"Boyfriend? Baby ...", Jungkook disconnected from you, grabbing your head to make you twist your neck in order to look at him, "That's just an upgrade. You want a boyfriend? We'll give you two. You don't need to be looking around for some loser," his eyes gradually lowered to your lips as he spoke, breath heavy against them.

"K-Kook, I-"

"Please say yes? Please just ... Let me show you? We can show you together. Right, Gyu?", he murmured, mere inches away from your mouth.

Before you knew it, you were nodding, far too desperate to voice your desire.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, you had thought of kissing Jungkook before. Being one of the prettiest boys you'd ever seen before, it was hard at first to keep your relationship with him fully platonic, having had to beat down a small crush you had developed on him at an earlier age. His kiss, however, was not something you could've ever predicted.

Even with the awkward angle, and Mingyu's hands still on you, Jungkook gave you the dizziest of kisses. He knew how to get you hooked immediately, starting with a heavy kiss that had you chasing him the moment he pulled away. With a quiet and breathy laugh, he kissed you again, languid and wet in the way his tongue snuck between your lips, seamlessly making its way into your mouth to play with yours.

Shamelessly, you moaned against his lips, hands digging into Mingyu's shoulders as he continued to hold you. The slight awkwardness of making out with Jungkook while giving your back to Mingyu, yet still holding onto him, was present in your mind. However, Jungkook's sensual yet playful way of kissing you took up most of your attention.

But you knew Mingyu to be a whiny mess of a man at times, so you knew it wouldn't be long before he attempted to regain your attention. The evidence was in the way he felt you up all throughout, hands on your breasts as he pinched at your nipples through your shirt, groaning at the feeling of your tits in his hands. Occasionally, his hands would go down to your cunt, ghosting the place where you needed the most attention before making their way back up to your chest.

Pulling you away by the waist, you were forced to separate from Jungkook, eyes still closed as your lips chased his own. This time Jungkook's lips also attempted to regain possession over yours, with his tongue catching a few last nasty licks of your own.

"It's my turn," grumbled Mingyu, making you turn back to him, "You're on my lap but kiss him only? Baby, we're supposed to share you!", he pouted.

Giggling, you got even closer to him, cradling his head in your hands as you lightly pulled at his hair.

You turned to Jungkook one quick last time, "Kookie?"

His eyes lit up at your question, giving you a view of his round eyes as he gave you his full attention.

"Scoot closer, yeah? Put your hands around me," you encouraged him, humming in contentment when he went above and beyond and began to kiss your neck in the process.

Turning back to Mingyu, there was still an ever-so-present pout on his features, making you giggle again before finally kissing his lips.

Now, Mingyu's kiss was completely different from that of Jungkook's.

You had known Mingyu for as much time as you had Jungkook. He had a bit of a reputation when you had first met, being known as a guy who would occasionally sleep around with other idols, and sometimes staff. Now at 26, he had been retired from that era of his life for a while, but you'd be lying if you didn't say he always made you wonder. He always had all the girls swooning, instantly falling in love with his outgoing persona and his incomparable charisma. His looks also did not help matters. Being so handsome and likable, you occasionally fell victim to his charms, sometimes needing to snap yourself out of R rated thoughts you'd have about him on nights you were feeling particularly lonely.

His kiss felt exactly the way he looked. It was rich and insanely hot. Mingyu made love to your mouth, using his tongue in ways you didn't know a man could. He was domineering in the way he kissed you, with a firm hand on your jaw so he could position you in a way that allowed him to kiss you just the way he liked. And he liked it nasty. He liked it wet and filthy and in a way that made you sure you'd cum if he kissed you for a little too long.

You could barely catch up to the situation, having one gorgeous man fucking your mouth with his tongue while the other suckled at the most sensitive spots of your neck. In the meantime, your cunt was gushing with essence, already so extremely wet you were beginning to squirm in Mingyu's hold.

You attempted to pull away once, only to be enticed into kissing Mingyu again as he groaned against you, tongue seducing yours once more. You attempted to pull away twice, having his arms wrap tighter around you. The third time is when you finally succeeded, whining against Mingyu's mouth that you needed more. This caused yet another groan to come out of Mingyu, only to be echoed by Jungkook's own groan against your neck.

They both disconnected from you, looking to each other in a decisive manner, almost as if to formulate a game plan.

"I want her first," said Jungkook, slapping Mingyu's hands away from you and attempting to move you onto his lap.

Mingyu stopped him, holding you tighter against him as he rebutted, "You? She's already on my lap. I should have her first."

"Dude, I'm about to blow up. Just let me fuck her and then you can have her while I recover," be argued, hands fighting Mingyu's off of you.

"Why can't I choose?", you butt in, annoyed.

Their demeanors swiftly changed at your interruption, both pairs of hands now touching either your waist or thighs in an intimate yet caring manner.

"What do you want, pretty? My cock? Hmm?", asked Mingyu with a sweet voice in an attempt to convince you. Meanwhile, Jungkook wordlessly kissed at your neck again, nibbling at your ear and smirking at how you shuddered at the feeling.

"I-", you were already lightheaded again, "I wanna suck your dick, Gyu. Want Kookie to fuck me while I suck your dick," you murmured, hand holding Jungkook's head against your neck to keep his kisses coming.

Mingyu groaned at this, nodding absentmindedly. He began to shift, attempting to get up in order to get himself ready for you, but you stopped him.

"Undress me? Both of you?", you asked in the softest voice you could muster. You wanted both their hands on you at once, feeling your nude body for the first time. You knew their desire for you was already clouding their minds, so you wanted to do everything in your power to relish in every single touch, every look filled with lust they would give you.

Without another word, both boys got up, standing you up with them. Their hands were messy and uncoordinated as they got every garment off you, feeling you up in the process. Your breasts were groped and fondled multiple times in the process, while Jungkook pressed your ass up against him any chance he could, groaning at the slight stimulation.

Finally undressed, you decided to turn around once more, facing Jungkook as you kissed him with no warning. You smirked into his mouth when you felt Mingyu grab you from behind and press your ass up against him, grinding slowly against you. You knew it wasn't enough to get him anywhere, but you enjoyed knowing he was needy enough to use you in such a fruitless way just for a little stimulation.

Meanwhile, your hands went straight to Jungkook's oversized top, hands sneaking underneath to feel up his muscular form, hands harshly rubbing on his strong chest. It seemed Jungkook was overly sensitive to your touch. He whined needy breaths into your mouth as you felt him up. Taking off his shirt, you moaned as you saw the gorgeous figure of your best friend.

God, he was the prettiest thing you'd ever seen. You couldn't wait until you saw the rest of his pretty body, sculpted by the endless hours of work you knew he always put into the gym. The endless hours in which you had accompanied him to said gym, always having to look away before you started to have inpure thoughts of your best friend.

He helped you in the removing of his pants and boxers, throwing his head back when your hands immediately went to find his cock and play with it. Burying his head in your neck, he groaned against your skin, whining at the feeling of your hands finally wrapped around him after having wanted you for so long.

Behind you, you heard shuffling, assuming Mingyu to have been removing his own clothes as he waited for his turn of your attention to come. You felt badly at leaving him hanging for too long, knowing him to have an overly impatient disposition when he didn't receive attention for extended periods of time.

Playing with Jungkook's cock just for a little longer, you gave him one last kiss before turning around and trapping Mingyu in his own kiss. Unlike with Jungkook, you didn't linger long, opting instead to push him down the large conversation pit – thank god for Jungkook's insanely big mansion – located just a few steps away from the couch where it had all begun. This way you could have all the space you wanted to play with your friends.

Now lying down, Mingyu looked you up and down like you were his next prey, licking his lips at the sight and motioning at you to come sit on him despite knowing that you wanted something else.

"C'mon, baby. Ditch him. Don't you want me instead?," he leaned upwards to try and convince you of sitting on him.

It was hard to deny him with his cock staring up at you in such a challenging manner. He was equally as gorgeous as your other bestie, but in so many different ways. Mingyu was so big and thick and buff, he had you salivating at the mere sight of him. He was so toned yet so thick, and his dick matched perfectly. God, the thought of that monster inside you had your eyes rolling back already. Did he really mean it when he said he'd be yours? That he and Jungkook would share you? The idea of a boyfriend sounded stupid in retrospect.

Despite all your better judgment telling you to jump Mingyu and let him impale you with his cock right then and there, you knew that starting off with Jungkook would give you a better buildup. You also knew that based on Jungkook's competitive personality, he'd become even whinier than Mingyu if you didn't let him take care of you first.

Fully determined, you turned back to Jungkook, who had been standing there in a trance, now having a better view of your body and keeping his eyes religiously glued to it. You grabbed onto him and walked yourself back to the large conversation pit, eyes glued to Jungkook's in a seductive manner as you guided him to the area in which Mingyu was already lying down. In only a few seconds, you let go of Jungkook and positioned yourself in front of Mingyu at an eye level with his cock while he sat up and looked down at you with a pained look in his eyes. In all fours, your back faced Jungkook, hinting at him to get behind you so that you could finally get back to business.

With a groan, Jungkook knelt behind you, needy hands feeling the curve of your back as he pushed you up against him. In the meantime, you began softly playing with Mingyu's cock, making him throw his head back at finally receiving some attention where he'd been craving it for so long.

"You're so pretty, fuck ... No one deserves you, baby. Too fucking pretty n perfect n fuck ... Can I fuck you now, pretty? Hmm? Let me have this pretty pussy while you suck off your bestie," rambled Jungkook from behind you, head lowered so he could kiss at your hips.

You whined and pushed up your ass against him, giving him the green light to do whatever he wanted, when suddenly he stopped.

"Fuck, wait. Condom?", he asked, making Mingyu groan, as you were about to engulf him in your mouth but also halted your movements to tend to Jungkook's question.

"It's okay, Kookie. The company put me on some new birth control. You can fuck me raw," you smirked up at Mingyu, giggling at yet another groan of his.

"He gets you raw? Baby, I'm the one who started all this! How's that fair?", he huffed.

Taking a quick separation from Jungkook, you gestured for Mingyu to lean down so he could meet you halfway. With a wet kiss, you made your way to his ear and whispered against it.

"I'm saving you for last, baby. Gonna ride you til I cry ... Now be good and cum in my mouth?"

He groaned so loudly his entire body vibrated under you as you crawled your way back to your previous position. Jungkook simply laughed at the interaction.

Feeling you up once more, Jungkook finally grabbed onto his cock and lined himself up, groaning at the gushing wetness that coated his cock as he entered you. Your own moan was masked by Mingyu's cock, which you were currently working into your mouth.

"Oh, fuck ... It's so tight, baby ... It's so fuckin' warm n tight n so pretty, baby. Such a pretty cunt," babbled Jungkook, immediately pussydrunk.

Could he be blamed? He had wanted you for years. From the moment he met you, he cursed at himself for being so damn shy and initiating a friendship with you rather than showing you his interest. His members constantly teased him over it, even so many years into his crush. When he first found out Mingyu also had similar ideas in mind, he felt conflicted. But he ultimately grew close enough to the two of you to the point where he wouldn't mind sharing you with his bestest of friends.

Your muffled moans completely took him out of it, taking away any ability to think or speak. He simply chased after you with his hips, canting them against your own as you pushed back against him.

"Is it good, pretty? Like my cock?" he winced at the way you tightened any time he'd speak to you.

"So good, Kookie. So big ...," you pulled away from Mingyu to breathe before going back to licking and sucking at his tip, moaning against him as his eyes rolled back.

You were practically centipede in Jungkook's living room, with Mingyu lying on his back as you gagged on his cock and Jungkook pounding into you from behind. All your senses were overtaken by the mindless quest for pleasure you had all taken on.

"You're so good with your mouth, pretty ... Fuck, look so pretty stuffed of cock," Mingyu gasped, throwing his head back, "Like how he fucks you, baby? Just wait til I get to you ... Gonna stuff that pretty pussy so good ..."

You moaned against his cock, already thirsty for him even as Jungkook continued to ram into you. Pushing your ass back against him, you felt Jungkook's nails dig into the skin of your hips, adoring how malleable you were for him.

"Baby ... 'm gonna cum soon ... Feels so fucking good, pretty. You're so fucking g-good for me. Wanted you so fuckin' bad, you have no idea ..." murmured Jungkook as he entered his high, hips lacking any control in their movements.

Jungkook had always been the most sensible of the bunch, never holding back from expressing how strongly he felt for the people in his life. The pleasure must've been so much that it made him unfiltered in revealing the undeniable effect you had on him.

"W-where do I cum? Fuck, gonna fucking cum, it's so good, baby. Take it so good for me, shit ..."

You were too busy gagging on cock to respond right away, so you had to take a minute to pull away and catch your breath, replacing your mouth with your hand while also holding yourself up with the other one.

"Inside? Cum inside, Kookie. I'll- I'll cum too," you were breathless, barely able to get the words out as a petulant Mingyu whined at you to help him finish, hands going behind your head and lightly encouraging you to get your mouth back on him.

"Inside? Fuck, okay, baby. Gonna fill you up, yeah?", he groaned, muttering to himself right afterwards, "Fucking finally ..."

His hips sped up drastically as his high approached, making you choke around Mingyu not just due to his girth, but due to the intense ramming against your ass. Though harsh and with an unmatchable energy, you continued to try and push your hips back toward his own, wanting to milk him dry as your own high invaded your senses.

His desperation for you made you feel so incredibly good, like you were the prettiest girl to ever exist. It made you arch your back a little deeper, take a little more of Gyu's cock, dig your nails a little harsher into the cushion of the conversation pit. You heightened all your actions just to feel him a little more.

And then it reached its crescendo. All while Jungkook whimpered and cried at how sensitive he felt at your tightening walls, Mingyu also found his own high. You were too distracted with your own orgasm to acknowledge him asking you for permission to cum in your mouth, instead suctioning more intensely to wordlessly give him an enthusiastic yes, please fill up my mouth with your cum.

By the time Mingyu filled up your mouth, Jungkook had already finished his high, now kneeling behind you as he peppered kisses all over your back and hips, whispering against you how good you had been for him and how pretty you looked with his cum leaking out of you. Fully drunk on the aftermath of his high, Jungkook loved on you like any lover would.

In the meantime, you attempted to swallow every bit of Mingyu's essence, moaning against his cock afterwards as you licked at every lone drop that made it out of your mouth.

By the end of it, you were all completely spent. Each of you dropped one by one, with Jungkook lying on his back as he caught his breath, you falling onto Mingyu, and Mingyu attempting to pull you up to climb his body so that he could kiss you again.

With the very little energy you had regained, you crawled up Mingyu's body, making out with him as he attempted to lick his way into your mouth in order to taste himself in your mouth. Kissing evolved into feeling each other up, which then became grinding your now sensitive pelvises against each other. Surprisingly, Mingyu was still half-hard, which gave you the perfect surface to grind your cunt into. He sat up, making you sit up with him before beginning to leave kisses on the side of your neck.

"Baby? Gonna ride me like you said, right? Just .. Fuck, want that pretty pussy, baby. It's my turn to have that tiny little cunt wrapped around me, yeah?", he murmured between kisses.

You gave in to him easily, gasping at every word that accompanied every kiss.

Nodding mindlessly, you almost forgot to think back to Jungkook, who was probably still recovering from his orgasm.

"W-what about Kookie?," you mumbled when Mingyu began positioning you above his cock.

"Don't worry about me, pretty. Just enjoying the view", you turned back to see Jungkook lying back on his elbows, one hand on his semi-flacid cock as he began to work himself up at the sight of you sitting on your best friend.

Well, that worked well enough for you.

"Now pay attention to me, princess. Been ignoring me all day today," Mingyu grabbed onto your chin to make you look at him, thumb softly rubbing at your chin as he tilted your head back.

You were insanely wet by now, not only from your orgasm but also from just Mingyu's mere presence. Knowing how intense and touchy Mingyu always was in PG scenarios, you couldn't help your eyes rolling back at the thought of him between the sheets. His heavy cock on your tongue had been enough of a taste to know how good it'd feel when finally inside you.

His strong hands lifted you up a bit, rescuing his dick from under you as he helped you position it under you, holding tightly onto your hips when you began to lower yourself down. You would've moaned and whined at the immense stretch, but Mingyu had different plans for your mouth. His thick fingers slipped into your mouth, making you gag a bit before you began sucking on them.

Too many things were on your mind, with all your senses being invaded by Mingyu – though also accompanied by Jungkook's low moans of pleasure behind you. Even as your body was bouncing against Mingyu's, attempting to match his thrusts, your head was completely empty of any thought. All you could think about was Mingyu, and his cock, and his fingers, and his pretty body, and and and-

"Feel good, princess? Love my cock, hmm? Tell me how much you like my cock, angel," he groaned as he took his fingers out of your mouth, using the wet fingertips to tweak at your nipple as his mouth engulfed the opposite one.

"So much ... It's so big. Fuck, Gyu, you're s-so big ..."

Barely able to formulate words, you cried as Mingyu helped you bounce on him, occasionally opting to grind in a way that made your clit get the perfect stimulation. It all felt too good. Mingyu's gigantic hands on your body while his lips suckled on your tits as Jungkook groaned so prettily behind you. You were far too sensitive and alert to hold back from the life-altering orgasm that was to come. So, you voiced this concern to Mingyu.

His response came in the form of flipping you around and trapping you underneath him. His big hands held onto your waist, lifting you a bit so he could angle himself just right. Eyes rolling back and nails digging onto the bed, you lost yourself in him. Jungkook seemed to be completely lost to pleasure also. You could finally see him after Mingyu flipped you over, and fuck ... He looked so desperate, so depraved in the way he hammered into his cock, mouth permanently agape as he let out little praises to you.

"I need you to cum for me, okay, princess? Show Jungkook how good I make you feel. Need you to milk me dry, yeah? Can you do that for me?", he dumbly talked down at you with a tone that could only be seen as patronizing in any other context. But here, you loved it. You loved how dumbly he treated you. Because it was true. You could not think, you could not speak. Your senses were all gone and replaced by a constant stream of cock cock cock as Mingyu finally made you reach your orgasm.

Mingyu played with you through the entirety of your orgasm, rubbing at your clit with one hand while holding you with the other, his lips constantly attached to your tits.

"G-gyu, I- fuck! C-cumming! Please, I-" you had no idea what you were begging for as your orgasm completely took over, making you tighten around Mingyu as he mumbled into your chest, letting you know of his own impending high.

Despite having already had an equally fulfilling orgasm, this second one brought out a new sensitivity in you. Falling under Mingyu, you whimpered at the way he flipped you over again to lay on his chest, caressing your back and pressed you up against him, even more when Jungkook laid beside you and softly ran his hands through your hair.

The three of you laid there together, with you halfway laying on Mingyu while Jungkook laid on the opposite side of you, cuddling into you. Behind you, you could feel Jungkook's flacid member, meaning he had also reached a second high along with you and Mingyu. Lying there together, completely sober now, you eventually let sleep take over you, nuzzling into both boys in a satisfied manner.

A few days passed by since your encounter with the 97s. They were pretty eventful as far as your job went, attending a few photoshoots and practicing constantly for whatever new activity was coming up for your group. However, things between you and your friends had remained stagnant. You didn't think they had ghosted you or anything like that, but the timing of your busy schedules picking up right after breaking your platonic relationship did make you anxious.

When you'd woken up that next day, Mingyu was gone, having left one of the packs of ramen cooked and ready for you with a note attached detailing how much he enjoyed last night, saying he had wanted to stay and say goodbye but had a a schedule that had been calling for him. It was signed with his name and a little heart.

Jungkook had been half-awake already, having carried you to his bed when he had woken up, right after Mingyu's departure. You had wanted to talk about last night, but also had a schedule over at the company, so you left after cuddling with a sleepy Jungkook for a short while, not really discussing anything, yet sharing a sweet kiss as a goodbye for the day.

And so you hadn't really seen them since then. It was the unfortunate reality of idol life. That night had been the first in a few weeks in which you'd even been able to see each other. You were unsure when the next one would come, but you needed it to be soon. The remembrance of that night kept messing with your head, especially any time you'd see either of your friends in passing at the Hybe building, never being free long enough for a worthy interaction.

On the fourth night since the incident, you finally had more time off for yourself, hoping maybe they did too. Mingyu got ahead of you in that aspect, texting you the previous night, somehow aware of your time off, and asking you over. There was no deeper interpretation to be had in his message, as it was pretty straightforward. Nervous as to whether to expect a repeat of last time or a conversation about it, you let him know you'd be there.

Jungkook and Mingyu had always been closer to each other than to you. Going out together was always easier for them since no scandalous rumors would arise from it. They were also often in the same friend groups, knowing more male idols than you did due to the nature of the industry. It was easy for you to assume that they had already spoken about what had happened, even before it happened. Throughout the night, they kept referencing some type of agreement they'd had regarding you and dating. It was hard to assume, but you wondered if they meant sharing you – as strange as it sounded.

Your questions would only be answered tonight, leading you to some anxiety before finally arriving to Mingyu's.

~

"I missed you," were Mingyu's first words when he welcomed you, trapping you in a warm hug as he usually did. Hugging Mingyu was, in your opinion, one of your life's greatest privileges. He was so big and strong, it always felt like being completely engulfed in the safest of spaces.

His hug was followed by one of Jungkook's, less tight in nature but just as rewarding. He held onto your waist and nuzzled against you, always attempting to bury himself in whoever he held in his arms.

Quietly, they guided you to Mingyu's living room, slightly smaller than Jungkook's but still very much reminiscent of a millionaire's home.

You looked over to the coffee table, tilting your head in confusion at the presence of cans of diet soda rather than the usual alcohol Mingyu would always provide. Sensing your confusion, Mingyu chuckled.

"No alcohol today. Thought you might wanna talk about what happened," he sat down on the couch, patting the empty space next to him so you'd join him. Behind to you, Jungkook joined, sitting on a lone seat facing you and Mingyu. No matter where you looked, the two boys would be in front of you.

"We've been keeping you in the dark, huh?," pondered Jungkook, handing you a freshly opened can of soda, "Sorry about that. No easy way to tell your best friend you're into her."

Oh. He was going straight to the point.

"I like you, if that wasn't clear already," he let out a breathless chuckle, attempting to hold eye contact but failing.

He was much better at this when he was working his way into your pants.

"And so do I," interrupted Mingyu.

Wait.

"Are you-"

"We both like you."

"I- Have you talked about this?"

"Uh, it's come up, yeah," Mingyu scratched the back of his neck.

"I don't really know what to say ..."

"We just ... You had fun the other night, right?"

"Yeah, I mean, it was great," you took a breath, "but we're friends. Right?"

You weren't sure if you were being rational or not. Did you like Mingyu and Jungkook? Sure. But together? At the same time? You had never considered such type of relationship.

"We- we don't have to be just friends," added Jungkook, not much confidence in his voice. He cleared his throat and tried again, "We like you, and we know that you like us back. Maybe not in the same way, but you do. That night would've gone very differently if you didn't."

You could've lied. You could've lied and left it off as an amazing one night stand with your two best friends. But the thought of never feeling what you felt that night ever again was not something you wanted to risk. It wasn't just about the pleasure. You had meant what you said that night; you wanted a stable relationship. You wanted someone to call a best friend, but be more than that. Someone to hold you at night. The three of you had always been glued by the hip, but you had never really thought of what it'd be like to take the next step – to have them be that person (or those people).

There were just too many questions in your head. Would this change your relationship negatively? Would they actually want to share you? Would this go anywhere?

You opted for answering Jungkook's question with another question.

"Are you okay with both of you liking me?"

They looked at each other for a moment before Mingyu ultimately answered.

"We've discussed it," he started, "When we first realized we both liked you, it did cause some tension. But the closer we got to you, the more we realized that we just wanted to be with you. Whether as friends or as more, we just wanted you."

You gulped at the confession, feeling your face heating up all of the sudden.

"I- I don't know what to say, I- I like you too. Both of you. I always thought that it was just as friends, but ... there'd be moments where I'd wonder. And after that night, I just-"

Jungkook leaned forwards, grabbing onto your hands. He smiled, ignoring most of your words and paying attention to what he cared about the most – you liked him.

"You like me back? Us? Do you- We could treat you so right. I- I've wanted you since we met. I've liked you for so long and ... Not just for sex. We could be more," his words were slightly frantic in nature, almost as if he wanted to sell something to you.

He didn't need any selling. You liked him. It became more and more glaring by the minute.

"Nothing has to change. We've been friends for this long. Just ... That guy you're looking for? To settle down with? That could be us," added Mingyu, placing a palm on your thigh for reassurance.

"What happens if I say yes?"

Mingyu's eyes grew dark.

"Do you want the PG version?"

You shook your head, mouth agape as you looked to Mingyu.

His face lit up as he leaned closer and closer to you, lips approaching the sensitive spots he had discovered on your neck just a few days ago. Stopping for just one moment, he looked to Jungkook to gesture he sit opposite of you, making you become sandwiched by both men yet again.

Now with both boys kissing down your neck, you allowed your head to rest against the back of the couch, attempting to fight the shudders escaping your body at the sensation.

"As our girlfriend ... we'd take you on dates," Mingyu sucked at a particularly sensitive spot, licking at it afterwards, "buy you pretty gifts, keep you warm at night," he took a pause, licking up the length of your neck, "take care of you every day."

Jungkook continued from where Mingyu left off, leaving soft whispers of kisses under your ear, "We share you. We take you home, cook for you, protect you," he nipped at your lobe, "We love you like no one else could ever imagine."

By now, you were gone. Through their whispered promises, their hands had decided to intrude your space yet again. Jungkook's had found a home between your legs, running up your skirt and gracing at your cunt, but only enough to have you puffing out breaths of desire. Mingyu's had migrated upwards, lowering the straps of your dress and liberating your breasts, hands needy as they pulled and tweaked at your nipples.

"What do you say, princess?", Mingyu pulled away, lips reaching your own, "Wanna have two boyfriends?", he pecked at your lips sensually.

"Mhmm ...", you nodded pathetically, not trusting your voice.

Jungkook groaned at your answer, hand finally slipping inside your panties, "Good girl ..."

"Fuck, gonna treat you so good, gorgeous," said Mingyu, continuing to kiss at your lips tongue seeking your own.

His lips trailed down to your breasts, sensually licking at your nipples, gradually giving them more and more attention. By the end of it, you were crying at the sensitivity.

Jungkook continued to play with your cunt, driving his fingers through your folds at a rhythmic pace that made your hips take a mind of their own, grinding upwards with a complete lack of coordination.

You were so focused on Jungkook's fingers that you didn't notice Mingyu making his way down your body, now kneeling between your legs as his lips made their way up your thighs, marking them to his heart's contentment.

"So fucking pretty ... Been wanting your pretty thighs around my head for years, princess ...", he mumbled to himself, nosing his way towards your cunt. When he finally arrived, he nudged Jungkook's finger's away, sticking his nose against your cunt as he took a shameless whiff of your scent, groaning gruttaly against you.

"So good ... Fuck, need this pretty cunt so bad. Can I have it, baby? Hmm? Let me have a taste of this pretty pussy?" he asked between depraved licks of your cunt through your panties.

Hiccuping back a sob, you nodded, opening your legs wider as you took a hold of Jungkook's hand for support.

Needing no further confirmation, Mingyu went straight into your cunt, ignoring the obstacle of your panties by pushing them aside. In the meantime, Jungkook's hand went to your chin, turning your whiny lips to his own and giving you a languid kiss. His tongue played with your own, taking advantage of your constant cries of pleasure to suck at your tongue and bite your lips as much as he desired.

Your hands went from holding onto Jungkook for support to his pants, undoing the drawstring as he continued to kiss you. With shaky hands, you snuck your hands in, pulling out his hardened cock as you began to jerk it in your hand. Now you were even; equally pathetic cries being released into each other's mouths as you both chased your highs.

Beneath you, you almost missed the way Mingyu's hips began humping against the couch, groans being released into your cunt due to the stimulation. You were far too distraed by kissing Jungkook, but Mingyu's eyes were rolled all the way back as his hips became uncontrollable, cumming in his boxers just moments before he licked you to completion.

Even as you came, Mingyu's lips didn't leave your cunt, just as yours stayed on Jungkook's. The room was a mess of wet sounds of tongues as Mingyu finally separated himself from you to take a breath.

"Prettiest fucking cunt," he mumbled to himself as he let himself lay on the floor of his living room in exhaustion.

"C-cum! 'm gonna cum ...", Jungkook managed to mumble against your lips, attempting to pull back but being enticed by your lips to continue kissing. Your hands sped up at his warning, warning his pretty seed to coat your hands as he reached his nirvana.

With a last groan, Jungkook froze against you while riding his high, hips pathetic in their movements against your hand. Bringing up your hand to your lips, you made a show of licking the remnants of cum, grinning when you beard a unison of groans from both boys.

Out of breath, Jungkook leaned against you, cuddling into you with a satisfied yet smile.

"So, was that a yes?"

Mingyu made his way to the couch again, taking up the last bit of personal space you had.

You chuckled.

"Yes. That was a yes."

to read short 2.7k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, oral (f receiving), jerking off, cucking, penetrative sex, reunion sex, etc.

wc: 296 (teaser); 2770 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Fuck, missed you so much. You have no idea," whispered Jungkook against your neck.

After having cornered you in one of Hybe's many endless hallways, Jungkook had grabbed you by the hand and led you to an empty changing room, pushing you up against the door and burying his face in your neck. It was mostly innocent, sans the feathery kisses down your neck. His hands were still in appropriate places.

"I was only gone for a month," you giggled against him.

"A month too long. Do you know how annoying Mingyu gets when you're not around? Jesus Christ," he groaned in mock annoyance, refusing to separate from your neck.

Breathing you in, he hummed, arms wrapping impossibly tighter around you.

"Where is he, by the way?"

"What, not enough attention from one of your boyfriends?", he softly bit at your neck in defiance, licking at the mark he left when you jumped in surprise.

"No! Just ... Missed seeing you two together."

After only a month of entering a romantic relationship, you were embarrassed to admit, but you had become quite needy, always wanting them around. This had led to a few problems within your company, which was blissfully unaware of your three-way relationship, but still had to deal with how much closer you had gotten – especially in public. There had been a few more rumors as of late, though none actually traced back to anything credible.

"He's at the gym. Should be here any minute, though, since he knows you're back."

"Hmm," you hummed, disconnecting him from your neck despite his complaints, "Wanna start without him?" you grinned.

With a boyish nod and a peak of his bunny teeth, the pretty boy agreed, dragging you over to one of the empty couches in the room.

...

find the 18+ continuation on kofi or patreon!

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[roosterr]

if ur requests are open, could we have like 141 falling asleep on the reader??? like different scenarios for each of them like price falls asleep accidentally and so does ghost while gaz and soap are like cuddling or laying on the reader :) i love ur writing so much <333

the 141 falls asleep on you

wc: 2.1k

hello!!! been struggling to love my writing for like the last month so i really hope you enjoy, and i'm sorry in advance lol its mostly fluffy but i just couldn't help myself with a lil bit of angst :)

price

✹ when you hear the front door open in the middle of the night – or, technically, early morning – the first thought your sleep-addled mind comes up with is that you're being robbed.

✹ with your heart in your throat, you sit up in bed and stare wide-eyed at the bedroom door, but your fear is short lived when a dull thud meets your ears, followed by a familiar curse that has you breathing a sigh of relief.

✹ your husband, coming home at last from a night of drinking with the other members of the taskforce, presumably stubbing his toe on the sofa that hasn't moved an inch since you put it there all those years ago.

✹ with a deep yawn, you get back under the covers and let your eyes fall shut again, the knowledge that it was john downstairs and not a burglar putting your racing heart to rest.

✹ you don't react when he clumsily slips through the door, fighting the laugh that threatens to give you away when you hear him swear under his breath after bumping into yet another piece of furniture.

✹ the cold air sends goosebumps rippling across your skin when he lifts the covers to clamber in beside you, but the chill is quickly chased away by his hands bringing you into his chest and his enveloping warmth.

✹ "and what time do you call this?" you tease in a whisper, opening your eyes to see his guilty ones looking back at you. the slight flush in his cheeks and his half-lidded gaze gives him a boyish charm that you can't even pretend to be mad at.

✹ "sorry darlin', didn't mean to wake you..." he murmurs in return, a sheepish smile pulling at one side of his lips.

✹ "well, i'm glad you had a good time," you punctuate your reply by placing a light kiss on the bridge of his nose, which prompts his smile to grow wider as he hugs your body to his own.

✹ "i'm havin' a better time now, love." he ghosts his lips over yours as he whispers, earning another tiny chuckle from you, his fingers tracing patterns into the skin of your back under your shirt.

✹ you can smell the whisky on his breath as he leans even further into you, and taste it when he closes the distance to devour your lips in a passionate, if slightly messy, kiss.

✹ he sighs into your mouth, his lips falling from yours when he rolls you onto your back to lay his head on your chest, and like a switch, he's dead asleep.

✹ "john?" you whisper, in a sort of disbelief that he was actually asleep just like that, but he doesn't even flinch when you gently poke his cheek. "oh my god…"

✹ once the morning rolls around, you both share a laugh about his drunken state from the night before, and he makes you promise not to tell the boys he passed out in the middle of kissing you.

✹ you just laugh and file it away for future blackmail.

gaz

✹ the two of you were watching a movie late one night, the first time you've had time to yourselves in months thanks to the never-ending workload you both seem to be under.

✹ the dim mood lighting of your flat combined with the comforting feeling of finally being alone with kyle is nearly enough to send you to sleep already, but your want to spent time with him keeps you awake.

✹ kyle watches you stifle a yawn as he presses play on the movie, and tugs you to lean against him with an arm around your shoulders and a teasing grin. "promise you won't fall asleep this time?"

✹ you look up to him from where your head rests against his collar and huff, a smile of your own playing on your lips as you nudge him lightly with your elbow. "maybe i should be the one asking that."

✹ the bags under his eyes leave no question about how tired he really is, but he was the one that insisted the two of you spend time together tonight, despite the exhaustion you knew he was hiding.

✹ "and leave you all by yourself?" he chuckles, "never, love."

✹ a comfortable quiet settles over you while you watch the movie together; kyle's choice, something action-y you've never seen before, but you know he's seen it a million times. he occasionally adds commentary to make you laugh which he, naturally, manages to do every time.

✹ as the movie plays, you gradually migrate to laying on the sofa on your back with kyle between your legs and his head on your sternum. you absentmindedly run your nails over his scalp, gently massaging his head while he hugs your waist.

✹ it's about two-thirds of the way through the movie that you realise kyle hasn't said anything in a while. you pause your ministrations, smoothing over his curls as you turn your gaze from the screen to where he lays on top of you.

✹ a soft smile lights up your face when your eyes land on his blissfully relaxed features, sound asleep and breathing in time with the steady rise and fall of your chest.

✹ you continue to watch the movie in silence, occasionally petting kyle's hair when he grumbles in his sleep. he deserves the rest, you muse, and something about how peaceful he looks means you can't even entertain the idea of disturbing him. and you would definitely tease him that he fell asleep like he said he wouldn't.

✹ even once the movie has finished, and your back has started to ache from the position against the armrest, you still don't dare wake him. tomorrow was an off day for both of you, so there was no need to go anywhere – as if you would ever want to, intertwined with your boyfriend and surrounded by his warmth.

✹ you close your eyes, give him one last squeeze, and whisper into the silence, "sweet dreams, kyle."

soap

✹ it wasn't supposed to happen like this.

✹ everything was supposed to go smoothly, you'd get what you came for, and you'd be home in time for dinner.

✹ but it hadn't happened like that  of course it didn't. you were on your way out, with johnny by your side, when a sudden noise from behind you caught your attention.

✹ you spin around to see a dishevelled soldier aiming their gun at you, but you noticed just a second too late. you can do little more than watch as they pull the trigger, a sick sense of horror travelling up your spine as time seems to slow down.

✹ there's a split second where you brace to feel the bullet lodge somewhere in your body, but that impact never comes.

✹ with a speed you didn't know he possessed, johnny tackles you to the ground and out of the path of the bullet, landing on top of you and pushing the air from your lungs.

✹ you lay winded underneath him, the sound of him returning fire vaguely reaching your ears but it takes a second for your mind to catch up.

✹ it’s quiet by the time you come back to your senses, johnny already pulling you to stand with a strained grunt.

✹ "johnny?" you frown, taking note of how he favours one side when he urges you to start walking again, "you okay?"

✹ "fine, darlin’, let’s just–" he winces, stumbling ever so slightly and trying to play it off by pushing you in front of him, "let’s just get home, aye?"

✹ your frown deepens. you turn around and stop him with your hands on his shoulders, and it's then that you notice how laboured his breathing has become.

✹ "you're not fine, soap!" your heart sinks as you watch the patches of blood on his leg grow steadily darker, "why didn't you tell me you were hit?"

✹ he doesn't flinch at the anger in your voice, or when you haul his arm over your shoulder and resume dragging him the rest of the way to the helo. he mumbles incoherent that sounds like an apology, but your only focus is getting him to safety and stopping the bleeding.

✹ the others are already waiting for you as the exfil site comes into view, and the moment they spot you shouldering johnny's weight they spring into action to help you.

✹ johnny is dragged up the ramp and made to lay on the floor as gaz and ghost make short work of packing the bullet wound in his thigh with gauze.

✹ you lift his shoulders and head to rest in your lap, grimacing at the pained groans he lets out when ghost puts his weight on the wound.

✹ "why didn't you tell me?" you utter, tilting his head back with your hands on his cheeks and meeting his distant gaze with your brows knitted together in concern.

✹ he musters a weak smile and lets his eyes flutter shut, the muscles in his face visibly relax. "i’m fine… ‘slong as yer okay, bonnie…"

ghost

✹ sometimes you wondered if ghost ever slept.

✹ he would always volunteer himself for the first watch, and he was up before you without fail every morning. on base he always seemed to be in the gym before everyone, and in his office after everyone else has left. he was frustratingly elusive.

✹ it worried you, that perhaps he had trouble sleeping. it made sense, however saddening, that someone like him wouldn't sleep well, but it was even worse that he brushed off your concern for him with practised ease.

✹ he made sure to take care of others, but wouldn't let you try and do the same for him. perhaps he thought you were joking, or that you were only being courteous, but your mind always goes back to one thing; the theory that, for some people, it's only possible for them to fall asleep when they feel safe.

✹ you wanted to be that for him, like he was for you.

✹ you do your best to forget about your rejected concerns for him, and the thought all but slips your mind until a mission two months later.

✹ it was long, drawn-out, and gruelling, and all you wanted to do was get home and have a shower hot enough to melt your skin. it had been almost a week since you've had a moment to catch your breath, and you were more than thankful to be on the way home.

✹ even if that meant being squashed into the back of an suv with soap passed out on your left and ghost on your right. gaz called shotgun and wouldn't give it up for anything, so here you were, shoulder to shoulder with the lieutenant you may or may not harbour feelings for.

✹ the five of you have been on the road for a couple of hours now. the conversation has died down by now and and the quiet hum of the radio was the only sound, besides soap's intermittent snores.

✹ you're on the verge of passing out yourself when a weight drops onto your shoulder, and you have to fight yourself not to jump with the start it gives you.

✹ your tired eyes look to the source and to your utter surprise, they find the dark fabric of ghost's balaclava resting against you, and when you tilt your head you can see the blond of his eyelashes against his cheeks.

✹ the sight brings a smile to your face. as subtle as possible, you shift as much as the limited space of the backseat will allow so his neck isn't bent at such an awkward angle.

✹ he fell asleep on you. perhaps it was just because of the exhaustion this mission left him with, but you like to think back on your theory from weeks ago as you admire the restful expression he wears.

✹ your stop fighting your own exhaustion and let your eyes fall shut, and with your last thread of consciousness you file this memory away for later, and hope that it really does mean that he feels safe with you.

[parfaitblogs]

you're losing me ❀ s. reid x reader

in which he's an entirely different person after prison, and your relationship is crumbling. 

pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: angst tags: post prison reid. no happy ending. argument/fight. strong language. word count: 2.0k a/n: big fan of soul crushing angst. clearly. i dreamt this one up in an everything shower. likely place for me to plan fics? whole lot of nothing happening i love yapping about sadness!! my least favourite spencer trait is that he doesn't think he deserves good things so he pushes them away so obviously i have to write novellas on him doing just that? this used to be based on tolerate it but i listened to ylm the entire time so erm. things change! lol enjoy xoxo

Perhaps you were stupid. 

Very, very stupid. And ridiculous. And every other synonym for those two words that your brain could not possibly imagine up right now. You were all of them. But also none of them. Because you also felt like there was not a single word that could describe you anymore; if there was, maybe you'd consider yourself a person. But clearly you weren't a person. Not anymore, at least. Not to him. 

An awfully painful year it had been. And maybe that's what stripped you of your right to be a person. Maybe it was the overtime. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was everything all at once. Maybe it was nothing at all. 

Three years of dating one man meant you learned quite a bit about who he is as a person to you. Eight years of knowing him meant you knew very well what sort of person he is in general. 

And this wasn't him. 

He was sitting on your couch. A piece of furniture that had, in just one year, erased the memory of you from it, there no longer being an indent on the right side where you always sat. A book was sat in his lap, but he wasn't properly reading it. You could tell from how slowly he turned the pages. From how he stopped every few minutes to rub his eyes, his eyebrows creasing and a quiet, irritated huff leaving his lips. 

It was a habit he had developed. 

This was how it was every night. Three o'clock came, and your body would wake you up from an otherwise restless sleep, and you would drag your feet out to where the man who should be occupying the other side of your bed, actually is. And he wouldn't look up, but you both acknowledged each other's presence, silently. 

And you would watch him for an hour. Until your eyes began to droop, and your feet started to ache, and your heart couldn't handle any more shattering for the night. And then you would drag yourself back to the bedroom, and you would climb into a now cold bed, and you would fall back asleep for another two hours. 

Like clockwork.

You were good with him. So patient. You would make him mugs of morning coffee that he wouldn't drink, and you would wash clothes he wouldn't say 'thank you' for. You wondered if he was actually grateful or not. 

You were too scared to ask. 

"Hey," you said, quietly, when he had come home from work, shrugging his bag off his shoulders, and slipping shoes off his feet. 

"Hi," he answered. As if on instinct, he moved to where you were seated at the barstool to kiss you in greeting, before brushing past and heading into the kitchen. 

You watched him for a few moments as he found a piece of bread to eat, nothing on it. Just... dry. Before your eyes returned to the laptop screen you had open in front of you, fingers tapping away at your keyboard. 

"There's been another terror threat," you said to him, tilting your head to the side. "But they let me work from home."

"Why'd they do that?" he asked, but he could not sound less interested. 

You lifted your head, because you thought he knew. "Because of you, Spence."

"Oh, okay," he answered, and you watched as he threw out half of the bread he did not eat, before he disappeared down the hallway. 

He didn't even care. 

You stared at the empty space down the hall, where he had once been, heart lodged in your throat in an uncomfortable lump you couldn't swallow. This was why you felt stupid. 

Maybe you were sick of feeling stupid. You must be, because subconsciously, your feet had already planted themselves firmly on the floor, and your legs were already taking you down the hall in the exact direction he had just disappeared to. 

He was taking his button up off when you appeared in the doorway to your bedroom, replacing it with a t-shirt. You had never seen him wear so many t-shirts until now. 

You cleared your throat, alerting him of your presence, and he turned, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw you. 

"You know you can talk to me, right?" you said, voice wavering with cautiousness. 

His lips parted, then they closed, and all he managed was a short nod, before he turned back around to find pyjama pants in his drawers. 

"Spencer, I'm serious," you pressed, taking a step into the room. "You need to talk to someone about this."

"I have those counseling sessions at work," he answered, turning back around to face you only once he was wearing pants. 

Your lips pursed. "You hate those."

"Yes, but I'm talking to someone."

"Not someone you trust!"

"And if I talk to you, it would be so different compared to a counsellor, right?"

You froze. He froze. Maybe he realised the implication of his words, you certainly did. That such a simple spoken sentence had your heart stuttering in your chest. 

You shakily exhaled. "I'd hope it would be different," you decided to say. "But I wouldn't be surprised if it isn't anymore."

He stood straighter at your comment. Perhaps not the best thing to say. Certainly not the most mature. 

"What does that mean?"

Right. The reason you decided to follow him in the first place. "I just—I don't feel like you care anymore. And I have tried to be patient, Spencer. I really have. But you shut me out, and we don't even talk anymore. I make you coffee, I do your laundry, I offer to cook, I clean up the house, I do everything I possibly can so you can focus on healing, and I can't even get a proper sentence out of you unless we're arguing."

He inhaled sharply, staring at you. "I don't know if you forgot, but I was locked in a prison for three and a half months."

Your shoulders deflated, your eyebrows creasing and lips pulling down into a frown. "Seriously? I express that I am feeling neglected, and your only response is that you've been in prison—"

"—Well, it kind of changed who I am!"

You fell silent for a few moments, trying to collect your thoughts before you threw them all in his face and actually ruined things between you two. 

"I just feel like you don't care anymore," you repeated, voice awfully soft compared to how hard your body was shaking in anxiety. 

He ran a hand through his hair, and he opened his mouth to speak with that same frustrated frown, so you cut him off. 

"And yes, I know you're dealing with everything that happened to you in prison. I only know what they told us, so I can't even imagine how much you're withholding. Because I know that's what you do. But that doesn't give you an excuse to treat me like I'm not important in your life anymore. I mean, If I'm not, then tell me. If you really don't care, or you've decided that you can't be in a relationship and process everything at the same time, then I'd like to know."

The silence is uncomfortable. And thick. And you're staring at him with eyes that burned with tears you weren't ready to shed yet. He's coming up with a response, so slowly you think maybe prison actually did break his brain. 

"I do care," he finally said, and you wondered if it took him three minutes to come up with that because he was controlling a lie. You pushed that thought out of your head. "But I also don't want you to wait for me to be better, if it's making you feel this way."

Oh.

"Okay," you manage to say, voice not above a whisper as you stared at him. 

"Okay," he echoed, and the tears you were trying so hard to keep in brimmed your waterline, blurring your vision. If he hadn't become one big blob in your vision because of them, you might've seen his eyes soften and his shoulders deflate. 

Maybe he was waiting for you to confront him about it all. So he could end things. Maybe he's been thinking about this for too long, and this was just the final push he needed. You'd like to hope it was a spur of the moment decision, and he wasn't banking on this relationship ending. 

"I'll stay at a friend's," you then murmured, wiping the tears from your eyes, sniffling pathetically. 

"No, this is—"

"—You deserve familiar walls," you cut him off. "I'm sure anything else would freak you out."

He fell silent, because you were right. But he didn't want to kick you out of your own home. He didn't want to kick you out of his life, a sickening revelation he was having all too late.

Maybe that was why, when you turned around to leave, he called your name. Pleadingly. So, you turned back, and he stared at you, and silence fell over you two again. 

"What?" you breathed out after a few too many minutes of quiet. 

"I don't know how to talk to you. Or anyone. Not—not just you."

"About what happened?"

"In general."

You stilled, confusion sweeping across your features, for the thousandth time tonight alone. "You don't have to talk to me, if you can't. Regularly, I mean. That's not... that's not what I'm asking of you. I just need you to communicate with me. I feel like you don't even have feelings for me anymore. That's where most of my issues lie."

"I do have feelings for you."

"It doesn't feel that way."

More silence. More thick, deafening silence that felt like you had submerged your head underwater. And you really just wanted to come to a final conclusion. If this was the end.

"Then is it just that you don't want to be with me anymore? If it is, please tell me," you said, voice pathetically desperate.

He stared at you some more. Silence accompanying him, like some (annoyingly) comforting best friend amidst this conversation. And you slowly nodded your head as what he wanted became clear to you, your heart stuttering uncomfortably in your chest. Your stomach flipping. 

"Indecision doesn't look good on you," you finally cut through the blanket of quiet. "I need a verbal answer, Spencer."

"I do want to be with you—"

"—Then fight, dammit!" you finally snapped, the tears you had managed to control coming back to you, a sob lodging in your throat. "I am sick of you saying you do feel this, and you don't feel that. Make a fucking decision. Please. I cannot keep up a fight for the both of us anymore. You're losing me here, Spencer."

"I'm scared!" he shouted, and you took a step back, his voice vibrating throughout the room. He waged an internal battle for a few moments at your recoil. "That. That right there is what I'm scared of. I am so scared of scaring you."

"You scare me more when you shut down. I will take your anger over your silence."

"I won't," he snapped, watching you flinch. Again. You wanted to stop flinching. 

"It proves to me that you're actually feeling things. Spencer, I feel like I've been living with a ghost."

"I can't control my anger anymore," he added your name with a voice crack, mirroring your heart.

You blink some more tears down your cheeks. "You don't have to. You are allowed to be angry."

"Not around you," he shook his head, his hands brushing curls out of his face. "What if I—I hurt you."

"What if you don't?"

It seemed he hadn't considered that possibility, because he fell silent, and averted his gaze to the ground. He shook his head after a beat. "I can't take that risk."

You stared at him for a moment longer, weighing up your options, before you sighed. "Fine. Don't." He said your name again. "No. If you're not willing to fight, then... then fine. Don't fight. But neither will I."

He didn't say anything as you took a step back from the room. And even as you stilled for a few seconds longer, achingly but silently begging him to ask you to stay, he didn't utter a word. Which was, really, all you needed in confirmation. 

And so you left.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[tzihomara]

SWEET AS EVER. . . ‧₊˚ ⋅

— look’s like you’re in luck! , your hot neighbor has a sweet tooth..

wc. 3.2k, mdni | fem!reader, breèding, squīrtinġ, clichè trope, age gap, reader early-mid 20s, nanami late-early 30s-40s, creampíe, coúntersex, ditzy!reader, neighbor!nanami, changing relationship, not proofread.

an; first post back yayyy, im so excited i have so many ideas, & nanami seems soo much like the type to think about marriage after this thing, not in a childish way but in a really serious one LOL

recently moving in to the new flat you got was possibly the best thing to happen to you. quiet, spacey, and most importantly having a hot neighbor like kento nanami, who you’ve made yourself quite familiar with over the month’s you’ve settled in, was perfect.

alway’s willing to lend a hand for his sweet neighbor, despite his busy schedule. opening the door every time. and for you, time and time again, appearing in front of his door in less than appropriate outfit’s, subtly leaning into him. a tilt of your head and a cute little pout. batting your eyelash’s at him, making your plea for help, whether it be with putting something together, or a jar too tight.

this time was no different, having bought a new piece of furniture in need of his “help”, why risk lifting your pretty little fingers when you had him? swiftly walking a few doors down, till you see the familiar small hanging plants outside of his door you’ve come to associate with him, giving your signature 4 knock’s.

and per usual, he answer’s. slowly opening up the door, a broad shoulder nudged into the corner of the frame, tensed by the sound yet slowly relaxing when his eyes land to none other than you, looking right down at you. and not just your face. clenching his jaw, the outfit you had thoughtlessly put together gave him a view that left little to the imagination. tiny shorts squeezing your hip’s and thigh’s. tank top with a dangerously low cut. sandal wedges flaunting your newly manicured toes. ochre eye’s narrowing into weary slit’s.

“is there something you need?”, he sighed. keeping that indifferent, stoic manner. never faltering it seems..until it came to you, atleast.

“mnn.. i was ‘jus wondering if you could give a little help putting together a nightstand f’me?” you pleaded, sweetly. a glint of eagerness in those big eye’s of your’s, ones on display for him. ”could bake ya some sweets. as a thank’s for the ‘hard work’, if you’d like mr. nanami.”, you offer, with a tiny grin. leaning in too close to him, your plump bust in his view. an eyeful if you will. the stoic demeanor you’ve come to love to crack wavering just a tad. eye’s narrowing at your proximity. “of course, i can help.” he spoke lowly, deep voice slightly on edge. “no need for sweet’s.” he declined, not wanting to inconvenience you. and you let out a pleasant giggle, always getting your way when it come’s down to him, and anybody else really, who wouldn’t be a sucker for you? “awwh, thank’s. you’re just the best, mr. nanami.” exclaiming, before subtly pouting at his additional rejection. “oh..- are you sure about the sweets? i’ll feel all guilty if i don’t repay you with something. anything ya want.”

he bit the inside of his cheek at your word’s, gnawing even. avoiding the internal debate if the implication behind your words were purposely terribly hidden, or if he was getting ahead of himself.

taking a deep breath, he sighed. “no.., really it's alright. i don't need anything, i appreciate your offer.”, and it’s enough for you to temporarily accept his word’s. with a swift nod and hum, you two were already headed in the direction of your flat, entering the passcode on your door. hearing the familiar beep granting you two entry, gently closing the door behind him. the sharp and weary gaze that was beginning to soften, lingering on the chub of your hip’s. damn those shorts. internally chiding himself and shaking his head. focusing instead on the already scattered piece’s of the nightstand on your table, in a poor attempt at organization, if you could even call it that. it didn’t look that complicated. but for a ‘ditz’ like you, it was way too much. “make yourself at home.”, you commented, familiar set of word’s falling from your lip’s, guiding him over to take a seat. like times before.

nanami sat at the table, eyes flickering between the nightstand pieces, and back to your sweet grin. it was challenging to focus on the task at hand when you’re right there. alway’s. a constant distraction for the older man. chin propped by your palm, wide eye’s watching him already. a sweet, soft hum, filling he silence. larger, rougher hand’s handling the piece’s of the stand, pay attention to everydetail. and occasionally the stand pieces that you could careless about when you had him in your dining room. haphazardly switching between the two. eyeing the few veins running from his hands down to his forearms. button up rolled to his elbow’s. thick finger’s navigating without instruction’s fluidly. it was attractive. looking at a man who knows what he’s doing would always be a sight that could put anyone in a trance, and you weren’t the exception. crossing your leg’s at the slight need forming at your core, nudging it away or possibly egging it on.

“you’re pretty skilled with your hands, mr. nanami..”, you commented, more for yourself, rather than stating a fact. a touch of admiration in your tone, something a bit more intense than mere “interest” hanging off your words. clenching his jaw tightly, with a quiet swallow. “years of experience,” he replied, a slight rasp in his voice. “you pick up a thing or two over time.” he added. his eye’s flickering to meet yours, and back down again. “oh?, i see.” you mumbled back softly, eye’s attentively watching his hand’s. traveling, roaming over to his forearm’s, all the way up to his bicep’s. thick and muscular, tightly fitting in his collared shirt. on perfect display. squeezing your thigh’s just a little tighter together. the only thing that seemed to break the more than ‘heavy’ silence between you two, was a lose screw rolling off the table with a little clink. your eyes shifting to it with disinterest, but a quick opportunity in your mind. “whoop’s. i’ll get that f’ya..” you blurt out, uncrossing your leg’s and bending over in your seat to reach. unintentionally displaying that cute, frilly, thong you just bought on a shopping spree. he had to stifle a groan. clenching the wood of the nightstand in his palm. with a sigh, murmuring a “thanks.” a man could only resist so much.

internally chiding himself for even looking, returning to the task at hand, trying to forget what he just saw. furrowed dirty blonde brows pinched together, the age gap between the two of you making him feel just.. particularly guilty. but not too guilty to stop him from letting something escalate. silently letting his thoughts wonder, while you mumble out a “mhm.” your eye’s back to being fixed on his every move. "almost done," he informed, tightening any loose screw’s on the mostly done stand. big eyes narrowing. “oh-, already?..” you slighty frown, a soft hum following. putting together the last piece’s of your stand, skillfully. letting out a sigh at the finished result, “there…, finished up. should be fine,” he announced. his body thrumming with a slight arousal, and tension. despite his indifference, it betrayed the whirling sensation’s internally. a hand of his rubbing down his face, pinching the bride of his nose. and you notice the slight difference in his demeanor. “something th’matter?, mr. nanami?” you ask, with a touch of concern. you two both knew what you were doing. you two were both adults, it’s not like either of you are clueless. and maybe that was the best part. the looks you’ve been giving him, the outfits, everything. an air of thick, deafening, silence between you both. his narrowed bronze eyes meeting your own, brows furrowed deeper than before. the look alone made you shiver.

you couldn’t tell how it happened, and you didn’t really care either. your attention was entirely elsewhere, and all you knew is that the tension added up, and here you were. shorts, and the same pretty thong you flashed him, dangling off your ankle. nanami had you on the counter of your kitchen, the hand’s that were putting together your nightstand, spreading your thigh’s apart as if he was handling a delicate flower, tender and gentle. careful not to break you just yet. lapping at your fold’s, with a tiny hand belonging to you tugging a fistful of dirty blonde strands that belonged to him. nose, lips, and chin sheen with your slick. clit rubbing just right against his pretty sculpted nose. tired eye’s focused on the treat infront of him. letting out a raspy groan into your cunt with every tug and squeeze of your thighs. deep voice creating a soft hum against your weak spot. tugging just a little harder at his hair, dragging his face all over your sopping cunt, as if you just couldn’t get enough of him. tiny whines, and greedy moans falling right past your lips. and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his cock ache in his pants. straining against the fabric of his briefs, subtly seeking friction through that strain. precum staining through the fabric. like a teenager, it’s been a long time since he’s felt this way, a man like him was never into one nightstands, or hookups. the type to want to settle and marry, not please his neighbor. but this time, he just had to taste.

continuing to practically ride his face, having him on his knee’s for you. you were just so close, yanking him up by his hair, pretty pouty expression on your face, mixed with need. a tiny whine escaping, his mouth skillfully moving back to your clit, pressing opened mouth, down right filthy kisses to it. sucking and nibbling, tired, yet slightly adoring eye’s holding eye contact with you. it made your tummy flutter. that tingly sensation that felt oh’ so good building up. rolling your hip’s needily, —impatiently, into his face. mewls gradually building up and escaping from your plumped lips you had bitten previously, he was sucking on just the right spot before you felt that coil snap inside you, clenching around his tongue perfectly, squeezing him between your legs, a firm hold on your thighs to support you, and help you ride through your orgasm. lapping at your release like he was starved. veins in his hands and forearms straining, letting the fat of your thighs fill the gaps of his fingers.

merely a few minutes of catching his, and your breath. his hands were not so respectfully groping at your breasts. raspy, hot pant’s into your mouth, heaving. allowing you to taste yourself on the tip of his tongue, swirling, sucking, teasing as if he die if he’d pull away. he was given his chance, access to you and how addictive you tasted, and he needed to know how you felt. and he’d be damned if he didn’t take the chance. the guilt he had experienced had flew out the window ages ago, already too far gone now once he got a taste of you. he’d been eyeing you, just as you were eyeing him the ever since the day you moved in. to say he was pent up, was an understatement. you didn’t even need to be guided, your hand already tugging at his belt, maybe it was the need making you so eager to get him out of his pants, but you damn sure did. quick too. leaning his hips into your touch, just rubbing, grinding into your hand. muscles in his forearm flexing as he ran his firm hand down your breast, and to your thighs. you could feel just how badly he needed you, how he’s always been needing you. he couldn’t keep being pent up forever. pointer finger tugging at the waistband of his boxer’s, unclothing him, letting his painfully hard cock slap against his clothed abs, tip weeping with precum. fit for a man of his age, and you surely weren’t complaining. gliding the soft skin of your fingers over the head of his tip, smearing the little bead’s. you could feel him throbbing, his larger hand moving to hold yours, pulling you to the edge of the counter with his other, fitted firmly against your lower back. helping you guide him into your entrance, chewing on his bottom lip, and a filthy groan escape’s once he feels just how soaked you were for him, how soaked he made you. the combination of his spit and your slick was perfect. head rubbing and collecting the mixture, glossing his pink tip. teasing almost, before he sank into you.

smaller arm’s quickly moving to cling to his neck, and stuffed full of all his inches, plowing into you. no need for soft, slow strokes when you both knew what you wanted. you two were past the point of taking things slow. returning the pants against your mouth with needy, delicious mewls into his own. he was so filthy— for a man who’s at your every call and request. always so respectful toward’s you, in your cunt like it’s the last, and best sensation he’ll ever feel. maybe it would be. maybe he’d just have to look in getting to know you more after this.., oh—, he for sure would.

and to him, it was. with how good you felt, his mind was completely off of the not so appropriate age gape. purely focused solely on how good your cunts suckin him in, relieving his stress. but hell, he could ignore anything if it meant to feel you again. a man like him abandoning his own standards and critic, was rare if not impossible. but you just managed to do that for him.

you felt like he was hitting, stretching— drilling into every inch of you, every spot that might’ve been unreached before, stretched by him. his hips firm, not too slow, not too fast. perfect, just right, and all for you. you were close to melting right there, manicured nails digging into his shirt, bound to leave marks even with the layer of cloth shielding the pressure. with an adorable tremble, you held on as best as you could. and it only added to his pleasure, a small masochistic turn on, yet a praise for how well he was doing. a rough padded thumb tracing circles into your flesh, a distraction. to keep himself from finishing so quickly inside his pretty lil’ neighbor. already having had the ‘privilege’ of being in your snug cunt raw, he didn’t wanna push his luck…he thinks. but at this rate, it seemed maybe, just maybe this one slip up wouldn’t be all too bad. maybe you’re just too good…no,— you are too good. hands moving to your thighs, to your hip. gripping on the fat of your hip, dragging your hips back n fourth on his cock like a toy, his touch so different from his action’s. slicking the marble counter below, impossibly drilling himself deeper into you. you could feel everything, and it hurt so good. neatly trimmed happy trail brushing against your sensitive nub tantalizingly, rocking your hip’s just a little closer to him subcontiously, clenching and stuttering around him, provoking a low moan from his handsome bruised lips.

he was so focused, so mesmerized watching his length get sucked up perfectly by your cunt, taking every single inch. like how he imagined you would. furrowed blonde brow’s, little strand’s of hair glued to his forehead. pressed firmingly against yours. hot white pleasure shooting up both your bodies. “rright t-there— oh,” you whined prettily, dragging it out in ectasy. short’s and thong long fallen off to the ground, ankle rubbing and wrapping around his hip’s, feeling right up against his defined vline. and he grunted. pace faltering just a little, stuttering patheticly, even a small tease from you was just enough to make him feel like he couldn’t last. he wouldn’t. no matter what distraction he was seeking out, feeling you on his length, under his palms, in his mouth. it was enough to drive any man feral. leaving little crescents into your hip just as you were into his back. marks he’d wish last forever in this moment.

feeling your cunt squeezing, fitting and clenching around him so snug, it made him weak. leaning a bit of his weight into you, and it felt suffocatingly good, his broad frame blocking you from see anything but him above and infront of you, smelling a mix of his cologne and sweat was intoxicating. leaning back to support your own weight with one of your hands, grasping at him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. in a way he was— his dick was making you dumb. the only thing on your mind was him, breath stuttering, feeling that familiar coil tightening up in you, tipping your head back to get a glimpse of his face. twisted in pleasure, sweat sticking to his aged, handsome face. it did no justice to slow down your rapidly approaching orgasm, you were already trembling, a mess of noises uncontrollably slipping out, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. it was only so long before you were hit with what felt like lightening, a bolt of hot, intense pleasure, shooting through what seemed like every inch of your body, and struggling to catch your breath, hastily and needing pulling him closer. legs contracting and shaking, and a drawn out whine escaping from your lips as you felt the nonfamiliar wetness soak not only your thighs and the counter below, but his abs and waist. creamy white wring forming and smearing over, and over again on his cock. eyes focused and filled with something deeper than merely wanting sexual gradification, seeing the pleasure he brought you was enough, and feeling how tight you were spasming around him was much, much more than enough. both of your lips forming a small o, and a deep groan following. he could’ve sworn he felt his knees buckling. and the next second thick, warmth, his—warmth, was spilling inside you and trickling out, you could feel just how much he was pumping into you, fucking into you. making sure you had every drop of him. and you couldn’t resist trying to inch yourself closer to him—deeper. despite feeling utterly weak and overwhelmed yourself. the fact he was merely your neighbor was long forgotten, with the way he fucks you you’d think you were newly weds. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when he had you like this. the two of you pressed and bonded together, hunched over your counter panting, trying to regain something to ground yourselves. rough padded fingers desperately clinging to your skin. a moment that felt too intimate for just ‘neighbors’. a moment of heavy breathing and rest, palms slowly stroking over your skin when he had came down from his high, resting his chin on your shoulder.

it was safe to say, you had your fill, and you’d have much more often than expected from now on. a man like him would surely—never, miss out on a woman like you. and all of a sudden, his pretty ‘lil neighbor was much closer than he remembered. but you on the other hand, just couldn’t wait to talk about your new..fiancé.

my masterlist for more .ᐟ

ⓘ all right’s reserved, do not republish, edit, or translate my work.

[syoddeye]

kinktober - day 07 - virgin

gaz x f!reader | 2.3k words cw: gaz pov, some manipulation/kyle isn’t the most well meaning man in this, implied pining lol, mutual masturbation, piv sex summary: kyle's lifelong best friend happens to mention she's a virgin. it's a good thing he's a gentleman. sort of. a/n: i intended to stick to my wc but then the voices (kyle) kept talking banner by @/cafekitsune | kinktober list

Her bra hooks the back of her desk chair—lucky shot.

Kyle’s on a lucky streak, seems like. First, securing leave. A feat in and of itself. Second, successfully talking his way into staying at his best girl’s place. Third, though perhaps the most engineered, getting her not-quite-boyfriend to leave. 

She was upset, of course. Cried into his shoulder for two days. She didn’t understand why Whatshisface had left so abruptly and stopped returning her messages. She bemoaned her return to sudden singleness and the barely-off-the-ground relationship. Kyle amused her. Comforted her. Assured her there was nothing she was missing out on.

(A leading statement. Makes targets keen to correct. She, being no different, immediately said—)

“Yes there is!”

“Doubt it. Matthew didn’t seem like one to carry particularly stimulating conversations.”

“His name was Michael, and let’s just say, I might as well convert and join a convent.”

Hook. “What do you mean by that?”

Line. Wiggling. “I just…I mean I’ve never…”

Come on. “Never what?”

“Fucked. Okay? I’ve never fucked someone.” 

Sinker.

He thanked himself for acing every RTI course he’d taken, what with the journey his insides took at such an admission. Never in a million years did he think he’d get so lucky. He had wondered if he’d lost his chance ages prior, a lifetime ago. 

And she said it all self-deprecatingly. She laughed at herself. But he watched her face fall. 

Then, rise, tentatively, with his offer.

“Say the word, and I’ll save you from the sisters.”

Which led him here, her bra settling against a piece of furniture, a pair of fantastic tits spilling damn near his face.

Kyle lowers and buries his face into the cradle of her neck and shoulder. A moan slips from her mouth as he presses a kiss there, stubble rasping her skin. He grunts, teeth scraping and hands shoving up to palm at her chest. Thumbs swiping over her nipples, feeling them harden further.

Her honeyed voice in his ear, gasping softly. “Ah, Kyle.”

Kyle grins against her neck. So sensitive, so responsive. He cannot wait to hear what sort of sounds he’ll pry out of her.

He pulls back, meeting her half-lidded gaze with his own. Anticipating coiling in his stomach as his hands smooth up her thighs, then tuck under the waistband of her panties. Seeing no obvious distress or discomfort, he tugs them down, teeth resting on his bottom lip at the unveiling of her body. He groans at the sight of her coarse curls, he loves a woman with a bush, but his lips part at the sight of her pussy. It’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Another time, further down the road—he’ll ask her for a picture. Just for him.

“Won’t it be awkward?” She had asked. 

“We’ve known each other since we could walk. What could be more natural?” He’d answered.

Kyle swallows thickly, coaxing her legs open through their squirming. Eating her up with just his eyes, stuck to the wet seam of her cunt. 

He briefly considers diving right in, burying his mouth and nose until he suffocates, but he wants her worked up. Aching for it. So his eyes flick back to her tits, and his hands follow. He watches intently as he toys with her nipples, pinching and rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers. He doesn’t miss a single twinge of her brow or inhalation. She’s good for him the whole time, hands stuck at her sides. She’s already clutching the sheets like a lifeline. 

Soon enough, her mouth’s caught in a perpetual gasp, and he sinks back down to capture it in a languid kiss. He allows her to take the lead, rewarding her eagerness by letting her dictate its duration, and his chest cracks at the soft sigh she gives him in turn. With her thoroughly relaxed, he experimentally rocks his hips, letting his clothed tip gingerly bump against her clit. The fingers on his back muscles tense and dig in, but the little shiver he feels pass through her chest into his makes him smile into her mouth.

He withdraws, tongue passing over his lips as he reclines. Breathing heavily, he tilts his head, palming his cock.

“Touch yourself. Show me how you like it.”

“Kyle,” she pouts. “That’s not—can’t you just…?”

“No can do, babe. Don’t want to make a mess of this, ‘least not yet,” he smirks, ignoring the small smack she delivers to his knee. “I want to see what you do. Everyone’s different.”

“Don’t remind me of how many people you’ve slept with.”

Attitude is a defense mechanism. A cute defense mechanism but a barrier all the same. He pulls further back, delighting in the deepening of her frown. She needs to learn.

“And you don’t give me that lip. Touch yourself. I know you know how. No way you’ve neglected that pretty pussy for so long.”

She huffs and complains a minute more but rewards his patience. One hand snakes down and tentatively rubs her clit, movements stiff, still shy, and tucks a finger into her hole. It’s adorable, the shallow plunge. It’s a miracle she’s ever gotten off before, what with how unsatisfying it looks compared to what Kyle knows he can give her. Will give her.

His focus shifts back to her face as he slowly discards his pants, needing to free his cock with the sounds her finger makes in her hole. He watches her eyes widen as it bobs free, tracking every move as he maneuvers atop the bed, stripping them off entirely.

“Like what you see, babe?”

“Y-Yeah.” The way she lifts her gaze seems mechanical.

Already leaking, his cock twitches in his palm on an upstroke. He hasn’t slept with a virgin in so long—he’d forgotten what that meld of hunger and curiosity looks like. She doesn’t look away at the slick sound of his pre spreading over his head under his thumb, nor when there’s an audible, wet suction around her finger. She bites her lip, eyes watering. Sweet thing. So close to grasping what she’s been missing.

“Add another.” She hesitates but complies, and he nearly comes watching the pinch of her face as she dips a second finger into pussy. “Ah, no. Keep looking at me, angel. That’s right. Focus on the feeling.”

And like that, slow and steady, he talks her into a third.

“It hurts.” she whines, despite the weak buck of her hips into her hand.

If you think that hurts sits on the curl of his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth. The backs of his fingers are drenched in precome. More than once, he’s had to pause. “I know, but it’ll ease up. I’m bigger than two of your fingers.”

“Then why don’t you,” she gasps, eyes briefly fluttering shut. “Why don’t you use yours?”

He’d like to. Truly. The thought makes him dizzy. But that would require him to be a better man than he is, if only she’d brought this up four, five years earlier. His fingers can go another day.

“Because,” his jaw works. He’s well aware of the knife’s edge he walks. Everything he says before he’s inside her is a coin flip. “I don’t want my fingers to be the first part of me inside you, babe.”

Her eyes widen a fraction, and to his relief, she moans. “Fuck, Kyle, that’s…That’s so…”

“I know.” He grins. 

She ends up stuffing her pussy with four fingers, the last digit tucks in without his urging. He stops her after her breath hitches. She pouts again.

“Shouldn’t I come first? Before–?”

“You’re wet enough, believe me,” He teases. It’s a little mean, but he’s impatient. He’s never been able to maintain the same stillness his job requires out of the field. “I think you’re ready. Feel ready?”

Kyle barely kills a smug smile as she firmly presses her lips together before finally eking out a yes, steady but thin. Her shoulders are loose, but her slick fingers curl nervously over her belly like she’s trying to hold herself together. Her eyes flicker with something she’s trying hard not to show, something just beneath the surface, but she keeps her face neutral.

The sense of satisfaction is a small thrill. Not from her answer but from knowing he’s got her this far.

He chucks her chin as it dips, lowering his own to keep their eyes level. “You know I’ll be gentle, right? As much as I can? You trust me, don’t you?” He makes a show of opening and rolling on the condom. It’s a small travesty, but he’ll get her on the pill soon enough. If anything, it makes her less likely to back out.

As she nods, he lays her back. Listens to her intently. “I know, I know.” She mumbles, but her eyes snap to his cock, its weight resting in the crease of her thigh. 

“Don’t worry, relax.” he whispers, brushing his lips against hers, then pressing into a kiss. He takes advantage of a gasp to deepen it, moving his hips and adjusting his cock to let it slip over her folds. He groans, nudging her clit with its head. She’s soaking, radiating pure heat. 

This is the part where he should reassure her, say “If it hurts too much, or if you want me to stop, tell me.” He doesn’t. He’s gone years thinking this was out of reach. Impossible. ‘Natural’, he told her. Same as ‘inevitable’, he thinks.

Bracing himself on one arm, he guides his cock to her hole, eyes drilling into where his tip disappears. Just a hint, enough to make sweat break out along his neck. Warmth flows from her sex, as inviting as a hearth. Notched, he starts to push in, fingers leaving his length to return to her clit. Standby mode for when—

“Shh, you’re alright,” it’s automatic when a pitiful whine escapes. He looks from her wide eyes to the crease between her brows and parted lips. “Fuck, it’s so good, babe. You’re alright.” He kisses her chin and jaw, the corners of her open maw, as another uncertain, wavering noise strikes high from her throat.

He pauses to kiss her deeply again, swallowing a few more gasps as he lets her adjust a bit. He toys with her clit, continuing his push. Her nails bite into his shoulders, and she whimpers a weak apology against his mouth that makes his chest ache and restraint slip. He burrows in a few inches all at once.

His sudden burst punches a loud, surprised sound out of her, one that puffs right past his ear. She pants against the shell, muttering over and over as she adjusts around him.

“Ohgodohgodohgod—“

He quiets her with more kisses, eventually getting her to take it down an octave and use her words.

His arm burns from flexing, muscles working to keep him partly hovering above her, sweat dripping from his brow. She’s so unbelievably tight, wet, and molten around his cock. It’s everything he’s wanted and more. A slice of heaven gifted to him, made for just him. No one else. She might go on to sleep with other people—hopefully not, if he plays this right—but he’s the one she will remember.

“Kyle…S’big,” she slurs, lips moving against his cheek. 

“You’re alright,” he repeats with a chuckle, a sample of the loud, mad laugh he feels tickling his throat. Triumphant. “Talk to me. How else do you feel?”

“It didn’t—It’s…weird?” She echoes a delirious giggle, twinging when he shifts his weight. She doesn’t look too sure. “But…”

“But what?”

“Can you keep touching…y-yeah, like that.”

He smirks, kisses her, and hastens the circles on her clit. He decides he can grind for a bit and find every last inch he can claim. Slowly but surely, her breathing levels and her cunt gives up territory. Lets him in until his balls are flush with the cushion of her ass. 

“There we go, look at that.” He pulls back slightly to admire where he ends, and she begins, the smell of sex and sweat dizzying. “No convent for you.”

She lets out a shaky breath, one hand letting go of him to scrub over her eyes in giddy disbelief. “Thank God.”

“Thank me.”

That gets him a swat, but the hand that strikes scrambles around his arm when he pulls out and snaps back in. Beyond that, there’s not much talking. Not much thinking, either. Rapture gradually twists her face, and he practically watches any traces of her earlier shyness and embarrassment fly out the window.

A frisson runs down her spine, a sharp, electric shudder that tells him he’s found the right spot. He adjusts accordingly, setting course to hit with each thrust, and rubs her clit in tandem. Her knees knock against his sides, pressing, mirroring her cunt’s clenching and fluttering. 

“‘M close, Kyle, I’m close—”

“I know, can feel it. You’re strangling me, shit, you feel good—come on, angel.”

Every roll of his hips makes her moan and gasp, the sounds climbing higher and higher. His shoulders are numb where her nails hold on like the pain’s settled beneath the surface or fled from pleasure. When her legs dig into his side and hold, he drops closer again, speeding up his fingers to draw her even tighter around his cock.

His name leaves her mouth broken over the sharp edge of a wail as she comes hard, body spasming beneath him, squeezing the life out of him. She goes lax after a moment, save for her hands, still holding on with a feather-light strength. Her teary eyes crack open and dart across what must be an ugly look of conquest on his face. He wonders in the seconds before he fills the condom if she sees the devotion there, too, or if it’s eclipsed by all his coveting.

After, she thanks him with a kiss so tender, his cock stirs. Laying face to face, entangled and intertwined, she feels it against her thigh and laughs tiredly.

“You joking? You’re insatiable.”

Kyle stares hard, chest heaving at the fleeting but vivid image of her on her knees floating through his head. 

“You have no idea.”

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter three ♡

Summary: Life seems to smooth out with Travis, but an encounter with another Miller stirs your feelings again. Joel comes home at night, and a box waits for him at the kitchen. Word count: 4.8k A/N: Here is a shorter chapter (compared to the previous ones lol) while we're waiting for part 4… Can't wait for the Hoffman's barbecue. Joel isn't usually enthusiastic about it, but something tells me he's not going to miss it this time. ALSO, I have tried to tag all of you, but for some reason some tags don't work, if anyone knows how to fix it please let me know <3.

October 17th. The first thing you discovered was a black sweatshirt, crumpled and forgotten, stuffed in the back of your closet among old clothes and memories. You tossed it into the washing machine and set off to search your house for more of Joel’s things. It didn’t take long to find remnants of him: an old Pearl Jam T-shirt, a white mug bearing his initial that you’d pilfered a few months prior, a couple of CDs with his eclectic taste in music, a well-worn paperback novel, and a screwdriver—the very tool you had used to assemble the small piece of furniture for your bathroom, a testament to your attempts at domesticity.

You placed the T-shirt beside the sweatshirt in the washing machine, feeling a bittersweet nostalgia wash over you as the machine began to spin, the water swirling like your thoughts. The rest of his belongings you carefully set aside in a wooden box, considering when and if you would return them to him. Maybe it would be a gesture of goodwill, a way to close a chapter, but the thought of confronting him felt daunting, like standing on the edge of a cliff.

Three weeks later, the distance felt like a weight in your chest. You hadn’t spoken since that last conversation, and every accidental encounter with him had turned into a delicate dance of avoidance, your eyes darting away as if to shield yourself from the unspoken pain. You suspected he was doing the same—his awareness of your schedule precise, his movements deliberate. You didn’t blame him for it; there was a strange gratitude in the space he had created between you, a sanctuary that allowed both of you to breathe.

Sarah, on the other hand, was a constant presence in your life, her visits frequent and welcome. You couldn’t decipher what Joel had shared with her, but she was unequivocal in her understanding that something had shifted between you and her father. 

“Dad said I can come see you as long as I don’t ask too many questions and I don’t fall asleep,” she announced brightly the first afternoon she bounded into your home, just two days after your last exchange with Joel. “But I want you to know I won’t say anything if you want to tell me everything.” 

Her offer was a balm, and despite the lingering pain, you found yourself laughing, the weight lifting slightly as you embraced her. In that moment, you felt relieved to know that Joel had managed to compartmentalize, that his daughter was not to bear the burden of your heartbreak, nor was she responsible for the fallout. You wanted to continue seeing Sarah, and thankfully, she wanted to keep coming over, a small beacon of normalcy in a turbulent time. That connection remained untainted by the rift between you and Joel.

The clock ticked on, and now it was five o’clock on a crisp afternoon. You stood in your front yard, the late autumn sun warming the back of your neck as you surveyed your plants. Closing your eyes, you savored the gentle warmth, the way it wrapped around you like a familiar embrace. Your lawn and those of your neighbors glowed with the fiery hues of orange and yellow, leaves fluttering like confetti in the soft breeze. It was, as always, your favorite season.

Suddenly, a voice broke through your reverie, calling your name. You turned to see Travis crossing the street, his smile brightening the drab fall afternoon. You waved back, unable to suppress a smile of your own as he approached.

“Enjoying the sunshine?” he asked, stopping beside you, his hand settling on your waist as he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on your cheek.

“As much as I can,” you replied, a warmth spreading through you that was both comforting and surprising. Your gaze dropped momentarily to your feet before lifting back to meet his. “Going somewhere?”

“On a quest for dessert,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “Care to join?”

You hesitated, considering for a moment. “I’d better stay and get some work done,” you replied, gesturing toward your front door with a tilt of your head. “But let me know when you get back; I’d love to help with dinner.”

He nodded, a flicker of disappointment passing across his face before he masked it with a smile. After a brief goodbye, he left, giving your waist a gentle squeeze that sent a flutter through your stomach, leaving you feeling both elated and unsettled.

Two weeks prior, you had watched him run past your house, clad in sports gear, hair damp with sweat. There was something magnetic about him; he looked so effortlessly good that a rush of something—determination? Recklessness?—had surged through you. You couldn’t let your past with Joel hold you hostage any longer. It was absurd to keep Travis waiting, simply because you hadn’t been sure of what you felt, or how you should feel. So, you had gathered your courage and knocked on his door, your heart racing at the thought of stepping out of the shadows of your previous life.

When Travis opened the door, his surprise morphing into delight had made your resolve solidify. You’d admitted to him that you were navigating a rough patch, and to his credit, he seemed to understand without pressuring you further. That night, he whisked you away for dinner, and in the weeks that followed, the ease of your time together became a welcome reprieve. 

He was everything you needed—funny, honest, and refreshingly straightforward. He laid his feelings out without demanding anything from you, giving you space to breathe, to recalibrate. You had shared meals together, enjoying his company, indulging in laughter and sweet treats that he always brought, knowing they were your guilty pleasure. 

With him, everything felt uncomplicated, and the more time you spent together, the more you sensed your feelings beginning to shift, like the autumn leaves around you. That night, you resolved to let him make the first move, ready to embrace whatever came next.

*

“What did you think?” Travis asked, his gaze lingering on you, as if the answer might reveal something bigger.

You let out a laugh, the kind that builds in the chest and escapes before you can decide whether it’s actually funny or just absurd. “That was… utterly ridiculous,” you said, watching the movie credits roll up the screen. “Ridiculous and completely unbelievable.”

He grinned, sinking back into the couch beside you, his eyes meeting yours with a glint of shared amusement. “Right? It’s like... a marvel in chaos. Terrible, but in a way that you can’t look away.”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of disbelief and fondness for his strange taste in movies. Zombeavers. He’d made you watch Zombeavers—a movie so bizarrely nonsensical that you couldn’t help but laugh half the time, its zombie-beaver puppets meant to be terrifying but only succeeding in being bizarre. He’d assured you beforehand that it was purely for fun, the kind of film that didn’t demand to be taken seriously, and you’d been dubious but willing.

As your laughter softened, you shifted just a little closer to him, that familiar but thrilling nervousness making your heart flutter. Travis had turned his attention to scrolling through movie options, his fingers lightly tapping the remote as he concentrated. For a brief moment, you hesitated, wondering if it was obvious—how close you were, how much you wanted him to notice. Gathering your courage, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting your gaze drift up to his face just as he glanced down, his eyes softening.

“Are you sleepy, pretty girl?” he murmured, and his voice had that gentle, familiar warmth that made you feel like a teenager again. Your cheeks flushed, and you wondered if he could feel your pulse quicken against him.

“No,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper as you smiled up at him. Tentatively, you lifted a hand to trace the line of his jaw, your fingers grazing his skin as you tilted his face closer. “I just like being with you.”

Travis’s smile deepened, and he leaned in, his hand cradling your face with such tenderness that it nearly broke something in you. His lips met yours softly, a gentle touch, unhurried and respectful, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. You sank into the kiss, letting it ground you, feeling cherished and safe in a way you hadn’t for a long time.

But there, at the edge of your mind, was Joel. Joel with his intense, almost possessive hunger, the way he’d kiss you as if he were afraid he’d never have the chance again. That rawness, the recklessness—it was such a stark contrast to Travis’s gentle control, his restraint. And part of you hated yourself for even thinking about it, for craving something so reckless, for missing what you knew wasn’t good for you.

You pulled back slowly, afraid that your eyes might betray the swirl of conflicting feelings inside you. Travis’s gaze lingered, his hand still on your cheek, and he seemed almost reluctant to let you go, waiting for you to guide him back in. His patience was admirable, though you felt a strange frustration at the lack of urgency, the careful distance he maintained.

“I’m actually a little tired,” you said, giving him a quick peck on the lips, hoping he wouldn’t see through the slight restlessness in your eyes. “But I’d love to see you tomorrow. How about dinner at my place?”

He nodded, his face brightening. “Sounds perfect.” He stood, reaching out a hand to help you up. “I’ll walk you to your door, and that's just an excuse for another goodnight kiss.”

You laughed, reaching for his hand and letting him pull you up, feeling the warmth of his arm around you as you leaned against him. Outside, the air was brisk, the night cool against your skin, and you wished you’d thought to bring a jacket. Not that it mattered much; Travis lived just across the block, a short walk away, but close enough to Joel’s house that the proximity always felt strange. 

Crossing the street, you noticed Joel’s truck wasn’t there, and you willed yourself not to dwell on it, tuning back in to Travis’s voice as he asked, “Are you going?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Going where?” you asked, your voice apologetic. “Sorry, I zoned out for a second.”

“To the Hoffmans’ barbecue,” he said easily, unbothered by your momentary distraction.

Ah, the Hoffmans’ annual Halloween gathering, an event known for Brenda’s culinary enthusiasm and Ian’s grill mastery. Last year, Brenda had baked an array of spooky treats—eyeball jellies, spider cupcakes, you name it. Sarah had devoured at least ten jelly eyes, and you’d indulged in an uncountable number of chocolate spiders. The evening had ended with a viewing of Nightmare on Elm Street, and everyone had left buzzing with laughter and sugar.

“Yes, of course,” you replied, nodding with more enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t miss it. Brenda is amazing at baking. Have you tried her red berry cupcakes?”

“They’re dangerous,” Travis agreed, grinning as he walked you up to your doorstep.

A flicker of movement caught your eye, and you glanced over to see Tommy, Joel’s brother, sitting on the front porch of Joel’s house, a cigarette hanging lazily from his fingers. He watched you with a friendly, knowing smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back, though you quickened your pace slightly as you reached your door.

“So, what time tomorrow?” Travis asked, tilting his head.

“Eight?” you suggested, feeling an odd mix of excitement and unease.

“Perfect,” he replied, and once again his hand lifted to your cheek, thumb tracing the curve softly. But as he leaned in to kiss you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of invisible eyes from across the street, watching. Your mind lingered, unbidden, on Tommy’s piercing gaze.

Travis leaned down, and you met his kiss, brief, almost rushed, pulling away with a small, nervous smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you whispered, glancing up at him before stepping back. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous,” he murmured.

You stood watching him leave, distractedly thinking about the evening you'd spent. You were annoyed that you hadn't accepted his date earlier, and at the same time, you didn't blame yourself too much. 

When Travis walked into his house and closed the door, an involuntary sigh escaped your chest.

"Everything okay over there?" Tommy’s voice jolted you out of your thoughts, sounding like a splash of cold water. He was sitting on the front steps, watching you with a casual curiosity that somehow felt entirely too knowing.

You approached slowly, glancing toward the empty entrance of Joel’s house.

"Hey, Tommy," you greeted, a hint of melancholy coloring your voice. It was strange, seeing him here alone—another Miller, but not the one who lingered in your mind. "How are you?"

Tommy stubbed out his cigarette on the step, shrugging with a small grin. "Well, currently on a break from babysitting duty," he joked. "What about you? It’s been a while—what’d Joel do now?"

A chuckle slipped from your lips, the irony of it all making your stomach tighten. He probably didn’t know anything, yet he’d been part of Joel’s carefully built wall of deception. It made you feel odd, but you brushed the feeling aside.

"I've just been busy," you said, knowing how unconvincing it sounded.

Tommy nodded, understanding the subtext without question. "Right," he said, an amused smile forming, "So, Dunn got the girl?"

You couldn’t help but smile back, though you realized too late that your openness might be ill-placed. "Yeah. He’s a good man. I really like him."

It felt surreal, sharing this with Joel’s brother, but somehow you didn’t mind.

"Sarah’s asleep?" you asked, changing the subject, hoping for some distraction.

He nodded, his smile softening. "Out like a light right after dinner. Poor kid didn’t even try the ice cream she begged me to get for movie night." He chuckled, shaking his head.

You smiled at the image, letting yourself savor the thought of Sarah, the cozy living room, the quiet warmth that had always drawn you to this house. It felt bittersweet, like glimpsing a life you no longer fit into. The last time you’d been there flickered in your mind, and any warmth vanished.

When you glanced back at Tommy, he was watching you, brow furrowed slightly, as if trying to read what you weren’t saying.

"I don’t mean to pry," he began cautiously, his tone gentle. "But Joel’s been… well, intolerable lately. Can I ask what happened?"

You raised an eyebrow, a sardonic smile creeping onto your lips. "Sure, Tommy," you replied, a touch of sarcasm bleeding through. "He hasn’t told you anything?"

"Are you kidding?" He laughed, shaking his head. "I asked him once, a couple of days ago, and he practically bit my head off."

You let out a dry sigh, crossing your arms. "He lied to me, pretty sure you know about that," you said, feeling the weight of it again. "We argued, and… things just happened."

Tommy’s eyes widened slightly, but the look of surprise faded quickly, replaced by a knowing smile. He stood up, crossing his arms as he stepped closer, his gaze amused and unrelenting.

"I knew it," he said, his grin widening. "You two slept together."

Your mouth fell open, and you dropped your arms, an incredulous laugh escaping.

"Shut up," you muttered, taking a step forward, cheeks flushing.

Tommy laughed, as if this moment had been a long time coming. "I always knew it would happen," he said, his tone only half-joking. "Ever since Joel introduced you, I swear, the guy had heart eyes and all. Poor guy looked like he was about to carve your name into every tree from here to the city limits. It was almost embarrassing."

You shook your head, a pang of sadness pressing on your chest. "That’s not it, Tommy. That’s not… it’s not true."

He studied you, unconvinced, his brow furrowing slightly, though the amused glint remained in his eyes.

"Joel doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want… us," you continued, your voice quiet but certain. "And honestly, I don’t think I do either." The words tasted bitter even as you said them, yet you held his gaze, determined to mean it. "I think I might actually like Travis."

"I see." Tommy’s nod was slow, his eyes searching yours as if detecting the truth you weren’t quite hiding.

“Where is he?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, and you almost wished you could take it back. You shouldn’t be concerned about where Joel was spending his nights. But curiosity itched at you, demanding answers.

Tommy hesitated, rubbing his hand over his mouth, glancing off as if debating whether to answer. The pause made you anxious, and you shifted under his gaze, feeling exposed. "He, um, he went to see—"

"Sienna," you finished, the name coming out like a blade you hadn’t prepared for. Tommy’s nod confirmed it, and you felt it cut a little deeper than you’d anticipated.

The thought of Joel being with her after being with you twisted something fierce and raw inside. Yet, a part of you was oddly grateful for the pain; it reminded you just how little he’d been affected by all of this, how seamlessly he’d returned to life as it had been. Why should he have changed anything for one night? That didn’t mean enough to make him reconsider Sienna, his plans, his life without you. It was unbearable and somehow clarifying.

With your voice steadier than you expected, you looked back at Tommy. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Come with me for a second." You spun on your heel, heading toward your house, and you heard Tommy’s footsteps fall into step behind you. Inside, you gestured for him to wait in the foyer, then climbed the stairs, your heart pounding. A rush of resentment, of something close to fury, washed over you. You had to rid yourself of everything that still held you back to him, everything he’d left behind.

When you came back down, you were carrying a box, simple and impersonal. Tommy glanced at it, lifting an eyebrow. "What’s that?"

"A couple of Joel’s things. Be a dear and save me the trip of bringing them back to him." You smiled tightly, the effort to stay composed nearly exhausting you.

Tommy laughed, clearly amused by the defiance in your expression.

"Yes, ma’am," he said with a grin, giving you a small salute as he took the box. You watched him step over the threshold, the box in his hands, feeling a strange mix of relief and something hollow.

"Thank you, Tommy," you said softly, closing the door as he left. Alone in the quiet of your house, your shoulders slumped, and all the strength you’d gathered felt like it was leaking away, leaving behind the ache of realization. Joel wasn’t just far from you; he was unreachable, a memory already fading, three weeks stretching like an eternity between you and the friend he’d once been.

*

Joel opened the door slowly, shoulders slumped, his gaze dropping to the floor before he even stepped inside. The house was dark and quiet, as if it were waiting for him to finally fill it. He glanced around the empty living room, feeling the stillness of the space, then checked the time on his wristwatch: 11 p.m. It felt later than that, somehow.

“Tommy?” he called, his voice breaking the silence as he moved into the kitchen, where he found his brother, casually leaning against the counter with a bowl of ice cream, looking like he’d been waiting all night.

“How was your night?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow, his tone almost amused, as if he were privy to some unspoken secret.

Joel exhaled, the kind of tired sigh that settled deep in his chest, and dropped heavily into one of the wooden chairs at the table. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, dragging it down over his mouth before resting it on the table, the weariness of the day palpable in the lines of his face. His eyes met Tommy’s probing gaze, and he tilted his head, frowning slightly.

“Fine,” he replied, his tone clipped and a little defensive. “How was Sarah?”

“She conked out right after dinner,” Tommy replied, a smirk beginning to play at the corners of his mouth, his eyes narrowing with that look of brotherly mischief. “And how was Sienna?”

Joel rolled his eyes, leaning back in the chair, shaking his head as if he could shake off the whole conversation.

“Are you staying over?” he asked after a few beats, redirecting, his voice carefully casual.

Tommy chuckled. “Only if you, sir, will permit me,” he replied with a mock salute.

“Fine,” Joel muttered, getting up from his seat. “Do what you want, but don’t be a pain in my ass,” he added, half-serious, half-amused, as he walked over to the counter beside his brother.

He pulled open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. Tommy watched him, saying nothing, but his gaze lingered, curious, perceptive. Joel poured water into a glass, bringing it to his lips, pausing for a long drink before turning to face his brother. He could feel Tommy’s gaze boring into him, the silence thickening between them.

Joel looked up, his own gaze steady.

“What?” he asked, the word flat, all pretense of patience gone.

“Nothing,” Tommy said, drawing the word out, clearly testing the limits of Joel’s patience. Then, almost too casually, he tilted his chin toward a box resting by the wall across the kitchen.

Joel followed his gaze, his brow furrowing as he walked over. He lifted the box, feeling the weight of it in his hands, then set it down on the counter. With a cautious look at Tommy, he placed his hands on the lid, hesitating.

“What’s this?” he asked, a note of suspicion in his voice.

Tommy leaned back, watching him with a faint smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

“Your girl next door gave it to me,” he replied, each word almost too measured. “Said it was yours.”

For a few moments, Joel just stood there, as if frozen, processing Tommy’s words. He looked down, finally lifting the lid and peering inside. There, neatly folded, was his sweatshirt—the one he’d handed you one chilly evening when he picked you up from work. Beneath that was his old Pearl Jam t-shirt, the one you’d borrowed after a swim in his pool last summer. His favorite coffee mug sat tucked in the corner, along with a few CDs, a dog-eared paperback he’d loaned you weeks ago. Each item seemed to carry its own little echo of the time he’d spent with you.

After a few seconds, Joel placed the lid back on the box, sliding it away from him with a muted thud. He kept his expression steady, but his jaw was set, and his eyes remained fixed on the counter.

“When did she give it to you?” he asked, his voice strained but steady.

“A few moments ago,” Tommy said with a shrug, holding back a smirk as he noticed the tightness in Joel’s expression. “Saw her walking back from Dunn’s house, actually.”

Joel let out a dry, sardonic laugh, a smile twisted in disbelief. "Right. Of course."

"Actually," Tommy said, savoring another spoonful of ice cream, "he walked her to the door, all sweet-like. Gave her the whole mushy goodnight routine—kiss, movie shit." His gaze stayed fixed on the bowl, though Joel could see the glint of mischief there, Tommy barely holding back a grin.

Joel’s fingers drummed on the counter, his gaze hardening. “Good for her,” he muttered.

Tommy didn’t look up, just continued with his ice cream, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Sure she looked that way to me.”

“Like I care,” Joel muttered, his gaze fixed hard on the box beside him, fingers curling against the edge as if steadying himself. “I can bet everything I’ve got she doesn’t even like him that much. That guy isn’t worth it, and she knows it.” 

Tommy’s mouth quirked with amusement as he leaned back against the counter.

“Too bad that’s not up to you,” he said, casually pushing Joel’s buttons, almost like he enjoyed watching his brother’s patience fray. “She looked happy. And for what it’s worth, in her own words, she does like him.” 

Joel’s frown deepened, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Tommy, as if by sheer force he could undo his brother’s last statement. “Wait—you asked her? Tommy, you better not be going around—” 

“Relax,” Tommy cut in, hands raised in mock surrender, though there was still a hint of smugness in his expression. “We just had a small conversation, okay? Didn’t even mention you.” 

Joel let out a sharp, bitter laugh, though his face betrayed a flicker of something raw. His fingers tapped the box, restless and resentful, as if it were the box’s fault for bringing up everything he didn’t want to admit. Then, his voice low and clipped, he gestured to the countertop. “Clean this up when you’re done,” he said, his tone rough. “And don’t piss me off.” 

Without another word, Joel turned on his heel and headed for the stairs, each step heavy and quick, like he couldn’t get away fast enough. The tension in his back, the way his shoulders held too much weight, said enough. Who did Tommy think he was, coming in here with all that, telling him things he didn’t need to hear? He didn’t care about any of it. As far as he was concerned, you could date Travis, marry him if that’s what you wanted. None of it mattered to him. 

But as he climbed the stairs two at a time, his mind raced against his will. You’d been clear, hadn’t you? You didn’t want him in your life. No friendship, no connection, nothing. The words echoed, hollow and yet heavy. And as he reached the top of the stairs, he wondered how many more nights he’d have to wrestle with that idea, struggling to wrap his head around a life where you were nothing more than a memory he had to stop revisiting.

The sooner he accepted it, the easier it would be to see you with Travis, to manage the surge of irritation at the thought of his hands on you, to ignore the image of his arm slung casually around your shoulders. If he could accept it—if he did accept it—it would get easier, right? At least that’s what he told himself. He didn’t care. Obviously, he didn’t care.

He didn’t care that you’d decided to shut him out. Didn’t care that you were so resolute about it, that you barely seemed to miss him. He certainly didn’t care that he’d rearranged his mornings and evenings so he wouldn’t have to see you by accident. It wasn’t as if he still glanced at your door every time he came home, half-hoping he’d see you there, offering a smile and some easy excuse to stay. No, he wasn’t dwelling on how long it had been since he’d heard your voice or felt the comfortable warmth of your hand against his. Nearly a month now. And he was perfectly fine with it, honestly. It didn’t bother him one bit.

So fine, in fact, that he ended things with Sienna over dinner without a moment’s hesitation. Her face had gone blank with surprise, but he’d brushed it off, even throwing in some lie about being “too busy” to make it work, anything to avoid her prying questions. She’d looked at him, confused but oddly resigned, as if she’d sensed his mind had been elsewhere for a while. He didn't care, he was fine with it.

But later that night,Travis Dunn had brought you to your door—walked you up, murmured something as he leaned close, maybe kissed you goodnight. Joel didn’t know the details, but the image of it burned into his mind anyway. He sat in his room alone, a bitter laugh escaping his throat, mocking himself for how easily he’d let the thought take root. You, wrapped up with Dunn. Pf.

In the darkness of his bedroom, Joel sat on the edge of his bed, looking at the empty space beside him, the silence amplifying every unspoken word, every unfulfilled touch. He was fine with it. Of course he was. He repeated it in his mind, willing himself to believe it, even as a hollow ache throbbed in his chest.

And as if the universe were doubling down on the irony, that night he dreamed of you.

-

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @cosmic006533-blog @doblasftcisco @maiyart @concrete-jungleeee @playboygirlsnextdoor00 @maryfanson @rosebuds-and-moonlight @the-universe-is-complicated @formulafun @chewie-bars @glizzymcguirex @pedroswife69 @ivoryandflame @dixonswingz @sarahhxx03 @mellymbee @dailyobsession @msmorningstaarr @mystickittytaco @xxreginaxx @marellabyr @spacegirl-3 @alrihhty @heheheilovepedro @svrgs-blog @94namkooksworld @puddles221b @cowboymcflurry @medusaandposeidonshead @stylesispunk @sweatpeakarolinaa @puddles221b @deansimpalagirl @jasminedragoon @lover-of-books-and-tea @whimsiwitchy @cuteanimalmama @theherothesavior @ivoryandflame @auteurdelabre

[inkprovised]

Have a Luigi and Bowser idea that lives in my head rent-free...

I wrote it down quickly and half asleep. I hope you can read it.

Find more Little Turtle here!

Little Turtle

At the age of 11, Luigi started losing his eyesight and became blind within one year.

Luigi is 24 now and lives with his twin brother Mario.

On his way home from university, Luigi reached their backyard and stopped in his tracks as he heard Mario... 'cursing'?

"Mario, are you alright?!" the younger twin shouted, ready to open the gate, as he stopped.

"Lu, you're home already? Wait, wait, wait, don't come in! There is a huge animal somewhere!" Mario sounded nervous.

Luigi paused. "A huge animal?"

"Y-yeah! Maybe you'd better take another walk until I get everything under control!"

That was weird, Luigi thought, but okay. He could come back later... at that, he closed the fence, ready to head anywhere else but stopped in his tracks, when he felt a warm breeze at the back of his head and neck...

Luigi's hands shook ever so slightly. This was no breeze. Someone or something stood behind him, breathing in his neck.

"H-hey." the young man started. "A-Are you the one m-my brother is talking about?" He turned around, slowly, his knees shaking like jelly.

"Do you mind if I take a look of you? ...I mean not look - look, I obviously can't see you, but I mean -" he held up his hands. "I can 'look' at you with my hands... if that's alright with you, that is..."

A short silence, then a snuffle can be heard, and for Luigi, it feels like permission. The young man smiled and reached out.

Something warm and soft brushed against his fingertips, and he gasped.

"Ah. There you are."

('How to train you Koopa King' lol)

Mario was searching for anything he could use as a weapon... how could this be?!

He was cleaning the living room - what he hated, but was forced to do since he lived with his blind brother.

The last time Mario decided to clean the floor 'later' , Luigi almost broke his arm.

Inside their home, Lu was swift on his feet. He knew where everything was, knew how many steps between every single piece of furniture were. And that day, he walked fast as always and fell hard over a box Mario left there on the floor. Thank the stars nothing worse happened, but Lu was forced to wear a cast for weeks nonetheless.

While cleaning, Mario took a look out of the window, and there he saw it.

A giant... Teenage... Mutant... Ninja... Turtle... thingy in the middle of their small piece of lawn. Mario freaked out and ran into the kitchen - looking for a knife or anything else he could use, while having his cellphone tugged between ear and shoulder.

The line beeping...

Mario cursed.

Then... did he just hear Luigis' voice?!! From the backyard???!!!

He had to get him away from there! So he yells at him to take another walk.

The line is still beeping....

Mario grabbed the knife and ran back into the living room. Taking another look at the garden, he panicked when he saw his baby-bro in the claws of this THING! Fighting for... his life? .... squishing the face of this... creature... thing...

Mario burst out of the door, screaming in horror.

"LU!!! NO!!!!!"

Luigi carefully touched the face in front of him. It was not human, that he could say at first touch. It was huge. Soft. He couldn't stop himself, and he squished the huge muzzle. The creature didn't flinch. Then he heard his brother behind him, screaming in horror.

"It's fine, Mario! He's nice. And I'm almost done here! Luigi stroked over the big creatures nose and felt something... smoll and even softer than the rest of the face... A scar?

"Ah!" Luigis face lit up. Could it be? After all these years... how! Why?

"Is that YOU, my little Turtle?!"

"'Little Turtle'?" Mario asked, dumbfounded.

And the line was still beeping...

Luigi turned the direction he thought Mario to be. He beamed.

"I told you about him! Don't you remember? Back when I fell down the street drain!"

-----

Luigi was 12 and just lost his eyesight completely. He had a very hard time and ran from home after an argument with his parents. Of course, he got lost immediately. The rain was pouring, and he fell down a barely secured street drain.

Down there, he crouched against the wall, trying to ignore the pain in his head from his fall, crying his eyes out. The other moment, Luigi heard another sound... whining?

The boy held his breath, trying to listen over the loud splashing water. Again.

"Hello?" Luigi crawled in the direction of the sound. "Do you need help? Are you lost too?" The next thing he felt was something hard. A... shell? A Turtle? "Are you hurt?" Luigi pet it carefully, searching for anything that might feel like injuries. He felt the animal shiver and whine under his fingers. "Don't worry, my little Turtle. I'll take care of you." There was a deep scratch close to the 'nose' and an open wound on its leg. The boy took off his scarf and tied it around the wound, then he took the animal on his lap. Under his hand, he felt... horns? And... hair??? Also, the little 'Turtle' was bigger than expected... odd.

Luigi talked to the little creature for hours, rocking them both until they fell asleep.

Hours later, Luigi was found by some workers. He must have slept for some time now, and when he woke, the turtle was gone...

-----

"I told you about him back then!" Luigi explained.

Mario looked at him in disbelief. "Mum and Dad always said you hit your head down there! Or you were too old for an imaginary friend... HOW do you know it's him?"

At that, Luigi went silent. "I just know it..." Then the younger twin felt something tug his hand...

Mario gasped loudly. The giant 'turtle' opened Luigi's hand and laid something inside.

Luigi felt some sort of cloth.

"Lu!" Mario shouted, excited. "That's it! That's the scarf you lost back then!"

Someone picked up the phone...

"Animal Control. What can I do for you?"

[unluckilyimnot]

Hiii i love ur work so i wanted to request smth 🫶

Them with a s/o who is very short lol (like 5'0")

I would appreciate it if you could do this with rin, sae, yoichi and kaiser!!

Have a good day 🩷

Short s/o – rin, sae, yoichi, kaiser, hiori

m.list | rules

note: hiii thank you sm for your request <3 that’s basically my height so I know very much what it’s like

Rin

he doesn’t pay much attention at first, he’s not with you because of your height

but as time goes, he can get used to rest his head on top of yours

also pass his arm around your shoulders to bring him to him if necessary – he’s always kind of shy when your head hit his chest

loves it a lot when you sit between his legs to watch a movie because he can have you close and never worry about not seeing it well

you’ll only get confession about him liking it when it’s really late, sleep is already heavy on his eyes and he pulls you closer

you feel minuscule against his body and he’ll confess how down bad he is for you because you’re so small and cute, it pains him

never mention it tho, he’ll get sulky

Sae

acts normal about it but always hold your hand in the crowd because he’s scared to lose you

also scared to lose you in huge store so he just tag along – if you wear one particular piece that is colorful he’ll look for that instead

he once scold you because he lost you, but not before holding you close or kissing your forehead after checking you were alright

your forehead is were he kiss you the most in fact ‘cause it’s so easy access, it’s asking for it

hold you close to him when you sleep because, 1 he has to keep you warm, and 2 you’re so small he feels like he had to make sure nothing happens to you

deep down he’s down bad for it but doesn’t show it much and acts like he doesn’t care

he still put stuff on the top shelf sometimes for you to ask him for help

he got tricked a few times in fact because you just got on the furniture to get it yourself

his beige flag is that he manhandle you when you annoy him on purpose

Isagi

he’s the cutest ever I know that for sure

he’s afraid to offend you at first I think but he’s honest and tell you very quickly how cute you are, being so small

it never really stopped after that, even before you started dating he kept on telling you that you were cute

same as rin, he loooves to lay his head on top of yours

he bend to look at things with you but in a respectful, cute, head over heels for you way

holds you all the time when you’re home with him

hold him for behind, nuzzle your nose between his shoulders and he’s on his knees crying about how cute you are

fake crying about it sometimes (my gf does that)

he knows that not your whole personality but damn that’s still very cool to him to have a small s/o

Kaiser

he rest his arms on your head or shoulder to bother you all the time tbh

he’s annoying for sure but at the same time he’s probably whipped for you bc you’re so SMALL

he can grab you all the time so easily

the way you hit on his chest at best and your head rest on his arms when you’re tired and need to recharge

he loves to hold you to his chest in general

grab your chin up to kiss you or force you to go on tip toes to be able to kiss him

but also tells everyone you’re the cutest human being

he can’t help but melt if you pull his shirt or sleeve to kiss his cheeks or lips

you’ll catch him blush more than you might expected

he’s the type to tell you that you’re cute to tease you and see you blush

Hiori

he has a whole album on his phone dedicated to pictures you looks small, you know like those type of pictures for kpop idol

when you’re laying on a bed, rolled into a ball or if you’re standing a certain way and he founds you so cute

he can’t help but giggle every times and snap a picture

you’re totally aware of it the second he laugh that way and you ended up whining at him

probably the less shy after kaiser to tell you that he finds you cute

he wants to hold you close all the time I think, he’s in love with how small you feel against him

lays his head on your shoulder if he catches someone staring at you or if they’re flirting with you

but also does this to simply check what you’re looking at on your phone or read before your shoulder with you

I hope you liked it !

[sysig]

Lost my mind thinking about the Vyer Estate (Patreon)

[t-lostinworlds]

Big, Hormonal Heart | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x pregnant!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship (marriage), fluff fluff fluff

》 SUMMARY: It'd probably take more than one lifetime for Bucky to list reasons why he was so lucky to call you his wife. He was certain your big heart was one of them. One that grew even more with pregnancy hormones. It was sweet, how you to got so upset when they got his order wrong. Your meal was perfectly fine. But when his wasn't? Oh it was a crime.

》 WARNINGS: pregnancy, a dog named Snow and Alpine the cat, pet names (doll, baby, my love, sweetheart), emotional!r (she cries. like, most of the fic), husband!bucky being the sweetest, domesticity and just overall fluff (pretty tame fic ngl)

》 WORD COUNT: 2.5k+

A/N: this idea was super random. i saw an insta reel of a pregnant woman having mood swings over some food and then everyone was sharing their experiences in the comments and i got inspired so here ya go alksalkss. DISCLAIMER! I'm not pregnant nor have i ever been lol. I did as much research as i could but still, don't count on me to be 100% accurate.

++ ALSO this was written in just a few hours. this isn't my best work. just something i wanted to write as an exercise since i haven't written anything in months. anyways, i hope you enjoy!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

Bucky Barnes was one lucky man.

If someone had told him years ago that he was going to live in a quaint home in the suburbs, a lovely backyard space for a dog and a cat to enjoy, and that he'd be married to the absolute love of life, an angel on earth who was now carrying his first child—

He honestly would've stared at them dead in the eye, wondering how someone could make such a cruel joke.

Yet here he was, actually living it, a life that seemed so much like a dream.

Though he was quickly reminded of how real this was as he stood in the nursery, glaring at the manual that came with the crib you two had bought from the furniture store.

It looked simple enough at first—putting together ready-made pieces should be easy, right?

Wrong.

Not when you have countless amounts of screws that more or less looked the same but were actually not because each served a different purpose. 

He was in the middle of figuring out how to install the legs to the main base when you walked into the room with your two bodyguards—Alpine the Cat and Snow the five-year-old Samoyed—in tow.

"How's it going, handsome?" you hummed as you reached his side, arms wrapping around his waist, your warmth immediately easing the frustration he had about this goddamn crib.

"It's…" he sighed, gesturing at the wooden pieces scattered around the floor. "Going."

You laughed at that, kissing his clothed shoulder before standing in front of him.

Bucky held your waist then, pulling you as close as he could given that your baby bump was in the middle of you both.

He honestly couldn't begin to express how much comfort and warmth covered his whole being every time he was met with the absolute love in your eyes.

And Bucky was sure his gaze shined the same.

So many people have pointed it out on numerous occasions, the twinkle in his eyes every time they land on you—his beautiful wife.

"I was thinking," you murmured, resting your hands on his chest, moving up his shoulder and down again in a sweet caress. "How about a quick break while we order some food?"

It was only about an hour after lunch, so Bucky wasn't particularly keen on filling his stomach some more.

But you, on the other hand, were nearing the end of your second trimester. It wasn't out of the norm for you to be hungry at this time, given you were eating for two. Plus, there was an added layer that your little peanut probably had some super soldier serum in their DNA—the baby's appetite could be enhanced for all he knew.

Other than that, the last thing Bucky wanted was an angry and hungry pregnant wife. So it wasn't really a hard decision to make.

"Okay, let's get you something to eat," he said.

Ever the observant person that you were, you quickly noticed his choice of words.

"For me?" you asked, brows furrowed. "You're not hungry?"

Bucky shook his head. "Not really."

Your bottom lip went.

He instantly knew he said the wrong thing.

"But I'm hungry," you murmured, eyes starting to glisten.

He could never explain it even if he tried, but whenever you got upset, your bodyguards always seemed to notice it. The two have always been protective of you and that only grew tenfold when you got pregnant.

Today wasn't an exception.

Snow barked at him, whining his complaints as he put his fifty-pound body between your legs, slightly pushing Bucky back. The furball was well trained though, so his protectiveness never went too far beyond being vocal about it. Alpine, on the other hand, was sitting a foot away, glaring at Bucky—quite the traitor given that she was supposed to be his cat, but he couldn't blame her for loving you, either—as if she knew it was his fault you were upset.

But still, Bucky wasn't quite sure what he'd done wrong.

"I know, sweetheart," he said slowly, a little confused, trying to navigate around Snow who was pawing at his leg as if trying to push him further away. "I'll order some food for you."

"But you're not hungry," you repeated, body slumping with sadness.

"I'm not," he agreed, quickly cupping your face when a tear slipped from your eyes. "But hey, hey, that doesn't mean we can't still order food for you, doll."

"No, I know," you sniffled.

"So, what's making you upset, hmm?"

You buried your face in his chest with a shaky breath as you said,

"I don't want to eat alone."

Bucky paused, pressing his lips and swallowing down a laugh because he couldn't have you thinking he was making fun of you. He wasn't. But you were so adorable it made his chest ache.

"Okay, okay," he hummed, kissing the side of your head as he rubbed your back in comfort. "I'll order something for me, too."

•••

A few minutes later, your little family migrated to the living room. You both were sitting on the couch together, the two furballs sprawled at your feet as a random show played on TV. Various take-out bags covered the coffee table, way too many for two people but hey, that's what fridges and microwaves are for.

Fondness filled Bucky's bones as he watched you settle your food on your lap, doing what he called your Cravings Satisfied Wiggle.

He couldn't contain his chuckle.

You looked at him with furrowed brows, words a little muffled with your mouth full. "What?"

"Happy?" he asked, reaching over to wipe the sauce on the corner of your mouth.

"Very much," you giggled, eyes wrinkling at the corners.

Even after all these years, the sight of your pure joy still made his heart stutter, chest growing warmer when you leaned closer with a pout.

Bucky met you halfway for a short yet sweet kiss.

"Thank you," you hummed, even though there was no need for you to thank him for ordering you food.

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

Reaching over the table, he took the one and only paper bag that was for him, because again, he wasn't that hungry.

"Oh."

"What's wrong?" You turned to him in concern.

"It's not a big deal," he reassured with a smile, shrugging because it really wasn't. "They got mine wrong."

You frowned. "You didn't get the nuggets?"

"No, they give me the burger meal," he said. "They must've misheard me.

Bucky immediately perked up when your lips started to tremble.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly, cupping your face to wipe away your tears.

"You—" you sniffled. "You didn't get your nuggets."

Bucky pressed his lips to stop a smile.

God you were so fucking cute.

"It's okay, baby," he soothed. "I'm fine with a burger, too."

You cried even harder.

Snow and Alpine quickly stood, all alert and concerned as they nudged your leg.

"You wanted the nuggets, Bucky," you insisted, choking back a sob. "But you didn't get it."

He carefully pulled you closer, rubbing your back in comfort as you laid your head on his shoulder. "I know, but it's okay—"

"No, it's not!" you protested, all teary and frustrated, pulling away to glare at him. "You deserve to get what you want. Y-You deserve all the good things after e-everything."

Bucky might honestly start crying too with how sweet you were being.

"Oh doll, come here," he placated, pulling you in for a hug while trying to navigate the food on your lap.

He could take it away for safety, but he'd already learned his lesson the hard way. Taking food away from a pregnant woman was a death sentence.

"I want you to be happy," you sniffled, burying your face against his neck. "You wanted the nuggets and they disrespected that."

It took so much for him not to let out a chuckle. Because as much as Bucky hated to see you crying and upset, he couldn't deny how adorably funny this whole conversation was.

But you'd always had the biggest heart. Whether that was crying over those rescue animal videos, emotional scenes in movies, to feeling upset over something he was experiencing—your empathy was always high.

What more with the pregnancy hormones in the mix?

"How about I ask them to change it?"

Again, wrong thing to say.

He needed to get better at this.

"But they're probably so stressed and overworked already," you sobbed. "A-And it's about to rain. I don't want the delivery guy to get wet in the rain. T-They already don't get paid enough."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he hummed, rubbing your back. "Will you look at me, my love?"

You lifted your head then, Bucky's heart aching at the absolute distress on your features—pout in full play, eyes a little bloodshot with tear stains on your skin.

He cupped your cheeks with a soft smile, placing gentle kisses all over your face, unrelenting until you let out a whine of protest. He stopped then, thankful to see that you'd calmed down now.

"I promise you, the burger meal is perfectly fine with me. I'm not mad or upset about it. I don't mind it at all," he said.

You took a calming deep breath and nodded. It only took a second for you to look at him sheepishly.

"Sorry I overreacted," you whispered, embarrassed.

"Hey, none of that," he lightly scolded. "All the emotions you're feeling will always be valid."

You smiled, small yet sweet, leaning in and kissing him with as much gratitude as you could muster.

"Besides, it makes me feel so honored to know that you're willing to fight for my chicken nugget rights."

"Shut up, Barnes."

•••

You and Bucky always had a nightly routine and it usually consisted of the two of you getting ready for bed in your own different ways. They were intertwined, but not exactly the same. Like you'd be doing some skin care in the bathroom while he would be brushing his teeth.

But ever since you got pregnant, your routine became more in sync.

It usually started with a bath that he'd run for you. Most of the time he'd end up joining you, the length of said bath varying since that usually depended on what mood you were in. Bucky was always at the service of meeting his wife's needs, after all.

Recently, now that your bump wasn't particularly easy to navigate, he'd helped you get ready for bed. From getting dressed to your skin care, including rubbing some moisturizer on your stomach. That part was one of his favorite things to do.

Then it was the typical things, getting dressed, brushing your teeth—this one you stopped him from doing it for you even though he was more than willing—and overall just getting ready for bed.

Once you’d settled on the pregnancy pillow that Bucky fluffed up for you, he'd sit near the foot of the bed to give your sore feet a massage while you read a book.

Tonight, right when he was in the middle of doing that, he heard you sniffle.

Bucky looked up in concern, catching you already staring at him with tears already in your eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking you over. "Does something hurt?"

"No, I-I'm okay. I just—" You cut yourself off with a sob.

Bucky quickly moved beside you, pulling you onto his lap as he wrapped his arms around your form. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, body shaking as you cried.

"Hey, hey, talk to me," he murmured against your hair. "Tell me what's wrong."

"It's just—" You let out a shaky breath. "You're always taking care of me."

"Of course, sweetheart, you're my wife," he said. "And not only because it's my duty as your husband, but because I love you so much."

That made you cry even harder.

"I l-love you too, so much," you sobbed. "But I haven't been able to take care of you lately and that's not f-fair."

Bucky felt his heart grow as if it wasn't already bursting at the seams.

How could someone be so selfless and sweet?

"You're pregnant, my love," he stated the obvious reason as to why. "Besides, I'm capable of taking care of myself. It's alright."

"No, it's not," you argued, pulling away slightly to face him. "You deserve to be taken care of, too! You deserve to get pampered a-and a break but you're always fussing over me and taking care of me instead. I'm not helping with any of it. I'm just making it harder for you."

"No, absolutely not," he stated firmly, holding your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. "I love taking care of you. It honestly makes me feel so fulfilled and happy when I do."

"Really?" you sniffled.

"Yes. It's the least I could do with everything that you've been going through right now," he said truthfully, adding with a chuckle, "Hell, if I could carry our baby so you wouldn't have to go through all the pain I would."

That earned him a small laugh.

"But I want to take care of you, too," you admitted after a deep breath.

"You already are," he hummed, thumb stroking your cheek lovingly. "You're taking care of our baby and my heart, and those are very important to me."

You scrunched up your nose adorably.

"That was so cheesy."

"But it's true, though."

You smiled, cupping his face. Bucky turned his head to kiss your palm.

"Thank you," you sighed fondly. "For putting up with me and for everything."

"First off, I'm not putting up with anything," he reassured, kissing your other palm before adding, "Second, you never have to thank me for taking care of you. Never."

You nodded, leaning closer to press your lips against his, pouring all your love and gratitude into it. Bucky kissed you back with the same fervor, never needing words to express what you truly feel for each other.

He felt so content—feeling your lips, your fingers tangled in his hair, and your little peanut asking for attention too, kicking the second Bucky rested hand on your bump.

When you let out a soft, needy whine, he was ready to take the kiss even further.

That was until a wet tongue met his cheek.

Bucky groaned in annoyance, pulling away to see Snow giving you a kiss, too. He couldn't be angry at the dog for ruining the moment when your lovely laugh echoed in the air. Alpine jumped on the bed a second later, nudging her head against Bucky's chin before walking over to place a loving paw on your bump.

His smile was as bright as it could be as he watched the scene before him.

A wonderful home, a wholesome family that involved his beautiful, loving wife and two furballs, his family that was only getting bigger in a few months—

Yeah.

Bucky Barnes was one lucky man.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated! ++ consider supporting me on ko-fi if you can!

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© t-lostinworlds, 2023 ✘ I do NOT give any permission to repost, translate, & use any of my works (writings, gifs, dividers, etc.) on any platform, with credit or otherwise. Please respect that. Thank you.

[ktownshizzle]

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 3

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, I might include scootergate in a future chapter but please know it will be written sensibly imo and with so much love for our Yoongi (I just wanna protecc him at all costs even thru this silly story!), some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range

Chapter Warnings: reader vs IKEA furniture, 1k words about Yoongi's hands, second-hand embarrassment, more cracktastic internal monologues, a tiny bit of angst

Word count: 7k (approx. 30 mins to read)

Posting date: October 19, 2024

Notes: Very Yoongi-coded of me to work through my sickness. So, yes, behold an update, while I am in the throes of flu. Enjoy~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Masterlist

Sometimes, the mediocrity in this office is just unbelievable. You’ve put in a request for a filing cabinet so that you can organize the copious amount of paperwork that’s been accumulating in your little space that has overtaken yours and Yoongi’s desks. That was two months ago. It finally arrives today, still in its flat box packaging.

Great.

You’ve been staring at the pieces of the Ikea furniture for what feels like an hour, trying to make sense of the instructions. Of course, they’re all diagrams and singular letters and numbers—just a bunch of arrows pointing to nuts and bolts that apparently hold this whole thing together.

Btw, where the heck is Yoongi?! He’s usually pretty punctual. Pretty and punctual. Hmm. Anyway…

Just as you’re about to abandon your unwanted task to write a strongly worded email to the procurement department, Yoongi strolls in your office, oblivious to the war inside your mind.

“You’re late,” you blurt.

Caught off guard, and wholly unused to your raging bitch tendencies, Yoongi looks like a deer caught in headlights, mumbling, “Sorry, I uh I just got this scooter and am still—”

Is he pouting? OH god…

“No, no…” you backtrack, not meaning to sound haughty at all. “You’re fine. I don’t really—sorry, I’m just in a mood.”

Yoongi nods, assessing the pile of rubble you are on, as he sets his helmet and bag on the desk. He takes a spot on the floor next to you, leans over to squint at the same set of instructions, and decides, “This shouldn’t be that hard.”

You roll your eyes, picking up a random board. “Yeah, says the guy who hasn’t tried yet.”

Wordlessly, Yoongi pulls the screwdriver from your hand and the nearest piece of wood, starting to line everything up. You expect him to struggle, because he’s an idol–LOL–he can’t be that good at this, maybe marginally better than you, but nothing to write home about.

Boy, you are so, so, spectacularly wrong. Chae would be laughing at you later that night as you recount this gross misjudgment on your part and would proceed to send you the link to Run BTS episode 148 and as you watch it in your bed with a sheet mask on you’d be like the fuck is wainscoting??

But for now, you are decidedly a non-believer, even as Yoongi moves through the steps with surprising ease, piecing it together like he’s done this a million times before.

“Hold this,” he says, passing you one of the boards to brace while he screws in the side panels. His fingers brush yours as he adjusts the position, and it’s then that you notice his hands.

Well, you’ve noticed his hands before, but this time it’s different. You watch as his long fingers grip the screwdriver, veins running along the back of his hand, disappearing beneath his shirt sleeve, flexing with every twist. It’s oddly mesmerizing—beautiful, if you’re honest with yourself. They look perfectly balanced between grace and ruggedness, bone structure firm, but the skin warm and soft.

God, those hands… Your mind flashes to places it shouldn’t, and you quickly look away. You clear your throat, as you wrestle with thoughts of those hands wrapping tenderly around your throat. 

Holy shit.

He’s completely focused on aligning the screws, while you’re completely unfocused thinking about how you’d very much like for y’all to screw.

Wow. You are a fuckin’ pervert. And so shit at double entendres.

As he continues to work, you can’t help but observe his fingers as they move with precision. Long, lithe, bony in all the right places. Delicate, yet also powerful. And then there are those lovely veins—they pulse slightly with each motion, as his fingers curl effortlessly around the tool like it’s second nature. 

It’s way too easy to imagine those hands doing something else entirely. Something that has nothing to do with Ikea furniture. Everything to do with you. Naked, ideally. Now, preferably.

OK Stop. Stop right now.

With a shaky exhale, you force yourself to focus on holding the cabinet in place, but the mental image is seared into your brain now. There’s something unfair about how attractive Yoongi’s hands are—how much control they have, how easily they move, how they make your brain go berserk.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

“Hmm?” You blink, realizing you haven’t said anything for a minute.

He blinks blankly at you and doesn’t say more, just passes to you a handful of screws. You take them from him, swallowing the lewd thoughts racing through your mind.

As he finishes screwing the rest of the pieces together, his thumb grazes along the edge of the board, and your eyes trail after it like you’re hypnotized. You bite your lip, trying to focus on anything else. Anything but how good his hands look. Did you seriously just discover a fetish right now?

He shifts closer to tighten something, and you’re hit with the warmth of his body, plus the faint scent of his soap. Your heartbeat picks up, but you stay silent, pretending this is all fine, like you’re not on the verge of asking him to stop and just drag you to the back office closet to fuck.

Sweat is dripping down your neck at the sheer self control you are exercising at the moment. You need him to hurry the fuck up, because there’s already an uncomfortable wetness in your underwear and you need to deal with it stat. 

He inspects one of the wood pieces and knocks on it as if to test its strength and you study his knuckles, slightly prominent dappled with subtle brownish-pinkish marks perhaps from boxing.

Honestly, that’s so hot.

Yoongi finishes tightening one side and sits back, leaning on his hands, fingers splayed out on the floor. You glance down, and oof there they are again—those damn hands, long and elegant, resting on the floor like they’re mocking you. You wonder, just briefly, what it would feel like if those palms were pressed up against you, instead of the floor. Will those hands be gentle, rough, will he be the type to leave marks…

You’re staring. Definitely staring.

Yoongi clears his throat softly, and you snap your eyes up to his face. He’s watching you now, head tilted slightly, lips pressed into a line that looks suspiciously like he’s holding back a smile. There’s a knowing glint there—of course he’s caught you, but he’s not going to call you out for it.

“Want to hand me that last piece?” he asks, voice calm but with that little hint of amusement in it. He motions toward the final panel lying next to you, hand outstretched.

You quickly pass it to him, avoiding his gaze completely. His fingers brush yours when he takes it, slow, deliberate. 

Oh shit, he definitely knows.

He lines up the final piece of the cabinet and starts screwing it in, but there’s a shift in the air now. You force yourself to focus on what’s in front of you—on the fact that you’re literally just building a cabinet and not having an existential crisis over someone’s hands. 

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying to read his expression, but he’s focused on the task again, his lips slightly parted as he concentrates. You catch yourself staring at his lips now and quickly look away before he can notice that, too.

Finally, he finishes tightening the last screw, sitting back to admire the completed cabinet. “There. Not so bad, right?”

You breathe out a laugh, the tension in your chest finally easing. “Yeah. Thanks for saving my ass with this.”

Yoongi shrugs, wiping his hands on his slacks. “It was easy enough. I think you were just overthinking it.”

You roll your eyes, feeling more at ease now that the project’s done. “Well, maybe if I had hands like yours, I wouldn’t have struggled.” The words slip out before you can stop them, and your face ignites.

Fuckkkk stupid fuckk dumbass bitchhh

He glances at you, eyebrows raised, then looks at his hands, flexing his fingers like he’s just realizing what you’ve said. He’s silent for a second, and then, “My hands?” There’s that barely-there smirk on his face, subtle but unmistakable.

You scramble to recover. “You know what I mean,” you mumble, grabbing a stray screw off the floor, wishing it would just swallow you whole.

Mercifully, he doesn’t push it further. Just chuckles softly, leaning back against the wall, his gaze flicking to you for a beat longer. “You’re welcome,” he says simply.

He stretches his fingers one last time before stuffing them in his pockets. “They’re at your service, whenever you need them.”

Cheeky bastard.

“Yes, mom, I won’t be late,” you tell Chae as you tug your high-waisted leggings into place, your phone sandwiched between your ear and your shoulder.

“Ok. See ya!” 

Finally you smooth the fabric of your sports bra in the office bathroom mirror, turning slightly to check your reflection. The purple set hugs your body in all the right places, accentuating your curves and giving you that boost of confidence you hadn’t realized you needed. You’re not perfect by any stretch, but something about this fit makes you stand a little taller, feel a little bolder.

It’s after-hours, and the office is mostly deserted. You’d told yourself it’d be fine to walk back to your desk dressed like this—barely anyone’s around to notice. Yoongi left minutes ago, or at least you think he did. He never really stays after 5:30 p.m. except that one night he returned “for his ear buds” and even then he actually went home and just came back to get drunk with you, apparently.

As you step into the hallway, your dunks squeak faintly on the floor, echoing in the quiet. You glance around, feeling pretty damn good as you make your way back to your desk to grab your stuff before heading to Chae’s Pilates class.

But as soon as you open the door to your office, you freeze.

Yoongi is still there.

Standing by his desk, packing up, his head snaps up at the sound of the door opening. His eyes lock onto you, and for a second—just a second—they widen, raking over you in a way that’s anything but office-appropriate. His gaze drifts from your legs, up to your waist, lingering at the curve of your hips, then up to your chest, where the sports bra does more work than it has any right to.

You see the exact moment he tries to recover. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and he quickly looks away, busying himself with stuffing papers into his bag like they’ve suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world.

Oh. Oh.

The corner of your mouth twitches. It’s almost funny, really—after all the teasing and the subtle suggestions, Yoongi finally looks like he’s the one caught off guard. Finally. You saunter further into the office, a booty-tooch here and there, pretending like nothing’s out of the ordinary, but inside, you’re fully aware of the power shift that just happened.

“Didn’t think you were still here,” you say casually, grabbing your water bottle from your desk. You make a show of bending just slightly, and when you look up, you don’t miss the way Yoongi’s stare flickers toward your cleavage before he quickly averts his gaze. His ears are a little red. Gotcha.

“I thought you’d left already.” He clears his throat. “You uh you got a class?”

“Mhmm…” You hum sweetly, tossing the bottle into your bag. “Pilates. My best friend convinced me to go. Free trial and all.”

Yoongi nods slowly, still not quite making full eye contact, like he’s trying really hard not to look directly at you again. The sadistic part of you wants to make it worse, just for shits—after all, didn’t you deserve a little revenge after the way he had you silently losing your mind over his hands the other day?

“So… what do you think?” You tilt your head, as if the answer to that question isn’t already written in big, bold letters all over his face.

Yoongi finally looks at you then, before darting back to his bag, his fingers a little too purposeful as they zip the bag shut. “About Pilates?”

“No,” you say, smirking. “About the outfit.”

It takes him a second to process that, and when he does, you swear you see his jaw tighten. He presses his lips together, trying to keep his cool.

“It’s… nice,” he says, the understatement of the year, and you raise an eyebrow, daring him to say more. 

“Huh.” You cross your arms, weight shifting to one hip, the motion drawing his eyes back to you at the sliver of skin that just revealed itself. “Just nice?”

Yoongi exhales, running a hand through his hair, and for the first time in the months you’ve known him, he looks rattled. Not by much, but enough to notice. You wait, feeling a surge of satisfaction, enjoying this just a tad too much.

He catches your gaze again, this time holding it for longer. His tongue drags across his bottom lip, the gesture slow, and finally, finally, he leans back against the desk, arms crossing as he gives you an appraising look. The faintest smirk pulls at his mouth, but it’s restrained, like he’s weighing his next words carefully. You are still in office premises after all, not in some club in Garosu-gil.

“You’re trouble,” he says softly, and the word hangs in the air between you. The same word you’ve used for him more than once—now, turned on you. “You know that, right?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a grin. It feels like a straight-up W, having him flustered, even for a moment. “Yeah?”

He lets out a tiny chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah.” His eyes drop to your legs again, another once-over. When they return to yours, they’re darker, more intent. He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue before replying, “Definitely trouble.”

You pretend to mull it over, playing with the front zipper of your sports bra. “I mean, you’re the one staring,” you tease, fully aware of what you’re doing now.

Yoongi’s grin returns, a little sharper this time. “And you’re the one who walked in here looking like that.” His voice rasps just slightly on the last words, and it’s enough to send tingles down your spine.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you jest, this time repeating one of his lines from the other night. He shakes his head again at you, clearly remembering it, too.

“Well,” you say, voice deliberately airy, “I should get going. Don’t want to be late for class.”

Yoongi nods, and his eyes follow you as you move toward the door. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little smug in the way he’s gawking at you. Man like him is used to being surrounded by gorgeous women, being in an industry that demands being perfect, and yet he seemed enamored by a perfectly imperfect you. How you like that?

Wow he’s still watching. Well if he wants this as spank bank material tonight, then by all means, you consent for him to stare. 

“Have fun at Pilates,” he says, his tone a little too even.

You pause at the door, glancing over your shoulder with a triumphant grin. “See you later, Yoongi.”

You have to admit, work has been pretty inspiring since you and Yoongi started hinting at your attraction to each other. Coffee breaks now feel like mini dates. Over steaming cups of latte (americano for him) that now tastes a little less shitty, your knuckles brush sometimes—just a quick touch, but neither of you pulls away. And even though it’s brief, it’s starting to mean everything. 

It’s becoming more obvious: you’re both opening up, letting each other in, swapping stories that are equal parts random and revealing. He tells you about the black cat he ‘borrows’ from a friend when he feels lonely. You tell him about your complicated relationship with your dad, how it’s still a work in progress. Each conversation feels like another layer peeled back, another step toward something deeper. Hopefully.

But then, of course, your inner saboteur decides to join the party. You start wondering what this really is for him. A way to pass the time, maybe, cause he’s just bored in the house. You know the kind of life Yoongi’s used to, but since he’s forced to step away, and here you are... just there, conveniently available. A little distraction. Maybe that’s all this is. You think about how easily he could pick you up like a little plaything and tickle you whenever he likes. Cos, damn, you know he knows that you are very much tickled.

He hasn’t asked for your number. And honestly? You don’t think you have the guts to ask for his. But it’s not even just about guts–you think you’re a plenty empowered woman. There’s the NDA—a whole ass contract hanging over your head, making sure you won’t cross. You’re stuck, confined to these small, controlled moments within the four walls of work.

And that’s what gnaws at you the most: you don’t know if this could ever become something real outside of this space. Your lives, your worlds—they’re just too different. 

Your Saturday looks a little different today. Tonight, you find yourself in Chae’s place of work. You’re wearing a pretty little dress, paired with cute heels that make you feel amazing, even if they pinch a little. Your hair is softly curled at the ends, one delicate pin securing it behind your ear on one side, leaving the rest to fall naturally. It’s simple but enough to make you feel put together, like you belong here, even if this whole scene is a bit fancier than your usual.

The soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses fill the air as you settle in at the bar, a glass of sparkling wine in hand. The lighting is low, giving the restaurant an intimate, almost cozy feel despite its sleek, upscale design. Dark wood tables, candles flickering on every surface, and the kind of velvet seating that makes you want to sink right in. It’s posh, but not stuffy—like the kind of place where you can have a real conversation without having to shout.

You take a slow sip of your drink, eyes drifting around the room. The bar is polished marble, gleaming under the soft pendant lights that hang overhead, casting a gentle glow on everything. The vibe is understated but undeniably chic, with just enough buzz in the air to remind you that this is a special night. 

You imagine Chae in the kitchen, totally in her element, probably yelling at someone to get the garnish right while she’s knee-deep in prepping plates. Too busy to talk, but that’s fine. You didn’t mind. You’re here for the food, the drinks, and to support her.

A guy, about your age, slides onto the barstool next to you. “Hey. You here for the friends and family thing, too?” he asks casually, although it’s obvious since it is a private event after all. You know he’s just trying to make conversation.

You smile politely, nodding. “Yeah, my best friend works here. You?”

“Cousin of one of the line chefs,” he replies. “No idea who most of these people are, but free food, right?”

You chuckle. He seems harmless enough—just someone to pass the time with while you wait for the meal to start. The conversation flows easily, touching on casual topics. Nothing too deep, but enough to make you feel at ease in the unfamiliar crowd.

Then, out of nowhere, a ripple passes through the room. You notice heads turning, subtle whispers growing louder as two men were ushered to a VIP section at the far end of the restaurant. You exchange a glance with the guy–Jungwon, curiosity piqued.

“Who’s that?” Jungwon asks, craning his neck slightly. “Some kind of celebrity?”

You squint in their direction, but couldn’t quite make them out. “No idea, but they must be, with that kind of posse.”

Just then, your phone buzzes in your hand. You glance down, seeing a message come through.

Chae: fuck ur bf and my bf are here!!! Omgggg 

Your eyebrows shot up. You quickly type back:

You: Wtf are you talking abtt?!

But before you can get a response, you are ushered into the main dining area with the rest of the guests. The low lighting and beautifully set tables were designed for an intimate evening, and you found yourself seated at a small two-person table with Jungwon due to limited seating.

As you settle in, your vision drift towards the VIP section again, this time landing directly on someone you didn’t expect to see. Min Yoongi was sitting there with none other than Jeon Jungkook.

Your breath catches in your throat. Oh. Well, that explains the murmurs. The sudden shift in atmosphere. And Chae’s message.

You weren’t expecting this—him. Not here. Not tonight.

You tell yourself to look away, play it cool, but your eyes keep darting back, betraying you. Yoongi hasn’t seen you yet—thank God—but it’s only a matter of time. 

You’re hit with a wave of something—excitement? Nerves? Probably both. This was supposed to be a low-key night, a chance to support Chae and enjoy some free food and drinks. Instead, it feels like the stakes just shot up, like you’re tightroping between wanting to be invisible and being seen.

You take a steadying breath, flicking back to him one last time. He’s still talking with Jungkook, leaning back in his seat, completely unaware of the fact that your world just tilted slightly off its axis. 

Suddenly, Yoongi’s head turns, almost like he can feel your frantic energy. He sweeps the room, pausing when they find you. And for a split second, there’s something there—recognition, a softness in his expression, the kind of look that makes your heart stutter. His lips lift at the corners, like he’s about to smile, and for that brief moment, you let yourself believe in it.

But then, just as quickly, his gaze shifts. His expression cools, like a door closing in slow motion. The familiarity drains, replaced by something distant. Detached. He nods at you—polite, formal, like he’s acknowledging a colleague at a meeting. Nothing more. Before looking away.

Wow. That’s cold.

That tiny, hopeful flicker you’d felt just a moment ago? Gone. You weren’t expecting some grand gesture, but this? This feels like... nothing. Just a nod. Just formality. 

You shift in your seat, fingers tightening around the stem of your wine glass, feeling like shit.

Of course. Of course it’s like this. Why wouldn’t it be? Here you are, your first taste of seeing him outside your office bubble and your inner saboteur was right.

It’s disappointing, but not surprising. This was always confined to the office, wasn’t it? That’s where it was convenient. But out in the world, with people around and the difference of your class apparent? Just look–he’s in the VIP section and you’re… not. It’s different. He’s different. And maybe you are too, suddenly unsure of where you stand with him.

Was he annoyed? Uncomfortable that you’re here? You replay the moment in your head, trying to decipher the brief look on his face before it shifted. You’ve always had a tendency to overthink things, but still... that coolness in his gaze lingers in your mind, and you can’t shake the feeling that something has changed.

You glance away, pretending to focus on the glass in your hand, but the truth is, you don’t know how to feel. You don’t want to feel disappointed, but you do. And it’s hitting you harder than it should, because maybe, deep down, you wanted more.

But this is your first glimpse of what happens in the real world. And right now, it feels like you’re just two strangers in a crowded room.

The first course arrives, pulling you out of your thoughts, and you try to refocus, letting the taste of the food ground you for a while. You chat lightly with Jungwon, making small talk about the meal, the restaurant, anything that keeps your mind occupied. Every now and then, though, your thoughts drift back to Yoongi, to that cool, distant nod, and the wound in your heart expands. You try to shake it off, tell yourself it’s nothing, but fuck—it stings.

Your phone buzzes again with a message from Chae. You excuse yourself from Jungwon and pull your phone out.

Chae: If u don’t intro me to Min Yoongi, friendship over!!!!!!! Also jk but ik you havent met him yet. Omg im guna freakkk

You sigh. Of course. Chae doesn’t know. She hasn’t seen the awkward distance that’s already wedged itself between you and Yoongi tonight. And you definitely don’t want to be the one to burst her bubble. This is her night—a huge one for her culinary career. The last thing you want to do is drag your personal worries into it.

You type up a simple reply.

You: On it. Stand by. And pls act normal

Fuckkk how are you going to do this? You excuse yourself to the powder room. Looking up at yourself in the mirror, you adjust your lipstick and clean up the edges with the pad of your ring finger.

Yoongi’s a good person, you remind yourself, your mind running through every little moment you’ve shared with him at the office. He won’t embarrass you in public. That’s not who he is. But still, there’s that nagging doubt in the back of your mind—the one that’s been whispering ever since you saw his face earlier, the way his warmth slipped into something more distant.

And if he does embarrass you? Well... maybe that’s your answer. Maybe tonight is the night you get the clarity you’ve been secretly waiting for. 

You come back to Jungwon wiping his mouth with the table napkin, chewing the last bits of his mains. Before you can even politely excuse yourself, he gulps his drink in one go, “Hey, I think I'm actually gonna bounce.”

So that’s that. You text Chae and make your way toward Yoongi’s table, heartbeat picking up speed.

Chae: I’m goin in. Get your ass ready. 

As you approach, Beefy—the bodyguard you recognize from past run-ins inside the office—gives you a friendly nod and lets you through without hesitation. You give him a grateful smile before turning your attention to Yoongi and Jungkook. Jungkook is mid-conversation, laughing at something Yoongi has said, but as soon as you appear, their heads turn toward you.

You give a small wave and a smile. “Hey.”

Yoongi’s eyes meet yours for a split second, and he gives you a smile that reminds you of that day you first met. Forced. Awkward. Tight-lipped.

Fuck. You’re starting to feel like such an idiot. Maybe this was a mistake—maybe he really doesn’t want to associate with you outside of work. You should’ve read the room. 

But before your thoughts can spiral any further, Jungkook thankfully steps in. “I’m Jungkook, and you are?”

You give him your name, a small, polite bow. You’re about to explain who you are, but before you can, Jungkook’s face light up with recognition.

“Ohhh, wait,” he says pointing a finger at you, a grin spreading across his face, “You’re Yoongi-hyung’s boss.”

You freeze. Boss? His grin widens, and suddenly, there’s a teasing glint in his eyes as he flicks his gaze between you and Yoongi like he’s just connected some dots.

Yoongi shoots him a look, something caught between exasperation and warning. It’s like you can hear the silent “Don’t.” Jungkook ignores it, his smile only growing, and so is your confusion.

“That would be me,” you say, trying to hold onto your composure, giving Jungkook a nod while feeling completely out of the loop.

“Hyung, why didn’t you tell me she was going to be here?” Jungkook’s tone is light, but there’s an unspoken challenge beneath it, like he’s teasing Yoongi in a way that only someone who knows him well could. The silent back-and-forth between them is hard to miss, and it leaves you feeling both confused and embarrassed. There’s clearly something you’re not getting.

Yoongi just shrugs, his voice more detached than you’d like. “I had no idea.”

You furrow your brows, trying to make sense of what’s happening. Jungkook gives Yoongi a curious look, as if they’re having an entire conversation through telepathy. You, meanwhile, are just standing there, completely out of place and unsure whether you should laugh or back away slowly.

And Yoongi hasn’t even addressed you directly in the midst of all this. God, you’re so embarrassed.

At this point, you figure it’s time to bail. You gave it a shot, and it feels like Yoongi doesn’t even want you here. Sorry, Chae. “Anyway, it was nice to meet you Jungkook, but I should just—” You jerk your thumb over your shoulder, already planning your exit.

“No, no!” Jungkook interrupts quickly, grinning like he’s enjoying this way too much. “If you’re here, you should definitely join us,” he says, gesturing to the empty spot next to Yoongi. “There’s more than enough room.”

You hesitate, but before you can even respond, Yoongi speaks up, his tone calm but there’s something else beneath it—something strained. “She’s with someone already.”

You blink. Someone?

Ah. Now it makes sense.

You glance at Yoongi, the pieces falling into place. He thinks you’re here with someone, like on a date. Is it really why he’s been acting distant? Hmm. It’s almost funny now, if it wasn’t so painfully awkward.

You clear your throat. “Actually, I just met Jungwon here. I came alone.” You explain it to Jungkook, but really, the person who needs to hear it is Yoongi. “And he already left, so I’d be down to join if it’s cool with you….” 

Jungkook’s grin is immediate, and he pats the seat next to Yoongi like it’s been waiting for you all along. “Of course! Sit with us.”

You hesitate for a second longer, glancing at Yoongi to see how he’s reacting. His expression shifts—softens—and before you know it, he’s pulling the chair out for you, at the same time Jungkook gets a call.

“Be right back,” Jungkook says and disappears into the hall towards the back of the restaurant.

You settle into the chair beside Yoongi, feeling this strange tension. You glance at him, but Yoongi avoids you, eyes fixed on the table.

But then, just barely, you notice it—the faintest tug at the corner of his lips. It’s subtle, but it’s there. He’s smiling, the kind of smile that betrays him. The kind that says, Yeah, you caught me. And it confirms what you guessed was happening: he was actually kinda jealous. Which is ridiculous, because why would he feel that?!

He breathes out a soft fuck, before he runs a hand across his scalp. It’s almost funny now and you can’t help but shake your head at him, a small pout playing on your lips. You hear a “sorry” in the deepest register you’ve heard for his voice.

Neither of you says a word after that, but the moment speaks for itself. There’s a quiet agreement to let it go. 

“So…” you start.

Yoongi clears his throat. “Can I get you something to drink?”

You blink, a little surprised, but grateful for the gesture. “Just a glass of white, please.”

He nods, finally looking at you for a second before signaling the waiter. His voice is calm, easy, as he orders for you. He orders a whiskey neat.

As the waiter walks away, Yoongi leans back, glancing at you briefly before looking away again. He doesn’t say much, but the small smile that lingers on his lips tells you enough. He knows he got caught acting a fool. And he’s not quite sure how to deal with it.

And honestly, you don’t know what to feel about it, either. It’s… madness, really.

When your drink arrives, the clouds seem to part. You extend your flute towards him, and he clinks it with his lowball and you both take a sip, peering at each other through your own glasses.

Jungkook sits back down at the table, and the conversation picks up almost immediately. Jungkook leans forward, flashing a bright smile. “So, what’s it like working with him?” He jerks his head in Yoongi’s direction, boba-like orbs twinkling mischievously.

Yoongi sighs, leaning back in his chair, his usual calm demeanor settling in. “Stop,” he mutters under his breath, already sensing where this is going.

You laugh softly. “He’s not so bad. Actually, he’s really helpful.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up. “Helpful? Yoongi-hyung? Are we talking about the same guy?” He’s clearly enjoying himself, teasing while keeping the mood light.

Yoongi shoots him a look, shaking his head. “I’m right here.”

But Jungkook grins, ignoring Yoongi’s protest. “Nah, you sure he isn’t sleeping on the job?”

You chuckle, nodding. “Well, he does use his lunches for sleeping more than eating.”

Yoongi groans. “Great. Love this conversation.”

“I knew it,” Jungkook laughs, before drinking the rest of his drink like a shot.

You can’t help but snicker, but there’s something in you that feels a little protective of Yoongi. “To be fair, he is helpful. You should see him in the office. Always stepping in when I need something fixed.”

Yoongi’s lips twitch, fighting back a small smile. “See? Helpful.”

Jungkook just raises an eyebrow at him. “Wow, look at you, hyung. Gunning for Employee of the Month.”

“It’s literally just him in my department. He already wins by default.” you bump Yoongi with your shoulders to coax a tiny smile from him, and you’re successful.

Conversations flow naturally after that, going towards the meal you just had (which Chae would be happy to know got rave reviews) onto other things.

“So, where are you from?” Jungkook asks.

“Busan,” you say with a grin, catching the flicker of excitement in his eyes.

“No way!” Jungkook says, clapping his hands together. “I’m from Busan, too!” He leans in, his enthusiasm infectious. “Do you know that bungeoppang stall at Gukje Market?”

You blink in surprise. “The one with the darling ahjumma with the big hair and red lipstick? I used to go there after school.”

“Oh shit, really?” Jungkook lets out a laugh. “I still dream about that mmm...”

“The ahjumma?” Yoongi asks, straight-faced and full of shit.

Jungkook’s expression sours and you giggle.

“You’re just jealous you’re missing out, hyung,” Jungkook says, turning to Yoongi with a teasing grin. “Busan people know what’s up.”

Yoongi doesn't say anything, just looks at both of you with amusement as you share a high five.

Before Jungkook can continue, Chae finally approaches the table, in her crisp chef’s uniform and a bright smile on her face. 

You introduce her quickly, and she immediately fits in, shaking hands with both of them. You admire the composure, really, considering she is meeting her favorite people.

But what she says next surprises you, when she stops being “loyal ARMY” and starts being “protective best friend.”

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Chae says to Yoongi, her tone light, but knowing.

Yoongi looks momentarily caught off guard, but before he can say anything, Jungkook jumps in, grinning wide. “Oh yeah? Well, I’ve heard a lot about her too,” he says, nodding toward you.

Huh?!

You feel your face heat up, and Yoongi glances at you, clearly not expecting the conversation to turn on him like that. “Wonder why you two talk about each other so much,” Jungkook muses, tapping his chin dramatically.

You and Yoongi exchange a look, both of you feeling the awkwardness creep in. You try to laugh it off, but it’s clear both of you are embarrassed.

Chae, despite starting this whole ripple, decides to shift gears to give you a reprieve, “Anyway, I hear you’re part-timing in the military kitchen, Jungkook. I’ve been dying to know what you think of our food, as a fellow professional.”

Jungkook beams, clearly thrilled to be praised for his culinary pursuits. “Oh, it’s fuckin’ phenomenal. Though—that,” he points at one of the dishes on the table, “that’s way better than anything I’ve had lately.”

Chae’s face lights up. “Ah, that makes me so happy. That’s one of my original recipes. What did you like about it?”

As the two of them dive into an enthusiastic conversation about food, you feel a shift under the table. At first, you think it’s nothing—a stray napkin, maybe. But then it happens again, more deliberate this time. You glance down, and—oh shit, that’s Yoongi’s hand.

Your breath catches for a second, your heart doing a little flip. You glance at Yoongi, but he’s still keeping his attention on the conversation between Chae and Jungkook. Still, there’s something there—something softer—that he doesn’t quite hide.

He’s slow, careful, like he’s testing whether you’ll pull away. You freeze for a second, your pulse kicking up. His fingers brush yours lightly before he gently takes your hand in his, slipping it under the cloth of the table like it’s a secret just between the two of you.

Your heart soars. He’s talking to Chae, pretending everything is normal, but this? This is definitely not nothing. You glance at him, but he’s looking ahead, calm and composed as always, matching the tenderness in the way his thumb strokes over your knuckles.

You squeeze his hand back. It feels like the confirmation you’ve both been waiting for, even though neither of you says anything. 

As the night winds down, the crowd starts thinning out. You wait near the entrance for Chae to finish up, scrolling absently on your phone. You’d figured Yoongi left through the back at some point after he and Jungkook were requested to tour the kitchens. But then you glance up and there he is walking towards you.

He stands close, gaze steady on you, like he’s been waiting for this moment. “I’ll drive you home,” he says, his voice low, like it’s not even a question.

You’re caught a little off guard. “You don’t have to—Chae and I were just—”

“I’ll drive you home,” he repeats, softer this time but just as firm. There’s something in the way he says it that makes it hard to argue. It’s not just the offer—it’s the way he’s looking at you, like he’s already decided.

And because God knows you’re so weak for this man, it’s almost pathetic how you just nod wordlessly.

Chae appears, barely catching the tail end of the conversation. Her eyes dart between you and Yoongi, and then—because of course she can’t resist—her jaw drops dramatically. 

She pulls her phone out, putting on the most ridiculous performance. “Yeah? I’ll come over!” She pretends to talk to someone, then covers the phone mic, turning to you. “I won’t be home. Don’t wait up. You have the whole apartment to yourself, all night.”

You shoot her a look, and she gives you a wink before making herself scarce. You groan inwardly. Way to be subtle, Chae. Really nailed it.

Yoongi chuckles under his breath, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. He motions to the car waiting outside. “Come on,” he says, and just like that, you’re following him out into the cool night air.

The car pulls up, sleek and black, with a driver already waiting inside. Yoongi opens the door for you, and you slide in, nerves buzzing in your chest. He slips in beside you, the driver closing the door for him.

The city lights blur past as the car moves through the streets, and for a moment, you’re both quiet, just watching the world pass by. But then, you feel it—his hand, creeping over the seat like it’s found a familiar place, slowly sliding over yours.

Your breath hitches as his fingers intertwined with yours again, his touch warm and steady. There’s no hesitation this time. His grip is a little firmer, more certain.

“Come closer,” he murmurs, his voice quiet, but the way he says it sends a shiver through you.

You hesitate, more out of nerves than anything. “It’s ok,” you mutter, half-playful, half-nervous. “I’m fine here.”

Yoongi lets out a low chuckle, the sound deep and amused. He doesn’t push it, but his thumb strokes over your hand again, like he’s perfectly content with the small bit of contact for now. Still, you feel the tension simmering between you—the quiet pull you’ve been dancing around for weeks, maybe months.

The rest of the drive passes in a blur, your thoughts spinning. When the car pulls up in front of your apartment, you take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself. You know what comes next. You’re psyching yourself up to make the move, but Yoongi’s voice echoes in the stillness inside the car.

“Good night,” he says, watching you with that look that makes your heart race. “You look really pretty tonight.”

You feel the blush creeping up your neck, “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He nods, a boyish grin on his face. 

And before you can stop yourself, the words spill out. “Yoongi, do you... want to come up for ramen?”

The second it leaves your mouth, you cringe inwardly. Ramen? Really? But it’s out there now, and you can’t take it back.

Yoongi’s tongue skims the seam of his lips before it curves into a knowing smile. “Ramen, huh?”

You clear your throat, trying to salvage whatever dignity you have left. “Yeah... you know. If you’re hungry.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Yoongi unbuckles his seatbelt, his eyes darkening ever so slightly. “Ramen sounds good.”

A/N: So....... ramen, eh???? Please lmk what you thought about this chapter <3 Any favorite parts? Personally, it was Yoongi drooling over MC's gym fit. That was hella fun to write.

Thanks again for reading this you lovely human!

Important poll right here Chapter Four >

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