#the way I got so excited about these emails

[w1w2]

The Echo of an Ordinary Girl

Irene x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 17K

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: After years of relentless work, Y/N’s promotion celebration takes a surprising turn when a chance encounter leads her to an exclusive idol party. There, she catches the attention of Irene from Red Velvet, sparking a quiet yet profound connection.

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

A soft snow had started to fall, casting a glittering veil over the bustling streets of Seoul. Y/N pulled her coat tighter as she stepped out of the sleek glass doors of her company’s headquarters. The cold bit at her cheeks, but she didn’t mind; the warmth of her success was more than enough to keep her spirits high.

Earlier that day, during the morning briefing, she had been officially promoted to Manager—a position she had worked tirelessly toward since moving to Seoul three years ago. The congratulatory emails and warm smiles from her colleagues had left her feeling both accomplished and reflective. She thought of her journey from Europe to South Korea, the challenges she faced, and how this moment was a testament to her determination.

Reaching the curb to hail a cab, Y/N adjusted her glasses, the sleek frames resting perfectly on her subtly arched brows, framing her thoughtful green eyes. There was a calm intensity in her gaze, a reflection of the emotional intelligence and quiet confidence that had carried her through the hurdles of her career. Her lips curled into a small, genuine smile as she glanced at her phone buzzing in her pocket.

It was a message in the group chat she shared with her three closest friends in Seoul:

[Soojin]: Manager Y/N! That title looks good on you. We’re celebrating tonight, no excuses!

[Jiho]: Seriously, you deserve a night out! We’ve got something special planned, so don’t even think about canceling.

[Minji]: Wear something cute, but don’t go overboard. You know we’ll be late if you overthink it.

Y/N chuckled softly, tucking her phone back into the crossbody bag slung across her shoulder. She had learned early on that arguing with her friends was pointless. Their love for celebrations—and for her—meant she was in for an evening she wouldn’t soon forget.

Later that night, Y/N stepped out of the cab in front of a well-known bar nestled in the vibrant district of Itaewon. The neon sign above the entrance flickered invitingly, reflecting off the light snow that continued to fall.

Her outfit was both stylish and understated, a perfect blend of her practical nature and subtle flair. She wore ripped jeans paired with a crisp shirt that emphasized her toned upper body—her hard-earned muscles a quiet testament to her dedication to maintaining balance in her hectic life. Over the outfit, she’d thrown on a high-fashion jacket, the perfect mix of casual and refined. Rings adorned her fingers, adding a touch of edge to her ensemble, while her dark blond hair fell loosely in soft, straight strands, catching the faint glow of the streetlights.

As she approached the bar, her eyes scanned the crowd, immediately spotting her friends standing near the entrance. Their excited waves and cheerful grins brought a warmth to her heart that rivaled the glow of her earlier success. Tonight wasn’t just about celebrating her promotion—it was about embracing the life she had built, surrounded by the people who made it all worthwhile.

“Finally!” Soojin exclaimed, pulling Y/N into a warm hug. “We thought you’d back out and bury yourself in work.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Y/N replied, grinning. “Not with you three plotting against me.”

Minji gave her a once-over, nodding approvingly at Y/N’s outfit. “Good. You look the part of a manager who knows how to let loose.”

Jiho, ever the planner, led the way inside. “Okay, ladies. Follow me. I know a guy.”

The bar was packed, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filling the air. True to Jiho’s word, they were quickly ushered upstairs to the VIP section, a cozy yet sophisticated suite overlooking the main floor.

“How do you always manage this?” Y/N asked as they settled into plush seats.

Jiho winked. “Let’s just say I have connections.”

The night unfolded in a whirlwind of laughter and clinking glasses, the lively hum of the bar providing the perfect backdrop for their celebration. Y/N found herself loosening up as her friends swapped stories and jokes, their energy infectious. The VIP suite was intimate but elegant, with plush seating, dim lighting, and a panoramic view of the bustling main floor below.

Jiho had ordered a round of signature cocktails for the table—colorful concoctions served in ornate glasses that seemed almost too fancy to drink. “To success!” Jiho proclaimed, lifting her bright blue martini high in the air.

“To Y/N!” Minji countered, standing up dramatically and holding her glass aloft. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she added, “The most hardworking, badass Manager we know!”

Soojin, always quick to join in, tapped her glass against Minji’s. “And don’t forget the most loyal friend and terrible dancer.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad!” Y/N protested with a mock glare, though her laughter quickly broke through.

“To Y/N!” they all echoed, their voices rising above the noise of the bar as their glasses met with a satisfying clink. Y/N felt a warmth spread through her—not from the alcohol but from the love and pride radiating from the people around her. In the three years she’d spent in Seoul, these people had become her rock, a second family that reminded her she wasn’t navigating this city alone.

“You’ve earned this, Y/N,” Jiho said earnestly, her hand resting on Y/N’s shoulder. “All those late nights, the way you push yourself—you inspire us.”

“And now,” Soojin added, nudging Y/N playfully, “you get to bask in the glory of our undivided attention and terrible drinking habits.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “You three are impossible. But thank you—for tonight, for everything.”

As the drinks continued to flow, their stories became more animated, the jokes increasingly ridiculous. Jiho shared a tale of her most awkward client interaction, which had Minji practically in tears from laughing too hard. Soojin, ever the dramatist, acted out an exaggerated rendition of a failed first date, complete with over-the-top gestures that had the entire table roaring.

But as the night went on, Y/N felt the need to step away, to breathe in the quiet pride swelling in her chest. “I’ll be right back,” she said, standing and smoothing her jacket.

“Don’t get lost!” Minji called after her, raising her glass.

The crisp December air filled Y/N’s lungs as she stepped outside the bar’s back entrance. A faint glow from the streetlights reflected off the freshly fallen snow, giving the alley a serene, otherworldly feel. She leaned against the brick wall, fishing out a cigarette from her pocket and lighting it with a quick flick of her lighter.

This was her night—a culmination of years of hard work, late nights, and moments of doubt. It was a small victory, but one that reminded her she was capable of more than she sometimes gave herself credit for. A sense of contentment washed over her as she tilted her head back, gazing at the snowflakes drifting lazily down from the dark sky.

The quiet moment didn’t last long. A few meters away, muffled voices rose into a heated exchange. Y/N squinted, noticing three figures huddled around a man near the alley’s edge.

“Just one more photo! Come on, you owe us that much for waiting!” one of the voices demanded, sharp and insistent.

“I already took photos with you and gave the autographs,” the man replied, his tone calm but laced with frustration. “I’d appreciate some privacy now.”

The fans ignored him, stepping closer, their voices growing louder and more aggressive.

“Why are you being so rude now? Do you think you’re too good for your fans?”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t recognize the man at first, but his discomfort was clear. Her instinct to protect kicked in. Without a second thought, she stubbed out her cigarette and walked toward the group.

“Hey!” she called, her voice firm. The fans turned, startled by the interruption.

“Who are you?” one of them snapped, glaring at her.

“Someone who’s not afraid to call the police,” Y/N shot back, pulling out her phone. She locked eyes with the man they were harassing, silently asking if he was okay. He gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“You don’t even know what’s going on,” another fan spat.

“I know enough,” Y/N replied, her voice steady. “You’ve been harassing him, and if you don’t leave now, I’ll make sure this alley is swarming with cops in minutes. Your choice.”

The trio exchanged uncertain glances before finally backing off. “Whatever,” one of them muttered, turning to leave.

As the fans disappeared down the street, the man let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he said, his voice warm with gratitude.

“No problem,” Y/N replied, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “You okay?”

“I am now,” he said, offering a small smile.

Now that the tension had eased, Y/N got a better look at him. His stylish clothes, perfectly tousled hair, and unmistakable aura of confidence made recognition click. Her eyes widened slightly. “Wait… you’re Key, right? From SHINee?”

He nodded, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Guilty as charged.”

Y/N felt a wave of embarrassment but quickly brushed it aside. “I didn’t recognize you right away. Sorry about those fans.”

“Don’t apologize,” Key said. “You handled that better than most people would. I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it. I just hate seeing people being cornered like that,” Y/N replied.

Key chuckled softly. “You’re not like most people I meet.”

As they stood there, Key glanced back at the bar. “I was just here to pick up some bottles of my favorite drink for a party. It’s imported, and the owner’s an old friend who keeps it in stock for me.” He hesitated before continuing, “Actually… you and your friends should come. It’s going to be an idols and stuff get-together, but I think you’d fit right in.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t know about that. My friends and I aren’t exactly… your usual crowd.”

Key tilted his head, a playful smirk forming. “You helped me out when you didn’t have to. Consider it my way of saying thanks.”

Before Y/N could respond, the door behind her swung open. Jiho, Minji, and Soojin appeared, their laughter filling the alley.

“There you are!” Jiho said, her eyes narrowing as she noticed Key. “Wait… is that…?”

Key gave a small wave. “Hi.”

“Holy—” Minji began, but Soojin elbowed her before she could finish.

“Your friend here is amazing,” Key said, gesturing toward Y/N. “I was just inviting you all to a party tonight.”

“A party?” Soojin asked, her eyes lighting up.

“Yes,” Key confirmed. “It’s at a villa not too far from here. Exclusive, private, and plenty of fun. What do you think?”

Y/N hesitated, glancing at her friends. Jiho’s excited nod and Minji’s wide grin made it clear they were already on board.

“C’mon, Y/N,” Soojin urged. “When are we ever going to get another chance like this?”

Y/N sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay. Why not?”

Key grinned. “Great. Let’s go.”

A sleek black van pulled up moments later, and the group piled in, their excitement bubbling over as the van drove off into the night.

The van glided smoothly through the snow-dusted streets, leaving the bustling nightlife of Itaewon behind. Y/N gazed out of the window, her mind wandering between disbelief and curiosity. Her friends, on the other hand, were practically buzzing with excitement.

“Did you see the interior of this van?” Jiho whispered loudly, nudging Minji. “This isn’t just luxury—it’s idol-level luxury.”

“We’re literally heading to an idol party,” Minji replied, grinning. “How is this even real?”

Key, seated comfortably at the front, glanced back with a smile. “You’ll see soon enough. It’s just a little gathering, but I think you’ll enjoy it.”

As they turned into a gated community, the surroundings shifted. The streets were lined with towering villas, their architecture sleek and modern. The van stopped in front of a sprawling property, its façade illuminated by soft, golden lights. Snow shimmered like diamonds on the manicured lawn.

The driver opened the door, and the group stepped out onto the cobblestone driveway, their breath visible in the crisp night air. Y/N paused, taking a moment to absorb the sight before her. The villa was nothing short of breathtaking, a modern architectural marvel nestled in one of Seoul’s most exclusive neighborhoods.

Its façade was a seamless blend of sleek glass panels and natural stone, the warm golden lights from within spilling onto the manicured grounds. The building rose in staggered levels, each section connected by terraces adorned with elegant wrought-iron railings. Vines with winter berries clung to the lower stone walls, adding a touch of charm to the contemporary design.

The large floor-to-ceiling windows offered tantalizing glimpses of the party inside—silhouettes of people laughing, mingling, and dancing under ambient lighting that shifted in soft hues of purple and gold. A grand staircase swept up to the main entrance, flanked by tall, meticulously trimmed evergreen trees wrapped in twinkling fairy lights. It felt like stepping into a dream, a world far removed from the bustling streets of the city they’d just left behind.

To the right of the villa, Y/N noticed a sleek infinity pool that shimmered even in the winter chill, its edges blending seamlessly with the view of the sprawling city below. The snow-dusted patio surrounding it was dotted with clusters of modern outdoor furniture and heat lamps, where a few guests braved the cold to chat and sip their drinks.

“It’s like something out of a movie,” Jiho murmured, her voice tinged with awe as her gaze swept over the scene.

“More like a music video,” Soojin quipped, nudging Minji. “Think we’ll end up in the background of someone’s Instagram story tonight?”

Minji rolled her eyes but grinned. “If we’re lucky.”

Y/N shook her head with a soft laugh, her initial hesitation about coming here momentarily forgotten. The villa exuded an atmosphere of exclusivity and indulgence, yet there was an undeniable warmth to it, as if it invited you to step closer and be part of the magic inside.

“Let’s not stand here gawking all night,” Jiho said, tugging Y/N gently toward the staircase. “Key didn’t invite us just to freeze out here.”

With one last glance at the dazzling exterior, Y/N followed her friends up the stairs, her heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and anticipation for what awaited them beyond those glass doors.

“Here we are,” Key announced, leading the way. At the entrance, a pair of well-dressed security guards stood by, clipboards in hand. Key spoke to them briefly, gesturing toward Y/N and her friends.

“They’re with me,” he said confidently.

The guards nodded, and one of them opened the door. “Enjoy the evening.”

As they stepped inside, the warmth of the villa enveloped them. The interior was just as stunning as the exterior. Floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city lights below.

Key turned to them with an easy smile. “The bar’s in the kitchen. Drinks are on me. Have fun!”

“Wait, you’re not sticking with us?” Soojin asked, feigning a pout.

Key chuckled. “I’ll see you around. Gotta make my rounds first.” With that, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving the group to fend for themselves.

Following Key’s directions, the group made their way to the kitchen, which had been transformed into a sleek bar setup. Bottles of every kind lined the counters, and a bartender stood ready to mix drinks. The space buzzed with energy as idols and their friends mingled, their laughter blending seamlessly with the upbeat music.

As Y/N and her friends approached the sleek marble bar, a pair of familiar faces caught their attention. Jeon Somi and Giselle from Aespa stood side by side, their radiant appearances drawing casual glances from other guests. They were deep in lighthearted conversation, their laughter blending seamlessly with the background hum of the party.

Jiho’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Is that—?”

“Yes,” Y/N whispered quickly, cutting her off before Jiho’s excitement could spill over.

Somi was striking as always, her blonde hair styled in loose waves that cascaded over her shoulders. She wore a shimmering silver mini-dress with a plunging neckline, paired with towering heels that accentuated her already statuesque frame. Her makeup was flawless, her glossy lips curved into an inviting smile as her sharp, cat-like eyeliner added an extra edge to her features. She looked every bit the superstar she was—bold, confident, and effortlessly glamorous.

Beside her, Giselle exuded a more understated elegance. Her sleek pink hair framed her face perfectly, softening the angles of her jawline. She wore a tailored blazer dress in deep emerald green, cinched at the waist with a belt that highlighted her figure. Her look was paired with chunky ankle boots, adding a playful edge to her refined style. Subtle gold jewelry caught the light as she moved, her demeanor cool and approachable.

Noticing the newcomers, Somi’s gaze flickered to them, and she flashed a bright, friendly smile. “Hey there! You’re new faces.”

Y/N’s heart skipped slightly at the casual warmth in her tone, but Minji stepped forward first, her voice a mix of excitement and nervousness. “We just got here. This place is amazing.”

“It’s something, isn’t it?” Giselle chimed in, her tone easy and welcoming as her sharp eyes quickly scanned the group. “Are you here with Key?”

Y/N nodded, regaining her composure. “Yeah, we ran into him earlier, and he invited us.”

“Well, Key has good taste,” Somi said with a wink, the corner of her mouth tugging upward in a mischievous grin. “I’m Somi, by the way. And this is Giselle.”

Giselle gave a small wave, her smile soft but genuine. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Y/N and her friends introduced themselves in turn, their initial awkwardness melting under the idols’ casual, welcoming presence. Somi leaned slightly against the bar as they spoke, her interest piqued by the group’s easy camaraderie. “So, what do you guys do?” Giselle asked, her curiosity clearly genuine.

“We’re just regular people,” Y/N replied with a modest smile, her voice steady. “I work in logistics, and these troublemakers are my friends.”

“Troublemakers?” Somi echoed with a laugh, her tone playful. “I like them already.”

Minji grinned, her confidence growing. “Y/N’s the serious one in our group. The rest of us? Chaos. Total chaos.”

“Oh, I can tell,” Giselle said with a knowing smirk, her gaze shifting to Jiho, who was still star-struck. “But it’s good. Regular people with a little chaos? That’s refreshing.”

The bartender arrived with Somi and Giselle’s drinks—Giselle’s a dark cocktail garnished with a twist of orange peel and Somi’s a vibrant pink concoction that matched her bold personality. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the casual way they carried themselves, despite the aura of celebrity that clung to them.

“So, do you guys party often, or is this a once-in-a-blue-moon thing?” Somi asked, swirling her drink as she leaned forward slightly.

Jiho, emboldened by the atmosphere, answered quickly. “We celebrate when we can. Tonight’s special—it’s Y/N’s big promotion!”

“A promotion?” Giselle’s brows rose, her interest clearly piqued. “That’s amazing. Congrats, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said with a bashful smile, ducking her head slightly. “It’s been a long road, but worth it.”

Somi raised her glass, her smile turning almost conspiratorial. “Well, that calls for another toast. To promotions, new friends, and a night to remember.”

Y/N raised her own glass with a small smile, her earlier nervousness fading. “Cheers to that.”

The group clinked their glasses, and as the conversation flowed effortlessly, Y/N felt a sense of ease settle over her. Somi’s humor and Giselle’s grounded nature made the idols feel less like untouchable stars and more like people she could genuinely connect with.

“You guys are fun,” Somi declared after a sip of her drink, her gaze sparkling with mischief. “Stick with us tonight. We’ll make sure you have a great time.”

“Careful what you promise,” Y/N teased lightly, her grin matching Somi’s.

The low hum of music and laughter spilled from the various rooms of the villa, but it was the karaoke room that drew Somi’s attention. After finishing their drinks, she turned to Y/N and her friends with a wide grin.

“Alright, karaoke time!” Somi announced, grabbing Y/N’s arm.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, amused. “We just got here. Shouldn’t we, you know, mingle?”

“You can’t hide that voice forever,” Soojin chimed in, nudging her teasingly.

“What voice?” Somi asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Oh, she’s amazing,” Minji said, her eyes sparkling. “But she’s shy about it. You’ll have to drag her up there.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Somi declared. “Let’s go.”

Y/N groaned playfully but couldn’t suppress her smile as Somi led the way with an infectious energy, her friends trailing behind them. The hallway leading to the karaoke room grew quieter, the distant hum of the party fading as they approached. When Somi pushed open the door, Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, taking in the scene before her.

The karaoke room was a cozy yet vibrant haven nestled within the sprawling villa. It was spacious but designed with an intimate feel, the walls lined with plush, velvet-textured panels that absorbed sound and gave the room a luxurious warmth. A massive TV mounted on one wall displayed an animated karaoke menu, its neon colors contrasting against the dim lighting.

The ceiling featured a constellation of tiny, twinkling LED lights, creating the illusion of a starry night above. Along the perimeter of the room, colorful LED accents pulsed faintly to the beat of the music, shifting between deep blues, soft purples, and occasional bursts of gold, casting an ever-changing glow on the occupants.

A semi-circular arrangement of plush leather sofas wrapped around the room’s center, their deep cushions inviting guests to sink in and relax. In front of the TV, a small raised platform served as the makeshift “stage,” complete with two cordless microphones resting on sleek stands. A marble minibar was tucked into one corner, stocked with an array of drinks, from sparkling water to imported liquors, with an elegant countertop illuminated by soft under-lighting.

The air carried a subtle blend of scents—faint notes of citrus from the cocktails and the lingering warmth of expensive cologne. A handful of other partygoers were already there, sprawled comfortably on the sofas, laughing and singing along to the current performance. The karaoke system was state-of-the-art, seamlessly syncing lyrics to music videos displayed in vivid clarity on the screen.

The atmosphere was relaxed yet charged with the kind of energy only found at gatherings where inhibitions were left at the door. The hum of music mingled with bursts of applause and occasional laughter, creating an environment that felt alive, yet somehow comforting.

“This place is insane,” Minji whispered as they stepped inside, her gaze darting from the starry ceiling to the stocked minibar.

“Why am I not surprised?” Soojin added, her voice low as she took in the luxurious details. “Leave it to idols to make karaoke feel like a five-star experience.”

Somi turned back to them, her grin wide as she gestured toward the stage. “Alright, who’s up first?”

Y/N couldn’t resist rolling her eyes as her friends all looked at her expectantly. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Too late!” Jiho teased, nudging her forward. “You’re the singer in the group. It’s your destiny.”

“Destiny?” Y/N groaned, laughing despite herself. “I thought we were here to relax.”

Somi leaned in conspiratorially. “Relaxation is overrated. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Before Y/N could protest further, Somi grabbed the remote and flipped through the song list, then turned to Y/N. “How about we do a duet? Something fun to break the ice?”

Y/N hesitated, glancing at her friends, who were all grinning at her. “Fine,” she relented with a sigh. “What do you have in mind?”

“‘APT.’ by Rose and Bruno Mars.” Somi said confidently.

Y/N laughed softly. “Alright. Deal.”

As the first notes of “APT.” filled the room, a few heads turned toward the stage out of casual curiosity. The vibrant, synth-driven beat and playful energy of the song were impossible to ignore, and Somi wasted no time diving into her part.

“Kissy face, kissy face, sent to your phone, but, I’m tryna kiss your lips for real,” Somi sang, her voice light and flirtatious as she swayed effortlessly to the rhythm. She twirled on the stage, her blonde hair catching the colorful lights as she pointed cheekily at the crowd. The room buzzed with her energy, and a few partygoers began clapping in time with the beat.

Y/N leaned into the microphone for her turn, her voice steady yet filled with a quiet confidence. “Red hearts, red hearts, that's what I'm on, yeah, come give me somethin' I can feel, oh-oh, oh,” she sang, her soulful tone adding depth to the playful lyrics.

As they moved into the pre-chorus, their voices blended seamlessly. “Don't you want me like I want you, baby? Don’t you need me like I need you now? Sleep tomorrow, but tonight, go crazy, all you gotta do is just meet me at the…” Their harmonies rang out, drawing more attention from the room.

By the time the chorus hit, the energy in the room had shifted completely. “아파트, 아파트, 아파트, 아파트, uh, uh-huh, uh-huh,” they sang in unison, Somi’s vibrant tone and Y/N’s rich, resonant voice weaving together effortlessly. Y/N allowed herself to relax into the performance, swaying to the rhythm and exchanging playful glances with Somi.

On the second verse, Somi turned the spotlight fully onto Y/N, stepping back with a grin as Y/N picked up the next lines. “It's whatever (Whatever), it's whatever (Whatever), it's whatever (Whatever) you like,” Y/N sang, her voice gaining strength as she swayed to the rhythm, her green eyes sparkling under the room’s dim lighting. The playful edge in her delivery was undeniable as she leaned into the next line, “Turn this 아파트 into a club, I'm talkin' drink, dance, smoke, freak, party all night,” adding a touch of charm and mischief that made the audience sit up and take notice.

The shift in the room was palpable. Conversations paused mid-sentence, heads turned, and people began clapping along with the beat. Even those who hadn’t initially been paying attention were now fully captivated by the chemistry and energy on stage.

Near the minibar, Red Velvet’s Wendy looked up from her drink, her eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity as she leaned toward Irene. “Who is that?” she murmured, gesturing toward the stage.

Irene, who had been watching the performance with quiet intensity, didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze lingered on Y/N, drawn in by the ease with which she commanded the song. Y/N’s stage presence was magnetic—her voice rich and controlled, her every movement natural yet captivating. She wasn’t just singing; she was performing as if she belonged on a stage.

As the song reached its bridge, Y/N and Somi both leaned into the mics, their voices intertwining effortlessly. “Hey, so now you know the game, are you ready? 'Cause I'm comin' to get ya, get ya, get ya,” they sang, their playful delivery eliciting cheers from the crowd. Somi twirled again, encouraging the onlookers to clap along, while Y/N’s voice carried the weight of the next line: “Hold on, hold on, I’m on my way… yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah, I’m on my way…”

By the final chorus, the room was fully alive with energy. The crowd clapped and swayed to the infectious beat, and even the idols who had been lounging on the sofas were now leaning forward, their attention firmly fixed on the stage.

“아파트, 아파트, 아파트, 아파트, uh, uh-huh, uh-huh,” the two sang together, their voices blending in a vibrant crescendo that brought the performance to a powerful close. The final note lingered in the air for a beat before the room erupted into cheers and applause.

Somi, slightly breathless but grinning wide, threw an arm around Y/N. “Okay, okay, I see you!” she teased into the mic. “We’ve got a superstar in the house tonight!”

Y/N, her cheeks flushed from the attention, laughed and shook her head as she handed the microphone back. “I think you’re exaggerating,” she said modestly, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her exhilaration.

“Exaggerating? Please,” Somi shot back with a smirk, addressing the crowd. “Y’all saw that, right? She owned it.”

Amidst the laughter and applause, Y/N glanced at her friends, who were practically bouncing with excitement. 

Somi grabbed the microphone with a flourish, her grin wide and mischievous. Turning to the room, she waved her hand theatrically. “Alright, she’s warmed up now. Time to let her shine.”

Y/N shot her a look that was half-glare, half-smile. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Somi smirked, scrolling through the song list. “Oh, you’ll thank me later.” Her eyes lit up when she found her choice. She turned the screen toward Y/N with a playful glint in her eye, selecting Seulgi’s “28 Reasons.”

Y/N groaned softly, running a hand through her hair. “You’re evil.”

“Exactly,” Somi whispered with a wink, handing her the mic as the first haunting notes of the song filled the room. A soft whistle echoed through the speakers, followed by the deep, hypnotic bassline that set the tone. The playful yet ominous melody seemed to hum with tension, pulling the room into its orbit.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N stepped forward, her entire demeanor shifting. As if a switch had flipped, she stood taller, her eyes narrowing with focus. The playful edge from her previous performance was gone, replaced by a poised, commanding presence. With the mic in hand, she became someone else entirely—intense, magnetic, and impossible to look away from.

Her voice slid into the first line, sultry and deliberate. “I kiss your brother, 그 맘 훔쳐, 독이 퍼져도 못 느껴, my pleasure.” The rich timbre of her voice sent a ripple through the room, her delivery both teasing and dangerous, perfectly capturing the song’s duality. Her gaze swept across the crowd, lingering just long enough to draw them into the story of the lyrics.

“짓궂은 반칙, 떨리는 눈빛, 그런 널 보는 게 참 재밌어, 웃겨,” she sang, her tone playful yet dripping with wicked amusement. Her movements were subtle but purposeful—a small step forward, a tilt of her head, the faintest curve of her lips. It wasn’t over-the-top; it was controlled, calculated, and utterly entrancing.

As the pre-chorus began, Y/N’s voice softened, drawing the audience closer. “Ooh, ooh, I'm breaking every rule 자꾸만 괴롭히고 싶은걸” she sang, her tone haunting and deliberate. The room seemed to hold its breath, the pulsing LED lights reflecting off her figure as she moved fluidly with the music. The tension in her delivery perfectly matched the song’s groovy bassline, her voice weaving between playful temptation and subtle danger. Every syllable carried the duality of the song’s themes—good and evil, attraction and chaos.

By the time she hit the chorus, the energy in the room had shifted entirely. “널 망친 28 reasons 몰라도 돼, 나쁜 의도 없어 내겐, 도망칠 28 reasons 다 아는데, 왜 또다시 내게 기대?” Her voice soared effortlessly, powerful and precise, capturing the delicate balance of innocence and mischievous intent. Her performance seemed to radiate a duality that echoed the very essence of the song—a mix of allure and danger, seduction and defiance.

Some of the partygoers began swaying in time with the music, their earlier chatter completely forgotten. A few idols had moved closer to the stage, their eyes fixed on Y/N as if trying to figure out how a “regular” guest could exude such star-like energy.

In the back of the room, Seulgi was leaning forward, her excitement unmistakable. She nudged Irene, her voice barely above a whisper. “She’s singing my song. And she’s good.”

Irene didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze remained locked on Y/N, her expression unreadable but undeniably intrigued. The way Y/N embodied the song—the subtle interplay of light and shadow in her delivery, the way she commanded the room without trying too hard—was something Irene hadn’t expected. There was no hesitation, no doubt. It was as if Y/N was made for this.

The eerie melody lingered as she delivered the next lines with controlled intensity. “You in danger, But it's okay, You're a grown-up.” Her voice dropped to a lower register, sending a ripple through the room as every word landed with weight, pulling the audience deeper into the story she was telling.

Then came the final chorus, and Y/N let her voice swell, each note pouring out with a raw intensity that left no room for distraction. “천국을 보여 줄게, I’m not the devil, 마음껏 더 원망해, I don’t care, 망가질수록 나를 원해.” Her voice climbed to its peak before fading into the final, haunting note, the sound reverberating through the room like a lingering echo.

The silence that followed was electric, the room still caught in the grip of her performance. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, the audience erupted into cheers and applause, their enthusiasm ringing out loud and clear.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed faintly as she handed the microphone back to Somi, her earlier confidence melting into a shy smile as she stepped off the stage. Her friends were already cheering loudly, their pride evident in their beaming faces.

Somi grabbed her by the arm, her grin wide. “What did I tell you? You killed it!”

“I think you just wanted to embarrass me,” Y/N teased, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her again.

“Embarrass you? Please,” Somi shot back. “I just gave the people what they wanted—your superstar moment.”

As Y/N made her way back to her friends, she couldn’t help but notice someone’s gaze lingering on her from across the room, the faintest hint of a smile playing on the idol’s lips.

Y/N barely had time to sink into the plush sofa before she felt a light tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she found herself face-to-face with Seulgi, Wendy, and Irene. Their presence was striking—not just because of their fame, but because they carried themselves with a natural, understated confidence that filled the space around them.

Seulgi stood at the forefront, her bright smile a perfect match to her friendly demeanor. Her shoulder-length, wavy black hair framed her face effortlessly, and her casual yet chic outfit—a tailored blazer paired with relaxed trousers and bold sneakers—made her look approachable yet undeniably stylish. She exuded an easy warmth, like someone who could make anyone feel at home.

Wendy, standing slightly to the side, had a spark of energy about her that seemed to draw people in. Her short, sleek hair fell just below her chin, accentuating her radiant smile and sharp, sparkling eyes. She wore a soft lavender blouse tucked into high-waisted pants, a look that balanced playfulness with sophistication. There was an air of grounded humor to her, as though she could lighten any moment with a single witty comment.

And then there was Irene.

She stood just behind the others, slightly to the left, her posture poised yet effortlessly relaxed. The soft lighting of the room seemed to gravitate toward her, catching the sleek fall of her dark hair, which was parted perfectly and cascaded over one shoulder in polished waves. She wore a black, fitted midi-dress that emphasized her slender figure with understated elegance. The minimalist design of the dress—no embellishments, no distractions—only served to highlight her natural beauty.

But it wasn’t just her appearance that drew Y/N’s attention—it was the quiet command she exuded, the way her presence seemed to fill the space without effort or pretense. There was a subtle magnetism in the way she carried herself, as though every movement was deliberate, every glance imbued with a thoughtfulness that set her apart.

Her eyes, deep and expressive, lingered on Y/N for a fraction longer than seemed necessary, as if she were assessing something beyond the surface. They held a quiet intensity, a softness that seemed to say she saw more than what was immediately apparent. When their gazes met, Y/N felt the air between them shift—subtle, almost imperceptible, but undeniably there.

Irene’s lips curved into the faintest smile, a gesture so subtle it could have been missed if Y/N hadn’t been paying attention. But she was. There was something about the quiet grace in that moment, the way Irene stood as though the chaos of the party existed around her but not with her, that left Y/N slightly breathless.

“Hi,” Seulgi said warmly, her signature bright smile instantly putting Y/N at ease. “I just wanted to thank you for singing my song. Most people go for the more mainstream ones, but it means a lot that you picked ‘28 Reasons.’”

Y/N blinked in surprise, her smile widening. “It’s a great song,” she replied, her voice steady despite the sudden attention. “It’s so layered and expressive—it really speaks to you. Thank you for writing it.”

Seulgi’s eyes lit up at the compliment. “I’m glad it came through that way. You really nailed the feeling behind it.”

Wendy, standing slightly to the side, leaned forward with a grin. “You’ve got some serious talent,” she said, her tone genuinely impressed. “Are you a singer?”

Y/N laughed softly, brushing off the praise with a wave of her hand. “Not at all. Just a regular person with a karaoke habit.”

Irene, who had been quietly observing the interaction, tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as if studying Y/N. When she finally spoke, her tone was soft but pointed. “You didn’t seem like a regular person up there.”

The words lingered, carrying more weight than Y/N expected. For a moment, she was caught off guard, meeting Irene’s steady gaze. The intensity in Irene’s voice didn’t feel like flattery—it felt like an observation, almost like a challenge. Y/N wasn’t sure how to respond, but before she could speak, Wendy’s laugh broke the silence.

“Well, whatever you are,” Wendy said, her voice light but filled with sincerity, “you’ve got some star power.”

Seulgi nodded enthusiastically, her grin widening. “Seriously. If you ever decide to give this a shot professionally, let us know. You’d be a natural.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush, a mix of pride and disbelief washing over her. “Thank you,” she said earnestly. “That means more than you know, coming from you.”

Her friends, sitting a little further back, were visibly beaming, Minji even giving Y/N a small thumbs-up as if to say, I told you so.

The interaction could have ended there, but Irene’s gaze lingered on Y/N for just a beat longer. There was something unreadable in her expression—curiosity, perhaps, or something deeper. Finally, she glanced away and turned to follow Seulgi and Wendy as they excused themselves.

Just before she disappeared back into the crowd, Irene glanced over her shoulder one last time, her dark eyes meeting Y/N’s. There was no smile, no nod, just a fleeting look that carried a quiet intensity. It was over in an instant, but it left Y/N wondering what, exactly, Irene had seen in her up on that stage.

As the Red Velvet members disappeared into the sea of partygoers, Y/N turned back to her friends, who were already bursting with excitement.

“Did that just happen?” Minji whispered, leaning forward. “Like, the real Seulgi, Wendy, and Irene just came to talk to you?”

“And complimented you,” Soojin added, her tone practically giddy. “Don’t forget that part.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing softly as she reached for her drink. “Let’s not make a big deal out of it.”

Minji smirked. “Oh, no. This is a big deal.”

The noise and energy of the karaoke room still buzzed in Y/N’s ears as she slipped into the main part of the villa. The distant hum of music and laughter filled the open space, but it was quieter here—a welcome reprieve from the vibrant chaos of the party. Her friends were still soaking up the atmosphere, mingling with idols, and basking in the glow of the night. Y/N, however, needed a moment to herself.

She wandered toward the bar, the open kitchen bathed in soft, ambient lighting that gave the space a cozy warmth despite its sleek, modern design. The marble countertops gleamed under the low lights, and the faint scent of citrus and mint lingered in the air from freshly made cocktails. Sliding onto a stool, Y/N signaled to the bartender for a glass of water.

The cool glass was a relief in her hands, grounding her as her mind swirled with the night’s events. The karaoke performances, the compliments from Red Velvet, the sheer absurdity of being at a party surrounded by some of the biggest names in the industry—it was exhilarating and surreal, but also overwhelming. She stared into the clear water, her reflection faint and distorted on its surface.

“Taking a break?”

The voice was soft, almost hesitant, but unmistakable. Y/N turned, her breath catching slightly as she found herself face-to-face with Irene. Up close, away from the noise and the crowd, Irene seemed almost ethereal. The dim lighting softened her features, and the slight curiosity in her calm expression made her feel approachable, even as her presence carried an air of quiet authority.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, letting out a small laugh to mask her surprise. “Needed to catch my breath. This is… a lot.”

Irene nodded, her lips curving into a faint, understanding smile. “It can be. Especially if you’re not used to it.” She gestured toward the bartender. “A glass of water, please.”

Y/N chuckled, leaning lightly against the counter. “Not a fan of cocktails?”

Irene shook her head, the corners of her mouth lifting in a faintly amused expression. “Not really. I prefer tea, but that’s hard to come by at parties like this.”

“Tea?” Y/N asked, tilting her head. “That’s… surprisingly low-key.”

Irene raised an eyebrow, a glint of humor flashing in her eyes. “Should I have said champagne? Would that fit the image better?”

Y/N laughed, the tension easing from her shoulders. “No, tea’s perfect. You don’t strike me as someone who does anything just to fit an image.”

Irene’s smile softened, her gaze flickering downward briefly before returning to Y/N. “You’d be surprised how often people try to tell me otherwise.”

For a moment, a comfortable silence settled between them, the quiet clink of glasses and the murmur of distant conversation filling the space. Y/N found herself studying Irene—the way her posture was effortlessly elegant, the way her presence seemed to fill the room without demanding attention. Yet, there was a softness to her up close, a vulnerability that the cameras never seemed to capture.

“Do you ever get used to it?” Y/N asked after a moment. “The attention? The noise?”

Irene exhaled softly, her gaze shifting to the glass of water the bartender placed in front of her. “Not entirely,” she admitted, her tone thoughtful. “But you find ways to cope. You have to.”

Y/N nodded, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “Speaking of coping…”

Irene’s nose crinkled slightly, an expression of subtle distaste flickering across her face before she could mask it. Y/N froze, catching the reaction immediately.

“You don’t like smoking,” Y/N said, her tone more observational than accusatory.

Irene hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “I don’t hate it,” she said carefully, “but it’s not my favorite thing.”

Y/N considered this for a moment, glancing down at the pack in her hand. She hesitated, the weight of the decision lingering in the air between them. Then, with a decisive motion, she walked to the nearby trash bin and tossed the pack inside.

Irene’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, why did you do that?”

Y/N shrugged as she returned to her seat. “You said you didn’t like it. No point in making you uncomfortable.”

The honesty in her tone caught Irene off guard. For a moment, she simply stared at Y/N, a mixture of surprise and something deeper flickering in her eyes. “That was… unexpected.”

Y/N leaned her elbows on the counter, a small, teasing smile playing at her lips. “Good unexpected or bad?”

“Good,” Irene admitted, the faintest hint of pink coloring her cheeks as a smile tugged at her lips. Her gaze softened, and for the first time that night, her guarded demeanor seemed to melt just slightly.

“Well, I’m glad I can surprise you,” Y/N replied, her tone light but sincere.

As Irene took a sip of her water, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the shift in the air between them—a quiet understanding, a shared moment of something unspoken.

The faint hum of the party buzzed around them, but here at the bar, the atmosphere felt quieter, more personal. Y/N swirled the last bit of water in her glass, her gaze occasionally flickering toward Irene, who was sitting poised yet relaxed. Their conversation had started with casual pleasantries but had slowly shifted into something deeper, the kind of exchange that left Y/N wanting to know more.

Y/N glanced toward the large glass doors leading to the balcony. The soft glow of the city lights outside promised a peaceful escape from the bustling villa. She hesitated for a moment, debating whether to ask. There was something unspoken between them, a subtle connection that she couldn’t quite name. It was a gamble, but something about Irene’s quiet presence made her want to take the risk.

“Do you want to step outside?” Y/N asked, her tone casual yet inviting. She nodded toward the balcony. “It’s quieter out there. A little easier to breathe.”

Irene tilted her head, her brown eyes meeting Y/N’s with curiosity. “Are you trying to get me away from the party?” she asked lightly, her lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile.

“Maybe,” Y/N replied with a playful shrug. “Or maybe I just thought you could use a break too.”

For a moment, Irene studied her, as if weighing the offer. Then, without a word, she picked up her glass of water and stood, her movements graceful. “Alright,” she said softly. “Lead the way.”

Y/N smiled, gesturing toward the doors as she moved to open them.

As they stepped onto the balcony, the cold night air hit them like a gentle wave, crisp and sharp against their skin. Y/N barely flinched, used to chilly nights, but she noticed the way Irene folded her arms close to her body, her black midi-dress offering little warmth against the biting air. The faint glow from the city lights illuminated her features—the delicate curve of her profile, the faint blush on her cheeks from the cold, and the way her breath formed soft, fleeting clouds in the air. Irene’s hair, cascading over one shoulder, caught the light, creating a subtle shimmer that made her seem almost ethereal as she gazed out at the view. A slight shiver ran through her, though she made no move to complain or retreat indoors.

Y/N hesitated for only a moment before shrugging off her jacket. “Here,” she said softly, stepping closer. Without waiting for a reply, she draped the jacket over Irene’s shoulders, the motion smooth and casual but deliberate. “You’ll freeze otherwise.”

Irene blinked, surprised by the gesture. She glanced down at the jacket and then back at Y/N, her lips parting as if to protest. “You’ll be cold,” she said, her tone quiet but laced with concern.

“I’ll survive,” Y/N replied with a small grin. “You’re the star. You can’t get sick, or your fans would be mad.”

Irene’s cheeks tinged pink, though whether it was from the cold or the compliment, she couldn’t tell. She clutched the jacket around her shoulders, the fabric warm from Y/N’s body heat and carrying the faint scent of Y/N perfume. It was comforting in a way she hadn’t expected, grounding her amidst the unfamiliar intimacy of the moment.

“Thank you,” Irene said after a beat, her voice soft but sincere. She looked at Y/N, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

Y/N nodded, her grin widening slightly. “No problem. Can’t have you turning into an ice sculpture out here.”

Irene let out a small laugh, the sound quiet but genuine, and turned her attention back to the city lights below. The chill of the air seemed less noticeable now, the weight of the jacket and the presence of Y/N beside her somehow enough to keep it at bay.

Irene glanced at Y/N, who seemed lost in thought as she gazed at the cityscape. There was something about the woman’s presence—unassuming yet quietly magnetic—that made Irene feel unusually at ease.

“Irene… or Joohyun?” Y/N asked suddenly, her voice breaking the silence with a playful lilt.

Irene’s brow furrowed slightly, her curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?”

“Well, which name do you prefer when you’re not on stage?” Y/N turned her head, her green eyes meeting Irene’s warm brown ones with an open, curious expression.

“Joohyun,” Irene replied after a moment, her voice soft. “It feels more… me.”

Y/N smiled, the corners of her lips curling gently. “Joohyun it is, then.”

For a few beats, they stood in comfortable silence, the quiet between them filled only with the faint hum of traffic below and the occasional gust of wind. The moment felt suspended in time, the city sprawling before them as if they were the only two people in the world.

“Can we please start talking informally?” Irene’s voice was gentle but direct, her gaze steady as she looked at Y/N.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Only if you’re comfortable with it. Since you’re the unnie,” she added with a teasing tone.

Irene blinked, momentarily startled. Then she let out a soft laugh, the sound like a quiet melody carried on the cold air. “Wait. ‘Unnie’? You’re younger than me?”

Y/N chuckled, her breath forming small clouds in the cold.

The surprise on Irene’s face was endearing, her eyebrows raising slightly as she tilted her head in curiosity. “How old are you?”

“That would be too easy,” Y/N teased, leaning casually against the railing. “Why don’t you guess?”

Irene crossed her arms under the jacket, pretending to consider it carefully as her lips quirked in amusement. “Hmmm… I’ll say… 30?”

Y/N burst into laughter, the sound echoing softly in the open air. “Not even close! Wow, I must look really mature to you.”

Irene furrowed her brows, equal parts amused and puzzled. “So, how old are you, then?”

“Well..” Y/N said, leaning in slightly with a playful grin, “I was born in 1999. Does the age gap bother you?”

Joohyun froze for a moment, the unexpected answer catching her off guard. The casual confidence in Y/N’s tone contrasted with the weight of the question. “Eight years…” Irene repeated softly, her voice trailing off as she processed the revelation.

Y/N studied her closely, noticing the flicker of uncertainty in Irene’s expression. “It’s okay if it’s weird,” Y/N said quickly, her voice gentle. “I get it if the age gap is a problem. I just—”

“No,” Irene cut her off, shaking her head slightly. “It’s not that. I just didn’t expect you to be so… young. You seem much older.”

“Older, huh?” Y/N teased, her grin widening. “Should I be flattered or worried?”

Irene smiled despite herself, her cheeks tinged with a faint pink. “Flattered, I think. You’re very mature.”

“Thanks,” Y/N replied, the warmth in her tone softening the moment. “But honestly, I think age is just a number. It’s how you connect with someone that matters, right?”

Irene hesitated, her gaze shifting back to the city lights below. “You’re right,” she said softly, her voice thoughtful. “It’s just… different for me. I’ve always been cautious about letting people in.”

“Well, I’m not here to complicate your life, Joohyun,” Y/N said sincerely. “I just… really enjoy talking to you.”

The simplicity of her words made Irene’s heart flutter, the sincerity behind them resonating more than she expected. The weight of the age difference, the boundaries Irene had carefully built around herself—it all seemed to fade in the quiet warmth of the moment. For the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to simply be.

Just as Irene opened her mouth to reply, the balcony doors swung open, the spell of the moment breaking as Joy’s cheerful voice filled the space.

“There you are, unnie! We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said, her tone playful as her eyes darted between Irene and Y/N, her grin widening with mischief.

Irene straightened, her professional demeanor slipping back into place, though her hands clutched the jacket more tightly around her shoulders.

“I was just…” Irene began, but Joy’s teasing smirk interrupted her.

“Having a moment,” Joy finished with a dramatic tone, her eyes sparkling. “I see that.”

Y/N chuckled, stepping back from the railing with a shrug. “I should probably get back to my friends anyway. Thanks for the chat, Joohyun.”

Irene’s lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. She only nodded, her gaze lingering on Y/N.

As Y/N turned to leave, Irene called after her softly, “Thank you for the jacket. I’ll return it before the night’s over.”

“Keep it,” Y/N replied over her shoulder, a grin flashing in the dim light. “It suits you better.”

Irene stood there for a moment, clutching the jacket tightly as the scent of Y/N lingered around her. Joy tilted her head, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

“So…” Joy began, her tone light but loaded with curiosity. “Who was that?”

Irene didn’t reply immediately, her gaze still fixed on the now-closed door. “Someone different,” she said finally, her voice soft, almost wistful.

Joy smirked. “Different, huh?”

Irene glanced at her, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Let’s get back to the party.”

The next morning light filtered softly through Irene’s curtains, painting her room in hues of gold and cream. She sat at her vanity, absently running a brush through her dark hair, the rhythmic motion a habit more than necessity. Her gaze wandered to the Prada jacket draped over the chair beside her, its sleek fabric catching the light. A silent reminder of the night before.

Her hand stilled, the brush hovering mid-air as her thoughts inevitably returned to Y/N.

Joohyun had met countless people throughout her career—smiling faces at fan events, fellow celebrities at events, industry professionals at photoshoots. Most blurred together, their interactions fleeting and transactional. But Y/N wasn’t like the others. Her calm confidence, genuine warmth, and selflessness had lingered in Irene’s mind like the last notes of a favorite song.

She sighed, setting the brush down on the vanity with a soft clink. Picking up her phone, she stared at the screen for a long moment, her thumb hovering indecisively over the messaging app. Finally, she stood and left her room, seeking a second opinion.

“Seulgi?” Irene called out as she entered the living room. The younger member was sprawled across the couch, scrolling through her phone lazily, one leg draped over the armrest.

Seulgi looked up, her brows raised in mild curiosity. “What’s up, unnie?”

Irene hesitated, trying to keep her voice casual. “Do you have Giselle’s contact information?”

Seulgi sat up, her curiosity sharpening. “Why? Looking to hang out with the Aespa juniors now?”

Irene gave her a pointed look. “I need her help getting in touch with someone from last night.”

“Oh?” Seulgi’s lips curved into a teasing smirk as she sat cross-legged on the couch. “Who?”

Irene’s reply was quiet, almost reluctant. “Y/N.”

Seulgi’s smirk widened, her tone turning mischievous. “Y/N? The karaoke superstar?”

“Seulgi,” Irene warned, her tone light but edged with impatience.

“Alright, alright,” Seulgi relented with a laugh, reaching for her phone. She tapped the screen a few times before raising it to her ear. “I’ll call Giselle for you.”

Irene crossed her arms, leaning lightly against the back of the couch as she waited. Her mind drived back to the jacket in her room. The faint scent of Y/N perfume still clung to it, and despite herself, she found the smell comforting.

After a brief exchange, Seulgi ended the call and grinned. “Good news, unnie. Giselle can get Y/N’s number from one of her friends. She’ll send it to me asap.”

Irene’s pulse quickened, a quiet flutter of anticipation rising in her chest. She took the phone from Seulgi as the message came through, the string of digits appearing on the screen like a secret invitation.

Seulgi watched her with a curious tilt of her head. “You seem pretty interested in Y/N.”

“She left her jacket, it's a pretty expensive one.” Irene replied quickly, her tone carefully even as she gestured toward the item in question.

“Uh-huh,” Seulgi replied, clearly unconvinced but unwilling to press further.

Back in her room, Irene sat on the edge of her bed, holding her phone in her hands. The contact information stared back at her, deceptively simple, yet it felt impossibly daunting. The idea of texting Y/N—of deliberately reaching out—was both exciting and terrifying.

Her mind drifted back to their moment on the balcony. The way Y/N had laughed so easily at her miscalculated age guess lingered in Irene’s mind. That laugh—bright, genuine, and free of judgment—had slipped past her usual defenses with an ease that was both unsettling and comforting. Y/N’s bold, self-assured admission of their eight-year gap had carried no hesitation, as though it was a simple fact rather than an obstacle. And then there were her words, delivered with such sincerity: Age is just a number. It’s how you connect with someone that matters, right?

The sincerity in Y/N’s voice had struck a chord in Irene, brushing aside her carefully constructed doubts in the moment. But now, alone in the quiet of her room, those doubts crept back in, louder and more insistent.

They mattered.

“She’s so young,” Irene’s inner voice whispered, sharp and critical, curling like smoke at the edges of her thoughts. “What will people think? What if she doesn’t understand how complicated this is? What if it’s just some fleeting infatuation for her? Something she’ll laugh about one day as a passing phase?”

Her thumb hovered over the text field on her phone as she chewed her lip. Her free hand tightened into a fist on her lap.

It wasn’t just the age gap, though it loomed large in her mind. Y/N was everything Irene was usually cautious about: spontaneous, disarmingly open, and seemingly unbothered by the walls Irene had spent years building around herself. The younger woman didn’t seem to care about appearances or expectations, brushing off Irene’s hesitations as though they were irrelevant.

And yet, those hesitations were relevant. Irene had spent most of her adult life guarding her personal world with almost military precision. It wasn’t just the media or her career—it was the deep fear of letting someone in, of giving someone the power to disrupt the delicate balance she maintained.

Her stomach twisted with doubt. What if I misread her? What if I let my guard down, only to regret it?

The jacket hanging on the chair caught her eye again, its presence both comforting and taunting. Y/N had handed it over without a second thought, brushing aside Irene’s concern about her getting cold with a playful comment: You’re the star. You can’t get sick, or your fans would be mad.

That memory softened the tightness in her chest.

Y/N’s easy laughter, her straightforwardness, and the way she had tossed away her cigarette pack without a moment’s hesitation—it all played in Irene’s mind like a highlight reel. Y/N had done it for her. Not for appearances, not for some ulterior motive, but because she wanted to.

The thought disarmed Irene again, just as it had on the balcony. Y/N’s actions weren’t about impressing anyone—they were about sincerity. And sincerity was something Irene rarely encountered in her world of carefully managed interactions and calculated relationships.

Her doubts pushed back, louder this time. “But what if she’s too young to understand what she’s asking for? What if I’m too set in my ways to even try?”

She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and pressing the phone against her chest.

Stop.

The word echoed firmly in her mind, her own voice this time, clearer and steadier. “This isn’t about other people, and it’s not about the age gap. It’s about her.”

Y/N’s words from the balcony returned, calm and earnest: I’m not here to complicate your life, Joohyun. I just… really enjoy talking to you.

Those words hadn’t been a promise or a demand. They were an offering—a simple, genuine connection. Irene realized that the only thing standing in the way of accepting it was her own fear.

She took another deep breath, her fingers trembling slightly as she began typing. The words came slowly at first, her mind second-guessing every letter.

Hi, this is Joohyun. I hope you don’t mind me contacting you. I’d like to return your jacket and maybe talk for a bit, if that’s alright. Let me know when you’re free.

She stared at the message for a long moment, her thumb hovering over the send button. The doubts whispered again, quieter now but still present: “What if this changes everything?”

But then she thought of Y/N’s laugh, the way it had made her feel lighter for the first time in weeks.

With a decisive exhale, Irene hit send.

The message hung in the air, the seconds ticking by feeling impossibly long.

When Y/N’s reply came through quicker than expected, Irene’s chest tightened.

Hi, Joohyun! Of course, I don’t mind. I’m free most evenings after work. Just let me know what works best for you.

Irene exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. A small smile tugged at her lips as she quickly typed a reply, suggesting they meet at Y/N’s apartment to avoid any unwanted attention.

With the plan set, Irene placed her phone down and leaned back against her headboard, staring up at the ceiling. The uncertainty still lingered, but now it was outweighed by something else entirely—a quiet anticipation, tinged with the faintest spark of hope.

For the first time in a long while, Joohyun allowed herself to wonder what might come next.

The faint sound of soft jazz played in the background as Y/N set down two steaming mugs of tea on her small but neatly arranged coffee table. She glanced around her apartment, ensuring everything was in order. It wasn’t fancy, but it was cozy and reflected her personality: bookshelves lined with novels and travel guides, framed photos of her family and friends, and a faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air.

Her heart skipped a beat when the intercom buzzed. “It’s Joohyun,” came the familiar, soft voice.

Y/N pressed the button to unlock the door and stepped back, taking a calming breath. Moments later, there was a knock, and when she opened the door, Irene stood there, jacket in hand.

“Hi,” Irene said, a small, polite smile on her lips.

“Hi,” Y/N replied, stepping aside to let her in. “Come on in. It’s freezing out there.”

Irene slipped off her coat, revealing a simple but elegant turtleneck and tailored pants. She handed Y/N the jacket. “Thanks for lending this to me. I wasn’t sure how to return it without it being… awkward.”

Y/N chuckled, setting the jacket on a nearby chair. “It’s just a jacket. You didn’t have to go through all the trouble of texting and coming over.”

“I wanted to,” Irene admitted, her voice soft.

They settled onto the couch, the soft cushions sinking under their weight as the aroma of freshly brewed tea filled the room. Irene cradled her mug, letting the warmth seep into her palms as she looked around, her gaze landing on a small stack of books neatly arranged on the coffee table.

“You read a lot,” she noted, the observation tinged with curiosity.

“It’s my escape,” Y/N said, her smile soft but genuine. “And my excuse to stay in when my friends are being too wild.”

Irene chuckled, the sound low and melodic as she took a sip of her tea. “Your friends are… energetic.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Y/N replied with a laugh, her green eyes twinkling. “But they mean well. Honestly, they’re the reason I even ended up at that party.”

Irene tilted her head slightly, her gaze sharpening with interest. “Kibum mentioned how you helped him,” she said, her tone shifting to something more serious. “That was brave of you.”

Y/N shrugged, the motion casual but unassuming. “I didn’t really think about it. It just felt like the right thing to do.”

Irene studied her for a moment, the admiration clear in her gaze. The simplicity in Y/N’s words—no need for embellishment or grandeur—made them feel all the more sincere. “You don’t act like someone your age,” Irene said finally, the words slipping out before she could think better of it.

Y/N smirked, leaning slightly forward. “Here we go again with the age thing.”

Irene’s cheeks tinged pink as she looked down at her mug, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” Y/N said softly, setting her own mug on the table. The playful teasing in her tone gave way to something gentler. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s a big deal. The age difference, I mean.”

Irene hesitated, her fingers tightening around her mug as her thoughts wrestled for clarity. “It’s not that I think it’s a problem. It’s just…” She trailed off, her gaze drifting briefly to the tea in her hands before lifting back to Y/N. “I’ve never met someone quite like you.”

Intrigued, Y/N raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Irene seemed to consider her words carefully, her expression briefly vulnerable. “Most people, when they realize who I am… there’s a shift. It’s subtle, but it’s always there. They start treating me like an idol instead of just a person. But with you…” She met Y/N’s gaze, her brown eyes steady and open. “You don’t do that. You treat me like… Joohyun.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a small, almost shy smile. “Because that’s who you are, isn’t it? Joohyun first, Irene second.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Irene’s face, followed by a warmth that softened her features in a way that caught Y/N off guard. “Not everyone sees it that way,” Irene admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Well, I’m not everyone,” Y/N replied, her tone light but tinged with sincerity.

“That’s clear,” Irene murmured, almost to herself, her lips curving into a faint smile. She shifted slightly on the couch, letting herself relax further as the tension in her shoulders eased. “You have this way of making people feel at ease. It’s… different.”

Y/N tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “Different good or different bad?”

Irene chuckled softly, shaking her head as she brought her mug to her lips. “Definitely good.”

Y/N leaned back against the couch, one arm draped casually along the backrest as her expression turned teasing. “Good to know I’ve passed the Joohyun compatibility test.”

Irene laughed, the sound bright and unguarded, and shook her head again. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” Y/N replied with a grin, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. “But you’re still here, so I must be doing something right.”

Irene smirked, the playful banter putting her at ease. “Or maybe I’m just too polite to leave.”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Y/N shot back, her tone full of mock agreement.

The warmth of the moment wrapped around them like the steam curling from their mugs. For Irene, it was strange and yet refreshing—how natural it felt to sit here, trading words with Y/N as though they’d known each other far longer than just a few days. She wasn’t sure what it was about Y/N—the straightforwardness, the calm confidence, the refusal to tiptoe around her like most people did—but it felt disarmingly easy.

For Y/N, the moment felt almost surreal. She could see the layers of Joohyun—the idol, the perfectionist, the guarded woman—and yet, here and now, she was seeing someone else. Someone softer, someone real.

“I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in a while,” Irene admitted quietly, almost as if to herself.

“Well,” Y/N said, her voice light but tinged with warmth, “I’m glad I could help with that.”

And for a brief moment, as their gazes held, the rest of the world seemed to fade away.

They talked for a while longer, their conversation drifting to lighter topics: favorite movies, dream destinations, and the quirks of their respective friends.

“You’re really close to your group, aren’t you?” Y/N asked, leaning forward slightly as she rested her chin on her hand.

“They’re like family,” Irene replied, her voice carrying a quiet fondness. “We’ve been through so much together. I don’t know where I’d be without them.” Her lips curved into a small smile, but there was a weight in her words that hinted at the challenges behind the bond.

“I get that,” Y/N said after a thoughtful pause. “I moved here alone, so my friends kind of became my family. They’ve been amazing, but… it’s not the same as having people who’ve been through it all with you. People who just get it.”

For a moment, Irene’s expression softened, her brown eyes reflecting an unspoken understanding. “It’s hard,” she murmured, her gaze dropping briefly to the mug in her hands. “Letting people in, even when they mean well.”

Y/N nodded, the quiet bond between them deepening. The world outside her apartment—Seoul’s noise, its bright lights, its expectations—felt far away, like a distant memory they didn’t need to revisit just yet.

Eventually, the conversation shifted to the stack of DVDs on Y/N’s shelf, the gleaming plastic cases catching Irene’s attention.

“You still have DVDs?” Irene asked, a rare playful glint sparking in her eyes.

“They’re classics,” Y/N defended with a mock-offended look, her grin betraying her amusement. “Besides, they work when the internet goes out. You can’t put a price on reliable entertainment.”

Irene chuckled, shaking her head. “You sound like an infomercial.”

“Hey, don’t knock it,” Y/N shot back, getting up to rummage through the stack. “You’ll appreciate it when the apocalypse hits, and I’m the only one with a working movie library.”

“Sure,” Irene replied dryly, but the amusement in her voice was unmistakable.

After some back-and-forth, they finally settled on a romantic comedy. Irene seemed more relaxed now, her usual polished demeanor replaced with an easy warmth. She tucked her legs beneath her on the couch, the mug of tea still cradled in her hands, and let out a quiet sigh of contentment.

As the movie began, their laughter blended with the antics on screen, filling the apartment with a lightness neither of them realized they’d needed.

Credits started rolling, the final strains of the movie’s theme fading into the quiet hum of the apartment, Y/N turned to Irene. Her heart pounded slightly, her confidence wavering for the first time all night. The words she wanted to say seemed caught in her throat, the weight of the moment pressing down on her.

“Joohyun… can I ask you something?” Y/N finally said, her voice softer than usual.

Irene turned to her, tilting her head slightly, her gaze warm and attentive. “Of course,” she replied, her tone calm, though curiosity flickered in her gaze.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers fidgeting slightly with the edge of the couch cushion. The confidence she was usually known for felt just out of reach, but she pushed through the nerves. “Would you… maybe want to go out with me sometime? Just the two of us. Somewhere quiet, away from all the chaos.”

Irene blinked, caught off guard by the suddenness of the question. The silence stretched just long enough for doubt to creep into Y/N’s chest. She wondered if she had misread all the signals—the stolen glances, the lingering smiles, the way Irene’s presence had felt so natural beside her.

But then Irene’s expression softened, and a small, genuine smile spread across her lips. It reached her eyes, making them sparkle in the dim light.

“I’d like that,” Irene said softly, her voice carrying a sincerity that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her shoulders relaxing as a grin broke across her face. “Really?”

“Really,” Irene affirmed, setting her now-empty mug down on the coffee table. “I wasn’t expecting you to ask, but I’m glad you did.”

Y/N’s grin widened, her earlier nerves melting away into quiet excitement. “I’ll text you the details soon,” she said, her voice gaining its usual steady confidence.

“Looking forward to it,” Irene replied, her tone light but genuine.

The moment hung between them, warm and full of possibility, until Irene’s phone buzzed, breaking the spell. She glanced at the screen, her brow furrowing slightly. “That’s my manager,” she said, standing and gathering her things. “He’s here to pick me up.”

Y/N rose to her feet, following her to the door. The apartment felt quieter now, the air charged with the weight of everything unsaid. Irene slipped on her coat, her movements graceful but unhurried.

Just as Irene reached for the door handle, she paused and turned back. Her movements were deliberate, but her expression carried a hint of shyness that made Y/N’s heart skip. Leaning in, Irene pressed a soft kiss to Y/N’s cheek, the touch warm and fleeting but full of quiet meaning.

“Thank you for tonight,” Irene repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, her breath brushing against Y/N’s skin.

Before Y/N could respond, Irene stepped out into the hallway, the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air. The sound of her heels echoed softly against the floor, fading as she disappeared down the corridor.

Y/N stood frozen for a moment, her hand instinctively brushing the spot where Irene’s lips had touched her cheek. A slow, almost disbelieving smile spread across her face as the warmth of the moment settled into her chest.

The door clicked shut, leaving the apartment in silence, but the energy Irene left behind still lingered—an unspoken promise of something more.

Y/N leaned back against the door, staring at the spot where Irene had been moments ago. “Well,” she murmured to herself, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “That went better than expected.”

Her thoughts quickly shifted to what came next. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she opened their text thread, her fingers hovering over the screen as she considered her options. After a few moments of deliberation, she typed out a message:

How does Friday evening sound? There’s this little café I think you’ll love—quiet, cozy, and very private. I’ll text you the address.

Irene’s reply came quickly, the soft chime breaking the stillness of the apartment.

Friday works. Looking forward to it.

Y/N grinned, her excitement bubbling over as she began planning. She called ahead to the café, confirming a secluded table by the window with the best view of the fairy-lit trees outside. She wanted everything to be perfect—relaxed, intimate, and free from the chaos Irene was so used to.

When Friday arrived, Y/N adjusted her collar nervously as she waited in front of the small café tucked into a quiet corner of Seoul. The warm, golden glow of the lights spilling onto the cobblestone street reflected the cozy atmosphere she had been aiming for—a space that was private yet inviting.

The cool night air carried a faint hint of roasting coffee and pine, mingling with the sound of distant chatter from passersby. Y/N glanced at her watch, her fingers fidgeting slightly before she tucked them into her jacket pockets.

Then she saw her.

Irene approached, wrapped in a sleek black coat with a scarf draped elegantly around her neck. The soft light of the café caught the subtle shine of her hair, and her delicate features seemed even more radiant in the glow of the surrounding fairy lights.

Y/N’s breath caught as Irene gave a small, almost shy smile. She quickly stepped forward, holding the door open for her.

“Hi,” Irene said, her voice warm but quiet, as if the moment were something fragile.

“Hi,” Y/N replied, her grin widening as she gestured for Irene to step inside.

They were greeted by the rich, comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with faint hints of vanilla and cinnamon. The soft strumming of an acoustic guitar played in the background, the music low and soothing, blending perfectly with the quiet chatter of other patrons. A warm glow from the pendant lights above bathed the space in a golden hue, creating an intimate atmosphere that felt removed from the busy world outside.

The café staff greeted them with a discreet nod and led them to their reserved table, a cozy nook near the window. Strings of fairy lights framed the glass, and outside, the trees sparkled faintly under their glow. Irene followed closely behind Y/N, her scarf still loosely draped around her neck, her gaze sweeping the room with a mix of curiosity and appreciation.

“This is… perfect,” Irene said softly as she slipped off her scarf and set it on the chair beside her. Her brown eyes flicked to Y/N, warmth evident in her expression. “Thank you for finding a place like this.”

“I wanted you to feel comfortable,” Y/N replied, her voice steady despite the faint pounding of her heart. “Somewhere away from prying eyes, where you could just… be.”

A small, genuine smile tugged at Irene’s lips, and for a moment, she said nothing, just meeting Y/N’s gaze with quiet gratitude.

They sat across from each other, the table small enough that the tips of their fingers occasionally brushed as they reached for their cups. Irene stirred her tea with slow, deliberate motions, the clinking of the spoon against porcelain filling the brief silences, while Y/N wrapped her hands around her mug of hot chocolate, savoring the warmth that seeped into her palms.

The initial moments were tentative, their conversation weaving through small, safe topics—the crisp winter weather, favorite dishes, and the café’s charming décor. They exchanged polite laughs and observations, but the air between them felt heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Then, Y/N decided to take a leap.

“Can I ask you something, Joohyun?” she said, her voice soft but purposeful.

Irene’s fingers paused mid-stir, her eyes lifting to meet Y/N’s. There was curiosity in her gaze, mixed with a flicker of vulnerability. “Of course.”

Y/N hesitated for a brief moment, then asked, “What’s the one thing you’d do if you could have a day completely free from all expectations—no schedules, no cameras, no people recognizing you?”

Irene blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. Her lips parted slightly as she processed it, and then, after a moment, a wistful smile appeared. “I’d spend the entire day in bed,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, as though she were confessing a secret. “Reading books, watching old movies, staying in pajamas. No makeup, no pressure. Just… peace.”

Y/N chuckled, her grin widening. “That does sound perfect. I think I’d join you.”

Irene’s smile deepened, and a soft laugh escaped her. “And you?” she asked, her tone shifting to one of genuine interest. “What would you do?”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, thinking for a moment. “I think I’d get in my car and just drive,” she said finally. “No destination in mind, just the open road. Maybe stop at random little places along the way—cafés like this, antique shops, small towns with hidden gems.”

Irene nodded thoughtfully, her expression serene. “That sounds freeing,” she said softly, her gaze distant as if imagining the scenario for herself.

Their conversation flowed more easily after that, moving from wistful dreams to stories of their lives. Y/N spoke of her decision to move to Seoul—the uncertainty, the thrill, and the comfort she eventually found in her close-knit group of friends. Irene, in turn, shared snippets of her childhood in Daegu, painting a picture of simpler days filled with family traditions and quiet moments that felt a lifetime away now.

As the evening progressed, their laughter became more frequent, their smiles more natural. They leaned closer without realizing it, their words spilling out in easy rhythm, their connection deepening with every passing moment.

When they finally stepped out of the café, the cold night air greeted them, crisp and bracing. Irene adjusted her scarf, wrapping it more tightly around her neck, but a sudden gust of wind made her shiver slightly despite the effort.

Noticing this, Y/N reached into her bag, rummaging for a moment before pulling out a soft, knitted beanie.

“Here,” Y/N said, holding it out with a grin. “You look like you could use this.”

Irene blinked, surprise flashing in her eyes. “You carry a spare beanie with you?”

“Not exactly,” Y/N admitted, chuckling. “It’s mine, but I’m not letting you freeze.”

For a moment, Irene hesitated, her gaze flicking between Y/N’s face and the beanie in her outstretched hand. Then, with a small smile, she took it, carefully pulling it over her head. The fit was a little loose, the fabric dipping just slightly over her ears, and the sight made Y/N grin even wider.

“What?” Irene asked, her cheeks flushed—not entirely from the cold.

“Nothing,” Y/N said, her grin softening. “It suits you.”

Irene rolled her eyes, but the fondness in her smile was unmistakable. She tugged the beanie snugly over her ears, her voice light. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” Y/N replied with a playful shrug, “but I’m warm, and now you are too.”

As they walked down the quiet, cobblestone street, their laughter mingled with the faint sound of the café door closing behind them. The lights from the trees above cast soft patterns on the pavement, and the crisp air felt less biting, wrapped as they were in the shared warmth of a night neither would soon forget.

When they parted ways at the end of the street, Irene offered a soft smile that lingered in Y/N’s mind long after she’d disappeared into the waiting car. The faint scent of Irene’s perfume and the warmth of her laughter stayed with Y/N, wrapping around her like a comforting echo.

The next day, Y/N hesitated before typing her first text. She didn’t want to seem overeager, but the thought of letting too much time pass felt unbearable.

Hi, Joohyun. I hope you’re having a good day. Let me know if you’re free this week—You still owe me another warm drink for stealing my beanie.

The response came faster than Y/N expected, her phone lighting up with Irene’s message.

I think I’ve already paid you back with good company. But I’d love to meet again.

Y/N grinned, her chest warming as she typed her reply.

Good company is a rare find these days. I think we’re both lucky.

A moment later, Irene replied:

You give yourself too much credit.

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head as she typed back.

And you don’t give yourself enough. I’ll take that as a yes for another tea, though.

The playful exchange set the tone for the steady rhythm of their conversations, growing warmer and more natural with every message.

The banter flowed easily, their texts a back-and-forth rhythm that quickly became a regular part of their days. At first, Irene’s messages were careful and composed, always polite, but as the days turned into weeks, something shifted. Her responses grew warmer, tinged with playfulness and the occasional flirtation that caught Y/N off guard.

One evening, Y/N sent a picture of her hastily assembled dinner: slightly burnt toast next to scrambled eggs that looked more scrambled than eggs.

Chef of the year, don’t you think? she texted, adding a laughing emoji to soften the self-deprecating humor.

The reply came after a brief pause, Irene’s tone light but biting:

Do you usually subject your kitchen to such tragedies?

Y/N laughed, shaking her head as she quickly typed her response.

Only when I’m hungry. Care to save me with your culinary expertise?

Her grin widened as she hit send, but when the next message took longer to arrive, Y/N wondered briefly if she’d overstepped. The silence stretched for a few minutes, her nerves creeping in. Then her phone buzzed again, and Irene’s reply made her laugh aloud.

Only if you promise to leave the cooking to me next time.

Deal, Y/N shot back. But that means you’ll have to let me take you out again.

Irene’s response came quickly this time, and Y/N could almost picture the faint curve of her smile as she read:

That’s the idea.

Their conversations became a steady rhythm, filling the spaces between their busy lives. Despite her normally reserved nature, Irene found herself reaching for her phone more often, eager to hear from Y/N. Late-night texts turned into moments of shared vulnerability, while daytime banter revealed Irene’s unexpected playful streak.

One afternoon, Y/N sent a picture of her desk, papers strewn everywhere, and a nearly empty coffee mug perched precariously on the edge.

This is my current “escape.” Beautiful, isn’t it?

Irene’s reply came quickly, her tone as sharp as ever:

Beautiful might not be the word I’d use. Chaotic, maybe.

Y/N grinned, typing back with mock offense:

You wound me, Joohyun. Truly.

Just being honest, Irene replied. Then, after a beat, she added: But for what it’s worth, you work hard, and it shows.

The compliment made Y/N pause, warmth spreading through her chest. She reread Irene’s words a few times before replying:

Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.

In return, Irene occasionally shared glimpses of her own life. One afternoon, she sent a picture of a steaming cup of tea resting on a windowsill, the cityscape visible in the distance, painted gold by the late afternoon sun.

My little escape between schedules, she wrote.

Y/N stared at the serene image for a moment before replying:

Peaceful and elegant. Very you.

Irene’s reply came almost immediately, teasing but not unkind:

Are you saying I’m predictable?

Not at all, Y/N replied. Just that you have good taste.

The ease of their conversations deepened in the quiet hours, when the weight of their respective worlds felt lighter in the presence of the other.

One night, as the city outside Y/N’s window grew quiet, she sent a message:

How do you handle it? The pressure, the expectations?

This time, Irene’s response didn’t come right away. Y/N could imagine her deliberating, carefully choosing her words. When the reply finally arrived, it was more honest than she had anticipated:

Some days, I don’t think I do. I just… keep going.

There was a pause before another message came through:

You seem like you’d understand that. You make it look effortless.

Y/N’s reply was immediate, her honesty mirroring Irene’s:

I don’t. Not always. But talking to you helps.

Amid the seriousness, humor often found its way into their exchanges. One afternoon, Y/N sent a post-gym selfie: her hair was a sweaty mess, her cheeks flushed red, and her expression one of mock exhaustion.

Glamorous, right? she captioned.

Irene’s reply came almost instantly, her wit on full display:

Definitely. Very idol-like. Should I be worried about competition?

Only if you think I can pull off sparkly outfits as well as you can, Y/N shot back, laughing as she typed.

Moments like these became their quiet escapes, a space where they could share laughter, confessions, and dreams without fear of judgment. Late one night, Irene sent a single message that lingered in Y/N’s mind long after their conversation ended:

I think you make me braver than I usually am.

Y/N stared at the words, rereading them several times before finally typing her reply:

And you make me better than I usually am.

For a while, neither of them said anything more. But as Y/N lay in bed, staring at her phone, she knew that their connection had grown into something neither of them had quite expected—but neither of them could deny.

One evening Y/N stared at her phone, rereading the half-typed message for the third time. She wasn’t usually one to hesitate, but something about Irene made her pause. After a moment, she sighed, deleted the draft, and hit the call button instead.

The phone rang twice before Irene’s soft voice answered, “Hello, Y/N.”

“Hey, Joohyun,” Y/N said, trying to sound casual while her heart thumped in her chest. “How’s your day going?”

“Busy,” Irene admitted with a chuckle. “But your call is a nice surprise.”

Y/N felt her confidence returning at Irene’s warm tone. “I was thinking… if you’re not too busy this weekend, would you like to go out with me again? Somewhere quiet, just the two of us?”

There was a pause, just long enough for Y/N to start second-guessing herself. But then Irene’s voice came through, soft but sure. “I’d like that. Do you have something in mind?”

Y/N exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I do. It’s a surprise, though. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“Then I’ll trust you,” Irene said, her smile evident in her voice.

The soft hues of twilight painted the horizon as Y/N finished setting up the picnic by the lake. She’d chosen a quiet park on the outskirts of the city, where the sound of rustling leaves and lapping water replaced the usual urban noise. A blanket was laid out with cushions for comfort, a small spread of food neatly arranged in wicker baskets, and warm, battery-powered candles flickered softly around the setup.

When Irene arrived, wearing a cream-colored coat and a delicate scarf, her eyes widened at the sight.

“You did all this?” Irene asked, her voice tinged with awe.

Y/N shrugged, though her cheeks flushed slightly. “I wanted it to feel special. I know how chaotic your life can get, and I thought… maybe we could both use a little peace.”

Irene’s lips curved into a soft smile. “You were right. This is perfect.”

They settled onto the blanket, and for a while, they ate and talked, their conversation punctuated by laughter. Y/N had packed sandwiches, fresh fruit, and even a small bottle of wine—though she brought sparkling water, knowing Irene didn’t drink much.

“I can’t believe you put all this together,” Irene said, taking a bite of a strawberry.

“Well, I can’t sing or dance like you,” Y/N teased, “but I’m pretty good at making picnics.”

Irene laughed, the sound light and melodic. “Don’t sell yourself short. I’m still thinking about your karaoke performance.”

“Oh no, you’re never letting me live that down, are you?” Y/N groaned, covering her face.

“Never,” Irene said with a playful smirk.

As the sun dipped lower, the conversation shifted to quieter topics. Irene talked about her favorite childhood memories, the joy of running through fields in Daegu without a care in the world. Y/N shared stories of road trips across Europe, painting a picture of freedom and adventure.

At one point, Irene leaned back on her hands, gazing at the lake as twilight deepened. “I don’t think I’ve ever been somewhere so quiet in the city. It’s… nice.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze fixed on Irene. “You deserve moments like this. A chance to just be Joohyun.”

Irene turned to her, her eyes warm. “And you make that feel possible. That’s rare.”

The words lingered between them, unspoken emotions carried in the stillness.

After a while, Y/N stood and extended a hand to Irene. “Come on.”

“What are we doing?” Irene asked, looking at her hand curiously.

“Trust me,” Y/N said with a grin.

Irene let herself be pulled up, and Y/N led her to the edge of the lake, where the water reflected the soft glow of the moonlight. Y/N took out her phone, scrolling to a playlist she’d prepared, and soft music filled the air.

“You made a playlist for this?” Irene asked, her tone incredulous but amused.

“Of course. What’s a picnic without music?” Y/N said, holding out her hand again. “Dance with me?”

Irene hesitated, glancing around. “Here? What if someone sees?”

“No one’s here,” Y/N reassured her. “And even if they were, we wouldn’t care. Just one dance.”

With a slight shake of her head and a soft smile, Irene stepped closer, letting Y/N take her hand. They swayed gently to the music, the world around them fading into the background.

“You’re terrible at this,” Irene teased as Y/N stepped on her foot.

“Hey, I said dance, not waltz,” Y/N shot back, laughing.

The laughter soon subsided, replaced by a comfortable silence as they continued to move together. When the song ended, Irene rested her head lightly on Y/N’s shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for tonight. I don’t think I’ve ever had a date like this.”

Y/N smiled, her hand tightening slightly around Irene’s. “Then I’ll just have to make sure the next one is even better.”

As the evening wrapped up, they lingered for a few moments longer, reluctant to let the magic of the night end. Eventually, Y/N stood, offering Irene her hand once more. They gathered their things under the glow of the moonlight, their movements unhurried, savoring the last moments of their time together.

The quiet hum of the car engine filled the space as Y/N drove Joohyun home, the soft playlist she had chosen earlier still playing in the background. The conversation had grown quieter, not out of awkwardness but from the comfortable silence that had settled between them after the picnic.

As the car turned onto Joohyun’s street, she glanced at Y/N, her expression warm. “Thank you for tonight. It was… really special.”

Y/N smiled, briefly taking her eyes off the road to meet Joohyun’s gaze. “You don’t have to thank me. Spending time with you makes it special for me, too.”

Joohyun looked down, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“Only when I mean it,” Y/N replied softly.

When they reached Joohyun’s building, Y/N got out of the car, quickly moving to open the door for her. “I’ll walk you up,” Y/N offered, her voice casual but resolute.

Joohyun hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Alright.”

Inside, the building was quiet, the faint sound of the elevator humming as it carried them to her floor. They walked side by side down the hall, their footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting.

When they reached Joohyun’s door, she turned to face Y/N, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat. “You really didn’t have to come all this way.”

“I wanted to,” Y/N said simply, her hands resting at her sides.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the air between them charged with unspoken words. Y/N’s gaze softened as she looked at Joohyun, noticing the way the dim hallway light caught the delicate curve of her face.

Joohyun broke the silence first, her voice quieter now. “You make things feel… easier. Even when I feel like they shouldn’t be.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a small smile. “That’s all I want—to make things a little easier for you.”

Joohyun’s eyes lingered on Y/N’s for a moment longer before she stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming. “How so?”

“Because you make me forget all the rules I usually set for myself,” Joohyun admitted, her gaze flickering down briefly before returning to Y/N’s.

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat as she stepped forward, closing the small distance between them. “Maybe breaking a few rules isn’t so bad.”

Joohyun’s lips parted, her breath hitching slightly, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she tilted her head just enough, her eyes searching Y/N’s for permission.

Taking the silent invitation, Y/N leaned in, her movements slow and deliberate. When their lips met, the kiss was soft and tentative, like the first note of a song waiting to be composed. Joohyun’s hand came up to rest lightly on Y/N’s arm, and Y/N’s heart raced at the gentle touch.

When they pulled apart, Joohyun’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. “I should probably go inside,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

Y/N smiled, her voice low but steady. “Goodnight, Joohyun.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Joohyun replied, lingering for a moment before stepping through her door.

As the door clicked shut, Y/N stood there for a beat longer, her lips still tingling from the kiss. She turned and walked back down the hall, her heart lighter than it had been in years.

The memory of the night stayed with her, replaying in quiet moments when she least expected it—Joohyun’s smile, the way her hand fit perfectly in hers, the soft warmth of her voice. It made the time between their meetings feel both endless and worth the wait.

Now, standing in her small kitchen, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of disbelief at how effortlessly Joohyun had become a part of her life.

The faint aroma of garlic and spices filled Y/N’s small but cozy kitchen as Irene stood at the counter, meticulously chopping vegetables. Across from her, Y/N stirred a pot of pasta sauce, stealing glances at Irene every chance she got. The soft hum of music played in the background—a playlist of quiet, jazzy instrumentals Y/N had curated to set the mood.

The kitchen itself was modest but inviting, with clean countertops, a row of neatly arranged spices, and a small potted plant perched by the window. A set of mismatched mugs sat drying on a rack, hinting at the cups of tea they’d shared earlier.

“You’re unusually quiet,” Irene teased, not looking up from her chopping. “Is everything okay?”

“Just admiring your knife skills,” Y/N said with a grin. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got a future as a chef if this idol thing doesn’t work out.”

Irene rolled her eyes but smiled. “You flatter me too much.”

“Not possible,” Y/N replied warmly.

They worked seamlessly together, moving around the small kitchen with practiced ease. When Y/N accidentally spilled a bit of sauce on the counter, Irene smirked and handed her a towel, shaking her head in mock disapproval.

When dinner was ready, they carried the plates to the small dining table near the window, where a single candle flickered softly. Outside, the city lights glittered faintly against the evening sky, the view framed by sheer curtains.

“This might be the best meal I’ve had in a while,” Irene said after taking a bite.

“You’re just being nice,” Y/N said, though her cheeks turned pink.

“No, really,” Irene insisted. “Cooking with you makes it even better.”

After dinner, they moved to the couch, bowls of ice cream in hand, as the opening credits of a romantic comedy played on the TV. Y/N settled into the corner of the couch, and Irene curled up beside her, their shoulders brushing. The scent of vanilla lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the sweetness of their dessert.

As the movie unfolded, Y/N found herself paying less attention to the screen and more to Irene—the way she laughed at the cheesy jokes, the slight crinkle in her nose when a scene was overly dramatic, and the way her presence made the room feel warmer.

When the credits rolled, Y/N turned the TV off and set her empty bowl on the coffee table. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts as Irene remained curled beside her.

“Joohyun?” Y/N began, her voice softer than usual.

Irene tilted her head to look at her, a small smile on her lips. “Hmm?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the couch cushion. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us. About how much I’ve enjoyed spending time with you these past two months.”

Irene straightened slightly, her expression growing curious but unreadable.

“You’re… incredible,” Y/N continued, her words earnest. “You’re kind, strong, funny in ways you don’t even realize, and just being around you makes my days better. I know we come from different worlds, and I know this might be complicated, but… I care about you. A lot.”

Y/N paused, her heart pounding. “I want to be more than just… someone you spend time with. I want to be someone you can count on, someone who makes you happy. I want us to be something real.”

As the warmth of the moment settled between them, Y/N’s heart raced, yet she found herself calmed by Irene’s steady presence. The silence wasn’t heavy or awkward—it was charged with the unspoken possibilities of what could come next.

Irene’s hand, still lightly holding Y/N’s, tightened slightly, grounding her thoughts. Her soft smile turned into something deeper, more sincere. “Y/N..” Irene began, her voice even softer than before, “you make me feel… free. Like I can be myself without the weight of everything else.”

Y/N’s lips quirked into a gentle smile. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to give you—a space to just be Joohyun, not Irene.”

Irene’s eyes glistened as she looked down for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “You have this way of making me forget the things that usually scare me—how complicated everything can be.”

Y/N’s voice softened, her tone sincere. “That’s not a bad thing, is it? Forgetting, even for a little while?”

Irene met her gaze again, her lips curving into a faint smile. “No. It’s not bad at all. It’s just… different. But good different.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her own smile widening. “I can work with ‘good different.’”

They both laughed softly, the tension giving way to a mutual understanding. Irene’s gaze drifted to their hands, now entwined. “I never thought I’d meet someone like you. Someone who sees me for me and doesn’t flinch at the messy parts.”

Y/N’s voice turned resolute. “That’s because every part of you, Joohyun, is worth seeing. The messy parts, the strong parts, the quiet parts—they all make you who you are. And I want to be there for all of it.”

Moved, Irene leaned forward, resting her forehead gently against Y/N’s. Their breaths mingled in the intimate closeness. “You already are,” she murmured.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as her eyes searched Irene’s, finding a quiet vulnerability that mirrored her own. For a moment, neither of them moved, the air charged with a palpable tension. Y/N raised her hand slowly, her fingers brushing against Irene’s cheek, tentative yet full of intent.

Irene’s eyes fluttered closed, and the smallest of smiles tugged at her lips as she tilted her head just slightly—a silent invitation. Y/N leaned in, their faces so close she could feel the warmth of Irene’s breath.

When their lips met, it was soft and unhurried, a delicate exploration that spoke more than words ever could. Irene’s hand came up to rest lightly on Y/N’s arm, her touch anchoring the moment in quiet certainty. The kiss deepened slightly, tender and warm, leaving them both breathless yet content.

When they pulled apart, their foreheads touched once more, a shared smile passing between them like a quiet promise.

The weight of Irene’s words settled warmly in Y/N’s chest, and she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. Tentatively, she raised her free hand, brushing a strand of hair from Irene’s face. “So, where do we go from here?”

Irene pulled back slightly to look into Y/N’s eyes, her expression both vulnerable and determined. “We take it one day at a time. No rush, no pressure. Just us.”

Y/N nodded, the sincerity in Irene’s words anchoring her. “I like the sound of that.”

Their moment was interrupted by the soft patter of rain against the windows, a cozy rhythm that matched the beating of their hearts. Y/N glanced toward the window and smiled. “Looks like the universe is in on our mood.”

Irene followed her gaze and chuckled. “Maybe it’s trying to tell us something.”

“Like what?” Y/N asked, her tone playful.

“That we should stay here, wrapped up in the warmth of this moment,” Irene replied, her voice tinged with amusement and affection.

Without thinking, Y/N reached for the throw blanket on the back of the couch and draped it over their laps. “Well, who am I to argue with the universe?”

As the rain picked up, the two settled back into the couch, Irene leaning her head on Y/N’s shoulder. They didn’t need to fill the silence with words—the quiet companionship between them said everything. For the first time in a long while, both felt at peace, the weight of their separate worlds momentarily forgotten.

Y/N looked down at Irene, whose eyes had fluttered closed. “Joohyun?”

“Hmm?” Irene replied without opening her eyes.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Y/N whispered. “I want us to be something real. Something lasting.”

Irene smiled faintly, her voice heavy with drowsiness but steady with conviction. “We already are.”

And as the rain continued its steady cadence, the two remained wrapped in each other’s presence, content with the quiet promise of what was to come.

[libertyreads]

Well, I was having a bad day...until this afternoon.

[orcelito]

Hey I'm graduating college in may and I just kinda realized that I'll be Done Done with school after that. Not fake-done like I was graduating high school, where I'd have to go to college at the start of the fall. And not fake-done like I was in any of my semesters I took off.

Done Done. As in I accomplished my degree, and I won't ever have to go back to school if I don't want to. What a beautiful, beautiful thought.

[kimmkitsuragi]

whew haha

[thatfaerieprincess]

Aaaaaaaa tattoo???????????? Maybe??????

[midnightorchids]

i am frothing at the mouth at firefighter!Jason🤤

I’ m imagining Jason accidentally bumping into reader who so happens to be a school teacher and he can’t help but flirt just a little bit whilst the class of kids he’s educating on fire safety look at them both with wide eyes😃

I absolutely love this idea so much! I wrote something based off of this ask and low key went a little overboard with world building, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Field trip mornings always created an exciting buzz amongst your students. Their gentle chatter filled the chilly parking lot of the old school and you giggled at their enthusiasm.

The moment brought a sense of nostalgia, it engulfed your heart in a warm embrace. It reminded you of your days in elementary school. The memories of bitter autumn mornings and your teacher’s frustrated attitudes played before your eyes. You smiled thinking about your past and how those small experiences inspired you to pursue a teaching career.

This field trip was a special one as it happened to fall on Halloween Day. The children complained about having to come to school on the holiday, but as soon as you mentioned that they could come costumed, the excitement was back. Your third grade class did not disappoint, they were all dressed in bright costumes for their first ever visit to the fire station.

The bus ride was fairly normal. The children were a mix of both calm and rowdy. You intervened every once in a while when their noise level got too loud, otherwise the students were well behaved.

Entering the fire station was like entering a dream. The foyer of the building was warm and inviting. The heat radiated off of the walls and it made you slip off your coat. There were Halloween decorations coating the pale walls and you watched your children ooh and ahh with excitement.

Your eyes were still scanning the room when a tall man walked over towards you. He wore his uniform around his waist with a black compression shirt that hugged his body. You could see a sleeve of tattoos on display and a thin silver chain peaking through from under his shirt. Despite not wearing your coat anymore, you still felt your body heat up.

You stared at his name tag—Jason, it read. You recalled the name from the numerous emails and phone calls you had exchanged in order to make this tour happen. You always thought his voice was sweet, but you had never imagined him looking like this.

He was attractive—breathtakingly so. His eyes radiated a bright shade of emerald and were full of life. He had heavy bags under his eyes, which, you assumed, were from working long hours at the station. His facial features were sharp. His cheekbones stood high and his hooked nose sat perfectly poised on his face. He looked like a Roman sculpture. Your eyes trailed down to his lips and you noticed a small scar on the right side of his mouth. You felt your fingers twitch, almost as if they were itching to trace the mark.

Jason cleared his throat, pulling you out of your deep trance and you felt goosebumps trailing your skin. You quickly spoke up, trying to ease the tension.

“Hello, my apologies, I completely zoned out, it’s been a long morning,” you said, desperately hoping that he believed the poor excuse you made to justify openly checking out the man.

You suddenly felt even more uncomfortable, you looked to your side only to notice all of your students staring right at you. You felt yourself getting flustered again, but quickly moved past the feeling. You extended your hand to shake Jason’s calloused ones. His eyes raked your figure and he gave you a sly smile.

“It’s okay,” he responded gently. “Shall we get started with the visit,” he changed the subject quickly and you couldn’t be happier.

Jason turned his attention towards the children and greeted them with an enthusiastic expression, his passion for his job clearly reflected in his way of speaking.

He led your tiny class towards the breakout rooms of the fire station. On the way to the rooms, Jason pointed out one of the girl’s Wonder Woman costumes and he shrieked in an endearing sort of way. He kneeled to the girl’s height and handed her a small sticker. She smiled, thanking him. Jason then locked his eyes with yours and called the girl pretty, and you knew at that moment that the comment was not only for her, but for you too. You felt a rush of heat run through your cheeks and up to your ears.

The breakout rooms were similar to the foyer of the fire station. There were little skeletons propped up against the whiteboards and small jack-o-lanterns on each desk.

Once the children had settled, Jason handed the rest of them with fun stickers and pamphlets about fire safety for them to take home. He joked with the kids, and managed to sneak in a fire pun every now and then. He was a good listener, he paid attention to everything the children had to share. You turned your head to the side and silently admired his ability to work with the kids; not everyone could handle a group of eight-year-olds first thing in the morning.

Jason quickly gave the class a presentation about the dangers of fires and the importance of protecting yourselves when dealing with hot objects. It was odd, he wasn’t even trying to hide his flirtatious comments, he’d stare right at you upon the very mention of the word “hot.”

You noticed Jason had a habit of walking around the room, maybe it was to keep the students engaged or maybe he did it for his own reasons. But it had got to the point where he’d brush past you, almost purposefully. The parts of your skin that made contact with his body were on fire.

After the presentation, Jason decided it would be best if the kids got a quick break before continuing the tour of the fire station. You happily agreed, needing a break yourself.

You sat on a chair close to the exit, when one of your students came to you on the verge of tears—the culprit being a paper cut. You cooed at the child, gently cupping their much smaller hand and guiding them to your first aid kit. Unknown to you, Jason was watching the interaction play out.

He hadn’t known you long, but he thought you were stunning. The way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, the way your features sat against your skin, and the way you spoke with such eloquence. It was everything he found attractive, but seeing you showcase such patience with the “wounded” child, made his heart race. Not only were you beautiful, but you were kind—to Jason, in the very little time he had known you, you felt like an angel.

“Do you like them,” a small voice suddenly spoke. It was the Wonder Woman from earlier and Jason smiled.

“Ah the lovely Wonder Woman is back,” he replied, ignoring the child’s question. The little girl giggled.

“I think you have a crush on my teacher,” Jason raised his eyebrow. What did this little girl know about crushes? The child laughed again and said, “I think she might like you back.”

“What makes you say that,” Jason inquired, now suddenly interested. The little girl shrugged and made a face.

“I dunno,” and with that, she ran off, leaving Jason confused.

After the break, Jason guided the students to the main hall to show them the fire trucks. The energy was high in the room, the kids were beaming with excitement. The tension between you and Jason only seemed to rise though. With every passing flirtatious comment and every lingering look, you felt yourself getting more anxious. How inappropriate would it be if you asked for his number at the end of the field trip… you caught yourself thinking.

It was as if Jason had read your mind because at the end of the tour, he pulled you aside to thank you for bringing in the children and letting him have the opportunity to teach them. You grinned and also expressed your gratitude. You began to walk towards the students, when Jason grabbed your wrist and held onto you gently. He slipped a piece of paper into your palm and sent you a quick wink before heading out.

You stared at the small paper and slowly opened it.

Inside, the words read in messy lines, “call me,” with a string of numbers. You looked into the direction that Jason left, and smiled to yourself.

You were definitely going to call him.

[poptartmochi]

santa ma-fucken-reya

[bunnys-kisses]

hi bunny! can i please have cream puffs with a side of tonic water served by max verstappen

thank you love you <33

bakery menu!!

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! there are tons of options to choose from! thank you so, so much for all i've received! as for the anon, i hope that you love this! i love the combination of prompts. this is technically a team principal!max au, but not the main one i'm currently writing. this is just a fun little side!

cream puffs ("let me finish inside.") + tonic water (age gap) served by max verstappen (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, team principal!max, team principal au, driver!reader, breeding/pregnancy, pool sex, age gap (20s/40s), unprotected sex, incorrect info about sex (!!)

maybe it was wrong for max verstappen to ogle at his new driver. maybe it wasn't the brightest ides to let her prance around the pool like an excited puppy. people would talk. it didn't help that you were wearing the loosest definition of a bikini, he swore that he saw of your nipples peek out of the top.

you were splashing and laughing the pool, kicking around and having the time of your life. all while max was trying to focus on an email he was writing. but that was hard, about as hard as his cock that strained in his swim trunks.

max prided himself on focus, and integrity. he was a strong drive of a good character. but with you all judgement was clouded.

"c'mon, mister verstappen. let's play mermaids." you said with excitement in your tone. max knew that closest pool you had growing up was the public one in your neighourhood. so to have one all to yourself for the afternoon left like a luxury. even with the large contract you had with verstappen racing, the smallest things excited you.

max assumed at this point in his career that he was used to luxury. he had enough money to start a racing team after years of racing. but, to you, this was all new and exciting. it made max want to spoil you.

max looked up from his phone, "i'm a little busy."

you sighed, you were up against the edge of the pool. he could picture your pretty breasts pressed against the tiles. you said, "it's off season, sir. stop being an over-worker an let's have some fun! all you do is work, work, work!"

"and what is your idea of fun?" he asked.

you looked adorable as you responded with, "mermaids!"

max couldn't argue with that. so his phone was soon left on the table before he took off his t-shirt and ended up in the pool with you in just his swim trunks. your swam over and wrapped your arms around him.

"see, isn't this fun?" you asked as you held him. max believed you were a temptress in disguise. a devil dressed like an angel.

he was in the water for you as you held onto him tightly. you were alluring in the most perfect way possible. he leaned in to kiss you with his hands on your hips. team principals didn't kiss their drivers, but with the high walls around the house. it was your little secret.

you giggled against the kiss, "sir!"

"you're teasing me, angel." he replied as he kissed you more. they got a little more heated as his grip on you tightened. you squirmed a little, but he held tightly onto you. he had kissed you before, usually in private. on the track he usually got his fix where he could.

"i just wanted to play in the water, sir." you pouted. you were a horrible actress, this was the least convincing performance you had done so far.

"i think you wanted more." he replied. he was hard in his trunks as he worked to get your bottoms off to give him easy access to your slick core. you whined and he beamed at you. he knew you so well.

he learned very early on how to read your expressions, your poker face was horrible. you wore everything on your face and on your sleeve. he knew you very well, more than he knew your teammate and other driver.

"mister verstappen." you moaned as he held you in the water.

he got his trunks off and rubbed his cock up against your pussy. it excited him. being in the warm water didn't help either. he said, "let me finish inside."

"but!"

he replied, "you can't get pregnant in a pool." and as a response you wrapped your legs around his waist and with a few tries he sank his cock inside of you. his size was impressive and it made you warm all over.

it felt like a slice of heaven. it felt like home, and it made you moan loudly.

you believed him, so you let him take you bare in the pool at his over priced house in monaco. your hands were in his short hair as he fucked up into you. even at close to double your age, he fucked like a young man. you yanked on his near blond hair and he groaned. just as he knew your body, you knew his. you knew that the famed max verstappen liked to have his hair pulled.

you moaned against one another, the kisses were hot and the noises got louder. you whimpered while he moaned against you. he loved the feeling, the intensity of your fucking. the thought of playing in the water was long forgotten as he moved against you. rutted up into you in a way that made you feel good all over. his face was against your breasts and he could feel your hard nipples through our bikini top.

your back arched with a heated want for the man inside of you. you yanked on his hair a little more as he bit your left nipple through the swimsuit which made your toes curled. he managed to mark you a your breasts a little in the areas that weren't covered by the bikini top. his groaned made you feel hotter.

"please, sir."

you felt amazing. you made a primal part of his brain sing with the idea of having you with him for a lifetime. he yearned for you, he wanted you in ways that only a lover could. to keep you as his. he was close to double your age, but he was deeply in love with you. a marvel on the track and in his arms. anyway he's have you. he's take it, even if it was unprotected sex in his pool.

you held onto him as you rolled your hips. you moaned louder and felt the pleasure course through you. down to your very core. your hadn't met a man like max before and you would never after. you panted heavily and max drank in the feeling. to have you like this, this was what heaven was.

"mister-"

"sh, sh, just call me max. just max, my angel." he said through a tense jaw as he picked up the pace. he wasn't going to last much longer. it wasn't long before you felt the grip of pleasure through you. the heightened feeling of his cock up inside of you. you came with a sharp moan that made max tense up. you always sounded so pretty on the edge of climax.

"please mister! miste-max!" you whined through orgasm and max kept his pace inside of you. your tightness around him almost made him choke on air. it all felt amazing.

"i got you, i got you." he promised. he'd always have you. you were his daring racer, the marvel of his team. his winner. with a few more heavy thrusts he finished inside of you. fucking you without protection felt amazing.

he hoped he'd get the chance to finish inside of you again. he shuddered at the notion, your pretty pussy caked in his cum. he stopped his movements and held you in his arms.

you softly kissed him as he held you for a moment. when you pulled away, you cupped his face and asked, "i guess we're not playing in the pool today?"

-

"adrian!" you chirped as you quickly got into the pool with your son, "you have to wait for me, you know mama can't move as fast as you right now." it was a little harder keeping up with a four year old in floaties while you were six months pregnant.

the little boy was a least smart enough to stay in the shallow end of the pool. max was barely outside when you were in the pool with adrian. he settled your things down while you splashed in the pool with the young boy.

max watched, keeping a keen eye on the both of you. he didn't want his little family getting into too much trouble in the pool. you were no longer his star driver, but you did upgrade to 'wife status'. you recently had gotten a job with formula two which made max happy. it was good to see his former superstar and current wife in demand in the racing field. even if you weren't a driver. your skills weren't being put to waste because you got pregnant a lot sooner than expected.

as you and adrian played in the water, you smiled at your husband. he waved to you and your smile grew. you remarked, "c'mon, honey, we're going to play mermaids." <3

[luveline]

What about a lil fic of the first time bombshell reader gets mad at Spencer? Like it can be while they r dating or before and May be r is giving Spencer quiet treatment?

ty for requesting! ♡ fem, 1.3k

Spencer waits for Morgan to get up for a coffee before he gets up himself, tailing his teasing teammate to the microwave. He's hoping Morgan's in a sympathetic mood today, because Spencer is in dire need of some sympathy. 

"Loverboy," Morgan says, his voice steeped in suspicion. "Can I help you with something?"

"Do you know why Y/N's upset?" 

"You don't? You're the expert." 

Spencer rubs at his nose, the beginning of another migraine brewing between his eyes. The gesture draws a little more empathy than his misguided question. 

"You're gonna have to ask her yourself. I don't want her angry at me too, she's gonna fix my computer before Garcia finds out I fell for her phishing email test." 

"I've been asking her. It's making it worse. She won't answer my questions anymore. She just hums." 

"Silent treatment. Yikes." Morgan sips his tea through a grimace. "I mean, you must've done something bad. She's usually so–" 

"Lovely?" 

"–in love with you." Morgan laughs as he wanders off in the direction of the stairs up to Hotch's office. "Same thing."

Spencer decides to make a cup of bribery tea for you. He microwaves a mug of hot water and plunks a bag of your favourite blend in without ceremony, bobbing it up and down as he watches you from over his shoulder. You've moved desks upon request to sit with the rest of the team and opposite Spencer (against Hotch's self-proclaimed better judgement), your things set carefully in contrast to his books, a library's worth teeming on every spare inch. Some have even made their way onto your desk, pristinely stacked in wait of his perusal. It's one small gesture among the hundreds of kind things you do for him. 

"Here," he says, setting the mug down next to your mouse carefully. 

Your anger strikes him. Eyes frosted with an uneasiness he's not partial to, lips, so perfectly painted, screwed into a frown. It's not nice seeing someone he cares about upset with him, worse when he has no idea what it is he's done. 

"You're annoyed at me," he says. You wait for him to continue. "I don't know what I did." 

"That makes it worse." You frown at him. After a few seconds of this—your frowning, his looking sorry and confused— you sigh wretchedly (as in, he's never heard you sound that sad, ever, and he hates it). "Spencer, you stood me up." 

Everything in him goes cold. "No I didn't." 

Your sad frown melds again to anger. "Yes you did! I– I got my hair done at a salon, I bought a new dress, I bragged to all of my friends that my cute coworker was gonna be my date, and none of that mattered because you didn't text me back so I was worried sick all night that you were," —your voice drops to a private whisper— "in trouble somewhere, and then you come into work like nothing happened? Not even a hint of an apology? I thought you wanted to come."  

Your voice burns with embarrassment. Spencer can feel it in his throat, that plucky ache of someone letting you down. 

"That was last night?" he asks quietly. A friend asked you to their charity ball, not as ridiculously fancy as it sounds but an occasion of esteem and important to you nonetheless. "Y/N, I thought that was– I have it in my phone as next month. As November. I'm so sorry." 

"Why didn't you answer my texts?" 

He winces. "I had a migraine… Screens make it worse, and I haven't charged the battery yet because I was coming to work anyways I'm sorry, Y/N, really. I mixed it up. I should've asked you." 

You seem less disheartened at his admission. You cross your arms over your abdomen and lean back a touch in your chair, as if deciding whether he's being truthful. Spencer isn't in the habit of lying to you and anybody could tell you that, so after a few seconds you look away. "I asked you if you were excited yesterday morning. I told you my dress came."  

"I know." He can't believe he's gotten it wrong like this. Anyone can make a mistake, but he imagines you in your new dress with your hair done waiting for him in the cold weather that descended on Virginia last night and his guts twist into a knot. "I didn't piece it together. I didn't… I didn't…" 

Spencer can't remember the last time he let someone he loves down like this. His migraine spikes again like a needle in the eye, fiery agony that has him closing his eyes to cope. 

"Spencer," you say, softly admonishing. "Hey, it's okay." Your chair creaks.

"I'm so sorry," he says through his teeth. 

"I thought you were being a jerk, but I guess I should've known you wouldn't do something like that." You stand up and take his elbow into a very gentle hand. "I'm sorry for giving you the cold shoulder. It was childish. I was just hurt thinking you did it on purpose." 

"Sorry," he says again. "Migraine." 

Your hand rises to his cheek. "Yeah? Sit down, Spence. Take a breather." 

The doctors say that Spencer's migraines are psychosomatic. He doesn't get how something so odious can start from nothing. 

You seem twice as upset but in a different light, ushering him down into your chair. "Don't worry," you say softly, your hand falling into his hair, "I took a great picture. You can still see me in my nice dress." 

You're kidding but he's genuinely glad. Then the pain takes over and he can't see the other side of it for years. 

It only feels like years. 

When he can open his eyes, you've knelt by his chair. He hates to see you getting your pants dirty like that, hates worse that your eyebrows have pinched and the soft plane of your forehead has etched deep with concern. 

"You can still be mad at me," he says under his breath. 

"I'm a little upset," you confess, putting an uncharacteristically tentative hand on his knee. "It sucked, but not as much as this seems to suck for you." You're like an angel, all pretty and wide-eyed at his feet, your hand beginning a short path up his leg, a soft back and forth. "I'm sorry Spencer. I was punishing you for something that wasn't your fault." 

"You didn't know. How could you, I–" He winces as another wave of pain flares behind his eye, blurring your small smile. "I should've charged my phone." 

"Maybe. I can't imagine you had the capacity, Spence. Not if you're like this." 

"Don't just forgive me because I'm in pain." 

"I'm not, I'm forgiving you because even though it really hurt my feelings turning up alone, I'm not cruel enough to blame you now." You squeeze his knee. It's an instant balm, the chronic ache behind his eyes easing ever so slightly. Your forgiveness makes the rest bearable. "Can you forgive me for being so heartless?" you ask lightly. 

Your lips curve demurely around each word. Spencer scrambles to cover your hand with both of his, his neck craned forward. "Of course I forgive you." 

"Thank you." Spencer could collapse. "Drink some of this tea, okay? Maybe drinking something will help."  

Nothing ever helps, but he does it because it's your hands bringing the cup to his lips. 

"I know you looked beautiful," he says between sips. 

"I would've looked better on your arm. Too bad you're getting grievously attacked by your own brain. This is what happens when it gets too big, babe, it's trying to come out of your ears." He's a little sorry to have won you back this way, but mostly so, so relieved. "Anymore of this'll and you'll start messing up the months. Oh, wait!" You laugh as he laughs but soon scramble to apologise when the sound makes his head hurt. "Sorry, I'm sorry! Drink some more tea, sweetheart." 

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 1

I’ve seen everyone doing these drabbles/aus and I wanted to join! 🤠

content warning: It gets suggestive towards the end so MINORS BEWARE.

word count: 719 (kind of proofread, I got excited)

Daydreaming about GymRat!Miguel x PlusSize!Reader / Chubby!Reader and the dynamic of big tall bf x shorter chubby gf 🚻

Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who started off as an awkward, lanky, nerdy teen using the gym to blow off steam. His mom felt that he wasn’t a great influence to his brother, his father wasn’t his real father, and his step-brother was an asshole.

GymRat!Miguel who’s nearly triple his weight by the time he starts college, body full of muscle. His mom has calmed down despite him previously eating her out of a house and a home. His biological dad agreed to help with any leftover college expenses and his step-dad helps him move on campus. He’s tearful when he hugs Gabriel goodbye, promising to call and play their weekly games.

GymRat!Miguel who stays loyal to his nerdy roots and aims for a Science degree with a minor in Robotics for fun. He sticks out like a sore thumb in his classes, body taking up the ends of lab tables. Even though he prefers to sit in the front of classes, he opts to sit in the back so that everyone can see. He’s constantly using office hours and lingering after class so that he can make sure that his notes are correct.

GymRat!Miguel who first meets you in one of his bio labs and is immediately enamored by you. Your clothes hug your curves, you smell sweet, and something on you always matches. Your shoes and your backpack, your skirt and your jacket, your accessories and your nails.

GymRat!Miguel who ends up being in your group for a project and watches in awe as you take the lead, helping everyone decide which parts to complete. You go out of your way to make the powerpoint colorful and creative. You’re ecstatic when he turns in his parts extra early as everyone else has gone a-wall.

GymRat!Miguel who calms you down when the deadline is near and the rest of the group still hasn’t done their part. You two meet late in the library to finish everything. He thinks you’re adorable despite how stressed and tired you are. He makes the last minute decision to delete the other two group member’s names off of the title slide, taking the initiative to email the teacher before hand.

GymRat!Miguel who walks into the lab building on presentation day 50 minutes early and sees you being cornered by the other group members eyes full of confusion. He quickly walks over asking if there was a problem. Seeing him looming over them, the two decide give up, and scramble together a last minute presentation.

GymRat!Miguel who explains everything, telling you not to worry about the others and just focus on you all’s presentation. You two have great presentation, chemistry blooming as you bounce off each other. You both get an easy A and you hug Miguel out of an excitement before the next lab starts.

GymRat!Miguel who imprints the feeling of your body against his in his memory. Your smell, how soft you were, how small you felt in his arms, how tight you squeezed him.

GymRat!Miguel whose dreams of you have him tossing and turning in his twin sized bed that was far too little for him. He scares his poor roommate to death when his body hits the floor with a big boom. The dream of you under him shattering as he collides with the ground. He groans and apologizes to his roommate, pain in his side and his groin.

GymRat!Miguel who takes a cold shower, too aroused to go back to sleep. He bites his fist trying to quiet his moans, not wanting to wake his roommate for a second time. He replays images of you in his mind, pulling at his length until he shutters against the tile walls.

GymRat!Miguel whose heart drops when he checks his phone after his shower. You followed him on Instagram three hours ago. He checks your page and sees that you're private, but your profile picture is a lot. It's an angle from above you, your cleavage on display.

GymRat!Miguel who stands in the bathroom ogling at the photo like an idiot. He clicks the follow back button, watching as it shifts to pending, and stares down at his body again. He sighs and turns the shower back on, banking on his roommate sleeping through everything once again.

You had no idea the effect you had on him.

dividers by @y-onb 🩵

Leave a like and a comment! Let me know how you feel 😶‍🌫️

[ktownshizzle]

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 1

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, tbh nothing too bad in this chapter

Word count: 6.3k hehe (approx. 25 mins to read)

Posting date: October 9, 2024

Notes: So it’s my birthday, y'all. 🎂 Hope you enjoy this little treat! 🎈And let me know if anyone wants to be tagged for future chapters. Just leave a comment. Formatting this better soon, really just wanted to get this out!

Your first meeting with Min Yoongi goes exactly as you expected: awkward as hell.

The day kicked off with some solid foreshadowing. 

On the subway, you somehow managed to sit directly on someone’s hand, giving yourself a completely unsolicited grope for breakfast. Awkward. 

Then you hit your usual café, chatting with your mom on the phone while waiting for your drink. Just as the barista handed over your order, you wrapped up the call with a bright and cheery “love you!”—only to realize too late that the barista thought it was meant for him. Awkward.

Things only got weirder from there. As you checked your emails on your phone, you walked straight into a pole, and you made eye contact with a cat who just looked at you, tail swaying, like it was somehow pleased with your suffering.

So naturally, you hoped that your first day with Min Yoongi wouldn’t follow the same cursed trend. But, of course, you weren’t that lucky.

You can feel the office buzzing with excitement as you step in, but you’ve all been told to keep it low-key. Nobody is allowed to make a big deal about him, but in some ways, that just makes it an even bigger deal. You’ve refrained from searching his name on Naver. It’s enough that you know him as 1/7 of South Korea’s biggest boyband. You don’t need to stalk him because that’s just gonna make this weird.

Speaking of weird, the female security guard gives you a wink as you clock in, and you return with a simple nod back, because honestly you’re tired of being treated like you wanted this. Like you asked for this “opportunity”. Some of the girls have called you the "blessed one" to have been chosen to work alongside him in your small, shoebox office. Truthfully, you don’t really care as long as he gets the job done.

But you're feeling scared for many reasons you can’t quite express, the pressure mostly coming from the fact that every fucking person in this office is so motherfuckin’ wet for this dude. Is he even that hot? Nobody is that hot for real. Unless it’s Cha Eun Woo (you just picked up the new Vogue issue and ooof)–now that is a different story.

Your throat is dry as hell, and your stomach is in knots. There’s no time to freak out though as you just received a ping that he’s on his way. 

You clear your throat, adjust your stance, and try to appear composed and professional, despite the fact that your insides are churning. You spot your tiny plastic garbage can on the corner of the room, in case you need to hurl, but the garbage lady forgot to line it again for fuck’s sake.

You pull your knit sweater down to cover the tiny belt that holds your linen pants, the only thing holding something together in this room, ‘cos you are actually spiraling–kind of?

Fuck he’s here.

The doors to your office open, making the little wind chime you hung there tinkle, and you spot the top of his head from behind the pudgy middle-aged guy that walks in front of him—your boss. Two men flank him, one of them you know as someone from his company, because he was the one doling out NDAs the other day like how they do beef jerky samples in the supermarket. The other, more buff guy, his bodyguard, most likely. Until you know their real names, you’ll call them Beef Jerky and Beefy.

Okay, focus.

Min Yoongi finally steps into your line of vision. 

Dressed in his military uniform, he was quiet, unassuming, expression unreadable. His eyes were pretty sharp, a bit intimidating, like he was thinking about something more important than whatever this is. His hair was a bit messy in the front, but somehow it worked for him. He wasn’t huge or anything, just lean and kinda laid-back, with this easy posture that made it seem like he didn’t really care who was looking. Honestly, nothing too special. 

But then, there was his aura, something you couldn’t quite ignore. It wasn’t flashy or loud, but there was this energy about him, like the room shifted just a little when he walked in. He didn’t have to say a damn thing, yet somehow, you found yourself aware of him. It wasn’t just his looks. It was the way he carried himself, calm and confident, like he didn’t need to prove anything. Must be nice to be rich and powerful…

“Miss?” Beef Jerky leans to his side to get into your sightline.

Shit, what did he say? Anyway, you shake your head, and proceed to just introduce yourself.

“Hello, I’m the manager,” you bow, perhaps too stiffly. “I’ll be overseeing your work during your service here.”

He bows politely, too, eyes briefly meeting yours before looking away. “I’m Min Yoongi, pleasure to meet you,” he says in a tone that feels blunt, almost rehearsed.

Your boss Hyun-woo, who you recently found out is his distant uncle, stands beside him, clapping his shoulder. “You are in good hands here, Yoongi. She’s my best, most trusted employee in this entire office.”

You blush at the compliment, feeling a wave of self-consciousness as you struggle to make the interaction less awkward. You close your fists willing yourself to get a fuckin’ grip.

“I will leave you both to get acquainted.”

Your boss along with the two individuals leave the room. The door closes with a soft click.

Annoyingly, something is stuck in your throat and you clear it with a quick sip from this comically huge-sized tumbler your roommate got for you when you had a pesky bout of UTI last year.

“I’ve, uh, prepared your tasks for today.” You gesture to his desk, quickly pulling up the list of assignments on your tablet. You show him his username and password scribbled on a post-it by the monitor. He picks it up and inspects it. You spend time explaining the basics of the work here. Word processing. Nothing to it really. It’s about efficiency, accuracy, and confidentiality, because of the many private government records that you handle day to day.

“Do you have any questions?”

Crickets.

The office feels larger now, the silence between you echoing awkwardly. “Ooo-kay. If you don’t have any questions, that’s fine. But don’t hesitate to ask if there’s anything I can help you with,” you add, hoping to sound approachable but instead sounding robotic, like an email sign off. You wince inwardly.

He just nods again, offering nothing more. He sits and picks up the paper on the top of the file. You guess that’s your cue to leave. And by leave, you mean round his table so you can sit on yours, the one across from him.

You walk back with this weird stutter in your chest. For a moment, you wonder if he finds you too formal. It’s not like you’re trying to be intimidating, but professionalism has been your go-to ever since the promotion. And it’s not like you need to wow him with your personality, so you can become fast friends. If the NDA you signed was to be taken to heart, it would be better to not establish any form of relationship with him outside of team lead and team member, what with the exorbitant number of potential violations and potential fines for breaking it.

When his keyboard starts clickety-clacking, dread sinks in your stomach that it’s going to be like this every day—strictly business, no small talk, no casual exchanges. You’re not the most sociable person, but once in a while, you do appreciate a bit of interaction. You sigh internally, returning to your own tasks, trying not to overthink the situation anymore. For now, at least.

Throughout the morning, you cannot help but steal glances at him. Damn, what skin care does he use? He literally looks radiant, like he’s glowing from within. Fuck, you have to look away because this is precisely why they trusted you to take him under your wing. You are a consummate professional, not a creep like the girls from accounting, especially trampy Danbi. You chalk it to unfamiliarity and curiosity, which you know you will quickly overcome. But for now you cut yourself some slack. Obviously, there was a legit celebrity in the room, and he seems to radiate some undeniable aura. It also feels strange to have someone else in this tiny office that you’ve occupied alone for so long.

Honestly, you’re still baffled as to why he was assigned to you, specifically. Well, that’s not entirely true. You know it’s because Hyun-woo has blind trust in you, having seen you as one of his go-to employees. Truth be told, you think he treats you like a niece. Is that weird? Maybe. He lets you assist some of the other artists who’ve come through for personal or one-time projects and you have always delivered for him, never engaging in any office gossip.

But still, you can’t shake the feeling of frustration. Why did this have to happen to you? You just got your promotion and were so excited to mentor someone, to be that “cool boss” you always envisioned. But now you’re stuck with this temp—who’s really not a temp but a world-renowned idol. It’s all so awkward.

Once in a while you catch him yawning, so in a desperate bid to cut through the tension, you ask, “Um, do you like coffee?”

He shifts to sit straighter. “Nah, I’m good. Thank you.” he responds, quickly looking your way and training his eyes back to the screen, hands typing away.

You nod, feeling slightly deflated. “Right. Got it.” 

The day drags on, and you can’t shake off the feeling of being an over-eager manager trying too hard. 

Within the first week, you discover very quickly that Yoongi is all about business. He is just here to finish his service as discreetly as possible. He clocks in on time, disappears for an hour for breaks, and clocks out on time as well. You don’t know where he disappears during those breaks, but you suspect in Hyun-woo’s office to get more privacy. He barely speaks to you. He greets you with a small bow in the morning and responds with a grunt or a hum. It’s all very… whatever. It is what it is, so you stop trying to be anything but his boring manager. You hand him his tasks every morning, check his output by EOD, like clockwork.

Unfortunately, it was one of those manic Mondays. The pile of documents grows faster than you can manage. Calls keep coming in, requests needing immediate attention, and your desk looks like the utter chaos that is the inside of your brain. You glance at Yoongi across from you—he’s focused, calm, completely unfazed by the sudden rush.

“Do you need help with that?” His voice startles you, low and soft. You honestly even forgot how it sounded, having little to no interaction everyday.

Before you can respond, he’s already pulling the spare chair from the corner and is at your side, sorting through the forms. His hands move with unexpected speed, and soon, the paperwork starts shrinking. You offer a weak smile, trying to appear professional. “Thanks. I wasn’t expecting today to be so hectic.”

He only nods in response, his focus entirely on the task at hand. You glance at him, noticing for the first time how sharp his features are up close—dark eyes, cute pointy nose, and freckles dusting some parts of his cheeks. His tongue, pink and moist, peeks out from the side of his lips as he concentrates. Ok, you need to look away RIGHT NOW.

You’re aware of the attraction most women probably feel for someone like him. Exhibit A—Danbi, who cornered you that morning in the toilet “for the scoop” and you’re sick of her. But if you’ll be honest, it’s hard not to notice that Yoongi indeed has a… pleasant face. But you are a professional. Yes, you are. This whole mysterious, brooding vibe is not going to get to you attracted to him in any way, shape, or form. You’re his manager. You signed those NDAs. Never mind that his lips are just the perfect shape, pouty, plush… and smirking.

Shit. He’s smirking because you’re caught.

You look away hastily and start opening some random file in your computer and pretend to be immersed reading it. In truth, you need some air, but it would be too damn obvious if you stepped away.

A few minutes pass in silence. You’ve quelled the initial onslaught of hormones and are back to work mode. You’re happy that he is so efficient and you smile as you get through the initial bulk of paperwork. You’re starting to relax, getting into the familiar groove of getting a file and processing it, until your fingers accidentally brush against his while reaching for the same folder. The touch is brief, but it sends a jolt through you, your heart stuttering in response. You glance up, half-expecting another awkward moment (because you can’t stop feeling like such a fool in front of him), but Yoongi remains composed, as he pulls his hand away and waits for you to take the document.

You do, but your pulse quickens. Just an accident, you tell yourself. He probably didn’t even notice. And if he did, he probably doesn’t care.

But now, as you continue working side by side, there’s an unspoken understanding. You realize, despite his quiet demeanor, he’s someone you can rely on, someone who won’t leave you stranded when things get tough. And that’s actually really nice. It’s what you wanted when Hyun-woo said you were going to have a team. Granted it’s just the two of you for now, but still, it’s nice to have a partner.

Later in the week, you find yourself in the break room, needing a coffee fix. There was a place down the street with cheap and good coffee, but unfortunately you didn’t have the time to pop in with so much work on your desk. So free and awful coffee it is today. 

You enter just in time to see Yoongi struggling with the coffee machine. You have never seen him anywhere else in the building apart from your office, so this was quite a surprise. 

“Need a hand?” you ask tentatively, stepping closer.

“I think I broke it,” he replies, hearing exasperation in his voice for the very first time. 

“Hang on, let me,” you unplug and plug the machine, fiddle with some of the buttons, waiting for it to sputter to life. 

You’re leaning against the counter, waiting for the coffee machine to wake up. You know it takes forever, but it’s too familiar at this point. Yoongi stands next to you, his usual quiet self, hands in his pockets. 

“I’ve timed it,” you say dryly, glancing at him. “Two minutes and forty seconds.”

He watches the machine as if expecting it to hurry up. “Been here for more than that.”

You smirk. “Maybe it’s on a break.”

He quirks an eyebrow, barely suppressing a smile. “I’ll try that excuse next time.”

You hand Yoongi his coffee, mumbles a thanks, and waits for you to finish yours before both of you settle into the break room’s small table. It’s past lunch, and you know neither of you have eaten, so you reach for the cold ham and cheese sandwiches stashed in the fridge. “Hope you don’t mind,” you say, sliding one across to him.

He looks at it for a moment before picking it up. “I’ve had worse.”

“High praise.”

He takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Could be worse. Could be that coffee.”

You raise your cup in mock agreement. “Fair point. Don’t even know why I drink this shit. I mean this thing.” You slap a hand over your mouth. Did you just curse in front of your subordinate? Government offices are a stickler for these things, being on the traditional side.

He chuckles at your shocked expression, and teases, “Isn’t that a code of conduct violation?”

You gnaw at your lip, suppressing the smile that wants to stretch out, but you fail. “It is. But you’re no snitch.”

He motions to zip his lips and throws an imaginary key over his shoulder. Dork.

The conversation lingers in that easy rhythm. You talk about the workload, the other departments, nothing too personal. You glance over at him, noticing how more at ease he seems, as if he’s getting used to being here—around you.

“How long have you worked here?” he leans back, stretching his arm out on the back of the chair beside him.

“Five years,” you respond, tapping the side of your lip with a napkin.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” he asks suddenly.

You blink, slightly taken aback by how blunt he is. You clarify, on guard, “Tired of what exactly?”

He gestures around. “The office. The routine.” He keeps his eyes trained on you, which is a rarity as he always seems to be looking at you but never directly like that. That’s when you knew his question was sincere. That he wasn’t trying to offend you, just trying to get to know you.

You shrug. “Sometimes. But it’s not that bad. Besides,” you smile wryly, “now I have someone to talk shit about this coffee and sandwich with.”

He chuckles, light and throaty, a sound that you realize is tickling something in your brain. “Guess we’re in this shit together now.”

You nod, feeling something warm settle in your chest. The wall between you is thinner now, not entirely gone but close enough to see past.

“Same time tomorrow?” you ask, half-joking, half-hopeful.

He raises an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “I have two years here. Hope the coffee machine doesn’t beat me to my discharge date.”

Two years. The thought makes you smile. You really don't mind spending that amount of time with him. In fact, it kinda made you a little happy.

As you step into your cozy apartment, the familiar scent of home hits you. Your roommate’s been cooking again, so it also smells like galbi jjim. Yummm.

Your place isn’t much—a small two-bedroom in Yongsan you’ve shared with Chae since Uni—but it’s got character. You both moved in when it was bare and bland, but with a little effort and a lot of creativity, you’ve turned it into something that actually feels like home. The furniture is mostly Scandi-style—clean lines, muted tones, and a lot of beige—but you’ve sprinkled in your own touches everywhere.

There’s that round white table you scored second hand, now always topped with whatever flowers Chae picks up from the market, and the rattan pendant light that casts this soft, cozy glow at night. The tiny kitchen still feels big enough when it’s just the two of you, with mismatched mugs stacked up and a bright orange pan hanging on the wall for no real reason other than it looks cool.

In the living room, a hybrid shelf is stuffed with books, vinyls, and random trinkets from all the places you’ve been. A Chinese lucky cat sculpture from that street market trip. A polaroid of you two drunk at noraebang, one of many others tucked under the glass coffee table. Trendy prints hang on the walls—well, some lean against the walls, because you’ve never gotten around to actually hanging them. It’s perfectly imperfect. It’s not much, but it’s home.

You hang your bag on the rack by the door and head to the kitchen, where Chae is stirring a pot, hips swaying to the music blaring from her phone. Of course, as she holds a silver spoon, she belts out the lyrics from the BTS song with the same title. And you only know this because she has made you watch some edits to this song that left an impression on you.

The thought of revealing this thing you’ve been holding out on her has your stomach in knots. But again, there’s an NDA involved, and you don’t want to violate anything. But just the same, you’re desperate to talk to someone about this strange new development in your life. You just hope you don’t regret risking your job by telling her.

“Hey, Chae!” you call out, and she turns, beaming at you. “How was work?”

“Busy as usual,” you reply, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “But I have something to tell you.”

Her eyes sparkle with curiosity. “Ooh, do tell!”

You hesitate, but excitement spills out. “I have a new workmate. And you know him.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s one of my exes.”

“No, no.” You take a quick swig of water and twist its cover back in place.

“From Uni?”

You shake your head, water still swirling inside your mouth.

“Is it one of my weird cousins?”

You gulp. “What? No! Also we haven’t talked about why you gave one of them my number. He’s blowing up my Kakao.”

She cackles unapologetically, “Sorry, I need to get them off my back. So, are you going to tell me who this mysterious person is?”

You breathe out a sigh. “Min Yoongi from BTS.”

It’s like a bomb explodes in your roommate’s brain. She drops the spoon, and you wince at the clatter. “What?! No!”

“Yeah…”

“Don’t you even joke right now.”

“I’m not!”

“Are you serious???”

You nod, half-amused by her reaction. “Yeah, he’s assigned to my department for his service.”

“Min Yoongi?” she repeats, eyes wide, almost breathless. “You… I… Do you know how famous he is? He’s like a fuckin’ national treasure! He has a diplomatic passport and everything, keys to the White House… ”

You chuckle at her enthusiasm, but you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. “I mean, I guess? But I signed an NDA. I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

She pulls you to her room, and you follow, rolling your eyes. Her space is a shrine to Bangtan, shelves lined with albums, posters, and even plushies. You’ve never given her shit for it, because you also had an EXO phase, but you got rid of most of your stuff through ebay when you needed some extra money.

“Wait, you have to understand him!” she exclaims, rifling through her collection. “You need to learn about his music, his artistry. He’s incredible!”

“Honestly, he has an above average WPM, that’s all I need to know.”

“WPM?” she asks.

“Words per minute. He’s an encoder.”

She gives you a WTF look, then shoves her photocard album in your arms. 

“Open that,” she tells you before she flops on her bed with a wistful look. “What's he like? You have to tell me. I need to live vicariously through you.”

You can’t help but laugh at her excitement, flopping down on the bed next to her. “Well, he’s a quick study, very efficient, and also very reserved.”

“…and very hot?” she asks, winking.

“Chaeee!” you groan, burying your face on one of her plushies, the brown one. “I mean, he’s not… bad-looking.”

“Not bad-looking? Girl?! He is sexy as fuck!” she grabs the plush off of your face and you try to school your face to seriousness, but fail.

“I dunno. It’s just work.”

“Just work?!” she echoes again, eyes sparkling. “You’re working with a literal genius! Do you know how many girls would kill for this opportunity?”

Don’t you know it? Danbi and her crew are still up on your face everyday trying to get any morsel of information you’d be willing to throw their way. You sigh, but smile at her enthusiasm. “Alright, I’ll tell you more. But just remember: NDA.”

When your roommate seems satiated, she leaves you a trail of crumbs that unknowingly leads you to a rabbit hole. Two words, she said mysteriously, before you disappear into your room. “Agust D.”

That night, curiosity gets the better of you. You grab your laptop and fall down said rabbit hole, watching every Agust D music video, concert clip, and interview you can find. With each passing moment, you become more entranced, not just by the music, but by the man behind it. The raw passion in his lyrics, the confidence in his delivery—it really is quite… in Chae’s words: sexy af.

As the weeks progress, you have graduated from robotic nods to actual smiles. The greetings feel more familiar now, almost like you're becoming friends. 

You walk into the office, a small smile creeping onto your face as you see Yoongi already at his desk. He looks up and meets your gaze, returning the smile with a scratchy hello. The atmosphere feels lighter today, a far cry from your first awkward encounter.

“Ready for another exciting day of paperwork?” you tease, taking your seat.

“Dope,” he replies dryly, but there’s a playful glint in his eye.

Moments later, Yoongi’s head pops from the side of his monitor so that he’s in your view. “Uh, I have a bit of a problem with this file,” he says, brows furrowed with a hint of frustration in his tone.

You immediately jump into action, eager to help. “Let me take a look.”

As you move closer to his desk, you can’t help but notice the way his fingers move over the keyboard, veiny and strong. Images of him playing “Seesaw” on the guitar flood your mind. How can you unsee that?

You shake your head, trying to refocus. “Okay, let’s see…” But your brain keeps drifting, and you find yourself more distracted than ever. His mouth, and his deep voice, as he mumbles his troubles with the document, keeps pulling your attention. You try to push the thoughts away, frustration mounting.

“Is this the line you were talking about?” you ask, forcing yourself to concentrate on the screen.

“Yeah, that’s the one. I just can’t seem to make sense of it,” he replies, glancing at you.

“Let me just…” You lean closer, your heart racing as his shoulder brushes against yours. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

How can you focus on work when all you can think about is this thing he does with his tongue. It feels impossible.

Yoongi watches you, an amused smile playing on his lips. “You look like you’re trying to solve a complex equation.”

“Honestly, I’m starting to think my brain is broken.”

Yoongi glances at you with a smirk. “If your brain is broken, then mine’s completely fried. I tried to make toast this morning and almost burnt my apartment down.”

You laugh. “Maybe you should stick to Uber eats.”

“Agreed. It’s safer for everyone involved,” he quips, his eyes sparkling with amusement, before it turns into something slightly more serious. “Not that there’s anyone else, umm, involved. I, uh, live alone, so…”

His comment makes you smile, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the way he stuttered the last bit out. You don’t know what to make of it, so you just left it at that. 

About to clock out, Yoongi stands from his desk, bag over his shoulder.

“You know, despite my toast incident, I’m actually a pretty great cook. That toast was a fluke,” he declares, his tone half-serious, like it has been bothering him for quite some time.

The way he looks worried that you may think he is terrible in the kitchen, is not lost on you. You raise an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

He shifts the bag on his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at you. “You don’t believe me.”

“Give me a taste then,” you say, biting your lip. You made it sound really suggestive, but you can’t take it back now. Not when he seems to get it, and he seems kind of into it.

He leans with a playful glint in his eyes, “Alright. I’ll bring kimchi jeon, but you also have to give me a taste.” he pauses, pushing his tongue on the inside of his cheek, before continuing. “Of your…”

“Pasta.” You say, cheeks warm, but voice steady. “Friday?”

He smirks, then he’s out the door.

You bury your face on your palms, smiling like a fool as your heart beats loudly in your chest. What the actual hell is happening?

It’s Friday afternoon, and the office is quieter than usual—most of the staff are already winding down, eager for the weekend. You glance at the clock, knowing it’s almost time for the little food showdown you’ve been looking forward to all week.

You and Yoongi walk together to the break room, both armed with your dishes. His kimchi jeon and your pasta. 

You warm your containers in the microwave before you settle down on a corner spot.

“I hope you’re ready to lose,” you tease, sliding the container of Carbonara across the table. Yoongi raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly calm smirk.

“You seem confident,” he replies, popping open the lid of his dish. The scent of kimchi fills the room, and you have to admit—it smells incredible.

“Smells good,” you say, trying not to let your surprise show.

“Of course it does. I told you I could cook.” He clips a piece of the jeon with his chopsticks and holds it out to you. “Try it.”

You lean forward, the chopsticks brushing against your lips as you take a bite. The flavors hit you immediately—spicy, savory, just the way you like it. You chew slowly, pretending to think it over even though you’re already sold.

“Not bad,” you admit, leaning back with a grin. “But it’s gonna take more than that to beat my pasta.”

Yoongi scoffs, but there’s amusement in his eyes as he picks up a fork and twirls it into your pasta. He takes a bite, and you watch him carefully, waiting for his reaction.

He chews, then pauses, glancing up at you through his lashes. “Alright… I have to admit,” he says, his tone casual but the look in his eyes a little too serious, “this is really good.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s it? Just ‘really good?’”

He leans forward on his elbows, his gaze steady on yours. “Fine. It’s amazing,” he says, his voice softening just a bit, though there’s a teasing smile on his lips. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s already there,” you quip, biting back a smile. 

Yoongi laughs, a sound that’s more relaxed than usual, and you catch the way his eyes linger on you just a little longer than necessary. “You know what? I’ll give you this one,” he concedes, sitting back with a defeated sigh, though the smile never leaves his face. “You win.”

You hoot, then immediately cover your mouth with your hands, remembering you are in your place of business.

He grins as he takes another bite of your Carbonara, forking pieces of bacon straight to his mouth. There’s something different in the way he’s looking at you now—something softer, like he’s seeing you in a way he hasn’t before. You are thrown for a loop. Maybe it’s the way he keeps sneaking glances at you between bites, or the quiet hum of satisfaction when he takes another forkful of your dish. Whatever it is, you want it and you like it.

You push your chair back, stretching your arms above your head as the day finally comes to a close. It’s been a long one, but productive—and surprisingly enjoyable. After sharing lunch with Yoongi earlier, things felt lighter, less awkward. Still, when you glance at the window, seeing the sheets of rain coming down hard, your shoulders sag slightly. It’s pouring, and you didn’t bring an umbrella.

As you slip on your parka after snapping the detachable hoodie on, Yoongi catches your eye, “You’re not planning to walk in this, are you?”

“I can take the subway,” you say quickly.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head as he shows you his keys. “Just let me give you a ride, it’s not a problem.”

You hesitate, but eventually, you sigh. “Okay, sure. Thanks.”

The two of you dash out into the rain, laughing softly as you both get soaked within seconds. By the time you’re in his car, your hair sticks to your forehead, and the chill of your wet clothes clings to your skin.

But you’re glad that you’re finally inside. He blasts the heater and the warmth is immediate, fogging the windows as the downpour intensifies. He fiddles with the stereo as you settle in, and Epik High’s "Born Hater" comes through his car speakers.

“Born hater!” You announce, and you catch yourself, embarrassed at the way you had to say the title of the song so emphatically.

“Cute,” Yoongi mumbles as he looks at you like he is actually endeared and you think you would catch fire despite being soaked.

“Ok hater, what’s one thing you hate?” He asks as he puts the gear on reverse.

The question is sudden, casual, and it throws you off for a moment. “What?” You laugh, furrowing your brow. “Like, what do you mean?”

He shrugs, his grip loose on the steering wheel. “Just one thing you hate. Something small. What’s something that drives you crazy?”

His arm moves behind your seat, while one hand takes the wheel and maneuvers the car seamlessly back out of the parking spot—and you don’t quite understand why you think that lone action is so sexy. It’s a miracle you’re still able to think and respond to his simple question. “Okay… I hate it when people chew with their mouth open.”

Yoongi chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Yeah, I’m guilty of that.”

“What about you?” you ask, feeling more at ease. “What’s something you hate?”

Without missing a beat, he grins. “Mushrooms. I can’t stand them.”

“Mushrooms?” You snicker. “What, like all of them?”

“All of them,” he says firmly. “They taste like dirt.”

“Wrong.” You shake your head, laughing. “They do not. You’re just picky.”

He turns to you, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Nope, I’m right. Name another thing.”

“Pickles,” you say.

“Get out of the car,” he deadpans and you both laugh.

“Not even on pizza? I actually can’t eat pizza without it.”

“Yeah, it’s still a no for me,” you say, rubbing your palms on your pants.

“Are you still cold?” He asks.

“A little,” you say, your damp clothes still causing a bit of a chill.

At the next stop light he reaches for something in the back seat and places a folded scarf of some sort on your lap. Grateful, you mutter a thanks as BIGBANG’s “Haru Haru” comes next.

You sigh, smelling his faint cologne on the garment, and melt in your seat as you pull the fabric over your shoulders, “I love this song…”

“Me too,” he says. “I listened to this song a lot when I was in high school.”

“Yeah, me too,” you share a smile before his eyes go back on the road as the green light comes. “What were you like in school?” you ask.

He raises an eyebrow, considering your question for a second. And his response was blunt, as he tends to be.  “Was a loser. Kept to myself. Worked on music when I could. School wasn’t really my thing.”

“Figures,” you tease.

He doesn’t glance at you, but there was an amused grin playing on his lips. “What about you? You look like a popular kid.”

“Oh, I was definitely a loser, too. Overachieving student who tried way too hard to please everyone,” you say with a self-deprecating laugh, looking at the pouring rain outside. “I always thought if I did everything right, I’d end up happy, but…”

“… but now?” Yoongi asks, tone softer than you’ve ever heard him before.

You hesitate, unsure why this feels like a deeper question than it should. But you wanted to give him some honesty. A tiny piece of you to hold on to if he wants. “Now… I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out, I guess.”

“You will,” he promises, glancing at you in the corner of his eyes and you meet his gaze with a shy smile.

“Thanks.”

Silence falls between you. The music fills the space as the rain lets up, and the streets blur outside the window. It feels like a moment—one you don’t want to think too hard about, because thinking too hard about anything with him feels dangerous.

He pulls up outside your apartment, the car coming to a smooth stop. You don’t move right away, letting the last bit of the song play out as you sit in the warmth of the car.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, finally unbuckling your seatbelt, but your voice feels quieter than usual.

“No problem.” His eyes meet yours for just a second, and it lingers—like there’s something else he wants to say, but doesn’t.

You step out into the cool night air, still feeling his gaze on you as you make your way to the door. When you glance back, Yoongi is still parked there, watching you, and just to lighten the mood you call out, "Bye, loser!" He shakes his head with a tiny grin, "Later, loser!" before he finally pulls away.

Your heart’s racing the whole way up the stairs, each step making it louder, faster, like it’s echoing off the walls. You enter your apartment and press a hand to your chest, trying to calm yourself down, but it’s useless—he’s been stuck in your head since you stepped out of the car. Hell, he's been there for days. You wonder if he could feel the headrush too, all the way from Hannam, where he went completely out of his way just to drop you off. 

What you don’t know is Yoongi, back in his apartment, though a little later, is doing the same—sitting there, trying to calm his pulse, still thinking about the long drive, and why he didn’t mind the distance. And as he lay awake in his large bed, smiling like a lunatic, replaying the moments of the day, he knew there really was only one reason:

He likes you.

A/N: What do you think??? I'm so excited for this series!!! Again, just leave a comment if you want to be tagged on the next chapters! Thank you so much for reading! ~k

Edit: Answer this story-related Poll

Chapter Two >

[slut4hee]

I Can Keep A Secret, Can You?

{Paring: Idol Heeseung x Blk Fem! Reader ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

{Genre: smut, nda signing, secret relationship, 18+ so (mdni).

{Synopsis: You joined a fan sign raffle for a chance to speak to the members of Enhypen, but specifically your ult bias Lee Heeseung. You joined for the heck of it, not thinking you would win but to your luck you did. Not only did you get a chance to speak face to face with Heeseung, you got to sign an nda with him…

{Warnings: Softdom heeseung, sub reader, rough sex, unprotected sex, (use protection my lovelies), oral ( f receiving), big dick hee, kissing, titty play, doggystyle, fingering, breeding kink, creampie, cum eating, squirting, dirty talk, pet names.

You screamed to the top of your lungs, as you read the email stating that you won an entry to an in person Enhypen fan signing event, in Seoul South Korea. You couldn’t believe what you were reading right now, you out of all people got selected to meet the Enhypen face to face, in the flesh.

You’ve always been a big fan of Enhypen, being that you’ve been supporting them since I-land, and you literally own every single one of their albums and posters. You loved all the members of Enhypen, but there was one particular member you loved a little bit more.

Lee Heeseung, he was your ult bias and you were so in love with him. You’ve been biasing Heeseung since the beginning, and you have all of his photo cards, as well as his pictures and posters all over your wall. The fact that you will get to meet and speak with Heeseung in person, has all types of butterflies erupting in your stomach and so many emotions going through your head all at once.

You quickly started searching for flights to Korea, and browsing many hotels and airbnbs. Finally after hours of looking for the perfect hotel and the appropriate flight, you booked them both squealing in excitement as you jumped up and down on your bed. You got ready for bed, but you knew sleep wouldn’t come so easily for you, because of how excited and shocked you were, you couldn’t wait for the day to come.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

Fast forward, it’s now been a week since you found out you’re going to meet Enhypen in person, to meet Heeseung in person. You are now in Seoul, and you’re currently in your hotel room, doing your makeup and getting ready to head to fan sign. That’s right, today is the day your dreams come true and you couldn’t be more happier. You honestly still can’t believe you won the freaking fan sign, and on top of that you get to visit South Korea, one of your dream destinations.

You finally finished your makeup, going with a natural yet soft pink look. You also wore a cute little light pink crop top, with a denim mini skirt showing off your beautiful curves, and you styled your hair in a slicked back bun, your edges laying nicely. You took one last look at yourself in the mirror, admiring your beauty loving how your makeup and hair turned out, you hoped Heeseung would think the same.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

You’re now standing in line, waiting to enter the building. Your nerves are all over the place and your heart is racing in anticipation as you wait to go inside. It’s really fucking happening, you thought to yourself as reality sets in that you’re about to be face to face with 7 Korean men you’ve only seen on tv, and in concert.

Finally after what felt like eternity, the line moves as the staff starts letting people in, you practiced deep breaths, as you make your way inside the venue, you’re so nervous and anxious you don’t know what to expect. You made it in, and a staff member checks your invitation, before leading you to your seat in the front.

Your heart beats out of your chest, when you realize just how close you are to the stage. Your hands trembled as you held up your phone to snap a picture of the stage. Just as you’re about to take the picture, the crowd of engenes burst into a fit of screams, shouting the members names as they arrived on stage.

You smiled with excitement, waving and screaming for the members as they introduced themselves and bowed to the crowd. Your eyes were on Heeseung the whole time, you couldn’t believe how much more handsome and ethereal he looked in person. Suddenly Heeseung made eye contact with you, his stare lingering a little longer before he turned away smirking to himself.

Did Heeseung just smirk at me, you thought to yourself as you try to process what just happened. Not long after you were being called up for your turn to interact with the members. You started with Jungwon, telling him how much you adored him, and appreciated all his hard work as a leader.

Then it was Sunoo, you expressed how much you enjoyed his vocals and how beautiful he was. Finally after speaking to the rest of the members you then made it to Heeseung. Your palms are sweaty and your knees felt stiff, as you take your seat in front of him. Heeseung gazes at you, studying your facial features.

“Oh my god, Heeseung I love you so much I’m sorry I just don’t know what to I-“ you tripped over your words, feeling nervous from his intense gaze and the fact you are sitting right in front of him, is a bit overwhelming. Heeseung smiled brightly at you, showing off his pearly white teeth, as he reached his hand to hold yours. You were a little taken aback by his sudden move, but you quickly complied, holding his hand with yours.

“Tell me your name princess” he smirked, swaying both of your hands back and forth. You blushed hard at the pet name, not being able to hold eye contact with him. He noticed that, as he titled his head to the side a little as he waited for you to answer his question.

“My name is Y/n, I came all the way from the U.S to meet you Heeseung” you explained with enthusiasm, a wide grin displaying your face. As you both continued to talk, you noticed how Heeseung listened so attentively at what you had to say, and you weren’t so sure, but you would think that Heeseung was into you, by the way he seemed so interested in your day to day life.

Unfortunately it was time to move on to the next fan, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that it went by so quickly. You expressed your love and appreciation towards Heeseung one last time before standing up to take your leave. What you didn’t notice was that Heeseung was watching you the whole entire time as you walked back to your seat, not even noticing that the next fan had sat in front of him.

Heeseung knew he had to have you, you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and he couldn’t deny you intrigued him so much, it was just something about you that he couldn’t quite grasp, but he was determined to have you in his bed by the end of the night. So he quickly called over one of the staff members, whispering something in their ear. The staff member nodded in agreement before walking off.

As you’re grabbing your things getting ready to leave, you feel someone tap you on your shoulder catching your attention. You looked up to see a Tall Korean gentleman with a black mask covering his face. You looked at him confused, wondering if you done something wrong.

“Miss if you don’t mind, would you be willing to follow me to the backstage” he asked you politely, you looked at him a little suspiciously, wondering why on earth would he be asking you to come backstage with him.

“I don’t understand, did I do something wrong?” You asked him, feeling nervous and anxious. The man quickly shook his head no, you immediately felt relief wash over you, hoping you didn’t say or do anything to make any of the members feel uncomfortable.

“No miss you’ve done nothing wrong, it’s just” he leaned in closer to whisper in your ear. “One of the members has requested your presence backstage” he replied, you stared at him in a state of shock, trying to process the words that just came out of his mouth. You wondered which one of the members actually asked for you backstage.

“U-Uh okay” you stuttered, feeling a little skeptical and worried, you were just hoping you weren’t being tricked and you’re actually being led to your death. Only one way to find out right? The man nodded, as you followed him backstage.

Finally he stopped at a door, that had a sign on it that said “Staff Only” You swallowed down your nerves, as you prepared yourself for the worst. The gentleman opened the door and behind it was two other Korean gentleman, who were sitting at a desk, one of them holding a stick of papers.

“Please come in and take a seat please” the man with the stack of papers said, as he gestured you towards the seat. You gulped before taking a seat. The man then laid the stack of papers in front of you, as well as a pen. You looked up at him confused, why was he handing you a contract??

“I know this is a bit out of the blue Miss Y/n, but it seems that one of our Artists has taken a liking to you and has requested for a one night stand with you” the man spoke with seriousness in his tone, you stared at him wide eyed, did he just say what you think he just said. You looked down at the paper in front of you, and at the top of it read the words “𝑵𝑫𝑨” in bold letters.

“Umm may I ask which artist has requested for me” you replied, as you shifted in your seat, feeling a little uncertain about this whole situation. The other man then spoke, you recognized him before, you’ve seen him with the members when you saw them at their world tour.

“My apologies, let me introduce myself. My name is Park Sunwoo and I’m the manager for Enhypen. And to answer your question, Lee Heeseung has requested for you Miss Y/n” he nodded. Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when he said that, the Lee Heeseung wanted to sign an NDA with you?!

“Before we get started, I do want to let you know that you have every right to decline this offer Miss Y/n. But for me to further explain any more information about this, I would need you to sign your signature on this line right here on the paperwork” he pointed to the line, indicating that you sign your name. You bit your lip nervously, debating whether you should sign it or not.

But when will you ever get the opportunity to have a one night stand with Heeseung, when will you get the chance to do anything like this. You’ve never been the one to do one night stands, or just give up your goodies the first time you meet a guy, but this was so much different. This was Lee Heeseung from Enhypen we’re talking about it, so without any further thought you signed your name on the paper.

“Very well then. Thank you so much for agreeing to the terms Miss Y/n, I will now explain how this whole process works. So you have agreed to signing an NDA, with Artist Lee Heeseung. This means that whatever You and Lee Heeseung decide to do tonight is strictly prohibited from the public eye, do you wish to continue?” He asked, scanning through the pages of the paperwork.

“Yes, I-I do” you responded, fiddling with your fingers. This was just too much to process, you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t a little excited though. He then flipped to the last page of the contract.

“Going forward, we also want to make you aware that failing to comply with the rules of the contract is automatic breach, that goes for both parties. So without further ado, would you please sign your name one last time and we can move forward” Your trembling hands grabbed ahold of the pen, signing your name on the line once again.

“Great, everything has been finalized. We would be contacting you with information regarding your evening plans with Heeseung, once your background check comes back clean. Thank you for your time Miss Y/n” Park Sunwoo stood up to shake your hand. You shook his hand and thanked him before you were led out the back exit.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

As you got back to your hotel, you had been checking your phone nonstop, feeling anxious and impatient. Finally your phone dinged with a notification, and you grabbed your phone so fast, opening your messages.

Unknown Number: Hello, Miss Y/n. Just informing you that your background check came back clean, and I will now be sending over a personal driver to pick you up from your hotel, to bring you to Heeseung’s private accommodation.

You: Oh okay, thank you so much.

Ten minutes later, you received another text from an unknown number, stating that they’re waiting for you down at the lobby. You quickly grabbed your things, taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, before heading downstairs. You were now in the back of a Black Mercedes Benz Van, with the windows tinted. Not shorty after, you were pulling into a parking lot of very nice modern style Airbnb.

“We have arrived” the man hopped out of the driver’s seat to open your passenger seat door for you. You thanked him and smiled, and he bowed before getting back into the van and driving off.

You nervously walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. Not long after, none other than Heeseung himself answered the door. You gasp inaudible at the sight of Heeseung clad in a white tank top, gray sweats pants, and his hair damp from the shower you assumed he just finished.

“Come in please” he moved to the side to let you by. You nervously walked into the house, taking in the scenery of the place. It was nice and cozy and looked lived in. It’s like Heeseung read your mind when he said “This is my place actually, I stay here when I’m not out on schedules or on vacations” he nodded and smiled, as he walked closer to you.

“It’s really beautiful Hee, I love it” you blushed shyly, feeling a little hot from the close proximity of your bodies almost touching. “Hee?” He questioned as he smirked and wrapped his arms around your waist. You damn near melted, your knees feeling like they’re going to give out on you any minute now.

“I-I mean Heeseung, sorry it’s like a nickname all of us fans call you” you stuttered, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. Heeseung chuckled, biting his lip, then leaning down to be face level with you because he towers over you. You’d breath hitched, as you feel his lips ghosting over yours.

“Is this okay, do you mind if I kiss you baby girl” he spoke lowly, his voice sounding husky and laced with desire. You whimpered, feeling your arousal starting to leak through your panties.

“God yes, yes you can kiss me plea-“ before you could even finish your sentence, Heeseung’s lips crashed against yours, kissing you with hunger and fervor. You moaned into the kiss, when you felt Heeseung’s hands gripping your ass. You let out a yelp, when Heeseung suddenly picked you up leading you to the bedroom.

“Fuck, you don’t know how bad i want you baby, fucking took everything in me not to pull you into one of the dressing rooms and fuck you stupid” he groaned, laying you on the bed as he got on top of you, attacking your lips once again. You could only moan in response, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Heeseung, please I need you please do something” you begged shamelessly, still not processing that you’re about to fuck Lee Heeseung, someone you thought you would never have the chance to meet, but here you were about to get your brains fucked out by him.

“Shhh, patience baby I’m gonna give you what you want” he smirked, as he started to undress you. He tugged your top off, and unclasp your bra effortlessly starting to suck on your brown nipple, his other hand fondling the other. You arched your back, rubbing your thighs together trying to gain some type of friction.

“God baby, you’re so fucking sexy gotta taste your sweet little cunt now” he growled, tugging your panties off and spreading your legs wide. You whined, when he dragged his long fingers through your wet folds, sliding his finger inside.

“Fuck, this slutty pussy so tight, fuck can’t wait to stuff you full of my cock mama” he hissed, as he watched the way your tight pussy sucked his finger in. He then leaned down to lick a stripe of your pussy, licking and sucking your clit softly.

“Oh my fucking god, shit Hee baby feels so good” you screamed in pleasure, your legs shaking uncontrollably, as you grabbed ahold of his fluffy hair. His wet tongue felt like heaven on your pussy and you couldn’t get enough.

“Shit baby, wet little pussy taste so good, fuck I could eat your sweet cunt forever” he groaned, the vibration sending a shock of pleasure through you, you gripped his locks a little harder, feeling your climax approaching dangerously.

“Ughh, fuck Hee I’m g-gonna cum” you cried out, your legs trembling as the band in your stomach threatens to snap any minute.

“Cum for me, cream on my face pretty little slut” he flicked his tongue faster against your clit, plunging his fingers deep inside your tight pussy. Not long after you were coming undone on his mouth and fingers, squirting your essence everywhere. Heeseung cursed under his breath at the sight of your spent pussy, leaking out your juices.

“Damn sweetheart, that was so hot I’m so hard I need to feel you wrapped around my cock” he whined, as he quickly rid himself of his clothes, showing off his perfectly lean build, and his long hard cock that leaks precum from the tip. You mouth watered at the sight, as you grabbed his dick stroking him slowly.

“Ah-fuck, shit that feels so good Y/n” he whined, his hips buckling up involuntarily. You bit your lip at the way his heavy cock twitched in your hand so desperately. Before he could come undone, he swatted your hand away, earring a whine from you.

“Get on all fours for me baby” his voice sounding strained, as tugged at his hard cock. You quickly, laid your face down in the pillows, and poking your ass out arching your back. Heeseung smacked your ass before aligning his cock up at your hole. He started to push himself inside you, his cock sliding in easily from how wet and turned on you are. He lets you adjust to his size for a minute before setting a rhythm, rocking his hips back and forth.

“Fuuckkk, you’re so fucking tight, god baby sucking me in so good” he lets out deep grunts as he pounds into you from behind. You gripped the sheets roughly, feeling every inch of Heeseung’s cock penetrating your walls.

“Yes yes yes, fuck me harder please harder” you screamed, throwing your ass back at him as you desperately chased after his thrusts. Heeseung threw his head back, showing off his flushed neck. You clenched your pussy tighter around him, earning a whiny moan from him.

“Ahh f-fuck, stop clenching baby or I’m gonna cum” he hissed in pleasure, gripping your waist tighter as he slammed into you roughly. You rolled your eyes to the back of your head, the head of his cock hitting your g-spot over and over again.

“Please Daddy, fill me up with your babies, I want your load inside me” you looked back at him, tears gathering in your waterlines, from the intense pleasure you’re feeling. Heeseung’s hips stuttered, as his strokes became sloppy, losing his pace.

“Shit shit shit, I’m about to cum Nghh fuck” he moaned deeply, his thrusts became erratic as he chased his high. Not long after his hips stilled, shooting ropes of thick cum inside you. The feeling of his hot cum, triggered another orgasm out of you, squirting and creaming all over his dick. He pulls his softening cock out, watching the way his cum and your arousal leaks from your spent hole.

He collapsed on the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. You smiled weakly at him before snuggling your face into his neck.

“Wow baby, that was the best sex I ever had in my life” he chuckled weakly, his breathing still uneven from the intense orgasm he had.

“I can’t believe I just fucked Lee Heeseung” you said in disbelief, as you looked up at him before kissing his lips. He kissed you back, as he rubbed your back softly.

“𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗛𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴”

“𝗜𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼, 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗮 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂?”

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙴𝚗𝚍…

A/n: FUCK FUCK FUCK, if I ever get to sign an nda with Heeseung, just know ima fuck the life out of this man🤭 but honestly I’m thinking about making a part two of this where reader and hee possibly start dating secretly 👀. Let me know if you guys want it, hope you guys like it and reblogs are greatly appreciated. ᯓᡣ𐭩

_____________________________________________

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩:

@wave2hoon

[seventeenpins]

⁵⁾ pressing the pads of their fingers into their lips in the aftermath, like they’re either trying to capture the feeling or banish it from memory

with x1!Logan pretty plssssss 😏

YES Ozzie omg thank you I love this ❤️

Forbidden Fruit

pairing: dbf!Logan x neighbor!reader word count: 3.4k summary: You’re a little obsessed with your attractive new neighbor. Unfortunately, he’s quite a bit older than you... And your dad's new best friend. content/warnings: non-mutant AU, unspecified age gap, written as x1 Logan, Scott is your dad (sorry), silence of the lambs spoilers???, yearning, tbh yall are as bad as each other, smut a/n: lmao this was supposed to be a drabble 🤷 ty to @ozarkthedog, the most perfect human 🩷

There’s a party roaring outside. As a general rule, your dad doesn’t like to throw parties often, but when he meets the man who’s moving in next door, he announces to you his plan. “Hosting a new neighbor helps to establish a good relationship!” he insists, and that’s that.

You’re sat in the living room, the space dimly lit, nursing a Pabst Blue Ribbon as the glow of your latest Blockbuster rental illuminates your face.

"You even old enough to drink?" comes a voice just outside the door frame. 

You jump, beer sloshing gracelessly down your front. You turn to him, glowering. He’s silhouetted from the hallway and you can’t make out his face. “Yep,” you tell him, “I just have an immaculate skincare routine. Keeps me youthful.”

“So you’re hiding inside… because?”

You shrug. “Just like time to myself.”

He nods, and then strides over. He takes a seat beside you.

“Who are you, exactly?” you frown, looking him up and down.

“You mind?” he asks, smirking as he wiggles the beer you didn’t realize he was holding and nods towards the bottle opener. The audacity.

You glare and grab the bottle opener. He holds his hand out for it, but you withdraw. 

“Logan,” he laughs, “Logan Howlett. I just moved in next door.”

“Oh,” you drop the bottle opener into his hand, remembering your dad’s words. Establish a good relationship. “Oh, yeah, my dad was really excited about the party. Hope you’re enjoying it.”

His eyebrows raise. “Your dad?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Scott Summers.”

“No shit,” he frowns, “That guy sends a lot of emails.”

“That he does.”

Logan pops his bottle open. “Mind some company?”

“Long as you don’t mind watching Silence of the Lambs starting part way through.”

“Ohhhhh yeah, has he asked for a quid pro quo yet?”

“Aahh, a connoisseur,” you grin, “Yeah, just got past that part. I can rewind–”

“Nah,” he shrugs, “Let it play.”

You watch for a while in silence, but then start chatting again, swapping mundane questions. 

“So, Scott’s your dad, huh?” he asks, after a while.

“He sure is.”

“When he said he had a daughter, I guess I assumed someone younger.”

“Same skincare routine,” you deadpan.

He closes his eyes, holding back a laugh as he shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“It’s okay,” you laugh, “Yeah, he was still pretty young when I was born.”

“And what about…” he trails off, suddenly realizing tact may be appreciated.

“Dad’s a widower,” you explain simply.

Logan nods. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

You sit in silence for a moment, watching as Lecter is revealed to be wearing the guard’s face.

“How about you?” you ask, “You got a wife? Husband? Girlfriend? Partner?--”

He turns to look at you and you peter off. “Nope.” 

There’s something in the way he’s looking at you. You’re not sure if he’s being suggestive, or if you’re reading into things. Maybe it’s just the reflecting light making his eyes look more provocative than he intends.

Either way, you feel your heartbeat surge and your stomach flip.

You turn away and try to affect nonchalance, try not to be suddenly mesmerized by this unexpected plot twist that is Logan. The movie is wrapping up, Clarice taking Lecter’s call as he pursues Chilton. You try to focus on it, the score, the costumes– but instead you notice the way he smells, musky and a little sweaty. It’s nice. A little dizzying.

“What about you?” you ask.

“Hmm?”

"You have any kids?" you ask, and immediately wonder if you waited too long to carry on the conversation.

"Shit," he snorts and shakes his head, "I hope not."

It takes you off guard. You burst out laughing.

He huffs, lifting the beer to his lips to hide a smile.

The credits begin to roll over the ending scene. 

With the bottle drained, he pats his thighs and stands up. "Alright, kid," he says, "I probably shouldn’t hide in here any longer.”

“My dad appreciates it,” you tell him, “Don’t wanna give him a heart attack when his guest of honor is nowhere to be found, soon to be discovered with his delinquent daughter.”

He picks up his empty and shakes his head, heading back outside. He calls back, “Oh, you’re trouble.”

Now that you’ve met him, you can’t get him out of your mind. 

When you see him again, a couple days later in daylight this time, you have to pick your jaw up off the ground. He’s taller than you realize, and he’s fucking built. And fuck, he’s handsome too. When he sees you, he waves a hand. “Hey Trouble,” he calls, “Keepin’ your nose clean?”

Weeks pass, and, much to your delight (and, admittedly, despair), your dad and Logan become close. 

Sundays become your favorite day. Sunday, you discover, is the day you can see Logan through your window, chopping a seemingly endless stack of firewood. 

One time, he catches you watching. To your utter shock, he winks at you. Knowing your eyes are on him, he lifts the hem of his beater to wipe his brow, and shoots you a shit-eating grin.

You had plans but that doesn’t matter now. All you can do is shove your hand into your panties and rub circles around your throbbing little clit until you cum with a muffled sigh, knowing he’s outside. Knowing there’s not more than a fence and a few feet between you.

Almost every night, his fire pit is alight and you see him reading, or strumming his guitar, or fucking whittling, serene in the smouldering glow, till the fire burns out and the night turns too cool to enjoy.

As the weeks pass, he’s at your house more and more. You wish your heart would stop doing flips whenever you see him on the sofa next to your dad, beer in hand, laughing at some story that’s being recounted.

He says hello to you each time he sees you, and always asks after you when you’re out.

“Oh, Logan says hi,” your dad will say over his morning toast, “Why does he call you Trouble? Tell me you haven’t been besmirching the Summers name?”

“Nah,” you grin, “Just the littlest besmirchment, at worst.”

His eyes narrow.

“C’mon, now, we want to-”

“Establish a good relationship!” you finish, grinning at the way he scowls.

“Smartass.”

“Hey, Trouble,” he’ll greet you, whenever you find him at your home.

“Hey neighbor.”

“You bein’ good?” he’ll ask.

“‘Course not,” you’ll wink, “Where’s the fun in that?”

You love that he calls you Trouble. That he has a name, just for you. It feels like it could almost be something, and so it’s almost enough. 

Before long, what you’d once feared was a one-sided attraction begins to morph into something different. 

It’s a Saturday, and you decide to wear a cute little dress. It’s a flowy thing that hugs all your curves in the very best way, hem barely falling past the curve of your ass.

Your dad just popped out for another six-pack, and you’re in the kitchen, making pasta salad. With your father gone, Logan isn’t subtle in the way he looks at you. You delight in how his eyes linger at the curve of your hip, the swell of your chest. It feels like a victory, the way he grits his jaw a little when you lean forward, cleavage on full display.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ wearing a naughty little dress like that?” Logan asks, scowling.

You raise an eyebrow and try not to let the way your heart starts to flutter affect you. “Thought you’d figured it out on day one – I’m trouble.”

He looks you up and down, his gaze lascivious. It’s the boldness of it. The two of you are alone, and you both know it.

“I think you like it,” you narrow your eyes.

He’s silent for a long moment. Then he lets out a deep breath. 

“God help me, I do.”

“Why don’t you do something about it?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but then you both hear the latch, and the front door swings open.

Logan sits back, pretending as though nothing just happened.

You turn back to your salad.

You can see Logan in the sitting room, right in your line of sight. Your dad sits across from him, his back towards you. 

If you’re honest, you’re not sure exactly what compels you. 

You turn to face Logan, wave for him to catch your eye. He does, quickly, immediately attuned to you. Your dad doesn’t notice the way his eyes follow you. You hold a finger to your lips. His eyes dart between you and your dad, and he tries to focus on whatever his friend is saying to him. 

Slowly, you slip one strap down, and then the other. You can hear Logan’s breath hitch, which he covers almost believably with a gulp of his beer. Shimmying the bodice just a little, you expose your cleavage to near-dangerous depths. He’s grinding his teeth now, and it feels like victory.

Quickly, silently, you slip your top all the way down, exposing your breasts to the cool kitchen air. Your nipples, already hard, tighten. Logan is holding his can so tightly he’s crushing it in his fist. 

“You okay, buddy?” you hear your dad say, and you can practically hear the frown in his voice. In a couple of quick movements, you slip your top back up and turn back to your salad.

“Huh?” Logan asks quickly, and then looks at his beer. “Oh, shit–!” he grumbles, relaxing his grip gingerly.

It’s not till an hour later that your dad stands up and announces, “I’ll be right back, gonna hit the head.”

When he’s gone, Logan bolts up and marches over to you.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” he demands.

You shrug and, not so subtly, glance down at his crotch. You smirk at the way the front is tenting. Logan stares daggers as he adjusts himself, better hiding his hard-on.

“Some of you seems to like it,” you point out.

“Out here? With him here? You want your daddy to kill me?”

“No,” you promise, “No, I just want you to fuck me.”

“Jesus Christ you’re trouble–”

You both hear a toilet flush, and, moments later, footsteps descend on the stairs.

Logan adjusts himself again, and you blow him a kiss as he tromps back to his seat.

It’s a week before you see Logan again. He’s working late this week, apparently. Or maybe he’s just keeping his distance from you.

On Friday night, you debate going out. It’s been a while, and you could use a chance to unwind. But drinks are expensive, and– and you see a fire out your window. Logan sits out by his fire pit.

Without thinking, you put on your shoes.

It’s late, but not too late. Your dad’s on his recliner, game on TV, newspaper in hand.

“You headin’ out, kiddo?” he asks.

“Yep,” you lie, “Meeting a couple friends downtown. They’re picking me up!”

“Stay safe,” he calls after you, “Call me if you need a ride.”

“I will,” you tell him. “Don’t know if I’ll be home tonight. Don’t wait up for me!”

You head out of the house and through your neighbor’s gate. 

Logan is golden, illuminated in the glow of the flames. He’s whittling something, angrily.

You realize then that your entrance has been near-silent on the soft grass. “Uh,” you clear you throat and knock on his fence as you approach him. “Hey, there, neighbor!”

Logan looks up and frowns when he sees you.

“You are makin’ me crazy, Trouble.” he huffs.

“Like, in a good way?” you ask.

He glares at you.

You come closer. “Can I sit?”

Logan budges up, putting down his whittling tools.

“So…” you venture “Am I more trouble than I’m worth?”

Logan scoffs.

“Nah.” he concedes, “I just don’t wanna make things complicated.”

You shrug. “They’re already complicated. You’ve seen my tits.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Goddammit, Trouble. I can’t get you out of my head.”

“They’re great tits,” you shrug.

“They are great tits.” Logan agrees.

The fire is crackling and the night is clear, stars hanging above you. You've been sitting side by side, quiet.

You don’t know what to say. Maybe there isn't anything to say. You’ve been patient, dammit. You just need to leap.

You pull him towards you and he moves without resistance.

He growls into your mouth, a needy animal sound. The scruff of his beard feels nice against your chin and you’re dizzy with his proximity, with his lips on yours.

After an eternity in the space of a single moment, you pull apart.

Logan stares at you, overwhelmed. His eyes are dark, his kiss-glistened lips catching the light as the fire dances. 

He presses the pads of his fingertips against his lips in the aftermath, as though either trying to capture the feeling, or banish it from memory.

Then, after a long moment, he’s on you. His hands grip you, grasp you, trace the shape of your body as though memorizing it by touch alone. 

“Inside. Now.” he growls, “Out here you’re askin’ for your daddy to catch us.”

You’re barely through the door before Logan is tugging at your clothes. You help him pull your top above your head, and you fumble with the button of your jeans as he unhooks his belt and yanks off his beater.

In a matter of moments, you’re both fully bare. His skin is hot against yours as he holds you to him, caging you against the door as he drags his teeth along your shoulder. His hard cock hangs against your thigh, heavy and thick and leaking.

Your clothes trail from the front door to his sofa. You don’t make it any further than that.

You’re a ticking time bomb, a siren, pulling him in, driving him wild. He wants and wants and wants, more than he ever knew he could. So much could be ruined; his friendship with your dad, the scrap of reputation he’s been building, his new life in this new place—

But now his want has turned into a need, and feeling you soft and pliant and oh so willing against him, he’d be a fool to turn back now.

Logan’s gropes at you, fingernails digging into the swell of your ass before cupping your pussy in one large palm. Rubbing up and down your cunt, he smears your wetness around.

“You’re fucking dripping,” he gasps. “Prettiest pussy I’ve seen.” 

Then he dips a finger into you and you groan and clench around it. He fucks you with it, deep, gentle strokes. He wasn’t wrong. As he fucks you with his finger, you feel how unbelievably wet you are. When he pulls back for a moment, you can see his hand is glistening with you, drips going all the way to his wrist.

“I can take more,” you promise, and he growls. 

“Can’t say shit like that,” he pants, “You’re sure you can take more. Can you take me? Don’t wanna hurt–”

“I can take you,” you assure him. If you’re honest, you don’t know if you can. What you do know is that you’re sure as fuck gonna try.

“How do you want me?” he asks, fighting to maintain the last shreds of his self-control.

Ever the masochist, “Want you on top of me, my ankles round your shoulders. Need you deep.”

“Gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

You lay back as he positions himself between your thighs. He presses a kiss to your left thigh before he hikes it over his right shoulder, and a kiss to your right calf, folding you in half.

He strokes the dripping head of his cock against your folds.

“You ready?” he asks, and you whine in desperation, nodding a yes.

He presses in, notching the tip inside. You groan at the sensation, relaxing into it as he rocks his hips gently.

“Doin’ so good,” he praises, “I know, baby, it’s a lot.”

You writhe and moan. It is a lot, but you still want more. More of his cock, of his hands on your body, of his praise.

“Taking it so well,” he soothes, letting his cock slide that little bit deeper inside, pulling most of the way out and driving back in, pressing whispers in your ear as he fucks into you.

When his pelvis is pressed flush against you, he lets out a sigh. 

“Look at that,” he huffs, “Takin’ all of me.”

You look down and watch enraptured as he pulls out and presses back in, deeper than you ever imagined, and rolls his hips, coarse hair grinding against your clit and making you howl.

”Keep making those pretty noises for me, honey.”

”Need more-“ you beg.

He starts rocking his hips, building a solid rhythm. His strokes are deep and devastating, and with every thrust you can feel your wetness start to flood down your thighs and cream around the base of his cock.

The wetter you get, the harder he fucks into you, each plunge punctuated with your cries, of “Yes!”, “More—“, “Please, Logan, please—“

Generous to a fault, he gives you everything you beg for.

The frustration of these longing, pent-up weeks is almost a forgotten memory. As you build towards the peak of your pleasure, the man above you is an animal. He grunts and pants and fucks you deeper than you knew possible. Your whines and cries and demands taper off, replaced by soft moans that start to swell as he litters your collarbone with kisses and rubs a calloused thumb against your clit.

”I’m—“ you warn, struggling to form words, “I’m gonna—“

 “‘M close too,” he grunts, “Give it to me, baby, need to feel you— Please, baby—“

With his words and a firm press to your clit, you come with a sob, cunt squeezing around him in pulsing contractions.

He fucks you through it, muttering a steady stream of filth the whole time. “That’s it, that’s it, fuck you’re gushing, soaking this cock. You feel so fucking good, tight little thing stretched so nice around me, taking it all like you’re made for it—”

Before you can even get over the first climax, the second starts to build. Logan can feel the way your pussy twitches for him, the way your breath shudders as he drives into you with staggering thrusts.

”Gonna cum again, aren’t you?” He growls. “Good-“ a thrust, “fucking—“, thrust, “girl—“ thrust, “Just can’t get enough of this cock, can you?”

You try to answer, but all that comes out is a cry as another orgasm overtakes you.

"That’s it,” the praises, still punctuating every word with a thrust, “That’s it! Let yourself feel it, let yourself feel good—"

You do, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. It’s overwhelming, the way it tears through you with no end in sight.

When he finally pulls out of you, you start to come back to yourself, your life-changing orgasm starting to wane.

He’s beautiful above you, covered in sweat, your wetness dripping down his thighs as he strokes his creamy cock.

With a groan, he comes on your stomach. You wrap your hand around his, stroking him gently till every drop is spent.

You make room for him on the sofa, uncaring that both of you are covered in sweat and fluids, and pull him down to rest in your arms.

"Fuck—" he exhales, and finally turns to face you again.

You stroke your fingers through your mussed hair.

"I knew you were trouble,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to your sternum.

There are so many things you’ll need to talk about, to work through. You are neighbors, after all, and you can’t do something like this without there being an aftermath.

But whatever is next can wait till morning.

Gently, he pulls himself up, and you with him. Holding each other close, you head to his bedroom. Without a word, you lay together, curled up in one another’s embrace.

He’s silent a long moment before speaking. "Is your daddy expecting you home tonight?” He asks. Neither of you want to think about that.

But thankfully, “No,” you tell him. “Told him not to wait up.”

"Oh, optimistic, were we?” He teases, and you look him up and down. His broad shoulders, sculpted chest, dark eyes, rumpled hair. This man you’ve grown so very fond of. 

“Yes,” you smile. “Yes, we are.”

Scott finds out, like, a day later and declares Logan his sworn enemy

[torialefay]

"Regardless of That Fucking Assignment..." 📝

professor!seungmin x fem!student!reader smut 🔞

✨ synopsis: you tried to be professional after being selected for a position under the hottest professor on your univeristy’s campus. turns out, the professor doesn’t give a fuck about “professional.”

✨ warnings: this piece, although consensual, does revolve around a morally grey area. this is strictly fictional work, and should only be considered as such. contains a lot of roleplaying that is not appropriate for everyday life. I do not condone any acts that are represented in this fic. this is strictly fictional work, and should only be considered as such. ; unprotected sex, semi-public sex, slight breath play

Dr. Kim was easily the hottest professor at your university. Young, handsome, and intelligent were the perfect recipe for quickly becoming your favorite classes to go to.

Thankful that he actually taught courses for your major, people outside of it would still sign up just to see him. Well, more like fawn over him, in hopes that he would somehow notice and fall for them, like the clichés they’d seen in movies. It was a bit annoying, considering you’d have to make sure to register early for his classes, but you didn’t mind as long as you got your spot. It made your performance in his class look better in comparison at least.

You’d always performed well in his classes, but you always felt a bit behind. You’d considered asking for his opinion on who would be best to go to for tutoring, but you didn’t want to get flustered in front of him. You surely didn’t want him to think you were struggling in his classes because it was hard to pay attention to anything but him… But ultimately, that was the truth.

Which is why you were very surprised one day to receive an email saying that you’d been selected for the fellowship you applied for… with Dr. Kim as the head.

“Hello, Dr. Kim,” you said nervously after knocking and peaking your head into his office.

He was relaxed, seated behind his large mahogany desk with a plaque on the front ordained with the inscription “Dr. Kim Seungmin.” He’d had a pen in one hand while holding his chin with the other, lost in thought.

“Ahh, y/n. Come on in and take a seat,” he smiled, lifting his head out of his hands and gingerly resting the pen onto the paper underneath it.

You shyly opened the door wider in front of you, just enough so that you could glide through and carefully close it.

Afterwards, you smoothed your skirt down around your thighs and crossed the short space of the room before seating yourself in one of the nice, leather-backed chairs that he had placed neatly in front of his desk.

“I’m glad you could meet with me on such short notice,” he said warmly, looking you in the eyes.

You couldn’t help but blush a little. Even if you’d had around a hundred lectures with him under your belt, it was nothing like the one-on-one conversation you were having now. Butterflies crept up into your stomach that you quickly tried to shoot back down. If you were going to work with this man on a fellowship project for the next year, you were going to have to learn to set those feelings aside… starting now.

“Yes, of course,” you said formally. “I’m very thankful and excited that I was chosen for this position. It really does mean a lot to me, so thank you for giving me this opportunity,” you smiled back, hiding any nerves that you may have had.

Dr. Kim chuckled a bit. “No need to thank me. You’re a great student. I’m always happy to see your work. You have a lot of great ideas, you know? I don’t say that many students challenge me to think about things in a different way, but you’re… different. Very different,” he smirked.

You automatically felt your face flush. ‘Surely this will get easier with time,’ you reassured yourself, taking a deep breath as nonchalantly as possible.

“Oh really?” you began, calming your voice. “I do get worried sometimes that maybe people could find my work a bit… unconventional?” you raised an eyebrow, trying not to falter.

“Good thing I’ve never been the conventional type,” he winked as he smiled, looking down directly after to grab the paper sitting next to him.

‘Did he? Did he just?…’ your mind began running. ‘Surely he didn’t mean it like… No, there’s no way. That’s just his personality. He’s witty. Of course he’d play around like that. He’s just cool, calm down.’ You tried your best not to let your internal freak out show on your exterior.

“So,” he started, looking back up to you, “give me your ideas. Obviously on your application, you threw out quite a few interesting ones. As long as I agree, we can work on whatever you’d like this year.”

“Hmm, well…” you began before running through your list of ideas with him. You had one proposal that you’d been fixated on, but it would require a lot of effort and attention, and you weren’t sure about the logistics of it working out. It would required a lot of time from the professor as well, so you’d almost nixed it altogether. Something about it just kept coming back though, you you figured you’d at least mention it along with the plethora of other ideas that had been rattling around.

“Woah, woah- stop right there,” Dr. Kim put his hands out, preventing you from continuing on to another point. “That’s really good,” he nodded his head. “I’ve read up on so much, paper after paper. But no one’s ever done that before.” He sucked in his cheeks as he continued to lightly nod and fixate his eyes off into the distance. “That’s smart… that’s really really smart.” He smiled, bringing his eyes back to yours now. “I knew I chose the right one. You're really impressive."

"Ohh no," you said, blushing with a smile as you waved your hand in disagreeance.

"What, you don't think so?" He teased, leaning back in his seat. "Why's that?"

"I'm just really interested in it is all. It's not that I'm special."

"Ahh," he nodded, understanding. "Well, I disagree." He folded his hands. "I noticed you the very first class. I even remember what you were wearing."

The sudden comment had you taken aback. "Really?" you asked, wide-eyed.

"Of course. You're quite memorable," he said coily.

Your heart kept speeding up in your chest. 'Calm down. Calm down.'

"Come on, Dr. Kim, you don't need to say all that," you tried to play it off. "I appreciate building my confidence up, but I will always try to work harder," you finished with a solid nod.

He stilled for a moment as if contemplating his words. "Oh really? Work harder?"

“Well… of course?” your voice carried up, confused on why that was such a notable statement. “I could always be doing better in your class.”

Dr. Kim nodded. “Mmm, I guess that’s true. Tell me, y/n, whose class is your favorite? You can be honest with me. I’m just curious to know.” He cocked a brow.

“Hmm…” your eyes darted up as you began to think. “I’m not saying this to be facetious, but I really do enjoy coming to your lectures. Dr. Pramal’s lectures have been very good recently as well.

He giggled. “Dr. Pramal? Come onnn, he basically wears a toupee. My classes have to be at least a little more fun than his.”

“I don’t know,” you smiled, “He tells a lot of dad jokes. He may give you a run for your money.” You raised your brows at his daringly.

“Ahh, okay. Dad jokes. I’ll have to remember that. That’ll get me some brownie points then huh?”

“It just might,” you shrugged. “I think the class would really enjoy it.”

A smug smirk came over his face. “I didn’t mean brownie points with the class. I meant brownie points with you.”

“Ohh,” you blushed, looking down. There was no way, you thought, that he meant the words the way that they were coming across. But it did fluster you anyways. “But I guess… haha yeah, I guess maybe that’d put you ahead of Dr. Pramal… maybe.”

Lighthearted. This was the way to go, you thought.

“Playing hard to get… I see how it is,” he grinned ear to ear.

“Hey, we’ve gotta see how good those jokes are first!” you thought quickly.

“Alright, fair enough. I’ll get some good ones prepared for next time. Just for you.”

At that moment, there was no denying it anymore. There was no way, unless he was absolutely toying with you, that he’d be making all of these advances without realizing. You were sure he knew that almost every person was crushing on him, so you weren’t sure if he was just trying to play around, but either way, you knew that if you had been standing, your knees would have already buckled and given in. There was no going back now.

“Well,” you began, “since I shared my opinion, I think it’s only fair for you to tell me which classes are your favorites to teach?” You felt bolder now. More confident.

“Hmm… I wouldn’t say that I have any one favorite. They all have their pros and cons… but right now,” he tapped his pen on the table, “maybe I prefer the ones that you’re in. It always makes my day a bit better, but the classes go by so quickly.”

“So you decided giving me this position would be a good solution?” You giggled, finally leaning into the fantasy unfolding in front you.

“Absolutely not,” he stood with a smirk, gingerly beginning to walk behind where you were seated. “Excuse the language, but you’re fucking brilliant. It’s why I was so drawn to you... Having you on was a unanimous decision by the board.” He leaned down behind you until he was hovering just next to your ear. “But this…” he breathed out. “This is just a bonus.”

He took one hand to gently brush your hair over the opposite shoulder, making sure the area beneath him was open and exposed. He slowly let his fingers trail along your back until they rested on your shoulder, only for a split second, before sneaking lightly to trace along the lines of your collar bone. You could hear deep breaths coming from his throat.

“Tell me you don’t want it, and I’ll stop…” he whispered lowly.

Your head clouded. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine any of this. You wanted this, didn’t you? Yes, you wanted this.

But how would it affect your future? What if someone found out?

His hot breath hitting your ear drowned out any hesitancy you could have had. ‘Fuck it.’

“Don’t stop,” you whispered back, feeling shy, but excitement leaking out of you nonetheless.

He slowly let his lips find their way to your shoulder, planting the lightest kiss you’d ever felt, as if he was testing out the waters. As you began to get chills, he slowly began trailing kisses across your collarbone and to your neck, taking time there so gently suck. Nothing too crazy. Nothing too harsh. He wanted no evidence left behind. No emotions involved.

And that is exactly what you believed. Before he leaned in to kiss you.

His arm reached to rotate your shoulders towards him as he brought his lips to yours. The passion he poured in was immaculate. Like he’d been hungry for weeks. He tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth, asking permission to go even deeper.

Without breaking the kiss, the walked around to the front of the chair, holding your head steady for him the entire way. Once he reached his destination, you let his tongue find its way into your mouth. He started with light circles around your own until he was quickly moaning into you. The desperate sounds leaving his mouth had you echoing, making you squirm even more.

You could feel yourself growing more and more wet with each second. Swallowing in every last moment, you basked in the bliss of it all, but you couldn’t help but to want more.

He smiled as he realized how worked up you were getting. Resting one hand on your cheek and the other around to the small of your back, he guided you up until you were standing.

He slowly waltzed you around, never breaking the contact with your mouth. As the moans grew heavier and heavier, you slowly began to push yourself up and onto his leg, needing any sort of friction possible.

He took that as his cue to extend his thigh out for you, running his hands down to hold your ass before rubbing it harshly.

You winced at the new pressure as you slowly began to push yourself up and down on his thigh, losing your breath at how good it felt.

The scene in front of him was quickly getting too much to handle. You knew from the growing hard on that you felt each time your leg hiked higher.

As he groaned loudly, he pulled his lips from yours and yanked your body into his, separating any centimeter of space that could have existed.

You let out a low whine in response as his lips went back to your neck, nibbling away as you fucked yourself onto him. His fingers burrowed into your hair as he went, encouraging you to go faster.

You reveled in the way your clit was engorged now, making sure to hit just high enough with every thrust. And as he began to pant more heavily, Dr. Kim moved his thigh up and down for you, adding to the intensity that you felt.

“Oh fuckkkk,” you let out when things were getting too much to bear.

The sweet sounds coming out of you were too much for him. Abruptly, he pulled his lips from your neck, taking hold of your head to bring it eye level with his. He stared into you like he now owned you. “You can’t tell anyone about this. Promise me,” he demanded, rutting his leg up into you, forcing you to take it as he watched..

“I promise,” you breathed out, grappling to his chest as your eyes rolled back, about to reach your high.

“Feels that good?” He chuckled, planting a harsh smack to your ass.

“Oh fuck,” you winced, loving the roughness he was giving you. Your face flew into his chest. “It feels so fucking good. Harder… please.”

“Harder?” His voice was raised now.

In any normal situation, you would have been worried that someone would hear. But in this moment, you couldn’t have given a fuck if you tried.

Another smack left you dripping through your panties. “Fu-u-u-ck,” you cried. You knew you wouldn’t last much longer. You held onto him tightly as the knot in your stomach formed. “Keep going, keep going,” you whimpered out, chasing your release.

You heard him grunt as he began thrusting harshly, as quickly as he could, into your cunt. Although you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was enjoying every last second.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” you let out lowly as your clit throbbed in just the right way. The warmth got to be too much. The thrusts were too much, and suddenly, you lost it.

Flailing out all over him, you tried your best to cling on and ride out your high. The sexual tension that had been pent up for so long had finally spilled out- hard. You began shaking and crying out into him, not caring if you were too loud now or if anyone heard.

Once it was beginning to be too much, you pulled off, shaking and pushing him back. You were sure you couldn’t take one more second without passing out.

He took the opportunity of being separated from you to make the few strides toward his door to lock it. You couldn’t believe that you’d completely disregarded that once you’d been caught up in the moment.

Catching your breath, you turned around to grip onto his desk, holding yourself up with your arms. You were able to get a few deep breaths in until the professor returned behind you, pulling your ass toward him.

“Fuck,” he smiled, gripping your hips and squeezing, letting your ass push against his clothed dick. “That was so fucking beautiful.”

All you could do was moan in response, rolling your hips around. Although your heart had had a few seconds to calm down, you could feel it speeding right back up.

As he massaged you with his hands, he continued letting his thoughts turn into words. “Now I want to know how beautiful you’d look on my dick. Getting fucked right into this desk. Will you let me?” His hands ran up and down between your hips and your ass, rubbing you lightly. Almost as if he was… cherishing you?

“Mmhmm,” was all you could get out, still trying to fully recover.

“I need to hear you say it,” he barked back. “I need to hear you say yes. Say that you want this.”

“Yes, Dr. Kim,” you breathed out as harshly as you could, your response landing you another smack on the ass as he brought his hand to the back of your head to push it onto the desk and have you perfectly bent over for him.

He wasted no time, undoing his belt and letting his trousers fall to the ground, quickly pulling his cock out from his boxers to let it spring up and hit him.

He hastily threw the bottom of your skirt over your ass to reveal your panties underneath, completely soaked in the middle from the time you’d just had.

“Goddamn,” he chuckled. “All of this for me?” He rubbed his thumb up and down your slit, causing you to wince, before ripping your panties to the side. It caused them to partially rip, not that you minded. “Even prettier than I could have imagined,” he said, licking his lips and staring down at your pussy. “Fuck.”

He took one hand from you long enough to spit in it and bring it down to stroke his hardened cock. He moaned the slightest bit, touching himself while thinking of what was to come.

Using one hand to hold you down and the other to steady as he lined himself up at your entrance, he pushed in slowly, letting himself enjoy the feeling of your pussy stretching around him. He savored every last centimeter that he could get inside of you before bottoming out. A large breath escaped his lungs as he tried to stabilize himself. It was all too much of a sight to behold.

Pushing you into the table harder, he inched his way out before thrusting back in, trying to warm you up to him.

You couldn’t deny how delicious it felt. He was bigger than you were used to, and the way he had you pressed down was taking your breath away. You tingled head to toe from the sensation. It was better than anything you could have dreamed up in class- a few thrusts of his dick inside of you, and you could already confirm.

He picked up his speed inside of you as you let out a whimper, already feeling like you’d taken much more than he could give.

He railed into you relentlessly, letting out gutteral grunts and moans with each snap of his hips into yours. The sounds of it were lewd, but it only added to how you felt.

“Ahh fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he growled lowly, trying to focus enough so that he wouldn’t cum right away. “You’re taking it so fucking well.” He moved a hand up to your hair to form a pony tail that he could pull back on. “Don’t you think so?” he yelled, pulling your hair slightly back.

Surprised, you yelped, which only turned him on more. “Yes, Dr. Kim,” you managed to get out between shallow breaths. You didn’t know how much more you could take.

“You like it when your professor fucks you, don’t you? You always wanted to be used by me, huh?” he teased, thrusting into you even faster, tighter hold on your hair.

“Yes- yes, I love it,” you strained.

Something in him must have ticked because before you could process what was happening, you had been pulled up by your hair so that your back was arched, torso now fully upright. The professor now had a hold on your hair, but all the way around your waist as well to hold you up.

You felt yourself choke on your own throat from how far back your head had been tilted. The iron grab you felt from him behind you hinted that this would be something you’d have to get used to. He chuckled as you gasped for air, beginning to pound into you harder.

He admired the way you looked for him. Perfect ass slapping against him at every thrust. Your body contorted in the most unnatural shape, just because he willed it. Your face red from the blood rushing around. So perfectly behaved for him. Letting him do whatever he wanted. So willing to give it all up. He couldn’t fucking stand it anymore.

Relentlessly he growled, fucking into you harder than he had before. He could feel the sweat seeping from his brow, but it didn’t hinder him. All that mattered in this moment was using you until he couldn’t stand anymore. Each thrust into your tight pussy brought him closer and closer.

It was the hardest you’d ever been fucked. You were past the point of return. After moaning harder than you’d ever thought possible, you were officially fucked out. He kept hitting the same perfect spot over and over until all you could do was cry out and gasp for air. No thoughts anymore, just needing that second wave of relief. You clenched around him as you tried for a deep breath, quickly working your way there.

“Ahh shit,” he hissed as he felt you- pure, unadulterated, untamable lust now clouded his eyes. Something different had come over him now. He was no longer your professor. No. Now… his one purpose in life was to fuck you senseless.

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve wanted to do this?” he spat at you, yanking your head back even harder so he could get a clear look into those pretty eyes while he rammed into you. “How many times I’ve wanted to stop in the middle of class to just bend you over and take you?! I’ve contemplated so many times if I should hold you back after class so I could talk to you. Get you to put those pretty lips on mine, ah?” He was aggressive, almost yelling out of his mind through gritted teeth. "I’ve wanted you from the very first day I fucking saw you. Last year. An entire fucking year of acting good,” a harsh pound into you, “and acting professional,” pound, “around you," pound. "But goddamn it, I just can’t do it anymore! You drive me fucking crazy, y/n! You drive me so fucking crazy!” He yelled forcefully, quickly releasing his grip on you so that you fell forward onto the table.

Your lungs sucked in as much air as possible as you had a momentary sense of relief. But within a few seconds, Dr. Kim was reaching with his hand to rotate your head around to the side, right next to his own as he’d bent himself over your body, still fucking into you with all the strength he had.

“I’ve got to fucking have you,” his voice rumbled lowly, looking into your eyes. The words alone made your pussy quiver.

'Fuck. There's no fucking way. Does he mean?...' You were sure you were going to cum any second.

“Tell me I can have you… Fucking hell, tell me I can have you,” he growled, watching you desperately. Hungrily.

You closed your eyes as they slightly rolled back in your head. “Yes… Fuckkk, yes, you can have me,” you moaned out as his thrusts became too much for you to handle.

He violently crashed his lips into yours as if he’d been starving for them this whole time- like he'd been saving his appetite for this very moment. He ate at you like you were the most delicious thing he would ever taste.

And with the perfect thrust, you felt it. The feeling that had been creeping up for so long, exploded now, leaving you in complete shambles. Cursing, moaning, throwing yourself all around, you just couldn’t control yourself any more. You tried pulling yourself back, but his mouth kept you anchored to him, resulting in you throwing all of your groans into his mouth.

You didn’t know how it couldn’t be over, but he growled as he finished fucking into you, the wet sounds of your release only adding to his pleasure. You were getting overstimulated to the point that you were sure you were going to cry.

“Ahhh,” you wailed, not able to handle it any more.

“Oh fuck, baby, fuck!” he yelled, throwing a few final, violent, thrusts into you before pulling out. He continued to moan harshly as he pumped himself in his hand, letting his cum spurt out all over your ass, covering it almost completely. He stroked it until there wasn’t a single drop left inside of him.

'Baby?' you thought, contemplating if you'd misheard him.

Once he was sure he was finished, he breathed in and out deeply, trying to catch his breath while grabbing for a few tissues on his desk. He used them to lightly clean you up while you too were still bent over, struggling to get your breath back.

As soon as you heard his pants come up and zip, you were sure he was done. You slowly used your hands to push yourself up and off the table. Your muscles twitched as you went, absolutely exhausted. You didn’t know if you’d even be able to stand on your own, let alone make it back to the dorm.

You were slow as you turned, flattening your skirt down and trying to get your footing, but failing.

“Woah, woah, take it easy,” Dr. Kim smiled happily, knowing he was the one that had done this to you. He reached his hands out for you to hold so that you could get your balance.

“Yeah, thanks,” you said, blushing while nodding downward to acknowledge his help.

You both stood for a moment, absorbing the scenery and what had actually just happened. You almost couldn’t believe it.

As if it finally registered, you were suddenly uncertain of what to do next. You ran a hand through your hair before crossing your arms over your chest. You wanted to act like you weren’t nervous, but you knew that you were failing miserably.

“Well, I should probably head out then,” you tried to play off as light-hearted, moving your body out of his way and toward the door. You couldn’t believe you were about to have to do the walk of shame… at fucking school.

“You don’t have to-” Dr. Kim started, almost too eagerly, “you don’t have to go…” he calmed himself. “If you don’t want to. If you need time to, umm.” You’d never seen him be at a loss for words like this. “Get collected and everything.”

His eyes were softer than you’d remembered. For once, he didn’t look intimidating. He looked almost… sweet?

But none of that changed the fact that you had just fucked your professor and needed to go clear your head.

“Oh,” you smiled, trying to look grateful. “I appreciate it, but I think I’m alright. I should probably go finish up on an assignment I’ve been working on for your class actually. But really, thank you,” you said, bowing your head in gratitude, about to reach for the door handle.

“Wait,” he insisted, moving closer to you. “I just wanted to say that I really did mean all the things I said about you. Regardless of whatever this was, you are so fucking brilliant. I don’t want you to think that this is why I wanted you for the position. I hope that you’ll stay on… and that we can actually work together.” You thought you could make out a plea in his tone.

“Of course I’ll stay on, Dr. Kim. I’m excited to work with you,” you smiled, realizing now that you had some kind of upper hand.

He smiled back as he took a few steps backward, letting you turn to reach for the door once more.

“Please, call me Seungmin… Except in class of course,” he winked with a chuckle as he moseyed back behind his desk.

“Alright then, Seungmin,” you annunciated teasingly, smiling at him with big, innocent eyes. “I need to get to work on that assignment, but I’ll email you later so we can find a meeting time that works for us both?"

Seungmin just rolled his eyes with an annoyed grin. “You’re getting an A, regardless of that fucking assignment. And please... just give me your number instead.”

[azulpitlane]

vicious pt two I ln4

pairing: ex!lando norris x reader, charles leclerc x reader summary: you are trying to move on from lando but he refuses to notes: more dramaaa and asshole lando sorry, this is short cause i kind of got busy🧍‍♀️ part one, masterlist

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxfewtrell and 3,268,379 others

yourusername emails i cant send is officially yours💌

it has been a long and emotional process writing this album but i loved and enjoyed every bit of it<3 im so excited to share this piece of my life with you and officially close this chapter and move on

thank you for the support, ill see you all soon❤️

view all comments

user OMGG IM ALREADY CRYING ITS SO AMAZING

user stfu is that charles in the fifth pic?!?

user it is!! he was credited in a few songs for instruments🥹🥹

user because i liked a boy hits so different when u know what she went through :(

maxfewtrell running on stream to listen to it

yourusername pls dont hate im still sensitive user omg noo i cant watch whats he saying about it?? user he loves every song, hes being so supportive and said hes team y/n😭

user her friendship with charles is so cute omg

user “friendship” rightttt😏

user lost lando but got charles, a win is a win

francisca.cgomes love love love💌

user omg i know charles introduced them

user ‘ill see you soon’ ARE YOU TOURING???

pietra.pilao so incredibly proud of you❤️ such an amazing album

yourusername p ily and miss u sm🥹❤️ pietra.pilao i miss you more we need to get together soon! yourusername otw to text u so make plans rn🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

user the fact that landos friends are still supportive despite the breakup tells me everything i need to know

user “officially close this chapter” new era fr🫶

charles_leclerc so honored you even asked me to be apart of this❤️so proud of you ma cherie

yourusername so grateful for you❤️ user JUST DATEEEE user now kiss!!!

Lando so you and y/n huh?

Charles she's my friend is that a problem?

Lando i dont remember ever introducing you two?

Charles not that its any of your concern but i introduced myself last year on the paddock while you were too busy ignoring her

Lando so when i had back turned, you took the chance to steal my girlfriend?

Charles dont try turning this into something its not she's trying to move on so i think its time you do the same lando dont ask about her again. read

f1gossip

463,582 likes

f1gossip Following Y/n Y/l/n's album release, Lando and Charles have unfollowed each other on instagram! It is not confirmed if Y/n is the reason why, but it is heavily speculated. It seems Lando was the first to unfollow and Charles quickly followed suit.

view all comments

user all too much for little lando norris

user y/n breaking up a friendship now🙄

user she didnt do anything except release an album on how she felt, if lando gets offended by that then hes clearly the problem here

user 16 4 fans lost today but then again lando started it🤷‍♀️

user karma works in funny ways @landonorris

user lando has every right to be mad imo

user not at all, he treated her like shit then cheated and now hes mad she has friends in f1? make it make sense

user why watch soap operas when you can watch f1

user 2024 season is gonna HIT

user charles is going to have the motivation for wdc now, ferrari fans won🙏

user even though im a lando fan, i have to be team charles and y/n on this one sorry

user yup, after listening to her album i definitely support y/n

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes and 3,295,204 others

yourusername first time performing my new album at my one night show was the best time ever!! thank you for all that showed up you were an amazing crowd❤️

and just in case you missed my little announcement, bet u wanna is my next single of this album...this one's a little funny when you know the context🙊

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user wish i was able to go :(

user WHATS THE CONTEXT??

user listen to the lyrics, lando definetly wanted her back after his side girl cheated AHAH

user i need to know if charles was there

francisca.cgomes such a wonderful night💌 liked by yourusername

user your stage presence is so amazing

luisinhaoliveira99 so great seeing you🤍 liked by yourusername

user SHE WAS THERE?!? user pls tell me you guys took pictures together

user bet u wanna is so good omg

user are you opening for eras tour in europe

user it is rumored, i hope its true😭

f1gossip

376,845 likes

f1gossip Charles, Pierre, Kika and Luisa leaving Y/n Y/l/n's concert in LA tonight! Thoughts on the singer's new friendship with the drivers and girls?

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user i love them😭❤️

user i was there and saw charles with pierre and kika singing along to every song🥹

user SHUT UPPPP user stop theyre so cute

user luisa and y/n mean everything to me

user them supporting y/n despite the drama with lando shows a lot about him

user ive never wanted to part of a gc so bad

user charles is so supportive, yk who wouldnt be....

user i need them to date, he would treat y/n so good

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 1,402,440 others

scuderiaferrari Special guest for the first qualification of the season! Thanks for coming to the our garage❤️

tagged yourusername

view all comments

user OMFGGG

user i need pics of her and charles NOW

user charles got p1 cause bae was watching🙈

user is she staying all weekend!?!

user her and charles supporting each other omg

user are they finally dating??

user he was asked about it in an interview and he said they were just friends! user ugh can charles make a move already? i dont want another lando situation..

user i wonder if she bumped into lando😳

Lando was y/n really in ferrari garage?

Carlos yeah... are you okay mate?

Lando how can i be? he stole my girlfriend and is now parading her around the paddock its fucked up

Carlos he did say they were just friends and i didnt see them acting like a couple or anything

Lando there's gotta be something more i just need y/n to see who he really is

Carlos i dont know, maybe its time you move on mate

Lando no, i cant give up now do you have an extra paddock pass?

Carlos why...

Lando remember charles' crazy ex girlfriend who was obsessed with him? i heard shes in town to see him what if we send her the paddock pass so she can show y/n how charles treated her

Carlos this seems a little crazy lando why dont you just talk to y/n?

Lando she wont even let me get near her just please carlos? and then i wont ever bring it up again if it doesnt work

Carlos fine but dont tell anybody about this

Lando thank you mate, i owe you

tags: @iamahallucinationnn, @sofiacblair

[quaintii]

Across the Street

Pt.3

Pt.1, Pt2.

synopsis: Miguel calls you in once more for babysitting. He has a day off from work and something inconvenient happens.

content: 18+ MDNI - babysitting, DILF miguel, fingering, m!receiving bj, praise and degrading, dirty talk, spiccyy overall.

A/N: thank you guys for the support!! Love u all 💞

extra: art is on Twitter by kimmy_arts0912

Miguel woke up to the sound of his phone burring on the bedstand, clicking the stop button.

9:04 a.m.

He slowly rose off the bed, rubbing his temples and heading to the bathroom. He took his time getting himself ready, it was never easy for him since he would regularly work for long hours but today was a day off.

He took a shower, shaving off his stubble beard with a mirror glued on the bathroom wall. He got out with a towel wrapped around his waist and a small one on his wet hair.

Soon as he finished changing, he went downstairs to drink some black coffee and eat some peppered eggs with bacon.

As he scrolled through his work emails on his laptop, he saw Gabriella at the corner of his eye. She stepped off the stairs, approaching Miguel and hugging his legs.

"Como dormiste, mi changa?" (How'd you sleep, my girl?) He let out a hearty laugh, ruffling her messy brown curls. His focus was now on Gabriella, carrying her with one arm while his other hand pinched her swollen cheeks.

"Bien, papi!" She said as she swinged on his arm. Miguel smiled and lifted her back on the floor, reaching for the chair for his daughter. He placed two plates, a small stack of pancakes with strawberries, butter and syrup while the other was a bowl of fruit.

"Make sure to eat all of it, mija. It's bad to let things go to waste." He spoke as he washed the prior dishes from last night, making him vividly relive the memory of his fingers in you. He couldn't shake the thought of you, he kept spacing out on your touch.

He snapped back to reality when he peered his eyes to his phone ringing, his wife. Well almost his ex-wife, the divorce was still in date for court but they went their separate ways months ago.

He wrapped a towel around his hands, drying them and answered the phone. "Hello?"

"I'm picking up Gabriella later today around 6."

Miguel's brows furrowed together. "What do you mean?!? This whole week is my time to spend with her. I have a day off today and tomorrow." He snapped back at her.

"What's the reason for the sudden change?! Im allowed to spend time with my daughter too." He was fired up but whispered into the phone so Gabriella wouldn't hear.

"She just got home a couple days ago, que te pasa en la mente?!" Miguel spoke. She scoffed into the phone. "You're more in love with your work than our own daughter."

"Well I planned a trip for the both of us and I already have everything packed for her. Relax, you'll get her back in a couple days, bye!" As Miguel was about to yell at her, she hung up on the phone.

"Pinche pendeja.." he muttered softly on his lips.

He was furious but had to remain calm to not raise Gabriella's suspicion of why her dad was breathing so heavily and palming his face with his hands.

After a couple minutes pass, he sat next to Gabi watching a cartoon show to ease himself down. He would then urge Gabi to go brush her teeth and change into something else rather than her unicorn pajamas.

Miguel decided to take Gabi to a new toy shop that just opened. He was still pissed about the call earlier but the thought ended up leaving his mind as his focus was now on his daughter's happiness.

5:04 p.m.

It'd been a day or two since what happened. Miguel hadn't sent you a message to babysit Gabi, until this afternoon.

"Hey, can you come over to babysit Gabriella? That is if you're not busy with anything."

"I'll be on my way in 5 minutes, Mr. O'Hara."

"Perfect..thank you. Again, Miguel is fine."

You felt so queasy about stepping in foot back to his house but so excited. You wore a summer dress due to the heat emitting from the sky. The afternoon would always be the hottest time of the day where you lived.

You face the mirror to fix the messy curls that sprung up due to the frizz. You apply some lip liner, finishing it off with a red tint gloss.

5:12 p.m.

You knock on the door, patiently waiting. You hear a click and the door finally opens, the sun shined on his caramelized skin. He look almost jaw dropping.. with a slicked back hair look. Loose black fit pants with a loose button up shirt. His eyes gave off a smile smile and invited you in.

You looked around to find Gabriella drawing at the table.

"Hi Gabi!" You squeal and wave at her as she rushes into a hug towards you. "Yay! You're back!" She was eager to see you. "What are you drawing? That looks great!" "I'm drawing a forest with fairies and unicorns!" Her high pitched voice rang in your ears.

You lean in closer to look at her drawing, acknowledging it. You give her a sweet smile, she returns it back.

You step back and walk to the cabinets to get a glass of juice. Your body jumped when you felt a hand rubbing in circles on your ass.

Miguel grazed his hands on your shoulder, whispering near your ear and dragging you further to the kitchen. Gabi's back facing the both of you two, you felt his hot breath fan you; shivers down your spine and to your core.

"How have you been, muñeca? Te ves muy...hermosa." He husked in a low tone. Your breathing slowed down, worried to even peep a sound. "I missed you..was worried you wouldn't come back." His rough hands rub the soft skin on your hips.

His tongue teased your neck, sucking and softly nibbling on it. "N-not here Miguel..your daughter.." You whispered, trying hard to restrain your small whimpers. He hummed in your ears, nibbling on it before detaching himself as soon as he heard a doorbell ring.

Luckily the kitchen had the blinds closed so whoever was outside, couldn't see.

He sighed and you quickly headed to open the door, facing a woman. She had on black sunglasses to block the sun in her eyes.

"You must be the new babysitter right?" She questioned as she placed her purse on the island countertop. "Yes! I was recently hired by Mr. O'Hara, Ms.." You waited for a response from her. "Mrs. O'Hara." She spoke, she reached to grab Gabriella by the waist; a suitcase near the table.

You had thought that he was divorced, you thought pretty quickly to it maybe they just haven't had gone to court yet to fix their situation.

"Mom? Where are we going?" Gabriella prods her head at Miguel and you. "We're going to Disneyland!!" She squeals as she hears the exciting news.

Miguel sighed and rolled his eyes, knowing that she never really gave attention to Gabriella, just spoiling and bribing her.

Gabriella was brought down back to her feet, hugging you and her dad by the leg, waving goodbyes.

You helped her out with packing some of her toys upstairs. When you both finished packing up some extra stuff, you head downstairs, slightly peering your head to see Miguel and his wife whisper about stuff. Miguel's chest heaved as his hands ran through his hair, frustrated.

Gabriella prods her head at what you're looking at and you quickly distract her by asking her something.

"Did you grab all of your toys, Gabi?" "I think so," she said as she rubbed her head and headed towards the door.

The lady drank some champagne from the glass, eyeing you up and down, questionable about you. You were never this nervous, but you worried if she had known.

She averted her gaze back to Gabi, holding her hand and the suitcase near Miguel. "Bye papi!" Gabi squeaked as the door behind her closed. Miguel waved non-stop til he couldn't see her anymore.

He laid his elbows on the countertop, tilting his head sideways back and forth. "Everything okay?" You walked up to him.

"Yeah.. um..it's just.." He hesitated to tell you. "Oh, don't worry! It's fine you don't have to tell me, Mr.-.. Miguel." He sighed angrily, "No no, it's just that..this week I was supposed to have Gabriella. She comes unannounced, not even a heads up that she would take Gabi with her."

As he vented more of his frustration, he felt relief by letting it all out. You were open eares with him, softly patting his shoulder blades to ease him.

"Wow..that's really messed up. Do you have custody of Gabriella, if you don't mind me asking." You spoke softly.

"Yeah, I do. We haven't had the court fully decide yet, it's coming up in a couple weeks. I just hate how she's nowhere fit for her to be actually caring for Gabriella." He sighed and took a big sip from the champagne bottle.

You hummed in return, heading to the snack closet for something to ease him up. "Want some snacks?" You asked. Miguel gets up and walks towards you.

You tip-toed to reach a cardboard box full of gummies, until you felt your body shivering to the touch of his hands around your waist later reaching your bra.

He wraps his arms around you, his touch becoming a bit more daring this time.

"You're very tempting. It's difficult to resist you right now..."

Miguel smiles at you and whispers his words. He then places his lips on yours again, his kiss passionate and eager. He wraps you as tight as he can, his hands roaming your hips.

"Oh, I would love something sweet. Don't you?" He murmured on your neck. His hands pushed your dress up, caressing your plush skin. "Mr. O'Hara-.."

You felt a sharp slap to your ass. "What did I say? Llámame Miguel.." (Call me Miguel)

He placed a hand on your chin to face him, kissing you softly. The second kiss seemed more like hunger.

"Get on your knees for me, cariño." He husked in a low tone, you obediently listen and laid your knees on the cold marble floor. He caressed your face once more, "Good girl.." The praises that came out his mouth made your cheeks heat up, your blood pumping to your pooling cunt.

Miguel's face lights up with pleasure, his eyes staring at you seductively as you kneel down in front of him. He watches your movement as you kneel, breathing slightly heavier. The way you look at Miguel also makes him feel good.

"Mm..."

Miguel's hand then reaches down and he grabs your head, making you look up at him.

"Open your mouth..."

Miguel moves his hand down to one of your shoulders, moving his thumb along your collarbone and then along your cleavage.

"Open wider, muñeca..."

Miguel's smile grows more and more as he sees you opening your mouth. You see his hand moving around your lips, just touching your face sensually here and there. Miguel's eyes never leave yours, and you find his stare to be both attractive and also exciting.

"Mm... Good.."

Miguel's eyes move down to your tongue and then back up to your face. He starts to whisper in your ear, his voice going slightly deeper.

"¿Como se siente esa boca, chiquilla?"

Miguel's breath slows, clearly aroused. He stuck in two fingers into your mouth and you hollowed your cheeks softly as you sucked on them for a bit. He went deeper, making you gag continuously, he took his fingers out licking them clean.

Your eyes landed on his bulge, palming it with your hands, rubbing it harder each time, pulling groans out of Miguel.

You begin to remove his pants by unzipping it and pulling down his boxers, his hard cock slapping his abdomen. The red brownish head was practically fuming for your touch.

You part your lips, laying your tongue out and licking the pre-cum streaming down on his tip. You try fitting all of his cock in your throat but you can't so you stroke the rest of him.

His eyes drop down to your face, his eyebrows furrowed together, savouring the delicious feeling of your tongue around his cock. You bobbed your head faster when your throat relaxed, being able to take in more of him. You clench your inner thighs together to feel some relief on your swollen clit.

His breathing becomes shallow the more he becomes impatient. When you looked up at him with small teary eyed..

He loses it.

He needs and wants to feel more of you, he slammed his cock deeper down your throat. The squelching sounds and low groans of his voice made you whine but it was muttered by his cock in your mouth.

You dig your nails into his thighs to keep yourself steady, you feel like you've ran out of oxygen. But you couldn't care less.

"Puta madre..." He whispers.

The feeling of him driving you absolutely mad, his grip on your scalp tightening with every thrust he took. The aggression shocked you, but you couldn't move since he took complete control of your mouth.

His cock pressed harder into your throat, making you gag on and on while tears streamed down your face. Your flushed out face drew him to his final straw.

His hips snapping against your cheeks, the slapping sounds echoing. The feeling of your fingernails digging deep into his skin, your muffled moans clenching harder around his cock whenever you hollowed your cheeks, made him lose his control.

"F-fuck...you're so good...such a pretty little slut aren't you? So fucking good f'me baby..." He scowled.

You kept muffling mhm's as he would praise your touch on him. His hips began stuttering, his thrusts slowly becoming slower as his cock became more and more sensitive with every warm touch of your tongue around him.

He held both sides of your face in a firm but gentle grip, abusing your throat to catch his orgasm. "I'm c-coming..mhmmf..mierda..." He whined.

His massive body shook with his imploding orgasm, he shoved his cock to the back of your throat and shuddered as his cum was hot and sticky on your tongue.

The moment he pulled out, he angled my face to his, towering over my frame. "Swallow it f'me." He spoke bluntly.

Miguel removed your mouth off his cock, his erection still hard and pulsing. All he wanted right now was to be inside you but he had different plans for you. He was going to return the favor back to you now.

You let out a few coughs to catch your breath and swallowed just like he asked. Bittersweet taste left on your tongue.

"Eres tan buena y hermosa, ma." (You're so good and beautiful, ma)

"Llevantate, amor." He panted on your neck.

He grabbed you by the shoulders and lifted you up, resting your quivering ankles on his broad shoulders. His fingers stroking and prodding at the wet stain on your underwear, his cold touch setting you on fire.

"Let me touch your pretty pussy, amor. Déjame ver ese bello coño.." (Let me see that pretty pussy) He tore your underwear off, the cold air washing your cunt makes you shiver. He lightly slapped your folds to see your face contort and furrow.

Suddenly, his hot tongue flicked your wet folds, and heat swirled in your stomach, your clit throbbing. Your skin burned to his touch as he reached for your perked nipples, rubbing it with his hands and whenever he would pinch your nipples, you would jerk forward; making his nose hit your clit.

"M-more Miguel.." You begged, your cunt clenching around nothing left you feeling empty and so needy. Your fingers wrapping around his brown curls, gripping onto them dearly as his tongue lapped on your clit.

"You're doing such a good job f'me, mi amor. Keep moaning my name like that. Fuck.." He groaned into your cunt. He slid into another finger and the feeling was too much for you to handle.

"M-miguel.." Your pants filled with wanton and lust. Your body jerks forward as he slid a finger inside you, your eyes impossibly rolling back to the back of your head as you choked on your moans, mumbling his name as he continued to eat you out like a starved man.

"Mirame, corazon. Keep your eyes on me, yeah?"

You felt too much and too little all at once, it wasn't enough for you but you felt like you were about to get thrown off the edge as his fingers started pounding you deep inside your velvet walls. You kept twitching and trembling, your back arching off the wall as your body hopelessly writhed for him.

Your nerves began stuttering, going numb along with a knot starting to untie. Miguel wouldn't stop sucking on your folds, his nose nudging your clit. His eyes never left your face, he loved seeing how you responded to his touch.

You started feeling a fire pooling low in your abdomen, your heartbeat pulsing faster than before.

You started losing composure whatsoever, when he slid in another finger inside. He didn't stop lapping on your sopping cunt, your pussy clenching around his fingers made his cock ache for your walls to tighten around him.

"It's t-too much.. m-miguel please mhmgf..fuck!" You sobbed and wailed. Your tears wouldn't stop, his fingers plunging in deeper inside your swollen cunt.

"You can handle it, doll.. I know you can." His ears relished the wet squelching sounds and your sweet little moans. You tugged harder into his hair as you felt a wave crashing down, the dam broke which released a leg-shaking orgasm. Fire sprinted throughout your body, the feeling of it taking over your mind with nothing but his fingers and tongue on your cunt.

Your orgasm came in flooding in and electrified every nerve in your body. Your vision fading to black. Your throat welled with moans and mewls, as you kept blubbering incoherently.

Miguel devoured you without mercy, savoring your juices as it ran down his chin. He kept you steady by holding you tight on your hips as you wiggled non-stop, shaking and writhed under him.

You loved drowning in helplessness of the pleasure as it surrounded you by the waist, leaving you breathless, shaky, and light headed.

You became almost feverishly whimpering since Miguel would still suck on your clit, tenderly. He finally removed himself from your folds, smirking at you while caressing your flushed out face. "Te ves bella así, muñeca. Eres mia..que no?" (You look beautiful like that, doll. You're mine, right?) You nodded as your orgasm finally came to a stop. He rested your ankles back to the floor, holding you up by the waist so you wouldn't succumb to the floor.

Just when he was about to tease you with his cock slowly on your folds, you both hear a ding from the door. Keys ring through your ears and the door creaked open. Heels clacking on the hard floor echoing around the spacious house, heading upstairs. The both of you quickly start to dress up quickly, you knew exactly who this was.

"Miguel!! ¿¿Dónde estás?? Do you know where the monster high dolls are?!?" A woman voice yelled upstairs. Miguel gave you a quick peck on the lips and a wink.

"What is it this time?" Miguel's voice responded back to her. "Gabi forgot her stupid toys..anyways just tell me where they are. She won't stop crying and I need her to shut up."

Miguel refused to give into his emotions and snap back at her so he gave off a small response to her.

"They're in the hidden basket under her bed, the lock is in the bedstand drawer." He answered, looking back at you tip toeing to the door.

You sent yourself off by going back home quietly and hurriedly.

Miguel was once again incredibly frustrated for the intrusion.

A/N: it's 12:31 am rn, gonna have the best sleep ever. I finally finished it! Leave any feedback, always room for improvement, thank you guys!! (Sorry for the ending once more 😭😓, I promise to make part 4 hella dirty and long)

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